Clara looked nothing like him—where she was dark and pearly skin, Vasily had been dusky skinned and fair. Vasily’s eyes had been like mine—an artic white-blue so clear I had a vague memory of my mother calling them icebergs.
It didn’t matter Clara looked nothing like him. My brain couldn’t stop poking at wounds, invoking pain I thought I’d put behind me.
But the pain didn’t compare to the newness and warmth I’d found. Where Clara was my sun—healing and casting my shadows away—Zel was my fucking cosmos.
She was everything I wanted. Everything I needed. Everything I never thought I’d deserve.
Obsidian used to be my obsession, but now I no longer cared about the fighters pummelling each other in my house, or the steady influx of money from eager members. I wanted to rest and step back from violence.
I was done with it.
I just hoped it was done with me.
I woke at my usual midday and worked out for an hour before entering my office. The calendar on my desk blotter told me it was Saturday.
A big night at Obsidian and the weekend. No school for Clara. My heart picked up its beat at the thought of asking Zel to stay another night.
She’d agreed previously not because she wanted to, but because Clara had bounced around like a little lunatic and sealed the deal without her permission.
Ask her in front of Clara again.
I knew it was underhanded to use the excitement of an eight-year-old to keep Zel here, but I didn’t mind playing dirty if it meant she never fucking left. My days were brighter and darker, easier and harder, when she was around, and I wasn’t ready to give that up.
“Can we go to the beach? I want to go to the beach.” Clara’s high voice preceded her as she bolted into my office with Zel trailing close behind. I hadn’t seen them since last night, and my fucking heart leapt out of my chest and splattered at their feet.
Zel met my eyes, a soft look in her green gaze. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I murmured. I couldn’t tear my eyes off her. Dressed in a feminine white skirt and pink singlet, she looked too young to be a mother and far too intoxicating for my already strained self-control.
Clara pressed her hands on the front of my desk, jumping up and down. “Morning! We went for a walk. The sun’s out, and it’s hot already. I want to go for a swim.”
I leaned back in my chair, drinking them in. “I can see you had a good walk.” I smirked. Her glossy brown hair held foliage and pieces of freshly mowed grass.
Clara darted around my desk to stand beside me. My skin pricked; muscles coiled with anticipation—sensing her will to touch me, preparing itself to battle the imminent urge to kill.
“Yep. Like my daisies?” She shook her hair, showing a long daisy chain wrapped in the strands.
“They’re very pretty.” I smiled, never relaxing.
Clara grinned. “You’re coming to the beach. I’ve already got my bathing suit on. You need to bring yours, so you can swim.”
My throat slammed closed. The idea of going to the beach filled me with horror. How could I explain the thought of being half-naked gave me the cold sweats? How could I explain the tattoo on my back or the scars on my chest?
I couldn’t.
“Scars are a mark of pride, Operative Fox. They show how successful you are. Many requests for killers come in based on how many injuries you’ve endured and overcome.”
That’s all we were. Evaluated on how efficiently we exterminated another life—how perfectly we obeyed orders.
“Please, say you’ll come.” Clara’s voice shattered the flash back. She moved closer, hands out-stretched, eyes full of determination.
All my strength had been replaced with icy fear. Shoving my chair back, I kept my distance. I couldn’t do it.
Zel made a noise in the back of her throat, rushing forward. “Clara, don’t touch Fox right now. He’s not feeling well.” Her eyes met mine, and I stopped breathing.
Her green gaze glowed, lips parted, face flushed. She stared so intensely at me I swore she touched me, whispering across my black covered body. All her passion and anxiety for Clara’s well-being battled with the complex emotions she felt for me. It was as if she whipped me with everything she struggled with: uncertainty, anger, grief, lust, friendship, betrayal. My heart went from sluggish to racing, pumping my blood with need.
I want you. So fucking much. I shot the message as hard as I could, hoping she’d decipher my soundless sentence.
She sucked in a breath, drawing my eyes to her breasts encased in her pink tank top. Her nipples hardened beneath the fabric, and it took all my willpower to stay sitting and not launch myself across the desk and grab her.
Clara ceased to exist as I stared at Zel. Her eyes went heavy with lust.
She made me fucking crazy.
I could no longer operate my body, and all concentration flew out of the window. All thoughts turned to binding her with silver jewellery and fucking her. I couldn’t get enough of her. I missed her.
Then another thought hit me.
Maybe I’ve done it the wrong way. Maybe the only way to succeed at never hurting her would be to trap myself in bondage. Am I always destined to be an animal only fit for shackles?
Life decided to answer my dumbass question in the form of tiny, breakable hand landing softly on my scarred cheek. Clara chose that exact moment—the moment I wasn’t concentrating—to touch me in the worst possible spot.
Life ceased to exist.
Death roared in my brain.
Hands clenched. Body shifted. Zel screamed.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
Conditioning tsunamied through me, wreaking havoc on my self-control, reminding me I’d been forged as a weapon, not a human to interact with something as killable as a child.
I blinked, bringing a terrified Clara into focus and a tear-stained ferocious Zel. “No!” she screamed.
My hands clutched Clara’s shoulders, digging into her, and it took every single reserve left inside to shove her away. The second she tumbled to the floor, Zel scooped her up and darted backward.
I fell off my chair and clutched my skull, trying to crush the overpowering orders.
Kill. Sever. Bleed. Devour.
I looked up, searching for the letter opener I kept on the desk. I needed a weapon to put myself down—before I did something I would never be able to live with.
“Clara, no!” Zel cried, sounding muffled in the crash of orders in my head. “Stay away.”
Amazingly, Clara brought on the conditioning, and she was the one who ended it. Her loud, little voice yelled, “Stop it!”
And…it did.
Just like that. Instant silence, leaving me shaking and eerily empty.
I snapped my head upright, breathing hard. I climbed to my feet, creaking in joints that had no right to move after a lifetime of torture. “Are you okay?” My voice was gruff, strained. Gulping in air, I ran hands through my shaggy hair.
The spell of lust between Zel and me was gone, replaced with appalled horror in her gaze. My heart deflated. Why can’t I be fucking normal?!
I wanted to tear my office apart and fight. I ruined it. Proved to Zel Clara wasn’t safe around me. Fuck!
“Hazel, you know I—” What could I say? I’d made more progress in the last two days than ever before, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be fucking enough to deserve them.
Clara squirmed in her mother’s hold. Zel seemed to be in livid shock, her face frozen in stone.
Freeing herself, Clara came forward. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for me to witness the fierceness in her dark eyes. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I didn’t mean to touch you.” Her head hung, sending a curtain of shiny hair around her face. “Don’t yell at me, okay?”
My heart lurched. I felt like fucking crying. None of this was fair. Not to Clara, or Zel, or even me. I was and always would be a machine who should remember his place and stay in the dark.
Clara was so innocent. So pure. Everything that I wasn’t.
“I won’t yell at you, little one. It wasn’t your fault.” Sighing heavily, I stayed slouched on the floor, keeping a careful eye on her. “I think you and your mother should go.”
Zel sucked in a harsh breath, life animating her body once again. I searched her gaze and fucking died when she nodded once. “Yes, Clara. I think Mr. Fox needs to have some time on his own. Let’s go to the beach with Auntie Clue and Ben.”
“But I don’t want to go to the beach with them. And stop calling him Fox!” Clara’s cheeks grew pink. “It was my fault. Don’t kick us out, please. You haven’t told me any stories. You haven’t shown me a sheep. I don’t want to go.”
I couldn’t stand seeing her bottom lip wobble.
Right there. Right then. My life split, heading into a crossroads.
I was obsessed with finding redemption. Destroyed by love. Possessed by hope. Consumed by a past I couldn’t shake. My eyes locked with Zel’s. It was time. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t come with baggage, or issues that I might never be free of, but before Zel walked away from me forever, I wanted her to know the truth.
I wanted to know her. I wanted to earn her trust. I wanted a connection. I didn’t want to be feared or hated. I didn’t want to be an inconvenience or burden.
It was time to tell her everything, so she could decide for herself.
It was the only way forward. And it would mean I’d lose both of them because she would never allow her daughter near me again.
“I think it’s time I told you a story, Clara.” My voice sounded heavy and bleak. I’ll tell you things that’ll scar your mind and grant you nightmares for life.
Zel sniffed, straightening her back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She moved forward, wrapping her arms around Clara’s shoulders. Her body trembled with tightly reined emotion; her limbs brittle, eyes tinged with grief. “Please, Fox. You keep forgetting she’s a child. You can’t tell her what I think you want to. You can’t unburden yourself onto such an innocent mind. I won’t let you.”
“I’ll filter. I’ll turn it into a fairy-tale. I promise I won’t share too much, just…please…give me the opportunity to tell someone. Before you leave.”
She bit her lip, deliberations filling her eyes.
I looked at my hands. Holding them up, I said, “I can tell you the story behind every scar, every nick, and every mark on my body. I’ll answer any question you want, and then you can cast judgement.” My fingers weren’t appendages—they were ruthless weapons and held a lifetime of grief. “I’ll save the details for you, but give me the chance to tell your daughter one story.”
Looking at Clara, I added, “I’ll tell you about a boy who lost his life only to have a little girl give it back to him.”
Clara smiled heartbreakingly sweet, her dark eyes so wide and forgiving. Her fierceness made me yearn for another child…a boy, who’d been just as tough and perfect.
“I’d like that. But I want more than one.”
Zel gave in. Her shoulders slumped. “One story and then we’re going home.”
I nodded. I could live with that. I couldn’t expect anything more.
Clara smiled, happiness glowing on her face. “Tell me now.”
Chapter 15
The day I told the father of my child about Clara, I walked away bleeding and scarred.
Instead of the swarmy, smooth ways that made me spread my legs for him, he glared as if I were scum.
He called me a whore, a slut, a gold-digging bitch.
I didn’t know he had rich parents, or that he stood to inherit a substantial empire. We’d met on the streets, hanging around fast food chains. I thought he was an orphan—like me. Turned out he liked to dabble in darkness before going home to his perfect bed. It wasn’t until I stalked him to his house that I found out the truth.