Page 19 of Claiming Sarah

“Dayton. Who did this to you?” I ask, uncaring if he’s a kidnapper or a murderer. It looked painful and the bumpy skin, neatly healed, implies it was done years ago. His face put him in his early twenties, practically a child to me. I can’t imagine someone disfiguring him at a young age.

Every villain has an origin story. What was his?

“My name is Zaiden.” He talks around my fingers rubbing back and forth over his scars. My hand jerks back instinctively upon hearing his name.

“You’re a Lasher,” I snarl, compassion withering up like dead weeds.

His hair flops against his ears and forehead as he shakes his head.

“Not technically. My mother slept with Zaine and Xavier’s father. They met at a grief group and…” he trails off, but the picture shines all the same. A grieving father, a vulnerable woman, and then there’s Zaiden several months after whenever the deed happened.

“Why tell me your name is Dayton?” I ask, latching onto that over all the things in need of unpacking. He’s Xavier’shalf-brother. My lips twitch, wondering where the hell both of them got the kidnapping gene.

“My legal name is Zaiden Dayton Daniels.” My eyes watch his scars twist and contort with his speech and facial movements. He didn’t answer me when I asked who disfigured him, but as my eyes land on his, I suddenly know the answer.

It falls into place like dominoes.

16

THE NEED TO KNOW

ZAIDEN

She looks at me like I’m a puzzle that she’s unraveled. It feels odd but nice. No one has ever looked at me like they have me all figured out. Psychiatrists scratched their heads and threw medicine at me and my mother. Her absence is a festering hole in my chest I’m hoping my brothers can fill, or I might go more insane than I already am.

“You did this to your face,” her fingers hesitantly return, and I nod. It’s my hope that all this honestly will convince her to stay, to lie with me. I crave to be inside her, but a part of me would be content if she merely held me as my mother used to while petting my hair. It’s a hunger that’s never satiated.

“Why? Where’s your mom?” Her eyes well with tears, but I’m not certain if they’re for me or her since she’s stuck with a madman who disfigured his face on a whim.

“I wanted to make her smile,” I answer her first question, not wanting to touch the second. It’s a wound barely covered with scabs. One wrong move, and it bleeds into mycerebrum, inciting the voices, tangling the lines of reality. I do not want that. I wish to be present with Sarah, my awakener.

My body comes alive in her presence, a zombie given a new lease on life. My mind wanders to her next meal. If she doesn’t ask about her colleagues, then I won’t tell her there are slices of them in the refrigerator.

“Level with me, Da-Zaiden,” she stammers over my name. My brows raise, and I wonder if I’d like Dayton more as long as it fell from her lips.

“You can keep calling me Dayton,” I reassure her, rubbing both of my hands up and down her back. I want us closer than close. If she’s upset about my face, then she wouldn’t agree to mix our blood or carry a piece of me with her, like my fingernail clippings or a lock of hair.

She gives me an assessing look, then firmly pushes at my chest. Gritting my teeth, I lower her to her feet, already regretting relinquishing my prize.

“What’s your diagnosis?” Her words are razor sharp and blunt, an abrasion to my ears.Why does she need to know?My nostrils flare, and I debate not answering, but her hands land on both hips and her eyes narrow on me. Suddenly, I feel like spilling my guts and anyone else’s to appease her.

“Schizophrenia,” I fire back in the same clipped tone. Her head nods, face devoid of surprise.She knew?

“You knew?” My mind races through all our interactions. I never once talked to Blue or Red in front of her.

“I already pegged you for having a social disorder or a mental illness. It fits,” is all she says, glancing away from me. If she runs toward the front door, I will put her in the same coffin with my mother for a night, giving her a taste of the nightmares that plague me in my waking hours.

“Why did you take me, Dayton? Why did you stalk me?” she murmurs softly, not looking at me.

“Your daughter is with one of my brothers. I thought you could help bridge the gap. Tell me everything you know about them. I didn’t plan—” My words get trapped in my throat, and I swallow them down. Shaking my head, I know she won’t want to hear that.

“You didn’t plan what?” she asks, eyes on me. Gulping, I nod, forcing myself to spit the words out.

“I didn’t plan—” Nausea twists in my gut. I can do this. “I didn’t plan to taste you.” My tongue licks my lips nervously, and I keep going. “I didn’t plan for you to give me my first kiss.” Red washes across my face at that admission, but surely, she has to know? That she’s the first. The first of everything.

“I didn’t plan on wanting to keep you after I’ve gotten everything I needed from you. But I do. I want you here, Sarah, for good.” My eyes search hers, but shutters shield her emotions from me. I want to tear them down. She should hide nothing from me.

SARAH

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