Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

“I stay where you stay.” I nod toward the big brown couch in the middle of the living space. “That’ll work.”

“That’s not what we agreed on.” Her voice seems calm, but there is a subtle undertone of panic in it.

I approach the breakfast bar, stopping on the opposite side. In the middle of the counter, a parsley plant is growing in a clay pot. The herb’s faint aroma tingles my nostrils. “We agreed I’m going to keep you safe. I can’t do that by staying in a separate building.”

As Nera’s mouth opens to deliver an undoubtedly scathing retort, her gaze sharply swivels to the left. I reach for my gun and snap my head around to follow her line of sight. My eyes land on an open white door across the room, and everything inside me freezes. A tiny little girl, wearing pink pajamas with white flowers all over them, stands in the doorway, clutching ateddy bear to her chest. A shock of tangled dark-blonde hair—so similar to my cub’s—partially obscures her face.

“I’m thirsty, Mommy,” the girl mumbles and sleepily rubs her eyes with the back of her hand.

I jerk as if someone’s stabbed me straight in the heart. All air leaves my lungs as an avalanche of feelings crushes my chest.

Shock.

Hurt.

Betrayal.

I release the hold on my gun and take a step back, not taking my eyes off the little girl.

Since making my way back to Boston, I vowed that this time, I wouldn’t get closer than is necessary to keep my cub safe. Felix informed me she got married, but that crackpot didn’t mention anything else. And it never occurred to me that she and her late husband had a child.

Nera dashes to her daughter and scoops her up. The girl drops her little chin on Nera’s shoulder and tilts her head, her innocent eyes twinkle as she watches me with interest.

“This is Lucia.” Cub’s voice penetrates the stupor that has overtaken me. “My daughter.”

I grab onto the edge of the breakfast counter, squeezing it with all my strength, and close my eyes. I have no right to feel this heartbreaking ache and simultaneous anger, but both emotions are shredding me on the inside.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” I make myself say and release the marble rim I’ve been gripping like a lifeline. Of course, she doesn’t want someone like me anywhere near her child. “I’ll take my things to the staff quarters.”

Picking up my duffel, I head toward the suite’s door. My mind is spinning, but I know I can make this work. During the day, I’ll do rounds around the property and stay out of Nera’s view, but there is no way I’ll leave her and the girl alone and unguarded in the house at night. I’ll just grab the sleeping bag I keep in my trunk, and take up a position outside of their door once everyone goes to sleep.

As my hand lands on the knob, I can’t help myself, so I steal another look at them. Nera didn’t bother to turn around. She’s still standing with her back to me, clutching the little girl to her body. I meet the child’s gaze, and she giggles and buries her face in her mother’s hair.

Watching the girl clench Nera’s locks with her small fists, a strange feeling blooms inside my chest. It’s a combination of pain, longing, and jealousy, but there’s also happiness. My cub has someone of her own now. Maybe, in another life, that little girl could have been mine, too.

“She looks just like you, tiger cub,” I say softly and turn to leave.

“Yes. Except for her eyes,” Nera answers, her voice hoarse and trembling. “She has her father’s eyes. Pale-gray, like the break of first light to end a starless night.”

I swivel around so fast that my duffel bag hits the door frame. Faint ringing settles in my ears, getting louder with every heartbeat until my head feels like it’s going to explode.

Nera is still in the same spot as before, but she’s facing me now, while tears streak down her cheeks. “Your eyes, demon,” she says, barely above a whisper.

Her muted words are another blow to my chest, powerful enough to make me stagger back, hitting the door behind me. The duffel’s strap slips off my shoulder, the bag landing on thefloor with a thud. I don’t even register that I’m walking across the room until I’m standing right in front of my cub and the little girl. My hands rise of their own volition—left one to touch the soft little cheek and the right to cup the tear-soaked smoothness that has haunted my dreams—when reality crashes down upon me.

The spray of blood.

Screams.

Death.

A discarded red scarf on the ground by my cub’s feet as she cradled her father’s body in her arms. The vibrant red hue of the silk, a mockery of the ribbon of blood trickling from the red hole in the center of his forehead.

My fingers cease just an inch from heaven. I take a deep breath and lower my hands, retreating a step. Then another. I back away from the only thing I ever wanted, all the way across the room. My back plasters to the wall, and all I can do is watch them.

Chapter 33

Lucia reaches toward the toy dinnerware set scattered on the carpet by my bed and lifts a miniature cup toward me. “Tea for Mommy.”