Page 25 of Worth

The guilt and the shame that fill me make me tremble. I almost killed her. How could I have lived with myself if I had killed her? HowcanI live with myself knowing I hurt her?

I’m so trapped in my thoughts that I don’t see her at first, standing right in front of me, her hands on either side of my face. I realize she’s saying my name again and again as she searches my eyes, her voice hoarse.

“Aiden, look at me,” she says, tapping her fingers against my cheeks. When I do, she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “There you are.”

“Fuck, Kitten,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant–”

Kitten presses fingers over my lips. “Shh,” she soothes. “I know you weren’t there, Aiden. It wasn’t you. I could tell.”

More pleas for forgiveness sit on my tongue, but she keeps her hand pressed against my mouth, not allowing me to let them spill out.

“Aiden.” I turn my head and Kitten’s fingers fall away from my mouth. Zander stands in the doorway behind me, arms crossed, eyes wary. “Good?”

I nod, swallowing hard as I look back at Kitten, who is glaring over my shoulder at Zander. “Good,” I reply. I don’t hear him leave, but I know he’s gone when her attention goes back to me. “Kitten, I–”

“Stop,” she orders, then winces as she tries to clear her throat. She takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen, pushing me into a chair at the bar. I watch her as she fills a glass with water and sets it in front of me. “Does that happen a lot?” Kitten asks after I’ve taken a few sips.

I shake my head. “Not too often.”

“What triggered you?”

I look across the kitchen, trying to find some clue of how to answer her.

“You don’t remember, do you?” she murmurs. When I don’t respond, she sucks in a breath. “I had spit out the French toast because it tasted weird and was still raw inside. You got upset after that.”

“Oh,” I mutter, looking at the counter. I failed. That’s what causes me to black out. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at cooking and–”

An honest-to-fuck laugh falls out of Kitten’s mouth, sounding all smoky and raspy from where I choked the fucking life out of her, and I hate that it turns me on. “Come here,” she says, her tone brokering no argument. She takes my hand again and pulls me around into the kitchen.

I stand, staring at her, while she moves around, digging through cupboards and drawers until she has an armful of things. “What are you doing?” I ask warily.

“I’m teaching you how to make French toast.”

I blink. “Why?”

The fact that she smiles sweetly at me as she pulls eggs from the refrigerator, moments after I just strangled her, makes me narrow my eyes. “So you don’t inflict any more ofyourFrench toast on some other poor soul,” she says, her voice teasing.

I stare some more, my brain not able to accept what’s happening. “How are you not angry with me?”

Kitten stops and glances over at me. “Because,” she answers quietly, “I’ve been through worse by someone whomeantto do it.”

It’s not an answer I like, but I understand it. I’ve been through worse than being strangled by a person who was wholly unaware of their actions, too. Without thinking much about it, I lurch forward and wrap Kitten into a hug, burying my face in her neck with a shudder. I inhale deeply, letting the sweet smell clinging to her skin settle into my senses and soothe the ache inside me that normally only killing makes go away.

Kitten laughs after a moment and gently pushes me away. As she explains to me how to make a breakfast dish that nearly got her killed, all I can think about is how she doesn’t realize that I will never let her go now.

She saw my darkness.

She didn’t run away from it.

She pulled me back from it instead.

Whether either of us like it or not, Kitten has branded herself on my soul for eternity and she will never not be mine.

Chapter 9

Cheese and rice, my throat hurts like hell.

I wince at the expression that came to me easier than breathing. It was Mom’s expression—one she only used when I was around, not realizing that I heard her muttering, ‘dammit all to fucking hell’ under her breath more than not.

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