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And like a magnet that can no longer resist the pull of the metal, I need more of her.
I cup her face, lean my forehead against hers, and inhale her cherry-vanilla scent like the alluring drug to my system that it is—knowing that just one hit won't be enough, but no longer caring because of the masochist I am when it comes to anything involving her.
God, I've missed her so damn much.
But not in the way you miss those you care about after not seeing them for a long time.
No, I miss her like one would miss having a vital organ...in a basic, raw, and necessary for survival kind of way.
So I'm allowing myself these few moments with her and cherishing it...because I know I won't have them again.
Not only because I need to keep my distance...but because I have every intention of letting her go free again.
Not to mention, the other glaring fact—she hates me.
And if I'm being honest with myself, there's a small part of me that hates her too.
And no matter how much I love her and would do anything in the world for her...and I mean anything...there will always be that tiny thread of hate that exists between us.
The thread we grab hold of and yank in order to make the other bend to our will...or the one we'll wrap around the others throat and use to kill each other one day.
It's a dangerous game of tug of war...because in the end, neither of us come out the wi
That's why I have to be the one to control the reins this time...even if it means making her think she's weak so I can be strong enough for the both of us.
And if I have to burn the entire world to the ground in order to watch her rise from the ashes like the phoenix I know she is...I will.
I'll do whatever it takes... lie, cheat, steal, and kill for her.
I'll die a thousand deaths, a thousand different ways...just so she can survive this one lifetime.
I lower my head until I'm hovering just above her stomach. My eyes burn because it brings me back to the night I thought I could save her by getting her pregnant.
Little did I know...she was already carrying our child.
A child neither of us will ever get to meet...because of me.
And there's no mother in the world who could forgive someone for taking that away.
There's no father in the world who could, either.
I brush my lips over her wound. "Il mio piccolo superstite,” I murmur against her soft skin.
I pluck a dandelion from the vase on the nightstand and lay it down next to her. “I'm sorry, Lou-Lou. God, I'm so sorry,” I whisper as I stand up. “And I'll never let anyone hurt you again...including myself.”
I walk out of the room, making sure I don't dare look back...because I can't.
After a few moments, the pain in my chest dissipates and I can't help but smile.
Because the darkness is beckoning me...and I have some assholes to track down and kill.