Page 19 of Misery

But not like this.

I pull back gently. "Not tonight."

"You don't want?—"

"I want. Trust me, I fucking want you. But not because you're scared. Not because you're grateful. When I kiss you—when we actually do this—it's going to be right, not because you’re running."

She stares at me. Something shifting in her expression. "You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

"A monster. The Executioner. Someone who takes what he wants." She touches my split knuckles. Gentle. Careful. "But you're not, are you? You're something else."

"I'm both. The monster and the man. That's what you need to understand before this goes further."

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me the monster. I've seen him in glimpses. The blood on your hands. The death in your eyes when you read those messages. But you keep holding back. Stop."

"You don't know what you're asking."

"Yes, I do." She's fierce now. Wine and fear burned away by something else. "I need to see who's protecting me. All of him. Not just the parts you think I can handle."

I stand. Move to the window. Safer with distance between us. "You want to know who I am? I'm the man who breaks fingers for information. Who burns down houses with people inside. Who makes others disappear so completely their families never find the bodies."

"I know."

"I've killed more men than I can count. Some deserved it. Some were just in the way." I turn to face her. Let her see the truth in my eyes. "I don't feel guilt. Don't lose sleep. Don'tdream about their faces. That's the monster, Elfe. That's what's protecting you right now."

She should run. Should grab her phone and call someone, anyone, to come get her.

Instead, she rises. Walks to me slowly. Deliberately.

"Good," she says simply.

"Good?"

"I don't want someone with a conscience protecting me. I want someone who'll do whatever it takes. Someone who won't hesitate. Who won't feel bad about it later." She stops just out of reach. "I want the monster."

"Why?"

"Because monsters recognize each other." Her smile is sharp. Beautiful. Dangerous. "You think I don't have darkness too? You think surviving didn't change me? I dream about killing them. The men who attacked me. Dream about it in detail. How I'd make them suffer. How I'd make them beg. That's my monster, Oskar. The one that wants blood for blood."

"That's not the same?—"

"Isn't it? You kill to protect. I want to kill for revenge. Which one of us is really darker?"

My phone buzzes before I can answer. Then again. Insistent.

"You should check that," she says.

I pull it out. Magnus calling.

That's never good.

"Yeah?"