Page 45 of Lust
“I can’t.”
Pain flashed in her eyes. No, it was more than that. Helplessness. Like she was being washed out to sea and could see him on the shore as she drifted away on a raft. Her eyes watered. She bit her lip.
The fight left him. His voice softened. “I’m right here, Liza. Right here. I’m on your team.”
She reached for him, yet still held back. Her fist clenched at her side.
Why?
That old, sick voice in his head said the same old thing on repeat.You’re not good enough.You’ll bruise the ones closest to you.
He would never fit in with her family… but did he want to? Nothing good would come of his investigation. He knew that. Yet, he still ran barreling toward the finish line with no care for his heart. It was this insane drive to be better than his father competing against his need for her. She was the flame, and he was the moth beating its wings in the opposite direction against the urges of his heart. Every cell in his body wanted to gather her into his arms, but he fought against instinct, just as he had all these years.
The more he studied her, he realized something. Her reaction wasn’t about him. It had never been about him. She was… he searched her face as he struggled to come up with the right conclusion. There was so much pain and uncertainty there. Perhaps he’d been too caught up in his perceptions, and his position imposed on him by his director, that he’d not seen Liza’s struggle.
She gulped air and then said, “I can’t. I’m afraid. I’m...”
He touched her cheek, but she flinched.
“You shouldn’t touch me. You shouldn’t be near me.”
“Liza, that’s not true. Talk to me.”
Her stare bore right through his chest. She shook her head, denying it all. Always with the tough act. But he knew her better than most. The tremble on her bottom lip, the dimple in her chin, the scream for help in her eyes. He’d seen the same things when she would tumble into his yard as a child. When she’d throw the ball into his second-story window, and climb the trellis. Back then, she only ever whined about menial things like chores, or her brothers, despite him sensing there were things she failed to tell him. They would share their silence, eat raspberry licorice, and it had been enough.
But he couldn’t be patient now. Something had to give. Maybe it should be him.
“I know, Liza.”
“Know what?”
“More than you think. You’re fast, strong, and you come from a family of gifted people. Each of you disappeared for years, only to come back hard, and even more frightening than before. Out there on the street, I saw the stains on your mouth and the mist from your hands. That night on the balcony across from my apartment? I saw the dead rats. Now it makes sense why you’d left so fast. The evidence is irrefutable. You’re one of the Deadly Seven, Liza. Please don’t pretend you’re not.”
His words shifted something in her. The hard, invulnerable, warrior queen emerged. She clenched her fists, as though she needed to defend herself.
“What did I just say, Liza?” he chided.
She pursed her lips and glanced down at the baseball in her hand. “You’re on my side.”
He nodded. “You always know who wants to date who at the office. You’re the best closer in sex-related crimes. You’re always harping on about sensing my lust, or lack thereof. YouareLust. Tell me I’m right.”
Her head drooped. “I…”
“You’re not like them—the rest of your family. You don’t hide behind a mask and run from responsibility, from what’s right. Why are you now?”
Her gaze snapped up. Wildfire flared in her eyes. “But you see? I’ve been pretending I’m normal for so long, I forgot what was coming for me. What’s been inside me the whole time. There is no escape. I’m the furthest thing from normal.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“Lust. Just think about it for a moment.”
He narrowed his eyes.
Her voice trembled. “I feel sick in my stomach every time I sense lust. Whether it’s sexual, or not. Every time I get close to someone, I feel sick. The last time I tried to have sex, I vomited on the guy.” She held up her hands, her voice getting tight. “Poison. I make it. With my body. With mymouth!Like some sort of fish in the ocean or bug in the sand, I’m a freak. You saw those Faithful out there. They died the moment they inhaled my mist. I’m a monster, and I can’t risk you, Joe. You’re the only one I don’t feel sick around. You’re my—” She cut herself off.
She got physically sick from sensing sin? This explained so much. Her recent avoidance to date, her reluctance in having a long term relationship, her snarky comments about his love life. The mean and jaded front she put up. She was messed up inside, but all she’d ever wanted was love, just as much as anyone else.
“Does your family know? About the sickness?”
