“Nowhere.”
She frowns. “Talk to me. I’m your wife now. I know our relationship is complicated, to say the least, but you can always talk to me.”
“No.”
“We need to talk about what happened last night. We need—”
“No, we don’t need to talk about last night. It’s done and over. There is nothing we can do to change it. We both got what we wanted.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I got what I wanted?”
I look at the stairs. All I want is to go downstairs and collapse on the couch. I didn’t sleep a second last night. Now that Rialta is safe in my apartment, I just want to sleep.
“You got more than you could have hoped for,” I whisper.
“Talk to me. Please.”
Please—that word triggers me.I see her being dragged away. I’m bloodied on the floor and can barely open my eyes. She’s being taken away. I’ll never see her again. The last word she says to me is ‘please.’
Rialta wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug before I can refuse her.
“Let. Go. Of. Me.”
“No, not until you talk to me. Not until you tell me about last night. Not until you tell me what happens when your eyes gloss over, and you go cold and still. Not until you let me thank you.”
I shake her off. “You shouldn’t thank me. Go to sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
It’s a lie. I don’t ever want to talk to her—not now and not tomorrow.
“I’m not tired.”
“Then read a book or something, but I need to sleep.”
I turn to walk downstairs, done with this conversation, when she says something just to get under my skin.
“Fine, then I’ll call Kit. I’m not tired, and you won’t talk to me, but he will.”
I snap my head in her direction and shoot daggers at her with my eyes.
She smirks, knowing exactly what she’s doing, exactly how she’s getting under my skin.
“Go to sleep,” I say, not playing into her games.
“I’m not tired.”
“Go. To. Sleep.” I growl, getting in her face and unleashing the devil within. I don’t touch her, but I don’t have to in order to make her fear me.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.”
“I’m not. And I shouldn’t be.”
“You should be. You have no idea what I’m capable of. What you saw last night—that was nothing. That was a Tuesday for me. The things you’ve seen Vincent do—I’m worse.”
She looks at me with a soft gaze. “You’re not.”
“I am. You saw me kill an innocent man.”