Everything was different now. In a way I had accepted the end, and that Anderson would be the one to give it to me. I had even consented to it, to death. Yet there had still been a part of me that had refused it, fought it.
There was nothing but darkness left inside me. Samantha Rowan had left the fragments of her shattered soul within me. And they had festered, taken root and spread like raging ivy throughout my blood stream, corrupting and blackening me little by little until nothing but rotten flesh remained.
I was already dead, whether Anderson killed me or not.
Red’s ears pricked as the bolt shifted from its housing on the door to the basement. Once again I was contained in the depths of Anderson’s hell. However, what he thought was punishment, wasn’t. Strangely, I felt at home in the lower floor. The cold seeped into my bones, numbing all the pain that threatened to drive me insane. The familiarity of the tools Anderson pleasured himself with made me feel close to him, honoured to be privy to his deep, dark secrets. And the bed I sat on brought me nothing but content memories.
Yes, I was sick. Maybe a little insane. But it was what it was.
He looked straight at me as he slowly descended, his heavy footfalls on the wooden steps ricocheting through the quiet of the room. I tried to gauge his mood, work out which Anderson joined me, but it was an impossible task until he allowed me the privilege.
“Kloe.”
The way my name rolled off his tongue gave me goosebumps, the unknown catching my breath as he strode across the concrete towards me. The light was dim but it granted me the sight of a black eye and a deep wound on his cheekbone that had been stitched haphazardly.
“You fought,” I murmured. My neck hurt to look up at him when he came to hover over me.
“I did.”
“I’m pleased you won.”
Neither of us were sure whether I was being sarcastic or not, but Anderson still grinned. “So am I.”
“Are you?”
He blinked. “Today I am.”
“Why today?”
I didn’t flinch when he reached out and his hand encompassed the side of my head. His touch was warm and soft, but not as tender as the way he looked at me. My heart softened when the gentle Anderson smiled affectionately at me. “Because you’re here.”
I lifted my hand and rested it over the top of his. “You don’t need to lock the door, Anderson. You know I will always be here.”
His eyes narrowed, and he inhaled deeply. “Yet not hours ago you wanted to put a bullet through me.”
I laughed, finding humour in what I shouldn’t have. That was the state of my mind. “And you would have just let me, would you?”
He smiled, that cocky smile that made hot blood spread to my belly. “So you only wanted to shoot me because you knew I wouldn’t let you?”
I shrugged, unsure of my intentions. “Maybe.”
“And if I had let you?”
Lowering my eyes, I frowned at the unanswered question in my head. “Who knows?”
I jumped when he suddenly dropped to his haunches in front of me. His beautiful face was level with mine and I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and drag the tip of my tongue across his sinful lips. I wanted to pull his bottom lip between my teeth and bite down, and take his blood into my system and ride high on it.
Sorrow covered his face, and appearing to struggle with himself for a moment, he swallowed. “What the hell are we doing, Kloe?”
A chill spread across my skin and I shivered. Giving into my needs, I softly ran my thumb across his lip, watching the flesh plump under my touch. “Living. Before we die.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. The hand that held my face shot into my hair and his fingers snatched a handful. He dragged my face to him, forcing my mouth to his. His tongue pushed through my lips and angrily whipped at mine. A growl full of rage broke from him as both of his hands crushed the sides of my head and he deepened the kiss. The force was bruising, merciless, and my soul soared with pleasure at the pain he gifted me. Because it was a gift, an offering that gave me so much more than I ever thought possible. And deep down Anderson knew that, and he gave it to me.
“You know I give myself to you, Anderson,” I whispered against his lips when I pulled back for breath. “I would die for you. I want you to offer me to your father. Because I want you to have the peace you need.”
He stared at me, shocked, horrified, and tortured by my confession. I think I even shocked myself. But only because I had finally accepted who I was, and why I had been given a life from the ravaged spirit of Samantha. Kloe Grant had just been an incubator for Samantha. To nurture her and protect her, ready for when she was needed again.
And her fate. It had always been this. To give life back to Judd Asher. Our lives had been intertwined from the very day Terry and Janice exchanged what should have been their most treasured possession for something as meagre as a few tatty quid.
“But I now have a gift for you other than my own sacrifice. Our child.”