Page 43 of Beg Me Angel

Holding out a finger, I poked him in the chest. “Stop trying to avoid the question. Why did you just leave me like that? Am I not good enough for you?”

“What? No.” Growling under his breath, his eyes closed tight. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

Peeling his lids open, his fingers came up and teased the ends of my hair. A tingle rode my spine, hitting my toes and traveling back up to my belly.

It was hard to understand why his touch affected me the way it did, why it brought me to my knees and turned my insides into hot soup.

I couldn't ignore it, I couldn't just shut it off and pretend it didn't exist. It was there, like a dim light being slowly turned up till it's so blinding you can't see.

Pax was making me stop, he was quieting the inner voice to ask questions and find answers. But only turning it down, lowering the volume, and pushing it into the background.

“What if I told you I was a bad man, would you believe me?”

“A bad man? You saved me, you're not a bad man.”

Twirling a thick lock of hair around his finger, Pax tilted his head as the spiral reached my scalp. “But I am, I'm the worst kind of man.”

“Why would you even say that? Tell me what you did, what makes you so bad?”

Do I want him to answer that?

I wanted to know about him, I wanted to know who he was in every way. But if he was bad, if he was dark and evil, did I really want to know that?

“I've killed people, Vera.”

Sucking in a ragged breath, my eyes steadied on his, searching for the lie in his truth. “What do you mean you killed people?” My heart skipped inside my chest, pitter pattering with a raw need to hear more, to know what the hands that had just been on me had done.

His eyes settled on my lips, devouring them as we stood toe to toe. I should have been scared of the power he harnessed to hold me still with just his eyes. . . But I wasn't.

Braiding my hands together in front of my chest, I asked him again. “Tell me what you're saying. What do you mean?”

His eyes dulled as past experiences clouded his stare, turning crisp russet brown into flat terracotta. “It doesn't matter, it's in the past, but blood had been spilled. I'm not good, I'm twisted. I locked myself here for a reason, Vera.”

I wanted to step back, I wanted to turn and run. But I did the opposite, I pushed closer, testing the limits of his words. “Tell me what you mean.”

His face contorted, the thick vein in his neck twitched as his hands balled at his sides. “You can't understand what I've done, even I don't understand why I did it, or why it felt so fucking good. I followed orders and they made me into who I am.”

Cocking a brow, I asked, “Orders?”

Stepping backwards, Pax turned and opened his drawer, yanking out a thin metal chain. I heard the ping first, the soft tink of two steel plates. Holding up his hand, he let the tags swing freely in front of his face.

He was in the military.

Smiling as the weight of what he was saying seemed to lift, I stepped into him. “That's different, that doesn't make you a killer, that makes you a protector.” Touching the trim of his pants, I crept in a little closer. “War doesn't make you a bad man, Pax, you were just doing what you were trained for.”

Cocking his jaw out, his brows dipped in hard. “I wasn't trained for that, they can't prepare you for taking someone's life or what you'll feel when it happens.”

“Pax—”

Slicing a hand through the air, he stopped me from talking. “Does it make you bad if you liked it? Does it make you bad if you wanted to keep killing even after you had served your time?” Lowering his face, he brought the tip of his nose to mine. “What if I told you that even after, even after all the years I spent here alone, I still had the urge to kill? What would you think of me then?”

Angling my chin, I held his eyes firmly in mine. “I'd think you were wrong, I'd still think you were good because of what you did for me.” Reaching my hand up, I placed it gently on his cheek. “You're not a bad man, Pax, and I don't think I could ever see you as anything more than my savior.”

Grinding his teeth, his jaw twitched as he squared his shoulders. Twisting and walking towards the wall, he whipped around on his heels. “I'm not your savior. If anything, I'm your captor.” Pacing in quick, hard circles, his arms stayed tight on his hips. “I don't want you to leave, I don't want to be here without you.” Taking a hard step in, he kept his eyes buried in mine. “And that hole, I dug that hole for you, I planned on keeping you here with me forever.”

Inhaling an audible gasp, I stood shocked. I didn't know what to say or how to even process that.

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