Page 108 of Deviant Illusions

“We can always replicate you,” Helene threatens.

I shut out Delilah’s pleading eyes.

And her croak. “Kane, don’t.”

Grabbing her thigh, I hook it over the horn, trapping it in the curve, then do the same to the other. I leave her hands free to hurt me and hold her down by her throat as my hand trembles on my belt buckle. She slaps at me, her nails scoring down my shirt sleeves, and her voice is choked, panicked.

“Kane!”

I’m sorry, my pretty girl.

The slit in her dress doesn’t allow her to cover herself, protect herself, as she twists in an attempt to pull her legs free.

“Kane, stop,” she cries.

I lean over her, kissing her cheek that’s hidden from Helene and tasting her tears. Pain. That’s what they’re filled with. She fights me. My beautiful Delilah fights me. She slaps, punches, scratches, and I smile when she rips my shirt.

Good girl. My good wife, listening to me and passing me her pain.

But as soon as I push inside her, she stills. She stops hitting me. She stops begging me to stop. She just falls limp and blankly stares up at me.

I bite her cheek and loosen my hand on her throat, yet it doesn’t get a reaction out of her. She’s wet. It’s not hard to fuck her physically, but she’s never been still with me. Even when she couldn’t see my face, she didn’t freeze out of fear. It’s always brought her to life. Still. She. Doesn’t. Fucking. Move.

I love you. I’ll always love you. I’m so fucking sorry for doing this to you. I’m sorry for not killing you. I’m sorry for failing at killing myself.

Helene sighs like she’s disappointed and walks out of the room, huffing, “You have successfully broken her.”

The click of her heels get further away, moving up the staircase until a door slams, and then it’s silent.

My head drops to rest beside Delilah’s head and I breathe. I breathe, hating every fucking molecule of air that’s drawn into my body. The people I hate, who tormented me for years, who pushed me to search for death are the same as me. I’m like them.

“Kane?” Delilah whispers as she gently cups my nape. “Is there someone else watching?”

I shake my head and kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It was fake,” she says, then copies me, kissing my cheek. “I remember. I understand everything now, it’s okay.”

Lifting up, I watch her eyes and how there’s more light in them. Fuck, I never stopped loving her. I will never stop being so irrevocably in love with this woman. Her name is carved into every fucking strand of my DNA.

The silence hits me.

There’s no one here and we have our chance, so I carefully remove her other shoe and unthread her thighs from between the horns. Holding my finger in front of my lips, I straighten up and tuck my dick away. When I hold my hand out to her, shetakes it. She fucking takes my hand, and she doesn’t stop me as I bring it to my lips, or when I kiss the back of her knuckles in gratitude.

There’s no confusion on her face. She’s back to being mine. My pretty girl, who knew who she was and was confident in herself. As soon as we get out of here, we’ll go through every one of her memories, piece them together to find her baby, then we’ll be free.

47

DELILAH

My fingers hurt from how tightly I’m holding his hand, but he squeezes mine just as tightly. There’s no malice as he keeps me tucked behind him, removes his shoes, and slowly walks to the door, peering out to make sure there’s no one watching.

And then we run.

There’s no time for caution. My parents are locked in caskets and Helene is upstairs, so we run through the house and out of the large front door, leaving it open a crack. As soon as we hit the cold air, Kane pushes me ahead of him and we drag each other through the winding driveway. The steep decline works in our favor, forcing us further away from the ungodly house.

My lungs burn and a breathless laugh escapes me.

We did it.

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