Page 68 of Resurrecting the Enemy
Ihad kept my promise to Eden and had slept in yesterday. I had even spent time with my parents, and it’d been nice. Hanging out with them had gone a long way to ease their worrying about me. We’d also had a follow-up by the police, asking me if I’d remembered anything more, but I haven’t. The last thing I still remember was telling Curt to leave me alone before Ramsey showed up and kicked his ass.
Ramsey.
I couldn’t stop thinking of him and I still couldn’t make the pain in my chest go away, and I felt stupid for it. I felt like the worst kind of idiot to be still thinking of him.
He wasn’t worth it.
What he’d done was unforgivable.
And I wasn’t that girl. I wasn’t weak. I didn’t have self-esteem issues. I couldn’t be bought by his money or swayed by his stunning looks.
Not to mention, he’d been with someone else within hours of washing his hands of me. And that exchange had told me she wasn’t just some random Windsor gold-digger. That girl mattered to him, and with the way he had defended her and with the way she had stood by his side the entire time, it made me wonder if I’d been the ‘other girl’. Had he really been slumming? Had they been broken up? Taking a break? Had I been revenge or something cold like that?
And never mind how beautiful she was. That dark hair paired with those amber eyes was a stunning combination. Though she looked to be younger than a senior, there was no denying she was a beautiful girl. In comparison, the slumming comment had a ring of truth to it.
But I also couldn’t put the entire blame on him, though. That moment, right before he had claimed me for the first time, I had told him I’d rather experience him than regret him. And while I was regretting him something fierce, there was no denying I’ve experienced the real Ramsey Reed Jr. at his best and at his worst. Of course, I was assuming this was his worst when it probably really wasn’t. Humiliating me at a party was child’s play in comparison to what he was capable of with the backing of his brother and parents. The Reeds were a dangerous lot.
There was also no denying that I was probably in love with the sonofabitch. Why else would my chest hurt the way it did if I weren’t? If I weren’t in love with him, hurt wouldn’t exist right now. Humiliation and anger would be the only emotions still with me a week later. Not to mention, what kind of idiot falls in love with a cruel psychopath in a matter of two weeks?
That’s why I was out at the Lapis inlet, taking pictures again. I had avoided this place last week when I had started taking pictures again, but I still wasn’t connecting with any of my subjects, so desperation brought me out here.
Wondering what I was missing with the last five shots, I stared down at my camera, clicking through the images, when I heard footsteps rustle within the fallen leaves on the ground. I didn’t have to look up to know it was him. Just like before, I could sense him, and that was further validation that I was fucked when it came to Ramsey Reed Jr. and what I felt for him.
I went back to taking pictures, even though I knew it was pointless to ignore him. However, I didn’t know why he was here, and I wasn’t going to ask. Of course, he could be here to tell me to leave. After all, I was on one of the hillside sections of Sands Cove.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, apart from the shutter of the camera, I finally asked, “Are you lost?”
My heart shattered just a little more when he replied, “No. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
Self-preservation kicked in, and I pushed his response out of my mind. I kept right on taking pictures as if it weren’t destroying me to have him so close.
It wasn’t long before he spoke again, though. “What’s it going to take?”
I wished for numbness, but my heart was thumping painfully against my ribs. That’s what the roughness of his voice did to me. It wasn’t fair that he could still make me feel anything for him besides anger. It wasn’t fair that his voice and nearness could still affect me. I didn’t like knowing that there was a part of me not opposed to forgiving him.
But I pushed that all aside.
I kept taking pictures. “For what?”
“For you to forgive me,” he said, and I barely managed to hold in the heartbreaking cry that threatened to erupt.
I stopped with the pictures, drew in a deep breath, and turned to face him. He still looked as beautiful as he always had, but darker somehow. His hands in his pockets, his back straight, his chin up, and his eyes like piercing daggers, he looked like a caged panther.
A caged panther dying to break free.
I lifted my camera and started snapping pictures of him, and seeing him through the lens, he was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
And Idespisedmyself for connecting with this particular subject.
Iloathedthat he was so captivating.
“You know, people think evil is supposed to be this dark, ugly thing,” I told him as I snapped picture, after picture of him. “But it’s not.” He stood there, silent, and let me take my fill. “Evil is the most beautiful thing in existence, I think. How else would we fall prey to it, then? If evil came to us in its true form, we’d run scared. We’d run frightened. We’d run as fast as we could and never look back, don’t you think?” I didn’t let him answer. “Evil needs to be breathtaking in order to lure you in. It needs to be seductive to hook up. And it needs to be powerful to hold you in its grip.”
“Lake-”
I lowered the camera and stared into those deep brown eyes of his. The eyes that always stared down at me like they could see all my secrets. “And you are still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” I told him. “The most beautiful, dangerous, lethal thing I have ever seen.” I lifted the camera and started snapping pictures again. “Too beautiful to capture, yet too irresistible not to try.”
“Stop it,” he said, his tone quiet, yet forceful.
