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She lifts her stick to knock the goat’s horn against the wall. Steps thunder through the house and the creepy butler re-enters the room. He stops beside her with his hands clasped behind his back, his head dipped, and his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

“Show them to their quarters.” She waves us away.

Delilah continues clinging to me, only letting out small whimpers as we pass her grandparents.

I hated every member of her family when I was a child.

That was because of jealousy and never being good enough in comparison to Asher.

I hated them for accepting him in her life.

It was easier to blame them for Delilah refusing to leave him.

Now, it’s deeper. I hate them for who they are and what they’re doing to her because she’s too fucking strong to be this broken shell. She killed Asher, for fuck’s sake.

There’s less light as we’re led through the hallway to the back of the house. It’s colder both in atmosphere and temperature. There are wet patches on the floor as we pass black double doors lining the hall, but they’re locked with large brass padlocks.

If kitchens are the heart of a home, this one is dead.

It’s all monochromatic and dull. The greenery of the trees isn’t visible through the gallery style windows overlooking the water.

Even the lead strips breaking up the panes are gray rather than black, like they’ve had the color sucked out of them.

Without any visible ground breaking up the water, it’s like we’re floating on the edge, and we’ll slip into the sea at any moment.

The grime on the windows tinges the waters from the crystal blue we witnessed outside to a murky green, like everything in this house is removed from the real world where it doesn’t match the setting or even portray it correctly.

We’re guided through the kitchen to a set of double doors that open into an atrium and the stone floor gives way to checkered tiles. The black and white marble has more than the veining crawling across it. Vines stretch through the small gaps in the glass panels and invade the floor and walls.

Delilah pushes into my back as she walks on the tips of her toes to minimize the cold.

Helene is nowhere in sight and her butler clearly can’t communicate back to her, so I turn and lift my girl into my arms. She wraps her legs around my waist, arms around my shoulders, and softly sighs as she lays her head on my shoulder.

A soft hum brushes my neck and it’s so quiet that I can only hear it in the ear that Delilah is next to.

She used to do it when she was younger, while working out a piece that was stuck in her head.

Her fingers gently tap between my shoulder blades.

Each one softly pressing down as though she has the keys in front of her while she continues humming like a child, clinging to me with the same vulnerability.

I keep her covered and cross my hands under her ass.

The butler doesn’t turn around when we reach a winding staircase.

He simply walks ahead without any recognition that we’re following him.

Just because he’s had his words taken from him doesn’t mean that we can’t communicate in another way, the rude fuck.

Our combined weight rattles the metal staircase. It’s discombobulating as each step of the butler’s gets more purposeful. I leave one arm wrapped around Delilah to hold the wrought-iron railing, paint flaking off the trim and the sharp edges getting caught on my shirt sleeve.

When we reach the top, it’s even more desolate than the atrium.

The walls are constructed of thick stone that don’t allow any light through.

A large arched window sits at the end of the hallway, covering the full length of the wall.

The glass is filthy and old, allowing a steady stream of cold air to roll across the floor. Delilah tightens her legs around me.

We’re taken to an unlocked room with scratches on the wooden door.

That doesn’t inspire any confidence and the butler abruptly turns, walking back out the way we came.

I choose the safety of a closed door over standing in an open hallway, even if we have to contend with whatever the last person was attempting to escape.

The room is better than the outside. The scratches on the door are still there, but it’s warm with a large four-poster bed sitting against the wall surrounded by heavy, red drapes that bring out the richness of the mahogany frame.

Delilah continues humming, the vibrations mixing together while her fingers do the same against my back.

The tempo gets faster as I carry her into the adjoining bathroom, which is dark and suffocating even though the floor space is huge.

The black tiles make it seem smaller and reflect the gold claw feet of the tub perfectly.

Each foot has the same chimera design as Helene’s stick.

She really needs to get a new logo for her fucked up life.

I keep Delilah attached to me as I turn on the shower.

The pipes groan and rattle before the orange-tinged water drips from the brass shower head.

There’s more energy in her limbs as she abruptly stops humming, kisses my neck, then moans, “We have to be quick.” She pushes her hips down and fucking destroys me.

“Asher’s going to be wondering where I am. ”

Letting go of my neck, she reaches down, but I grab her wrist before she can touch my dick. “Stop.”

The old Delilah is in front of me as she drops down to her feet and crosses her arms over her chest. She stares off to the side as she snaps, “Fuck you. Just say that you don’t want me or that there’s someone else. Is it Bethany?”

She’s actually crazy, reliving a conversation we had when we were sixteen. But just like then, I get pissed at the double standard.

“Why do you care?” I step closer to her and cup her cheek so she can’t look away from me. “You have him, remember? So why do you care about what I do?”

This version isn’t an exact replica of who Delilah was as a teenager. Now she’s broken and the truth slips through the cracks in her personality.

“Because it’s you,” she whispers. “I don’t want him, and I never did, but it’s you and it will always be you and you’ll find someone better than me with your eyes closed.”

The water heats as I unbutton her shirt so she can have something to cover herself with once we’re as clean as we’ll be able to get. Using the tip of my finger, I turn her head to me. “Delilah, why didn’t you choose me then?”

Tears line up on her lashes and she slowly undresses me as she whispers, “I’m not allowed to choose.”

I brush her shirt off her shoulders and ask, “Why?”

If this is the only way she’ll drop her shield and give me answers, then so be it. I’ve spent too many years going through history, trying to work out why she ruined everything. My feelings for her wouldn’t have died if she didn’t crawl into my bed, but she gave them hope for something more.

Rather than answering, she pushes her hand into my boxers and wraps her fingers around my dick. My hand flexes on her face as I grit, “Don’t.”

She pulls her hand out, scoffing. “See, you don’t want me anymore. Fuck you, Kane.”

My hand tightens around her fucking face, and I walk her backwards under the spray. Her feet slip against the wet tile, but she manages to catch herself with both hands on my chest.

I want to fucking choke her and that’s evident in my tone.

“I always wanted you, even when I shouldn’t. But I wanted more than fucking you. Are you that much of a whore that you only care about being fucked?”

Delilah laughs, and it’s the saddest, most self-deprecating sound in the world.

“That’s the only use I have. You don’t want me for anything else and I’m okay with that because with you, I like it.

With you, it doesn’t make me want to die, and I get to keep that good feeling for the times I have to put up with someone else’s hands. ”

I’ve been giving her what she needed and only fucking her because I’ve never touched anyone else. Plus, it was our pattern. We’d fuck and watch the sun the come up. But she’s just crushed me. When I’m not supposed to feel anything for her.