But it’s not like that. It’s a slight your soul is born with. A black mark that can’t be erased.
“Fleur—”
“I don’t want to die,” she grits out, both of her hands grasping my face until the bite of her nails stings, percolating into a warming comfort in the pit of my stomach. “And if the only way not to is to kill—then I want to do it. Kill or be killed. I. Want. To. Kill.”
“Do you trust me?” Guiding her back into her seat, I reach across to buckle her back in.
I knew she would grow tired of having me protect her. It’s one of the things I admire about her the most. She doesn’t wait for anyone or depend on others. Fleur’s fiery and resilient. She likes to take care of herself. But this…this isn’t a playground bully, a mean journalist or her father being a dick because his girlfriend is a whiny, first-class cunt.
This is life and death, and her life matters to me. They’re my responsibility, and all I’ve done all my life is use my sin for the sake of others. I’ve killed for the soulless and for monsters, and I’ll be damned if I don’t do it for her and our daughter.
“Yes,” she answers my question. “But I need to trust me more.”
“Not on this.”
“Especially on this. If I can’t trust myself to protect me and our child…how can I really trust you?”
“Easily.” I start the engine, getting us back on our way. “It’s what I do.”
“It’s not about you, Casper.” Her hand finds my thigh and squeezes, like that’s meant to calm me down or make the fact she’s doubting me easier to stomach. “I trust you because I trust myself. I trust that I know you enough to give you myself. I trust that I know you will do whatever it takes to keep me alive. But I don’t trust that if anything happened to you that I would be able to survive…”
I’m not certain, but that latter comment seems like a double-edged sword. Duplicitous in its meaning. And the way her nails dig into my thigh…
“I need to be able to do what it takes to protect myself and our child.” She grows quiet, but her hold on me is strong enough that it’s obvious it’s not all about protecting herself.
She’s scared that she’ll be left alone. Like she’s afraid of the dark. I haven’t shared all the plans in pl
ace to ensure she’s always safe; I didn’t want to worry her. But maybe it’s time she knew all the layers of protection I’ve thought out and I’m still planning for her.
I promised I would never let anything happen to her, and I meant it. But if she wants to be a killer…I can try and make her a monster like me.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“You want to be a killer?”
“Yes.”
“How much of your soul are you willing to part with?”
“All of it,” she replies without a second thought.
“Just like that?”
“Take it.”
I will. I’ll take all of her soul. And like the devil, I’ll never give it back.
Chapter 8
FLEUR
The rain stops suddenly. Mud splatters and spits into the air, and I focus on the wipers. I’m not completely sure of what I’ve just given Casper, or why he took it so freely. But we keep shifting, and I have no idea where we’re at anymore. With every passing day, it feels as though we’re blurring the boundaries he’s drawn. We’re getting closer, and it’s getting harder to hold all my feelings in.
It feels as though I’m physically and emotionally stretched to full capacity, and one more look or touch from him is going to blow me to pieces. Completely undo me, and I have no idea what the aftermath will hold for us.
Casper is stubborn. He’s headstrong and he’s so full of good intentions tarnished with his idea of what he should or shouldn’t do. It’s frustrating and in the midst of all this mess…infuriating and distracting.