Page 63 of Bad Demon

He held my gaze. “Why don’t you try me?”

If I was going to get through this thing with my heart intact, then I needed to protect it. I needed to squash the stupid hope trying to rear its goddamn head. I needed to make him stop looking at me like that.

“I have compulsions,” I whispered so low that I wasn’t sure he’d hear me. Shame burned my face. “Like … like last night, but other things too. The way my shoes are lined up, the way my cup is placed by my bed at night. I check things over and over again. I like things in fours, and I count in my head all the time. And all of it gets worse when I’m stressed. My anxiety gets so bad that I made an elixir to help me when the fear and the intrusive thoughts get the better of me, except it makes everything worse when it wears off. What happened when we got back from the bar was the worst it’s ever been.” I looked away because looking at that handsome face and those gentle eyes was too much. “Then afterward, I get sick. I throw up.”

His knuckles slid under my chin, forcing me to stare up at him. “You did this to yourself?”

“Yes.”

Yes, I’m that fucked up. So broken that I took something that hurts me because I can’t deal with the real world like everyone else can.

Here it came—any minute now, the disgust. It was kind of a relief, honestly, because hope was exhausting and the most terrifying thing of all.

“You should’ve told me, Tink,” he said, his expression unchanging. “If I’d known how freaked you were, how bad it was, I would’ve gotten you out of there sooner,” he said, blaming himself instead of telling me what a fucked-up mess I was.

“Stop saying nice things to me. Just fucking stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop, sweetness.” His thumb swiped across my cheek. “And you can’t make me.”

“I’m not sweet, Relic,” I choked out, my body trembling as if I were going into shock.

“You are to me,” he said, followed by another gentle swipe of his thumb. “And feisty and tough and fucking gorgeous.”

I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”

“Fern, I’m not.”

“I’m an abomination,” I whispered.

His nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth. “Well then, you’re the sweetest little abomination I’ve ever seen.”

“Why are you doing this?” I hated the way my voice cracked, revealing just how vulnerable I was at that moment. “What do you want from me?”

“Don’t want anything from you that you aren’t willing to give. I just want you, baby, whatever you decide that is.”

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest. No one had ever said anything like that to me in my life. My head spun. I was so weak, so hungry, so fucking tired.

Relic was like a dream—a beautiful dream. A nice change from the horror show that usually played through my mind. He made me feel so incredibly exposed. Relic unarmed me, but he was also safe, and for the first time since I’d escaped the twisted prison my grandfather had taken me to, I wanted to let someone in just a little bit.

I looked into his eyes and took several steadying breaths. “I … I need to brush my teeth,” I said, chickening out instead of saying what sat on the tip of my tongue.

I didn’t miss the disappointment that drifted through his eyes.

He didn’t comment, just stood, holding me up when my legs tried to give out. Guilt and frustration filled me. I’d never felt weaker or more pathetic in my life. I grabbed my toothbrush from the counter, loaded it with toothpaste, and quickly brushed my teeth, but even that felt like too much work. I spat, and he handed me a clean towel to wipe my mouth.

“Ready to leave the bathroom?” he asked.

My stomach still felt iffy. “Not yet.”

He sat back down on the floor, taking me with him, arranging me on his lap. Gods help me, I let him hold me in those strong, warm arms with no thought to protest or resist, not anymore.

“I only found out I was a soul collector a couple of weeks ago.” I hadn’t meant to say it; I hadn’t thought I would.

His beautiful beast’s eyes searched my face, waiting and hoping for more—I could see it—but he wasn’t going to push. Again, I wondered if he realized that he was feeling it, all those emotions that were being broadcast from the depths of his gaze, because surely, he had to be feeling something if I saw it so clearly.

He’d never force me to say or do anything I didn’t want to do, no matter how much he wanted me to share with him. Relic wasn’t like that. As that truth settled, I realized I wanted to.

“That night at The Vault, that was going to be the first time I drank blood.”

---