I swallow hard past the lump forming in my throat. “What about our parents?” I’ve been too afraid to ask him about Dad and how he got away. I can still see the deadly look on Jaxon’s face and his dead voice as he said,“Cry, little sister.”
Jaxon steps closer to me and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Taken care of.”
I wince. “I’m too afraid to ask, but...what do you mean, ‘taken care of’?”
Jaxon leans down until our noses brush. “You really wanna know?”
I hesitate for a moment, unsure. It’ll bug me the rest of my life if I don’t discover the truth, though. Fuck it.
I nod.
His eyes fill with deadly amusement, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “I killed them,” he says, pleased and on the verge of laughing. “They’re dead, baby. I warned you that I’d kill them.”
Gravity pops like a balloon, and my body becomes weightless. Receding into my mind as I process this news, I can’t look away from him.
Sadness takes root in me. Our parents were terrible to us and especially to me, but they were still our parents. There are memories with them, and some of them are good. There were moments when my mom was kind to me.
But the bad memories stand out the most. Too many times I went to bed crying and feeling lonely.
“Shh.” Jaxon swipes my tears away and folds me into his arms. I didn’t realize I started crying, and now that I know, the tears fall faster. “Tell me what’s going through your head.”
I swallow back the sobs, then clutch him, my nails digging into his back. I clear my throat and quiet my crying before I speak. “They were our parents. If it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t be here.”
Jaxon listens, letting me talk through this. He strokes my hair and massages my scalp every few seconds. I melt into him until I’m a puddle of goo in his hands. I love having my hair played with. It’s something I do for Jaxon often when he’s upset, so it’s nice that he’s returning the favor.
“I guess I’m mourning what could have been. We could have developed a better relationship with them if they hadn’t been so awful,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against his chest. “Am I a terrible person for not being upset with you?”
Jaxon strokes his fingers through my locks and kisses the crown of my head. “No, flower. Their deaths are on my hands. They put themselves in that situation and backed us into a corner. They would have done anything to keep us apart, and I couldn’t let that happen.” He gently eases me back and cups my cheeks. Love shines in his dark eyes, and if I wasn’t already in love with him, I would fall for him right here. “They made you cry, little sister.”
I hold on to his sides and sniffle. “What will you do when you make me cry?”
He doesn’t blink when he says, “I’ll rip my heart out for you. If I ever make you cry and feel unloved, like everyone else did to you, then I don’t deserve you.”
“I don’t want you to leave me. Even if you make me cry, I’ll always forgive you. You’re my everything, big brother.”
His pupils blow and eat up his irises. I have to bite back my smile. I always enjoy seeing his reactions when I call him that.
Jaxon’s nostrils flare. He fists my locks and yanks my head at an angle. “Don’t do that.”
I shiver at his grating voice that deepens with desire. Looking into his eyes, they’re the same dark shade as when he’s blacked out. I now know the difference. It’s getting easier to read him and know when he’s thinking dirty thoughts about me.
I fist his hair and tug at the strands, smiling when he grunts. He walks me backward until my bottom meets the counter.
“Let go, Dahlia,” he growls.
“No.”
His jaw tenses, a muscle fluttering as he clenches his teeth. “Let go, or I’ll mark your pretty skin.”
I yank his hair and yelp as he moves like lightning. He manhandles me as he lifts me, forcing me to wrap my legsaround his hips. He shoves my crop top up and pulls my nipple into his warm mouth. I scream as he bites down until it feels like his teeth sink beneath the surface.
“Fuck!” I rock against him, needing more from him. More friction. More touches. More guttural confessions about how I’m his dirty slut.
Jaxon unlatches from my nipple and bites near the bottom of my breast with the same pressure. I tug his hair and clench my thighs, squeezing him closer to me.
“Goddammit, Dahlia,” he snarls into my flesh.
“I’m not sorry!” I yell.
