Page 51 of Lost Petal

Chapter 29

J

It’s hard to find a name for the expression on her face. Disappointment? Repulsion? Disbelief? The only thing that’s for certain is that she’s not happy about my words. She fights them with every fiber of her being.

“Why would you say that?” she utters. “I can’t be wrong.”

I get it.

She saw the enemy. She saw a fogged memory of the forces that made her life miserable. And she wants me to be that man. Because it would make sense. I can’t blame her for making this assumption, but it hurts nonetheless.

I knew that this could happen. Erasing a person’s memory never comes without the risk of such confusion, even in cases that are less extraordinary than hers. Petal is special in too many ways to count, but above all, it’s her value to me that makes her so exceptional.

“I’m not that man, Petal,” I tell her. “You’ll have to believe me.”

She snorts. “Believe you? Trust you? It baffles me that you really consider this to be an option. Why don’t you just admit that you’re lying?”

Gnashing my teeth, I try to calm myself. I hate her accusations, and I hate the way she looks at me now. A heavy overtone of disgust darkens her pretty face. It gives her an unsightly appearance I never deemed possible.

She jerks to the side when I touch her arm, and my chest tightens when I see her denying even such an innocent gesture. I may be a monster, but I’m not the kind of monster she believes me to be. Turning her face away from me, she cuts off eye contact now, refusing to grant me even the smallest basis for interaction.

“Look at me, Petal.”

Much to my surprise, she complies with my demand right away. Her eyes are laced with hope and anticipation when they find mine, still craving so much that I cannot give her.

“There may be a lot of things that I’m withholding from you right now,” I say, making sure to never break eye contact with her for even a second. That’s what liars do, and I’m not a liar, despite what she may think. “I admit that I can’t answer your many questions to your satisfaction, but I can promise you this: I may remain silent on some issues, but I’ll always be truthful to you.”

Grave silence stretches between us, our eyes locked on to each other while she processes my words, her lips moving as if she were tasting them, still unsure what to think.

Her breathing has calmed, the clamps on her nipples heaving and lowering leisurely, as if their enticing blend of pain and bliss was forgotten. But I know it will take just a simple twist to bring it back, and to turn her mind from this calm state of contemplation to lust-fueled tension.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Her question shouldn’t surprise me. She has asked it many times before, and she will continue to do so.

What kind of reply could she possibly expect, though? And what good would it do her to hear the answer, no matter what truth it holds?

Her face softens when I reach out to stroke her cheek, barely touching her pristine skin as I follow the outline of her delicate jaw. It’s part of the allure to see her struggle like this, alternating between the many emotional states my presence evokes in her. She’s handling this so much better than I ever expected.

“A stone shines brighter when you grind it to bits,” I say in a low voice. “And you, my dear Petal, have the potential to shine brighter than all the others combined.”

Her eyes grow wide, glistening with the first sign of tears as she looks up at me, visibly confused by my vague but charming words.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

My response doesn’t satisfy her. She furrows her eyebrows as she ponders what to do with it, how to handle a statement that sounds like an exaggerated compliment and nothing less. I wish she could just take it for what it is, but I know her better than that.

I knew her better than that. Extinguishing this much of a person’s memory, pretty much everything that’s personal to them, everything that molded them into the person they were before giving themselves to me… it’s a dangerous job. I had little to no experience with an application of this magnitude, because I’m usually asked for smaller deeds.

This was new to me, too.

I cup her face with my hand, and she lets it happen. She even closes her eyes, looking so utterly relaxed when she leans into my touch, seeking comfort in someone who’s given her so much pain. She doesn’t know about all the good things I’ve done to her; she can’t know. But in this moment, as she solemnly closes her eyes and rests into my soothing touch, it seems like she can still feel it somewhere, that connection we used to have.

The connection we still have.

“You’re so cruel,” she whispers, her lips trembling as she fights another wave of tears. “Why does this feel so good?”

I’m glad she has her eyes closed, because I wouldn’t want her to see the smile that widens on my face as she speaks.

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