Page 31 of Daddy’s Muse (Bloody Desires #12)

“Tell me you let him go, Pappa, please,” I cried, my chest feeling on the verge of collapse. “You—you just beat him up a bit and then sent him home.”

“Baby…”

“Please, Pappa,” I whispered again, the words cutting into me like they were made of glass.

His arms tightened around me. He didn’t speak at first, and that silence was worse than any answer. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would crack my ribs.

Finally, he sighed, low and heavy against the top of my head. His voice was quiet when it came, steady but weighted with something that made my stomach turn.

“He’s gone.”

The floor seemed to drop out from under me.

“Gone as in he’s not in the shed…? Like—like he’s on a bus somewhere or… or…”

“No, baby.”

I clutched at his shirt like I was falling, my chest hollowing with a sharp, suffocating ache. “No—no, no, no—” The sobs ripped up before I could stop them. “Pappa, why ? Why would you—”

He pulled me closer, rocking me even as I shook. “Because he was hurting you, baby. He hurt you, and he would’ve kept hurting you. I couldn’t let that happen. I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to hold onto that promise, but the words just pained me further. “But—but you killed him ,” I choked out, my tears soaking his chest. “They’ll—they’ll come for you, the police, and they’ll take you away, and I can’t—I can’t lose you, Pappa, I can’t—”

“Hush,” he murmured, firm but soft, his hand rubbing slow circles into my back. “Shhh, my sweet boy. No one is coming. The police won’t take me. Everything is safe. You’re safe, and I’ll never leave you. No one will ever take me away from you, or you from me.”

I shook my head, trembling so hard my teeth ached. “But they always find out—they’ll know—you’ll be gone—I can’t— I need you ,” I wailed.

His hand cradled my jaw, tilting my tear-streaked face up to his. His eyes were steady, fierce, and burning with conviction. “Listen to me, Colby. I will not be taken from you. What happened is over. It’s finished. And now it’s just us. Only us. I promise you.”

My breath hitched, my vision swimming. I wanted to scream, to beg him to take it back and make it all go away, but all that came out was a broken sob as I collapsed into his chest again. His arms folded around me, gently rubbing my back as if I were a child waking from a nightmare.

“I’m right here,” he whispered into my hair, over and over. “I’ve got you. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nothing will come between us. Pappa’s never letting you go.”

And though my heart felt like it was tearing in two, I clung to him anyway—because as terrifying as his actions were, the thought of letting go of him was even worse.

I couldn’t stop crying. My whole body shook like my sobs had crawled into my bones and made a home there. Every time I thought I might stop, that I might be able to breathe again, another wave hit me, and I was drowning all over again.

Pappa didn’t let go once. His arms were a cage, but it wasn’t the kind I wanted to escape. I pressed closer, desperate for the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his heartbeat stayed calm and strong against my ear. He was solid when everything else in me was breaking.

But the words wouldn’t leave my head. He’s gone.

Gone, gone, gone, gone.

I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching his shirt in my fists until my nails bit into my palms. The truth sat cold and sharp in my stomach, and it hurt worse than anything else. Pappa had done something terrible. Something that not even he could fix.

And I loved him so much that the thought of leaving him, of even thinking those words, felt like tearing myself in half.

“I don’t want it to be true,” I mumbled into his chest, barely more than a breath. My voice cracked. “I just want you. Only you.”

His hand stroked slowly through my hair, untangling it with patient fingers. “It is only me, sweetheart,” he said softly, like he was soothing a child. “I promise.”

I let him rock me, let his voice smooth the edges of my panic, but the ache in my chest still didn’t—couldn’t—ease.

So I buried it, even further than before. Pushed it down into the deepest, darkest part of me, where maybe it would fade if I tried hard enough.

I clung to him tighter, forcing myself to breathe in the scent of his skin, to feel the warmth of his hand against the back of my neck. If I kept my world small—just me and Pappa—then maybe I wouldn’t have to lose him. Maybe I could forget the rest.

But a part of me knew forgetting wouldn’t last.

The question slipped out before I could stop it. My voice was small, shaky, and muffled against his chest. “How… how do you know they won’t catch you, Pappa?”

His arms tightened around me, and for a second, he didn’t answer. Then his voice rumbled low and steady, like it was the most straightforward truth in the world. “Because they never have.”

The room tilted as my throat closed, but I swallowed hard, clinging tighter to him even as my mind screamed.

“Y-you—before—”

“I’m sorry,” he forced out.

“How… many?” I asked, dreading the answer.

Pappa looked remorseful as he replied, “Twelve.”

I choked on a sob. “ Why? ”

“It was a way for me to release my… darker urges.” He hurriedly added, “But they didn’t go to waste, I promise. They were sacrificial offerings to my gods. They served a purpose.”

I tried to make my voice work, tried not to let it crack, but when I opened my mouth, only a pained whimper escaped.

“Don’t let this come between us, please,” he begged, the desperation and fear of losing me clear in his voice.

“B-but… how do I know you won’t hurt me, too? If you’ve hurt other people—so many people, Bodin…”

His reaction was instant. His whole body tensed, like I’d struck him. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hand still cradling the back of my head. His eyes were dark, burning with intensity, and I felt suddenly so helpless under the weight of them.

“Don’t say that.” His voice was sharp, raw. “Don’t you ever even think that.”

More tears pricked at the corner of my eyes, fear curling in my chest, but before I could pull away, his expression cracked, softened. He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath ragged.

“I’ve never loved anyone, Colby. Never. Do you understand?

I’ve never wanted to protect anyone. Never cared what happened to them.

Not until you.” His hand cupped my cheek, thumb trembling as it brushed away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to keep.

To take care of. To love. That’s the difference.

That’s why I could never hurt you. Because without you—” his voice broke, and he swallowed hard, “—without you, I’m nothing. ”

His words pressed into me, and part of me wanted to believe him so much that it hurt worse than the fear did.

I pressed my face back into his shirt, choking on a sob. “I don’t want to lose you, Pappa. I can’t. I can’t do this without you.”

“You won’t,” he murmured, wrapping me up again, rocking me gently as if he could sway away the weight of what we both knew. “You never will.”

His words echoed inside me like a lullaby and a threat at the same time. My chest was still painfully tight, my eyes sore from crying, but I felt myself clinging to the part I wanted to believe.

The part that promised I wouldn’t lose him.

I buried my face against him, letting myself go slack in his arms. It was easier this way—easier to focus on the beating of his heart, the gentle movement of our bodies, and the way his voice softened when he whispered.

“That’s it. No worries, no fears. Just me taking care of you. That’s all you have to think about.”

My body curled tighter into his, and for a while, I could almost believe it. I could nearly forget the dark edges pressing in around my memories. I sucked in a shaky breath and nodded, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me from drowning.

Pappa would take care of me. Pappa wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

If I just stayed here, in this smallness, maybe I could keep that truth real.

Maybe time would dull the pain.

God, what had I gotten myself into?

My boyfriend had just confessed to being a serial killer, and yet my most pressing concern wasn’t the people he’d killed or the violence he was steeped in. No. My primary concern was how to accept what he’d done in order to stay with him.