Malum: Part 1 (The Elite King's Club 4)

She nods, getting to her feet and pulling me in for a hug. “Please make the right decision.” Then she leaves me, alone with my thoughts. I undress and step into the shower, relishing in the hot water.

Could I live here? I mean really. If it’s the pool house, that’s practically not in the same house. I will need to start job hunting first thing Monday. At least, I can go from there. I use Madison’s shampoo and conditioner and then soap up before getting out, drying off and slipping into Nate’s shirt and his briefs. I have to roll the waistband a few times until they’re not falling down, but they work. I really need to go shopping and get some clothes. Being back in civilization again after being on Perdita and locked up with Peyton has made me realize how much time I’ve lost.

I’m met with complete darkness and Eminem rapping in the background to “Stronger Than I Was” when I enter the bedroom. He has our daughter sleeping to Eminem. I don’t know whether to punch him or swoon. Nate must have turned off the TV while I was in the shower. I drop my clothes in the hamper near the bathroom door, hitting off the bathroom light and making my way back to the bed. Thank god Micaela is a good sleeper. She’s an incredible child. So settled for a baby that has had a sketchy start to life.

I tug the sheet back and slide into the other side of Nate, aware that he has Micaela’s crib on his side. I lay back, trying to not breathe loudly, or even move too much, afraid he’ll swear at me or something. Moody Nate isn’t fun. I miss how we used to be before.

“Nate?” I whisper, pulling the covers up to my chin. Colored dots dance around in the room as my eyes adjust.

“Go to sleep, Tillie.”

“Did you kill anyone tonight?”

Silence, and then just when I think he isn’t going to say anything, he murmurs, “More than one.”

“Do I need to get rid of your clothes?”

More silence. “Go to sleep, Tillie.”

I do as I’m told and drift off to sleep.

Daemon

PAST

Stones indented into the cushion of my feet with each step. The sun burned into my flesh and the sweat dripped down my face like it had so many times before. I’m being punished. Punished for being something I should not. I was raised with a set of rules being hammered into me from a young age, but one was feelings. It was basic human nature to feel, or so I’d been told. We sweat when it’s hot, we shiver when we’re cold. But emotional feelings, feelings of attachment—that is something that is optional.

“You will not draw that again, Daemon!” Katsia said in fluent Latin.

“Draw what?” I asked in Latin, the only language we speak, so simply that it shook the surprise off Katsia’s face.

She pointed down to my latest image. Chapter Six. “That!”

I stared down at the green eyes. Like mine in shape, but green in color. The almond tilt and the long fang of lashes. Just two eyeballs glassed over. “Why?”

Katsia couldn’t answer or wouldn’t. She merely watched me with a careful eye. “Throw it away. I don’t want you drawing anymore!” The car door slammed, and the tires skidded in her departure. What did I do wrong? I don’t know what I did wrong…

Human nature is to feel, so they turned me into a machine.

I blocked the sun out of my eye, watching the trailer that was parked right at the entryway to a park. It rocked back and forth as yelling and screaming spilled from the beat-up windows. I ran toward it, using the old potted plants with withered flowers as a step stool. I peeked through the window, but it was hard to see. The edges had mold spurting out of the seams, but I could see a small girl curled on the ground. She had to be maybe a little younger than me. Her hair is matted in blood, sticking her blonde curls to her face. Her clothes had dark smeared blood on them and her lip quivered as her arms covered her eyes to shield her head.

The girl’s eyes meet mine. Turquoise blue, the same color as the tropical ocean that wraps around Perdita. Everything slows as she blinks, her thick eyelashes damp with tears fanning over her swollen cheeks.

“Daemon!” Katsia mutters from behind me.

I turn to face her, the woman I was to trust. But how could I trust her if this is what she did to her own daughter. “Why don’t you help her?”

Katsia’s eyes darken. “She is not my issue.”

“You’re her mother.”

“That means nothing. I am a Stuprum first.”

“But, maybe you can be both?” I tried to bargain with her, unable to get the girl’s eyes out of my head.