Emmaline stepped closer and her other hand came up to his face. She cupped his cheeks in both hands now and looked him deep in the eye as she said, “I see no monster.”
Alex's heart skipped a beat.
How could this woman possibly be real?
Closing his eyes, though it pained him, he urged her hands down from his face as he said, “You are stuck with me. I can see why you would try to convince yourself of such things, but you need not. I know what I am.”
“Do you?” Emmaline asked and the tone of her voice made him open his eyes to look at her. “I fear that you do not.”
Alex shook his head. “It is you who do not. I have seen terrible things and done nothing. I have done even more terrible things and done nothing to make amends. I am scarred, as I said, on the inside and out.”
“I do not believe that,” Emmaline said, laying her palms on his chest. Through his shirt he felt the warmth of her touch and he bit the inside of his cheek. Her nearness was magnificent. He wished vehemently to take her into his arms and hold her forever there, where she could not escape him. But he had no right, even if she was his wife.
“Then you are a pretty little fool indeed,” Alex said. Seeing the way she winced, he immediately regretted his words.
It was at that moment, he knew, he had to tell her the truth.
“Emmaline, please, sit,” Alex said, gesturing to the plush cushioned loveseat at the end of the bed.
With a raised brow, she did as he asked. Dropping down onto the seat beside her, careful to keep his distance, Alex cleared his throat.
“As I am sure you are aware, every family has its secrets,” Alex said, feeling his insides churn at what he was about to do. The way she looked back at him suggested she knew it too and he saw her eyes widen a little.
What can I say instead? He thought, not for the first time, wishing there were some lie he might be able to tell.
Many over the years had questioned him. Many had looked at him hopefully for answers, just as Emmaline was now, but this was the very first time he felt any inclination to do so.
Closing his eyes, Alex sucked in a deep breath. It took all he had in him to remain in his seat. A part of him wished to pace up and down the room as he prepared to tell his story.
It was only when he felt Emmaline's hand slip onto his on the seat between them that he finally found his voice again.
“My mother died when I was very, very young. My father remarried, and my stepmother died shortly after my younger sister was born, due to complications,” he explained, his eyes still closed. He could not bring himself to look at her, but he felt her gaze upon him, and her hand in his as he twisted his grip to slip her fingers into his. “My father and uncle raised the both of us, more so my uncle, for my father was always too busy with business.”
He paused, waiting for Emmaline to speak, perhaps even to stop him from going on. She didn't. She never so much as made a sound, only squeezed his hand encouragingly.
“My father was the first devil. He and my uncle created The Devil's Lair, and it was a rich and powerful business from the word go,” Alex continued, “But my father was greedy and power hungry and he never knew when to stop. People feared the devil and that power went to his head. He and my uncle became more and more cruel. I was too young, and there was nothing I could do to stop either of them. I fear what they might have done if I had tried.”
Again, she squeezed his hand. “Please, Alex, take your time.”
The gentle encouragement and tenderness in her tone made Alex's chest swell. How had he gotten lucky enough to find this woman?
“I… I was barely sixteen when my father died,” he admitted, finally opening his eyes. The sympathy in Emmaline's gaze made him cringe.
“How… how did it happen?”
Bile rose in Alex’s throat. The scars on his face tingled as he remembered all too well what had happened.
“It was a house fire at our countryside estate.”
Emmaline gasped at that. Her free hand flew up to her mouth. Behind her fingers, she asked, “Is that how…”
She looked at his face, unable to complete her question.
“Yes,” he dipped his head and gestured to his scars. “That is how I got these.”
“Then you are lucky to be alive!” she exclaimed. “It must have been horrendous.”
Alex shivered again. It had been. To this day he remembered the stench, the burning of the house mixed with the scent of his own burning flesh.
