“I’ve been absorbing it for almost twenty years, Viking. A few more minutes won’t make a lick of a difference. I told you how my mother kept me but sold off my siblings. What I haven’t told you is that I had a brother she kept. God, she was fucking horrible to him. She treated him worse than me, if you can believe it. She did horrible things to him, things you wouldn’t think a person was capable of doing. The endless torture was way too much for his little body. She killed him, and the way she did it was cold and heartless. Since there was never any trace of his birth, he never saw the outside of the house, nobody knew to look for him. It’s been her dirty secret for so many years. I saw it all, I was there, holding him when he drew his last breath. It was my worst failure as his sister.”
“You didn’t fail him, baby girl, your mother did,” I insist. “She should’ve been spayed once she hit her birthing year. But you’re not responsible for her, but with saying that, I firmly believe that those who helped her and supported her, are. And if you ever believe anything I say, believe this, they will pay… every last one of them.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
Letti
Believe him,I do. He’s been totally upfront, honest, and as open as he can be with me when it comes to his intentions for those blood related to me. I can’t call them my family, not anymore, because to me, they’re not. The Kings, their women, the kids, and my Viking are. They’re all the family I'll ever need or claim.
“I wanna tell you something,” he reluctantly says. He’s never hesitant about anything, so him acting this way, has me nervous.
“What is it?” I ask, wanting to get the ball rolling. I don’t like anything that makes him feel unsure or apprehensive. Especially when it pertains to me. We should be able to talk about anything without pause. At least in my mind, we should.
“I feel like an asshole for bringing it up, but I heard you giving yourself a pep talk earlier in the bathroom.”
“Shit,” I groan, hanging my head down in shame with my eyes tightly shut so I don’t have to see any sort of disappointment on his face, embarrassment swamping me.
I’ve had a few backslides lately when it comes to my therapy and recovery. I thought I was handling them well enough until the recurring nightmares brought up things and unearthed skeletons I thought I’d gotten past and buried deep, only when they arise, so do my insecurities.
“Goddess, look at me,” he orders, tucking his knuckles on his left hand into a light fist and placing it under my chin, lifting it. “That’s better. I didn’t bring this up to embarrass you, babe. I’d never do that, not to you.”
“I know,” I mutter then admit my earlier thoughts, “My dreams bring things up that I thought I’d put to rest. Self-loathing being one of them.”
“I wish you could see what I do when I look at you,” he states, moving his hand from my chin and wrapping it around the nape of my neck, drawing me closer to him where he places his forehead against mine. His breath mingles with mine as he maintains eye contact—the devotion and affection I see has me melting.
“What do you see?” I question, my tone low, barely audible.
“I see strength, I see a survivor, I see… a warrior. A spirited, beautiful, intelligent conqueror who’s slaying her demons one entity at a time and coming out the victor. The person I admire the most in this godforsaken world. The one woman I want beside me at night when I crawl into bed, and the woman I want to wake up with each morning, the woman I’ll face the day for when all I want to do is stay buried beneath the sheets wherethe world won’t try and swallow me whole. I want you to be my partner, Letti. In every way.”
“I want that too,” I cry. Ugly tears are now flowing down my cheeks. I’m a sobbing mess because nobody has said anything so beautiful about me. He may not realize this, but he’s the one who gives me the strength and courage to fight those demons he mentioned. So I voice that, and by the time I’m done, he wraps his strong, impenetrable arms around me, holding me tightly. Nothing makes me feel safer and more protected than when I’m wrapped up in his embrace.
Nothing can touch me here—he’s my safe haven. My salvation. My champion, my equalizer, and my highlander all rolled into one. He’s the entire package and he wants me.
I know that some of the things he shares with me has him toeing the line between me and the club, and I’ll forever be thankful that he entrusts me with the things that he does. It has to be hard for him to walk that fine line, because I know we’re equally important to him. He won’t betray them, but he hates keeping me in the dark because he’s well-aware of the struggles I have with those who could do me the most harm. I’ve never hidden the fact that I steadily watch my back, even when I know either him or one of his brothers have it guarded. It’s an instinct that’s been ingrained into me since I was a small girl.
“That’s why it’s hard for me to watch you struggle with your image and worth, goddess.”
“I’m working on it, on myself,” I promise.
“I know you are. I see it every damn day, baby girl. But I think it’s time I show you what I see. Do you trust me?”
“With my life,” I avow.
“Come with me,” he says as he untangles himself from me and stands up, reaching out his hand and offering me help getting up.
These cushions on the couch are glorious, until you try to unbury yourself from them. I’m short, so it’s a struggle. I take his hand and once we lace our fingers together, static electricity travels up my arm like it does every dadgum time he touches me. It’s one of the ways I know we’re meant to be. The charged zap never diminishes, no matter how many times we hold hands or hug each other. Instead, it flourishes and deepens. It’s hard to ignore—the signs are there, big and bright. He is mine and I am his.
I follow him down the hallway until we reach the master bedroom. He guides me over to the standing mirror that sits in the corner of the room, coming up behind me, he has me face it. “What do you see when you look at yourself, Letti.”
“Don’t make me do this, Viking. Please,” I beg.
“Does it make you uncomfortable?” he asks.
“Yes,” I hiss, but it lacks venom. Instead, it’s full of distaste and mortification. I don’t think I’ll ever be capable of giving myself any raving reviews. Until I came here, I never heard anything good about myself, instead, it was all full of degradation.
“Whose voice do you hear in your head when you look at yourself in the mirror, baby? Is it yours or somebody else’s?”
