Kit needed to shoulder his own pain.
“No, Daddy,” he said, the word like ash on his tongue.
“You’re quite sweet when you try.”
Kit gave a wet laugh. “What do you expect to happen when you take someone against their will?”
Lawrence rolled his eyes in that obnoxious way he always did. “I took you from a life that you hated. A mundane one filled with sadness and strife. I gifted you with eternal existence and endless riches. How dare you turn around and claim to be a victim? You should thank me.”
Tears escaped Kit’s eyes. “You killed me.”
Lawrence reached out and took hold of Kit’s face. Kit wanted to pull away, but he let Lawrence tip his face up. His fingers still felt like Quin’s. “You weren’t living before you met me.”
“I didn’t have much time to live before you.”
“Most people would kill to be eighteen forever.” Lawrence traced fingers over Kit’s jawline, and up over his cheekbones. “So perfect and young. Such a pretty little boy you are.”
Kit had been staring at the hole that Lawrence had punched in the wall, but at those words his gaze snapped to Lawrence’s. Everything about this was just sowrong. He couldn’t let it happen. He was Quin’s boy, not Lawrence’s.
“You didn’t like me saying that, did you?” Lawrence asked, amused. His hands dug into Kit’s face, thumbs pressing into his eye sockets.
Kit grabbed Lawrence’s wrists and wrenched them down, blinking through the blood streaming from his eyes. Before Lawrence said or did anything else, Kit shoved him into the wall. Lawrence’s head took the brunt of the blow, hitting with a sickening crack, before he crumpled to the floor.
Kit stood back and wrapped his arms around his middle, doubling over at the sight of Lawrence—no,Quin’s—unconscious body.
If it even was Quin anymore.
TWENTY
Quin
Quin’s bodyfelt like it had been run through the washing machine, complete with an extra spin cycle. He tried to move, but found himself constrained by something solid around his wrists.
Blinking, he opened his eyes. He was in his bedroom—he could tell that much—and it was dark. He yanked on whatever was weighing him down, and his headboard creaked. Craning his neck, he saw the thick metal chains that held him in place; the ones he’d used to keep his beast in check when it had longed to chase after Kit.
A noise of confusion escaped him, to which he heard an answering sound. This one sounded more distressed than confused, though.
He scanned the room, catching sight of Kit sitting against the wall beside the door. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and was staring right at Quin, unmoving.
“Baby?” Quin croaked.
Kit stood. His eyes narrowed, studying Quin.
“Why am I chained to the bed?” Quin’s lips were swollen, and he pressed his tongue to a bump on the inside of his cheek. There was the taste of old blood in his mouth.
Kit had a shrewd look on his face. “You don’t remember?” he asked.
Quin’s head throbbed. “No, I don’t.”
Kit approached the bed, but stopped well out of Quin’s reach. “Nothing? What’s the last thing you recall?”
It hurt to think. “You left. I showered. And then…” A dark shape. The wrong face. Someone else in control of his body. Recollection hit him all at once, stealing his breath and leaving him winded.
“Quin?” Kit’s voice was quiet.
“Holy shit. I was possessed.” It made little sense, and yet, it was also the only explanation.
“But you’reyouagain?”
