Page 128 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

His jaw twitches, but that’s the only reaction I get from my statement.

“Think about every hideous crime that could be done to a child.”

I still; this time coldness sinks into my bones and almost crushes me when various pictures play in my head from his detached words.

Various crimes? Not just one?

He stands up and comes toward me, his bare toes touching mine, and he catches my wrist, bringing my splayed hand up to place on the angry red, slashed scar in the middle of his chest. “Kidnapped at age seven. Beaten, starved, and tortured till I was nine.” He drags my palm up to his collarbone with the faint burn marks from cigarettes or God knows what else. “Raped, beaten up till I was twelve.” He shifts my hand to his six-pack to several burn marks above the ax scar. “Raped and beaten at a different location until I was fifteen and we finally escaped.” Gasping, I cover my mouth with my free hand, tears forming in my eyes at the truth, but he doesn’t let me cry for him—oh, no. My heart squeezes so tightly, ready to break from the uncovered truth that holds so much hidden pain. “Their cruelty birthed a monster all those years ago, and you are right, querida. I will be one till the day I die.” He pulls me harshly to him so our chests bump against each other, and he leans closer to me, his breath fanning my cheeks as he drops his voice to a whisper. “Your heart hurts for me, baby?”

Tears stream down my cheeks so rapidly, probably smudging my makeup, and he wipes away a tear when I nod, because how could I not cry for a small boy who should have never experienced this? How did he even survive all this without going mad? And still managed to go back to a semi-normal life?

“Don’t. Nothing done to me in the past excuses what I do in the present.” Blinking in confusion, I tilt my head back so our gazes clash, and the familiar cynicism flashes on his face when he fists my hair, making me wince when he tugs on it painfully. “I chose darkness a long time ago and never looked back. Because I’m a lost cause, but someone else might not be.” A beat passes and then, “Unfortunately, you became my obsession, querida. What I desire, I get, and that’s your cross to bear. You’ll never be free, so don't feel sorry for me or build an image in your head of some savior who brings goodness to this world by erasing the evil people. Goodness dies when you pick murder and mayhem over moving on and living a normal life. I’m not a beast who will magically turn into a prince if you love him hard enough. I’ll forever be cursed.”

The thunder echoes in the night as his hold on me loosens and he steps back, ready to leave me alone after delivering his speech. But my hand grabs his belt buckle, keeping him still, and a question sparks in his eyes as my other palm still stays on his chest. But this time, I slide to his heart, noticing for the first time its wild beating, showcasing the emotions he still feels, despite his words.

Watching him now, lit up by the moonlight mixed with the dimmed light, I see the scars on his skin and his gorgeous male beauty in a different light, as he is no longer a tempting devil luring me to his hell where I’ll be burned alive.

No.

He’s a man whose heart knew so much heartbreak he still can’t forgive his parents for not protecting him enough, mainly his father.

A man whose childhood was ripped away so suddenly the only way he knew how to survive was to enjoy the darkness killing provides.

A man who pushed his pain so deep he probably isn’t even aware it still eats at his soul.

Is this why I crushed on him? Felt the instant pull toward him, even though my subconscious screamed at me to stop being pathetic?

A tortured soul recognizes another one just like hers, seeking to soothe all the cracks it has and fill it with bright stuff, overpowering the dark. But that’s impossible.

Because you cannot wipe away years of anguish. Nobody forgets what has been done to them. But it’s possible to cherish the future without condoning the person.

Licking my dry lips, I whisper, “I don’t love you.” Nervous laughter slips past me, and I inch closer, drinking in his features and enjoying seeing the slight confusion on his face as if he doesn't really know why I’m still not running away. “How can I? We know each other so little.”

“I don’t love you either,” he replies, honesty ringing in his voice, and then frowns. “I obsessively want you, and this need has no explanation.”

For a man like him, that’s almost a love declaration, but it’s based on his damaged cravings. When life takes away everything a person once had, even his humanity… he latches onto the things he wants and holds so tight in fear of it being snatched away again. They so desperately desire love that they showcase all their monstrous nature at once, hoping that someone will love them despite their sins.

Santiago Cortez couldn't have ever wanted anyone in a different way, our paths would have led to a quick marriage regardless of his reasons to marry me, which I’m still yet to discover.

I bet he is Conquest, because everything in life he conquers.

His circumstances, his psyche, his life while hunting the prey who try to avoid him like the plague yet never manage to do so.

And I became one of his conquests, who he snatched up on his horse and rode me to his hell where a different perspective exists.

My husband is a monster who does not intend to stop killing people. This alone should make me seek help to examine my head.

However, if he kills only those who deserve it… I can live with it.

And it scares me, so much my body trembles, but the prospect of never, ever knowing what it’s like to love scares me more.

In this world, he is the only person who ever needed me so much, and I want to soak in its warmth, discover if time can intensify those emotions and bring me warmth.

So I won’t ever be cold again.

Love is a privilege not all people have, and for the first time in my life, I want to be selfish.

I palm his head. He jerks a little under my touch, and I drag his head closer as I rise on my tiptoes so our mouths are inches apart, as I say, “But I can fall in love with the monster without trying to change him.”

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