Noah gave a heartless chuckle. “He never needed a reason why, Estella. My father put on a good show, but few people knew the real him. Underneath the cheerful façade lay a violent monster. Then he turned me into one, too.”
“You’re not a monster.”
The way he sat in shadow, watching me sleep was a little unnerving, but Noah wasn’t a bad person. If most people’s behaviour sat on a level axis, Noah’s sat on one that was slightly tilted. Anyone else would think twice about entering my room uninvited in the middle of the night, but he didn’t think like everyone else. His childhood had malformed him in ways I couldn’t even begin to fathom.
At my statement, he climbed off the chair and approached the bed. He sat at the very end of the mattress, leaving several feet between us. “Were you sent to a young offender’s prison?” I asked, and he nodded.
“I was transferred to a regular one when I turned eighteen.”
“When were you released?”
“Two years ago.”
“And what have you been doing since then?”
“Being Aleksy Mazur.”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because Noah Dylan has too many demons, and I didn’t want to be him anymore,” he answered flatly. My chest gave a sharp pang. “My cellmate was from Poland. His name was Tadeusz. We had to find ways to pass the time so I learned the language and the accent from him. Languages come easy to me. I pick them up fast.”
He held my gaze, and my throat grew heavy. I wanted to reach out and pull him to me, embrace him until the shadows of his past melted away. Somehow, though, I suspected there wasn’t anything that could make him forget. What happened with his dad would always stay with him.
A memory came back to me, when he’d talked of Dante’s Inferno and how he was destined for the seventh circle of hell. It was where murderers spent their eternal punishment.
The idea of Noah seeing himself as a killer broke my heart because if what he said about Victor was true, then he was no killer. Everyone was entitled to defend their own life.
“If your father was so cruel, then why have you put so much effort into this remembrance ceremony?”
“Because I want to put it behind me. I want to put it all to rest. Then, finally, I can move on with my life.”
That seemed logical – too logical almost. I didn’t see Noah as the sort of person who put things to rest. I saw him as the sort who righted wrongs, who enacted revenge with a bloodied sword.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said softly, eyes lowering to my bare shoulders. I wore only a thin, sleeveless pyjama top.
The air thickened, and my skin heated as I took in his shirtless form. He was cut from marble, more stunning than any renaissance sculpture.
“Why are you in my room, Noah?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
His mouth curved, and his green eyes practically blazed. “When I said no to having sex with you, and when I stopped kissing you on the beach, I was trying to be good. But I’ve changed my mind. I want to be bad.”
His words sent my insides into a tailspin.
“Be bad then,” I murmured quietly. Bravely.
I braced for impact as he closed the distance between us and climbed atop me. He took my hands in his, lifting them above my head, and I fell back into the pillows. His grip was so tight it was almost painful, but I liked the sting of it. Noah hovered above me, multitudes flashing behind his eyes. The only noise in the room was the sound of our laboured breaths.
I arched my spine, and our hips brushed. Everything inside of me was frenzied as I confessed, “I’ve never done this before.”
His eyes blazed like green fire in the dark. “Neither have I.”
Time stood still. Confusion filled me as I absorbed what he said. “You’ve never?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Not even in the last two years?”
“I never met someone I wanted to be with. Not until you.”
My heart pounded. A steel band wrapped tight around the sentimental organ. Noah was a virgin?
“Changed your mind?” he asked wryly, his expression self-deprecating.
My attention was drawn to the way the muscles in his arms stood in relief as he held himself above me. I swallowed thickly. “No, I’m just a little shocked.”
“Not all men come out of prison wanting to have sex with the first woman they see,” his lips twisted sardonically. “I was damaged, still a kid in a lot of ways. I’d seen so much behind bars, but inside I was a terrified fifteen-year-old who’d accidentally caused his father’s death. I was seriously fucked up, and I hated people. I resented them for how easy they had it. Then I met you, and I recognised the demons in your eyes. They were so much like the demons in mine.”