Life is finally looking up.
Chapter
Fifty-Five
LILY
Even after two days, I still smile every time I let myself into my new building. I’ve never lived on my own before. It’s so liberating. Taking out my shiny new key, I open the front door, and my heart almost stops beating. I scream, which only makes him smile.
“Zeke? What the hell? How did you even get in here?” He’s sitting at the tiny breakfast bar in my little kitchen, hands casually resting on the countertop.
“I’m a man of many talents, Lily.”
“Yeah? I didn’t figure breaking and entering was one of them.”
“You’d be surprised at the extent of my skill set.”
I put my hands on my hips. “How did you even know I moved here?”
“I made the mistake of not being thorough in my research on you once before, Lily. It cost me everything, and it will never happen again. I know everything there is to know about you now.”
I sure hope not because then you and I could be in a whole heap of danger. “Highly doubtful,” I say instead, crossing my arms over my chest.
The corner of his mouth curls up. “I know you got your pussy waxed two days ago and your nails done later the same afternoon.”
My cheeks burn with mortification, and I hate giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right. My new job came with a small advance, and I decided to treat myself to some long overdue grooming. “You’re stalking me now?”
“Keeping a careful eye on you,” he corrects.
Yeah, same thing. “You know there are laws against that kind of thing, right?”
He stands suddenly, and his broad frame seems even bigger than usual in my tiny kitchen. “There isn’t a law in this land that could keep me from you, baby doll.” His declaration is made with such confidence that I’m unable to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Conceited asshole.
Closing my eyes, I rub my forehead. I am so not in the mood for his games. “What the hell are you doing here, Zeke? If you’re looking for —”
He cuts me off midsentence “I’m not here for forgiveness, Lily.”
“You’re not?”
“I’m not looking for redemption. More like retribution.”
My eyes follow his to the counter, and that’s when I see his knife. The one with the worn leather handle. Anxiety bubbles in my stomach. “R-retribution?”
He reaches for the knife, and his huge hand swallows the handle. “Not for me, buttercup.” He drops to his knees at my feet. “For you.”
My heart begins to pound in my ears. What the hell is he doing? Too shocked to form words, I gape at him.
He pulls his shirt off over his head and holds out the knife. I blink at him and recall the sharpness of that blade, the endorphins that raced through my body as it sliced my skin. How he took care of me after. How he told me he loved me. He was vulnerable and honest and everything I now know he isn’t.
Tears prick at my eyes, and I blink them away. “Get out of my apartment.”
“Not until you give me what I need, Lily.”
“And what’s that? You want me to cut you? Will that make you feel better?” What the hell is his end game? Zeke never gives anyone power over him, not even Xander or West.
“I want you to make me feel something, Lily. I’ve spent the last two months completely numb, and I can’t fucking stand it anymore.”
“I’m not cutting you, Zeke.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to. Why would I?”
“I’m already bleeding. Every single second without you is torture. I need you to make it hurt so I can feel something real. Mark me so I can remember that you belonged to me once, even if I didn’t get to keep you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Zeke, no.”
“We fucked up, baby doll. Monumentally fucked up. I’ll never forgive myself, so I would never expect you to forgive us …” His eyes swim with tears, and all my resolve melts away. Seems I’m a complete sucker for a messed-up guy who shows his emotions. I can feel the anguish radiating from him. This isn’t some line to get me back, and although that shouldn’t matter after what he did, it does.
He watches me intently, as though he’s searching my face until he can find a crack in my carefully constructed armor. A tear runs down my cheek, and I swat it away. And there’s the crack.
His dark eyes narrow. “But I swear we will spend every single second of the rest of our lives trying to make up for it.” He grabs my wrist and places the handle of the knife in my open palm, then closes his fingers around mine and pushes the tip of the blade against his chest.