“No. I don’t think I have a pass. All I want is the fucking truth.”
I want to hurt her. To make her cry. But Christ, she’s my wife, the mother of my child. So I hold myself back. I restrain the wild beast that threatens to attack, to hurt her.
“Fine, then,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’ll give you truth. Last night, Sheena, the fucking reporter, snuck onto our property. We don’t know for sure what she saw or what she did. Nolan interrogated her and he got some answers, but how do we know if that’s all?”
She blinks, her teeth still gritted, her nostrils flared.
“She got onto our property, because one of my fuckin’ men banged her bestie. Left his wallet and keys. They had their fun. Played him for the fucking fool he is. It was a mistake that could’ve cost us lives.” I tug her hair again. “And tell me, Aileen. You ought to know. Do you remember? Do you remember what happens to people who threaten the lives of the Clan? Or is that memory buried somewhere with the others?”
She blinks, then blinks again. The color drains from her cheeks, and I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. She remembers. She remembers why she hates me.
“Yes,” she whispered. “You beat me before.”
“I never beat you, lass,” I whisper. “I punished you for running, yes. For jeopardizing the lives of many.”
“And that’s what you did tonight? Is there no one safe from the brutality you men inflict on others?”
I don’t answer her.
I don’t like the way her voice quavers. I don’t like the way her eyes water, or how her look of anger has morphed into one of hatred. I don’t like it at all. She blinks, and a lone tear rolls down her cheek. It makes my stomach turn sour.
What am I doing?
What the fuck am I doing?
I release her as if she’s on fire. She stumbles and falls back onto the couch, shoving the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. Tears leak down her cheeks. I didn’t hurt her, I know I didn’t, but reminding her of the memories was a bad fucking idea.
She’d forgotten that I whipped her before we were married. That I fucked her ruthlessly on our wedding night when she asked me to make her bleed. She forgot all of that, and like a fucking douchebag, I remind her.
I should hold her. I should reach for her, comfort her. I should tell her she has a right to be upset, that brutality like this isn’t right or good, and no, I don’t like that I’m a part of this sometimes.
But I don’t. I turn from her. I walk to the bathroom, finish stripping my clothes off, and turn the water on to scalding. It’s so hot it burns, my skin aching beneath the onslaught. But it doesn’t cleanse me. It doesn’t cleanse me at all.Chapter 16AileenI shouldn’t be so angry. Or hell, maybe I should. God, I don’t know.
I feel like my emotions are on a pendulum. One moment I’m up, the other I’m down. One moment, he’s got me riding the highest of highs, sex-sated and eager to please him, hell, cuddling. Next minute, he’s all full-on Neanderthal.
I hear the pounding of the shower, and I wish I could forgive him. I wish I could let this go. I wish I didn’t have to push him when he was already at his lowest, or damn near to it.
But I remember. God, I remember, how he came into the room when I lived back home, masked and dressed in black. He whipped me for running. He humiliated me.
And then the night of our wedding…
The brutal memories I’ve kept hidden come pouring back with relentless, vivid clarity.
Lying over the table while he punished me to tears.
The bloodied sheets on our wedding night.
I remember. Oh, God, I wish I could forget.
It must be an hour later when I hear the shower turn off. I sit up and look around the room. It’s darker, now, storm clouds rolling in overhead. I shiver, suddenly cold.
I need to get out of here to clear my head. I don’t want to see him. These past days I’ve spent getting to know him, I thought he could be a good man. But I didn’t remember what he did to me before.
Today, he beat his very own brother in punishment.
What will he do with me?
I open the door to the bedroom and walk blindly into the hall, barefoot, my eyes blurry. We’re alone up here, all the men gone, Caitlin and Maeve gone as well. I wanted to talk to Cormac by myself, but now I hate the very thought of being alone with him.
I walk down the stairs and see a few servants. One gives me a curious look, but it’s not out of the ordinary for me to be walking about alone. I feel a slight wave of nausea again, but the ginger biscuits and the medicine I took help. I pause and the nausea passes.