Page 76 of Broken Souls
“You’vehad a long day? I had a nine hour fucking drive. Then I fought a monster – a legit, bonafide fucking snake, bat thing that your mother sicced on me because she thought I took down the wards because your asshole of a brother lured me back here to be his fall guy! Khalid’s girl tried to kill me, but I still saved her. Then I got punched in the stomach and learned I was pregnant! That is not the time to learn you’re fucking pregnant! That is the most stressful fucking time to learn you’re pregnant!
“And then you!” I yell, smacking at his chest as he holds me over his bed. “You torture me! You damn near cause a miscarriage and then you leave!” My voice breaks. Cracks. Fucking splits apart like my heart is right now. “You left me. You left me all alone when I was hurting so fucking badly, and then you come back… You come back and you yell at me.”
Tears burn my eyes, and I duck my head so he can’t see them. I am so fuckingdonecrying over him.
“Fuck, monster,” he says, his voice softening. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That’s all you fucking say. I don’t care that you’re sorry. I care that you did it.”
“Well, what do you want me to say then?” he asks in exasperation. “Do you want me to not say sorry?”
“Of course I want you to say sorry! But I want you to do other things too!”
“Like what?”
I flounder, not sure. What could he possibly do to prove I can trust him not to hurt me?
“Fucking hel, Micha. Justtellme.”
Just time, I realize. It’s just going to take time, constant little actions that show me he loves me. That he’ll choose me over his traitorous brothers and scheming mother and just trust me not to hurt him so he doesn’t hurt me.Ha!My heart breaks. Varius trusting someone. That’s never going to happen.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Micha. Stop acting crazy and just tell me what you need so I can fix this,” he growls, his voice low, not yelling but yelling all the same.
My eyes widen.
“Crazy!” I screech. “You want to see me crazy!” Twisting in his arms, I bite him hard on the shoulder. The taste of blood explodes on my tongue. I jerk my head up. “How’s that for crazy! Or maybe this!” I grab at his waistband, knowing he has knives somewhere. Finding a handle, I pull the blade out of its sheath. “Let me cut off your dick and see howreasonableyou are afterwards!”
He grabs for my wrist as I wave the knife around. I wave it more erratically to keep it out of his reach. The longer I manage, the more his frustration mounts, and the angrier he becomes. As his eyes darken to a cold steel, my heart slams around my rib cage, and I am hit with the memory of him standing in front of me while I was strapped to that chair.
Panic grabs hold of me, sinking its razor-sharp claws into my limbs, into my mind, and I am fully transported back to the moment I was there. When I begged him to stop hurting me. When I feared for my life and that of my child.
Lifting the knife up rather than out, I aim for the base of his shoulder. A part of me is screaming that the only way I can live is if he dies. If I stab him and rip myself free of my bindings. My vision blurs, but I can still see his damn eyes, haunting me in their cruelty.
One of his arms comes up to block me, his forearm crossing with mine. The other grabs my wrist and bends it back. I cry out, and he releases me. But the pain is done. The damage. The memory of how easily he can hurt me. How willing he is to do so.
I ram my head forward to crack his nose. He twists as he throws me down. I hit his bed on my back, and he jumps on top of me to pin me down. My arm comes up, instinctive and quick while he’s in mid-air. My breath whooshes out of my lungs as two-hundred-and-forty-odd pounds lands on me, crushing my fist into my chest and I gasp in pain, my eyes bugging wide. Fuck. I didn’t expect his full weight. I thought he would hold himself up to protect me, thought he would at least try not to hurt me again.
Tears burn my eyes as my rage suddenly dies, and all I want to do is curl up into a self-pity party, knowing that we are never coming back from this. I can’t see him outside of the man who tortured me. Who was okay with listening to my screams. And if I can’t trust him when he’s angry, how can I trust him when he’s not?
As a sob builds in my chest, I try to tell him to get off me, that he’s making it hard for me to breathe, that he’s hurting the baby, that I don’t want him touching me, that I want to be alone. My words come out as a jumbled mix of all those things though, and none of it makes sense.
But he doesn’t move, doesn’t say a single word, and that is such a strange reaction from him that it cuts through my sorrow just enough for me to feel it.
The wetness on my chest.
The knife that’s still in my fist.
Which is stuck between me and him.
My eyes widen.
His full weight is on me!
On the blade that’s poised right below his heart.
“Varius!” I shout, panic making my voice squeak. I didn’t want this. Not really. I just wanted him to stop hurting me. “Varius! Varius, get off me. I can’t –” I try to wiggle out from beneath his bulk, but I’m terrified of jerking the knife, of making the hole bigger. And he’s just too damn heavy for me to get free.
“Help! Someone help!” I scream.
