I knew early on
in the editing process that I had to take this scene out of the novel. But it
was so much fun to write and took me back to the old days with Mitch.
Note: The
chapter is set at Mitch’s house because it was written before I realized there
was no way I could keep them there. That’s the first place The Clinic would
look for them, so I had to move them to the brothel. The scene was meant to go
right after Mitch and Eden’s initial . . . reunion and before any of
their sweet pillow-talk.
Mitch would live in the black hole
‘o pain inside Hyde for eternity to give her something better. A chance at a
good life. If he had fifteen minutes left, he would use them to help her. But
he didn’t know how, other than to hold her and tell her that she’d be okay.
Something that should be easy since he had so much experience with making
people feel good about themselves. Uh huh, right.
A memory flashed through his mind:
In his office. Him sitting there like an idiot, her opening those beautiful,
trusting eyes as she came out of hypnosis. He still hadn’t come out, and
he liked it that way. ‘You can be anything you want to be. And you’re strong
enough to do anything.’ He’d used her own words to insult her, not knowing
then that he was speaking the truth. But he’d been so afraid of their
connection, he needed to hurt her, to make her run away from him. And, after
calling him a jerk, she had.
Fuck. The answer hit
him like a bullet in the gut, pain radiating outward from its entry point. It
wasn’t about holding her and telling her she could do it—a stupid-ass pep talk
about how she would be okay without him. The only way to get her to move on was
to convince her that she’d been right in the beginning, back when she thought
he was an asshole. And that she’d been wrong to ever want him.
He needed to make her hate him.
Finally, something I’m good at.
He slipped his arm out from under
her head and sat up, looking at her. One more kiss. Then he’d do it. Prove to
her that she should’ve stuck with her first impression because everything after
that was just bullshit. Prove that he was a worthless and unfeeling bastard who
shouldn’t be trusted, wanted, or needed.
One more kiss.
She woke up the moment his lips
touched hers, leaning into his kiss, opening her mouth and letting him in.
Jesus, was anything better than this? Her arms wrapped around his
shoulders and pulled him closer, her legs separating, inviting him to feel
something he would never feel again. Oh shit. He was failing, was
seconds away from stretching out on top of her and forgetting about what needed
to happen. One more kiss, my ass. Maybe he should’ve put a time limit on
it.
With a sigh, he pried her hands off
of him. “Listen . . .” He cleared his throat and swung his legs to the floor,
facing away from her as he spoke. “Thanks for bringing me back, but I need some
space now.”
“To do what?” she asked, her voice
still sleepy and sated-sounding.
“To breathe. To be. And I can’t do
that with you always hanging all over me.”
The bed moved as she sat up. “What
are you talking about?”
Big breath and . . . “Thanks for
shooting me up and for one hell of a welcome home party, but you need to go.
Move into Fields’ place or something.” When he felt her hand touch his back, he
shot off the bed and went to the dresser to look for some clothes.
“I’m not getting the joke here.”
He turned and saw her holding the
sheet to her chest, her eyes filled with confusion and annoyance. “That’s
because there isn’t one.”
“What are you—”
“You. Door. Now.” He made a shooing
motion to hide the tension in his hands. “Damn, I’m having déjà vu right now.
How many times have I told you to leave me alone?”
“I don’t get it.” That was obvious.
If she understood, she’d be yelling. Or crying. Oh, don’t cry, babe. Her
anger was easier to deal with. Hopefully, she would throw something at him
pretty soon. Maybe even knock him unconscious. That would be helpful.
“I’ll try to be clearer.” After
slipping on some shorts, he switched into work-mode, using the I-don’t-give-a-shit-because-you’re-a-moron
tone he saved for . . . well, everyone other than her and Landon. “Leave, Eden.
I want you out of my house. We’re all done here.”
ƪ
Why was he doing this? “I know what
you’re trying to do, Mitch.” Eden scooted off the bed. For a second his gaze
dropped to her naked body, but then he looked away. “And you’re an idiot if you
think it’s going to work.”
“I’m an idiot?” His laugh was
sharp, almost cruel. Just like his words. “Which one of us begged the other for
sex?” He pointed at her. “You. And which one of us kept coming back even though
she was repeatedly told to go the fuck away? That was you too.”
She shook her head. “That’s . . .”
It wasn’t true. Well, it was true at the time but . . . “No.”
“But which one of us laid out the
cash for window bars and a shiny new cage for the other?” He did a double
thumb-point to himself. “Me. Which one of us slammed the door in the other’s
face more times than I have fingers? That would be me as well. I could go on,
but I just don’t care enough.”
“Stop.” Yes, all of those things
were true, but that was before. Before her world banded with his until they
were a single unit. “Why are you doing this?”
“If you don’t understand what this
really is by now, then I don’t know what to tell you. I got you out of a cage
and kept some assholes from killing you. In exchange, you provided me with some
nice perks, the best of which happened between your thighs. But I think we’re
even now.” He took a breath. “So . . . after the recap, tell me which one of us
is the idiot.”
She swallowed, her brow furrowed,
unable to speak or formulate a single thought. Because the more he spoke, the
more she afraid she was. He’d just woken up from an extended time as Hyde, so anything
was possible. Any shift, any change, any transformation in his personality was
possible. Hers had. His could’ve too.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Eden.” He
turned away from her and started rummaging through a drawer. “And I’d really
prefer not to physically force you out. My back hurts.”
Finally she spoke. “Stop doing this,
Mitch. Stop it. Don’t—”
“I fully admit that you’re one of
the hottest pieces of ass I’ve ever had. Top two, maybe three.” He glanced over
his shoulder as if she were nothing to him. “Really, you’re a fucking great lay.
But that does not a lifelong commitment make. I bore too easily for anything
even close to that.”
“You would’ve died for me.” Tears
welled up in her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.
He shrugged. “Moment of insanity
brought on by a shitload of adrenaline and a desire to hurt someone.” When he
turned towards her, his eyes were cold, unfeeling. “And what better way to hurt
you that to tear your daddy apart limb from limb?”
She whimpered. “That’s not why you
did it. You love me.” He did. She knew he did. Maybe he just
didn’t remember. Everything would be fine once he remembered.
He shook his head. “Love is
something I can’t do. That’s why Jolie and I got along so well. We could fuck
without feeling anything beyond the fucking. And you, little girl, cannot do
that. This—” He motioned to the bed. “The sex was great. We both needed it. But
I’m not going to keep faking the other stuff. It’s too much work.”
“Don’t do this, Mitch. Don’t do this
to me now. Not after everything that’s happened. Please.” She brought her hand
up to his face. He grabbed it, squeezing her wrist, keeping her from touching
him.
“Thank you for bringing me back. I
don’t want you to think it isn’t appreciated. It is. But if Landon did it I
would be feeling exactly the same way. And I’m not fucking him . . . and he’s
not as clingy.” He forced her back a step, grabbed a t-shirt out of his drawer,
and pulled it over his head as if he had somewhere else he needed to be. When
the fabric covered his face, hiding him from her sight, his chest shuddered and
his abs tightened as he let out a breath. But then the moment passed and he
pulled the shirt down, wearing the same annoyed expression.
“No,” she said. “You’re so full of
it. You can’t fake all those things you said to me.”
“People say a lot of stupid shit
when they think they’re about to die. A lot of shit they don’t really mean. I
like you. I do. You’re tough, useful in a lot of ways, and really
fucking hot. But love?” He shook his head. “That was never in the job
description.”
“You’re lying.” She stared at his
cheek, knowing that any second his tell would show up and she’d know for sure
that this wasn’t real.
His brow tightened and he touched
the side of his face, right where she’d been looking. “Look at me, Eden. Really
look at me and tell me that I’m lying.”
He stepped towards her. One powerful
step, and the moment her foot went out behind her, she saw his eyes intensify.
Because he knew that he was winning? Winning what? A war of destruction. Of
making her doubt everything she felt, everything she believed in.
“I was hanging onto my humanity by a
thread,” he said. “I wanted to love you. I wanted to love anything.
Anything that would keep me here on earth, from letting Hyde take over. But the
bastard knew I was lying. I knew I was lying. So, really, you
were the only one who didn’t.” He took another step, she retreated another.
She shook her head violently as if
the movement would erase what he was saying. “I don’t believe you. All of those
things you said. You said that you loved me.”
“Did I? Did I say those exact
words?” No, he hadn’t. But he’d thought them—he had to have thought
them.
“You said a lot of other things that
mean the same thing.”
“I said a lot of shit after I heard
my expiration date was just around the corner.” He grabbed her dress off the
top of the dresser and put it over her head, dressing her like a child. She let
him because she didn’t know what else to do, her body limp from uncertainty.
“But what did I tell you before that?” he asked sternly. “If I remember
correctly there was a door slammed in your face, a minor assault in the cage
I put you in, a quick and unsatisfying fuck in a garage, and a fair amount of
yelling. Not a single declaration of love.”
No. She raised her eyes to his, her
lip trembling, her entire body shaking. “Stop it!” She moved without thinking,
hitting him in the chest, wanting him to wake up or snap out of it and not
knowing how to make him. He stepped back, pain in his eyes, but not a reaction
to her fists. “Please, Mitch.”
He came forward. Thank God.
She would feel his arms around her, and he’d tuck her into his chest and say he
didn’t mean all of those hateful things. But that didn’t happen. Instead, he
lifted her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She yelled at him to stop but
he just tightened his grip on her legs until she couldn’t move them at all. So
she used her hands. Angry fists that turned into a clutch around his waist,
then another strike because she couldn’t decide what to do—hurt him or hold
him.
He carried her out of the bedroom
towards the stairs, and then stopped suddenly. Then he turned around and
carried her down the hall. Towards the cage room.
“No! Don’t do this!” she screamed,
her voice blunted by her position. “Please, try to remember.”
“I wish things hadn’t gotten so
fucking confused.” His voice was calm, so sickeningly calm and cold. “But now
I’m back and pretending it’s any more than it is would be cruel to both of us—you
because being needy isn’t attractive and me because I don’t want you around,
glaring at the next woman I fuck. I wasn’t clear enough with Jolie, and look
how that ended up. Lesson learned. So . . . Eden, it was nice. But you and I
are done now. Please don’t try to kill me.”
Ignoring her cries, he opened the
door to Hyde’s room with one hand, the other still holding her. “I’ll call
Landon and ask him to take you to Fields. Then send your stuff over.”
“This isn’t real, Mitch. What you
feel for me is.”
“I don’t love you,” he said. “Fuck,
sometimes, I don’t even like you. Sex, a couple near-death experiences,
and adrenaline. That’s all it was.” He stopped in front of the door to the cage
and she felt a tremor go through him.
“Mitch?”
“It won’t be for long,” he
whispered, leaning over to put her down.
“No.” She was not going into
another cage.
The threat knocked out of her denial
and into reality. As soon as her feet touched the ground his left
it—she’d kicked them out from under him and sent him crashing onto the floor.
Before he could bounce back, she was on top of him, straddling him, holding his
arms down.
“Do you honestly think I would
believe this is all about sex and adrenaline?” She put more weight on his arms,
pressing them against the wooden floor. He might be able to force her up, but
he didn’t try.
“Get off me.”
“Not until you look at me,” she
said, her jaw twitching. “And you hear me. You’re not going to put me
into a cage. Ever. And you’re not getting rid of me. Ever. But you are
going to stop lying.”
He swallowed roughly. “You wanna
fuck me again? One more time? Fine. Do it. And then go away.”
“Wake up and stop being such an
idiot. I don’t believe a single word you’ve said. I know you love me. I know I
love you. So your stupid denials mean nothing. I can’t even hear them. I won’t
hear them.”
He jerked upwards, twisting so they
rolled and he was on top of her. Her head smacked against the floor. “Shit,
babe. I’m—No.” He shook his head. “No.”
Taking a breath was a struggle.
Feeling him on top of her like so many other times—the best moments of her
life—was torture.
“That’s your fucking problem,
Eden—you only hear what you want to hear. See what you want to see. And that
has nothing to do with what’s actually happening.”
She knew exactly what was
happening—he was hard, his erection pressing against her core. He might be able
to control what hateful things came out of his mouth, but he couldn’t control
his body, his reaction to her. He moved his hips away but held her hands down,
their fingers intertwined.
“I don’t get how you still trust
your own judgment,” he said. “Carter, Alex, Fields, Jolie, your dad, your mom,
me. Has anyone ever been honest with you? How many people need to lie to
you before you get it. No one can be trusted. Ever. I lied to you just like
everybody else did.”
No. That was one of the reasons
she’d fallen in love with him—because he was the only one who didn’t lie to
her. Except when he was being an idiot. Like now. “I know your truth. You don’t
sacrifice yourself for someone you don’t care about.”
“Okay, maybe some of it was honest.
But it was the truth of that moment, not an eternal truth. For future
reference, never trust a man who wants to fuck you—which is 99.9% of us who
aren’t gay.”
“Stop doing this, Mitch. Please.
It’s not fair.”
“I’m trying to do what’s right here,
Eden. I used you. I used your feelings for me to get what I wanted. Then
you brought me back and what did I do? I fucked you again. I used you
again. But I don’t want to do it anymore because, while I don’t love you, I
respect you. Why can’t you understand that?”
Her chest lifted and lowered quickly
as she gasped for air, for focus. What she didn’t know was if he believed what
he was saying or not. If it was a stupid attempt at protecting her when the
only thing she needed protecting from was his rejection. Or if he really did
think it was true because something had changed inside of him while Hyde was in
control.
With a sigh, her entire body went
limp, gave up. “Okay,” she whispered eventually. “Okay. You win.”
He cringed and then recovered. “So
you’ll go to Fields’?”
“Yeah. But I want something first.”
He laughed but wasn’t amused. “Okay.
What do you want?”
“A kiss. Kiss me one more time so I
can remember how good it feels.”
He shook his head. “Pick something
else.”
“That’s all I want.” After she took
a deep breath, her voice was stronger. “A kiss. If it was all faked, one kiss
won’t hurt you, will it?” And she’d know. One way or the other. She’d know.
ƪ
“No.” If he kissed her, she would
know. And he would fail. If he’d said all of those horrible things to her
without accomplishing anything, he would never be able to stand up again.
“Pick. Something. Else.” His desperation manifested itself as anger, which it was
in part. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists, squeezing them until his
hands were almost fists. “Money, the house, my car—”
“Are all things. I don’t want
things. I want a memory.”
“No,” he said, feeling his arms
shake as they started to bend. Fucking traitors. He couldn’t stop them.
Or stop his eyes from staring at her lips, the way they opened slightly, their
fullness, remembering their taste. No, he’d already taken his last one. He’d
promised himself it was the last. It should be the last.
But his arms kept on bending, his
mind easily finding a rationalization for taking what he shouldn’t have. Welllll,
in actuality, it wasn’t really fair—she hadn’t known it would be their
last, and she’d certainly done enough for him to deserve whatever she wanted.
He couldn’t give her everything she wanted because it would end up
killing her, but—
Shit. The part of
his brain that dealt with denial, excuses, and desire was way more
powerful than the part that had come up with this stupid fucking idea and all
the fucking awful things he’d said. “I’m a terrible person.” It was true. That
was the most powerful part of him, not anything else. Hyde. Not anything else.
And that’s what he needed to protect her from.
Her eyes were moist. “I’m sorry,
Mitch. After everything that has happened, everything that we’ve been
together, I’m sorry you still believe that.”
His heart pounded as if it had to
work twice as hard to keep everything together since it was the only thing that
was functioning properly. His brain sure as hell wasn’t.
“I wish I could help you.” Her voice
was quiet, the pity that filled it making it softer. She pitied him. Like a
starving dog or a self-proclaimed victim. “I can’t imagine how hard it is to
spend your entire life hating yourself. I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”
Fuck that. He was no one’s victim.
He was a man, an asshole, a monster, a bastard, a thousand other things. But he
was not weak. And he would never allow anyone to think that, especially
not her.
“Don’t ever pity me.” There was so
much fire in his tone, she must have felt its burn.
“I didn’t until a few seconds ago.”
She took a broken breath. “Did you give into Hyde for me or because you were
afraid?”
“What?” He felt the blood drain from
his face, his throat dry, his hands release hers and grip the floor like claws
digging into the wood.
“Was it really to save me? Or was it
because you just couldn’t stand to be yourself anymore?”
No, damn it. That’s not why.
How could she say that? He wasn’t someone to be pitied. He’d gone to his death
because it had been the right fucking thing to do. For her. For Landon. Because
he wanted them to live.
Hell yes, he’d been afraid—who
enjoys walking into their own death? But he’d faced it with courage, not
weakness. Why did she think he was weak? This couldn’t end with her believing
he wasn’t man enough to protect her. Fuck, that why he was doing all of this.
Everything he did, thought, said—it was all for her. If almost dying for her
wasn’t proof enough, he didn’t know what would be.
“You know that’s not why I did it, Eden.”
“Do I? Sex and adrenaline, right?
That’s not worth dying over. So what am I supposed to think?”
She was supposed to know. To
know that even though he was an asshole, he had some integrity, some strength.
She could hate him. Hell, he wanted her to hate him. He could handle it
because he was used to it. But being weak or a coward or pitiful? That he’d
chosen to die only because he was afraid? No, that he couldn’t handle.
“And now you’re afraid to kiss me,
aren’t you?” she asked quietly.
“No.” No, this wasn’t the way it was
supposed to happen. “How did you get so strong?” Then he took her mouth, not
giving her a chance to respond or giving himself a chance to think. He took.
Forcing her lips apart with a sweep of his tongue. No dainty shit here. No aww-how-sweet.
No weakness.
He was so focused on her mouth—the
way she tasted, the combination of soft lips and hard passion, the
almost-painful desire to be deeper inside of her, more than was even
possible—that everything else was blurry. Her moan, her legs spreading
underneath him, her hips lifting, her hands sliding down his sides and dipping
into the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down. He barely noticed the way
his body moved, adjusting itself between her thighs, then thrusting forward
until he was inside her.
Then he stopped ignoring it, stopped
pretending it wasn’t happening. Because he couldn’t. Couldn’t hold himself back
from rocking into her, knowing she’d won. She’d fucking beaten him. This wasn’t
the end. They would never end, no matter how hard he tried. He was no weakling,
but she . . . she was so strong. More than he could ever be. He’d cheated,
lied, manipulated, and hurt her—all for nothing. The fight wasn’t fair and
she’d still won.
This is wrong. So fucking
wrong. Being inside of her, her letting him inside of her after
everything he’d just said. He stopped thinking because thinking just got him in
trouble. He concentrated on the way she felt, the way he felt being inside her.
It was perfect. And who was he to
fuck with perfection?
ƪ ƪ ƪ
