Page 64 of To Curse A Knight

He was teasing me. Maybe Lucky was right; despite the chaos surrounding us at every turn, Aaron was discovering his sense of humor.

I liked it.

“One day, Aaron, I will show your parentsexactlywhat I think of them,” I declared vehemently, the words now a solemn pact between us. “Although your methods seem to be far more effective than mine.”

I quirked a challenging eyebrow, calling him out on his Sweeney Todd impersonation for the first time. His eyes blazed at the mention of it, a tempting mix of power and pleasure.

“It is unfortunate that I learned that method from my father. Unfortunate for him, since that will be the way he enters his coffin.”

Thewords sent a toe-curling shiver down my spine, but not out of fear.

Fuck, had Aaron always been this sexy? He’d always been devastatingly handsome—tall, dark, and dreamy in fitted suits with fantastic hair—but something about the dangerous demon within him made me wetter than his sweet words ever could.

I wasn’t going to spend any time analyzingthatrealization right now. I had enough problems to worry about if I had a sociopath fetish.

“Your hate for them is personal,Mi Reina. I am flattered to think you are protecting me, but there is more. What is it?”

Well, that took a ninety-degree turn. My face flushed hot at the memory; a silly insignificant moment that shouldn’t have any bearing over my adult feelings, but it did.

“There are many reasons to hate your parents without any personal feelings whatsoever, Aaron.” I waved dismissively, as if him bringing up the possibility of more hadn’t caused a visible reaction on my cheeks. “Their involvement in the flesh trade, for one.”

“This is true.” His stare penetrated through me like a caramel laser beam. “But then you would hate Antonio with the same passion, yes? Why?”

“I do hate Antonio with the same passion,” I insisted and crossed my arms like a petulant child as he pinned me to the couch with his words.

A chestnut eyebrow rose as a tendril of matching hair fell into Aaron’s face, but he did nothing to swipe it away. His gaze fixated on me like a target.

“Remember when we shared our first moment—in that closet when we were teens?”

Why was I blushing right now? I was a goddamned successful, empowered woman. That Veronica could still make me feel this way all these years later was a testament to the power of that single moment, and I hated it.

Aaron nodded thoughtfully. “You didn’t speak to me for months afterwards. I had thought I embarrassed you.”

“I was embarrassed,” I admitted, staring down at my cream skirt and smoothing the non-existent wrinkles. “But not for the reasons you might think.

“I was a fourteen-year-old without a mother and an absent father, Aaron. Fucking lost and impressionable, with a backbone made from super-glued paperclips and papier-mâché. I know I looked cultured and mature, but I was just this lost little girl who wanted someone to care about her. You made me feel that way that night.”

His impenetrable stare softened, and it made me feel less self-conscious about what I was about to share, even if only slightly.

“Veronica cornered me afterwards. She told me she forced you to do those things to me so that she had something to blackmail me with, given that Logan and I were already in an arranged relationship at that point. She told me I was a stupid, gullible girl, and how ashamed Daddy would be of his little whore. She held it over me for a solid year until I’d hardened enough to know the difference—and knew you well enough to know you would never hurt me that way.”

Energy crackled between us as Aaron’s fury bled out from his body into the surrounding air. It was so potent I could breathe it in and taste its fiery sting.

“That was just the start of a long stint of punitive power plays.” I shrugged, as if an incident sixteen years ago really wasn’t of any consequence, when I had castrated men and stabbed real rapists to death in the time since, but it was a lie.

The scathing words of other women when they weaponized morality against the innocent sexual exploration of youth were scarring; the mottled tissue embedded in an adolescent’s vision of themselves. It was no different for me—Veronica’s words had made me believe I was someone dirty, only worthy of one thing. She was wrong.

It was toxic, manipulative, and intentional; words she had used to control my definition of my own power and body. A man could call me a whore at fourteen or at forty, and I’d laugh it off every time—but Veronica choosing the same words? Veronica choosing those words to an impressionable teenage girl, who at the time was falling deeply in love with her son?

The scar had never healed.

Aaron didn’t buy what I was selling. He rose from his spot on the couch as quickly as a striking snake, lifted me from my seat and resumed my place, pulling me down into his lap, banding his arms tightly around my waist.

“I am sorry,Mi Reina. She is a terrible woman who was jealous of you even then.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head and I snuggled into his warmth, no longer interested in pretending I was too strong to have my feelings hurt once upon a time.

A soothing palm stroked down my back and upward into the base of my neck, over and over until I was a melted puddle within his grip.

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