Page 73 of Nightshades

“Don’t waste your tears on me, Little Dream. I am not worthy of them.”

Lula runs to me, his hair dancing over her shoulders with her movements, snow sticking to the strands.

Lost memories.

“Not worthy?” She stands in front of me, stretching her arm to touch my face, but she can’t reach—not even when she tries to stand on her tiptoes.

I bend down when I realize I crave her touch—even if it is due to pity.

Her fingers skim the rough hide of my green flesh, tracing the edge of my jaw. Lula’s eyes soften as her gaze darts all over my face, lost in contemplation.

I grunt in response, finding the rage and violence drifting away from me as her fingers explore me.

“Mmmm,” I hum, a peace settling over me for the first time in ages.

I lean into her palm, pushing my cheek closer into her hand. I want more of the sweetness that doesn’t deserve to touch me.

It’s been so long since I’ve experienced a touch that was filled with care. I forgot what it felt like—what peace feels like.

“You deserve good things, Shade. You’ve been punishing yourself all these years?”

I close my eyes, knowing I had to do what I had to do to survive, but the entire point of survival was saving my mother—and I failed at that.

“You did what you had to do. You were just a boy.”

I fall to my knees in front of her, still slightly taller, and she has to stretch to reach me.

“A boy who loved his mother, who wanted to save her, and she wanted to save you too. She always wanted to save you. I noticed that. In all these memories, that was the common denominator.”

My hands fall to Lula’s hips, her small frame appearing so fragile in my embrace. I’m so much bigger than her; it’s astonishing she’s able to take me and survive.

“If there ever came a time where I couldn’t save you, death would be my only answer at peace,” I say, relaxing when her hands glide down my neck to my chest.

“Death isn’t the answer for everything, Shade.”

“It is when it comes to you,” I state, a guttural purr vibrating from me as she caresses my abdomen.

My stomach clenches from how sensitive I am. My muscles tremble, my cock awakening from the delicate touch. I can’t believe how good she feels. Her touch is the only peace I’ve ever felt—I’ve ever known.

And if anything, that terrifies me the most.

What if someone tried to take my peace away from me? Tried to take her away from me?

I would go on a mission to kill everyone in the world. Death would fear me for the destruction I’d bring to the world. The idea of peace would no longer exist. I would pull the world into a dystopian nightmare. The rivers would run with blood, and the oceans would be red from my madness.

“You are beautiful,” she breathes in wonderment, continuing to explore the body that belongs to her.

“I am a monsterrr,” The nightmare possesses my voice, the vulnerability shaking the words.

I’ve never felt more exposed.

“No.” She steps closer, sliding her soft fingers across my collarbone, then up the thick muscle of my neck. “You are mine.”

My skin reacts to her words, to being claimed by a woman who deserves a better fate than me.

There isn’t hope for me. I can’t change.

I am violence. I am murder.