Instead, all I feel is a strange, hollow relief.
I give him a slow blink. “Yeah…” I murmur. “I had a feeling you had something to do with that.”
If he’s impressed by my detective skills, he doesn’t show it.
“Who else?” Kai asks.
Bastian’s gaze flicks over to him. “No one you know.”
“Who?” Kai presses.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it fucking matters!” Kai’s on his feet now, wincing as his leg protests. “You’re telling us you’ve killed multiple people, and you want us to just—what? Not ask questions?”
“I’m telling you because you deserve to know what you’re getting into.” Bastian’s voice is back to that eerie almost upbeat tone, but I can see the tension in his jaw. “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I’ll give you money, a car, whatever you need.”
“And if we stay?” I prompt.
Kai spins to me, and even in my peripheral vision I can see his mouth falling open. “Haven?—”
“If. We. Stay?” I say again, enunciating every syllable.
“Why would you?” Bastian doesn’t sound glib anymore. There’s genuine curiosity in his narrowed brown eyes, incredulity in the frown between his brows.
“Did you think your demons would scare us off?” I push my plate away too, leaning in on my elbows. “Or were you hoping they would so you could go back to youruncomplicatedlife?”
The kitchen is silent except for the howl of the storm outside.
“Did they deserve it?” Kai asks quietly. “Like Bobby?”
Bastian hesitates. “Some of them.”
“And the ones who didn’t?” Kai asks. “Why them?”
“I…” He stops. Starts again. “This thing…I can’t control it.”
“The thing that makes you kill?” I ask.
Bastian nods, his eyes unfocused. “It’s like a craving that builds and builds until I’m forced to satiate it.”
“But you haven’t had that…urge…again, have you? Not since Melissa,” Kai says.
Bastian shakes his head slowly, frowning. “No.”
“Not since we came back to you,” I say.
He looks up, his frown growing deeper. “No.”
“Then maybe…” I slide off my stool, moving toward him on unsteady legs. “Maybe we’regoodfor you.” I cup his face in my hands, searching his dark eyes. Eyes I’ve seen so many emotions in lately—hunger, fear, anger.
Now, all I see is confusion.
“Maybe we help you control it,” Kai says behind me.
Bastian catches my wrist, pulling my hand away from his face. “Or maybe it’s just a matter of time until it comes back.” His laugh is bitter. “You should be running. Both of you. Instead you’re standing here trying to rationalize the fact that you’re fucking a serial killer.”
“You’re fucked in the head.” Kai shrugs. “But so are we. Haven just carved a guy’s stomach open. I stabbed my own mother. Like I said, we’re not exactly in a position to judge. And even if we were…I doubt we would.”
