Page 60 of One Bad Knight

25

Kat

Iwaited, knowing with certainty he would come. After years of waiting, never knowing if he would return, I knew Gatsby would be here any minute.

The second his boots crossed my threshold, I slammed my bedroom door shut behind him.

Gatsby started, twisting to find me standing there, hands behind my back. I looked up at him from under my eyelashes.

His shoulders dropped a couple inches as he regarded me with hooded eyes. Lust filled them, and he reached for me. Even as my body reacted, I backed him up against the closed door. Strong hands found my hips as I brought my hand around from behind my back.

I pressed the kitchen knife against his throat. Gatsby tensed, his grip tightening on my hips as a line formed between his brows.

“You lied to me. You killed my father. You’re using me as bait.”

His features smoothed, not even bothering to stop me, or object.

“I’d ask if any of it between us was real, but I know what you think about people. Everyone uses each other, right? And you are no different. Did you really think it necessary to get into my pants, just to stay close to my uncle?”

Gatsby licked his lips slowly. Those sharp grey eyes regarded me with a coolness that made my blood boil. “You’re right. I've been lying. I did kill your father, and if you want my full honesty, I’d do it again. Getting into bed with you wasn’t the plan, but I can’t say it didn’t work for my purposes.”

"For your purposes,” I repeated.

Anticipation raced through me in an angry buzz. This was it. I faced my father’s murderer, and I could kill him, right now. I could protect my family.

I could free myself of the past and continue forward, whole, new again.

“Are you scared?” I asked, wanting to hear it.

I told myself I wanted to taste his fear, relish the moment. But I was lying to myself. I knew I was stalling. My voice shook.

Instead of fear or anger, Gatsby’s expression remained neutral.

“I always knew Death stayed closed by. He and I are old friends, Kat.” He spoke with such measured calm, and it drove me nuts. “He’s walked by my side since I was a kid, and I’ve been waiting for him to come for me. And no one deserves to land the final blow more than you. It probably was always meant to be you. I destroyed your life, and you are going to give me what I’ve always deserved.”

Gatsby pressed up against the blade. His flesh split under the knife, and blood pooled, then slid down the column of his neck. I pulled back so he wouldn’t cut his own throat any deeper.

In a flash, he grabbed my wrists and whirled me around, pushing me up in the position I’d had him a moment ago.

The power had changed hands.

Still, his grip tightened on my wrist, keeping the blade to his own throat, even as his body pressed me into the door.

I swallowed hard. Tears blurred my vision.

“I did this to you,” he said. “I ruined your life. Took someone you loved and made you suffer. I deserve this.”

His cold expression morphed, and I could see that tortured little boy again. So filled with rage and pain, he only wanted one thing. Something I knew he’d never had. From the first moment I met him, I knew he desperately needed to be loved.

And stupid, stupid me. That ten-year-old girl had loved him in an instant.

Gatsby pushed my hand holding the knife against his throat harder, and his eyes flickered with pain as more blood dripped down. I tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Stop,” I said. It came out as a ragged plea.

His tone was biting and harsh. “Why? This is what you wanted, right? I ruined everything for you.”

“Please stop,” I begged, trying to tug the knife away from his throat. Fear overpowered me as I knew if I let go, I’d watch him slit his own throat on my hand. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to hurt him, not like this.