Page 128

Again.
Reality turned, shifted, twisted.
Flipped upside down.
My throat clogged, tears threatened to spill from my burning eyes.
It was right then that Knight owned me now. I could never pay him back for all the things that he'd done for me.
"Hey," he soothed, his palm cupping my jaw, his gaze burning into mine. "It's okay. That’s the past. There's no need to think about that."
I frowned, shaking my head. "I have to repay you."
"No."
"Seriously, Knight. I can't owe you like that."
"Sure, Tatiana," he scoffed, "because heaven forbid someone helps you."
"I accepted your help all the time," I protested. "More than enough."
“And tell me, how long has it been since you've accepted someone's help now?"
"The other day. Someone opened the door for me."
"That was someone just trying to get into your pants."
"You're such an asshole! And that's pretty gross, considering it was a kid. His mom was teaching him manners."
"Maybe his mom wanted to get into your pants."
I chuckled, reluctantly, unable to stop myself. “Maybe."
He was smiling, staring at me with those entrancing creek-brown eyes, humor dancing in his gaze. They heated. “You are pretty sexy. I’m sure you could make a straight girl go gay."
"As if any guy has turned you down.”
"Absolutely. I could never get Dante or Coulter to fuck me."
I laughed, shaking my head as I leaned back onto his chest, burrowing my head into it. The smile on my lips slowly died at his revelation. Everything I'd thought my parents had done for me was fake.
Fake, fake, fake.
They'd never been parents, at all, not even in the small moments I'd thought they were.
I'd known that they'd only ever paid attention to me when they'd wanted something. To make them food, clean the house, pack up our belongings. To get Abuelo's attention...to fuck men for moneythat they'd kept.
But I could always justify my loyalty to them by the fact that they'd taken care of me.
I'd always known they were terrible people, but I hadn't been able to face the reality that they didn't care about me. Until now. Until the truth was staring at me in the face in all its ugliness.
My own parents didn't love me. Not even a little bit.
I hate them, I allowed myself to think for the first time in my life, the pain inside scorching like a hot flame.
"You were right to kill them," I choked out. And though it ached, it burned to say the words out loud, the truth was setting me free. I no longer had to hate Knight for killing them.
"It's okay," he soothed, stroking my hair, kissing the top of my head, showering me with love. "It was them. It had nothing to do with you. You're right. They were sick. They had no idea how special you are." Knight, reading my mind again.