“I didn’t know she wasyourwhore!” The man spits blood.
Dessin stops dead in his tracks. Eyes locked with mine, chaos exploding behind his hard gaze. Deep down, I know what is about to happen. I know that I’m about to witness a measure of what people at the asylum fear from Dessin. And that knowledge has suspended the air in my lungs. I do not wish good things for this man after what he was about to do to me. But I do not wish him dead. Although, part of me can’t help but debate that. He could have been one of the men who hurt Scarlett. I could never know this for sure.
Dessin’s brown eyes turn a shade of hickory in the light of the dimming sunset, narrowing on mine as he turns around slowly to lock his focus on his prey. The man looks up at him through involuntary tears, obviously regretting his decision to speak again.
Dessin grabs hold of the man’s head and twists quickly and effortlessly. A wet, thick snap, like lightning striking a tree—it drills into my memory without warning. I’ll never forget the way the life emptied from his eyes, like removing a cork from a bathtub.
He drops the man’s body to the floor, and it all happens in slow motion in my mind. Spots in my vision, legs locked tightly, my back pressed into the door.
AndDessinstares at the body lying on the ground, disfigured and drenched in blood. My instinct to collapse to my knees is drowned out by his calm stance. I can tell there must be something going on in his mind that will hurt him for a long time.
I rush to his side to grip his left arm, blood rushing back into my legs and restarting the wires in my brain.“Hey,” I whisper. He yanks his arm away from me. I grab on again and turn him to face me.“Look at me,” I demand.
He drops his eyes down to me from the significant height difference, breathing heavy, chin raised. I gaze back at him, trying to figure out if I am the one he is mad at. It takes me a moment to wrap my mind around the fact that he saved me. He must have followed me to make sure I would be safe. Seeing the anger that engulfed him when he saw what that vile man was about to do to me… Is he starting to care for me?
“I’m okay,” I whisper. Dessin jolts his glare back down at the broken body taking up space on the ground. The muscles in his jaw flex twice; he doesn’t blink. His expression is unreadable, but I have a hunch that he wants to damage this corpse more than he has already done.
“Dessin, let’s go.” I tug his arm once, but he remains stationary, impossible to move. I’ve never seen so much hatred in someone’s eyes.
I take another route.“What was your mother’s name?” The question bursts impulsively from my mouth.
This catches him by surprise. He is still stuck in a rage, but at least now he is distracted.“Mywhat?” he pants.
“Your mother. What was her name?”
He stares at me for a moment, partially lost in a memory, partly confused with the change in the direction of the situation.“Why do you—”
“Just tell me,” I insist.
“Sophia,” he finally says in a daze.
I nod, feeling a triumphant sense of relief that he is semi–calming down.“My father’s name was Jack.” I slide my hand up his arm.“Let’s go home, okay?”Home.The phrase feels natural to say to him, but hearing the words come out of my mouth, they sound harsh, considering I am talking about the asylum. That isn’t a home, not even close. Yet, he follows me out the door without saying another word.
31. Motives
“Why were you following me?” I ask. His legs are longer than mine, so naturally, he walks faster down the stairs, and I find myself practically jogging to keep up.
“You seem to have the habit of collecting bad karma,” he answers.
His answer fills my stomach with feathers.“Sooo…” I muse over the idea I am about to throw in the air.“You wanted to keep me safe.”
“No,” he replies sternly.
“You wanted to protect me,” I offer again.
“NO.”
“THEN WHAT?!”
“I DON’T KNOW!” A lion’s roar. His hot breath—a gentle breeze over my face.
We pause in the middle of the stairwell for several seconds.“Careful. You wouldn’t want me to believe you could possibly have a heart,” I say.
“Ha!” He begins walking down the stairs again.“Perhaps that is exactly what I want you to believe.” His deep, rugged voice is hot, boiling water. I follow after him, tripping my first step then regaining balance on the next.
“Well, you could have let that man defile me,” I pant, trying to keep up with him.
Dessin spins around to point a finger in my direction.“Enough, Skylenna.” The anger refuels his warm-brown eyes. For some reason, this amps me up.
