“Youare the one who is going to killme,” he says.
What the fuck?Confusion pushes at me—so much so, I feel as if I might fall over.
Stepping back, he takes off his jacket and throws it over the back of a chair before unbuttoning his shirt. Sweat coats my palm as I grip the handle of the blade. My eyes are glued to his torso. I’m viewing the masterpiece for the second time, the swirling tattoos, the giant raven, and the ripple of his muscles hypnotic as he moves towards me.
Wrapping his hand over mine, he guides the blade to where his heart is.
“Don’t hesitate. Just push it straight in, right to the hilt. Don’t twist it; quick and clean, that’s all I ask,” he instructs.
Dread coats my skin.
As much as I’ve fantasised about Valdemar’s demise, this is not what I came here for.
“I’m not going to kill you.” I pull my hand from his grasp in case he gets any ideas about pushing himself onto the knife. “I admit, when I first came to see you, I wanted nothing more than to kill you, but not now.”
His eyes narrow.
“Then why did you bring a knife?” he enquires.
“I brought it for protection. Someone wants you dead. Somehow, they got into my car and left a note instructing me to kill you.”
“I know what it said,” he says.
“You know?” I don’t understand. How could he know this?
“Yes, because I wrote it, and a Raven Hand delivered it for me,” he tells me.
“What?” I search his beautifully dangerous face.
The room is stifling. Heat and confusion bathe me in sweat.
“I took the Blood Oath with Ed. It bound me to him and him to me. Our souls were coiled, our lives interwoven, much like being a twin. He was more than a brother. He was my blood. You of all people should know what it’s like to lose someone you’re bound to through blood. That’s why I gave myself up to the police and pleaded guilty to his murder. I didn’t know how to live with myself, with this emptiness that his death created. And I thought I just needed time to recompense, time to grieve, time to heal. But it’s only got worse. The emptiness. The feeling that part of me is missing.” Pinning me with his stare, he asks me, “After Ed’s death, how many times did you try to kill yourself?” He says it so gently, as if to soften the question so it doesn’t sound like an accusation but more of a recognition.
It’s as if he was with me when I tried to slit my wrists, the razor blade flush against my veins, my pathetic cry when I dropped it just as the skin broke and the blood gushed out. Maybe he sees the drugs, the glass of vodka, how I couldn’t get past the second handful of pills before I vomited all over the floor.
“A few,” I confess.
“As you know, I’m great at killing other people. But the hardest thing to kill is yourself. And it’s nearly impossible in prison. So, I thought of the one person who would want me dead more than anyone else in this world.”
A fresh wave of sweat courses down my back. “Me.”
“You, angel. You must be the only person in this fucked-up world who deserves my death. You have every right to be the oneto put this knife into my chest and end it all. No one else but you. And I can say that I would die a happy man if the last thing I saw was you.”
“Stop,” I plead.
“Why? Because I’m right?”
“No,” I reply.
“Revenge. Justice. Isn’t this what you want, angel?” His eyes narrow.
“Is it whatyouwant? Has this been your intention all along?” My gut coils, fear, desire, the reality of what he’s asking me to do all churning inside me, the knowledge that he’s had an ulterior motive, as I knew there would be. I just never thought it would be this.
His eyes look heavy as he regards me. “It was at first. The whole reason I asked you to visit me was so you could learn the truth before putting me out of my misery. But then I met you, and I touched you in your dreams and heard your loneliness and my name on your lips as you came in my arms. I thought there was nothing left worth living for, but then I met you, and now, I want nothing more than to own you.”
“This is so fucked up.”
“Having your Blood Brother ask you to shoot him because he’s going to be bricked up alive is fucked up. But it does make you realise that life is short, so you have to take what you want, and fuck everyone else,” Valdemar says.
