“You didn’t see her when she jumped from the roof. She was empty, ready for final death. Her anger gives her purpose. It is better she exists with hate than not exist at all.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in. All those scowls? All the time in the basement? He’d done it because he thought making me hate him would keep me alive? No. He was an asshole. That wasn’t a façade.
He’d locked me in my room, almost drowned me, forced me into a cold shower, spanked me, and bit me. He’d even threatened to break the skin.
He’d also made sure I ate, slept, and bathed, and he had comforted me after my worst dreams.
The echo of a memory wormed its way into my thoughts. I’d been dreaming of my mom’s hand stroking my hair, but I’d woken to him comforting me. Then, there’d been the dream of my mom, a memory of the very last time I ever saw her, but her lips hadn’t matched. She’d been about to leave, and I’d begged her not to go. I remembered what she said in real life, that she’d be right back; but in the dream, she’d promised not to leave me. Ever.
Another one tickled my memory. I’d told my mom I’d wanted to die, and she’d told me that was no longer my choice.
All those dreams of my mom while I was coming down from the drinking, had they all been him? Had he been the one telling me to be strong and that I needed to live?
“Go on and lie down,” Emily said. “Sleep while you can. I’ll listen and wake you as soon as I hear her moving around.”
Stunned, I crept back up the stairs and sat on my bed where I tried to reconcile the two very different sides of the same man.
I die a thousand deaths each time I harden her hate toward me.
Then tell her how you really feel.
Those two phrases circled in my head. I wasn’t simple. I knew what they were both getting at. Merdon was fey-crushing on me but “acting” like my worst enemy. Shax’s story about Thallirin and Merdon’s exile was the only possible explanation for Merdon’s behavior shifts. He’d kept me alive, using whatever means he thought necessary because he would rather lose his chance with me than see me die.
Exhaustion tugged at my mind, and I slow-blinked while curling back under the covers. What was real? Was it the few times Merdon had been nice or the majority when he acted like the world’s biggest asshole? If we were supposed to judge people based on their actions, and not their words, then everything I’d just heard was a lie.
“Get up. You’ve slept long enough.”
The angry voice immediately penetrated my sleep. Merdon. What I’d overheard earlier rattled in my mind, and I bolted upright with wide, panicked eyes.
His scowl faded, and he dropped the crossed-armed, power-pose to squat down beside the bed.
“You’re safe, Hannah.”
I blinked at the feel of his hand smoothing over my curls. There it was again, his comforting touch. Was it real? My body didn’t seem to care if it was real or a lie because I wanted to lean into it and close my eyes. How could he make me feel safe with a simple stroke of my hair when I also bore faint marks from wrestling around with him in the basement? I had to be insane.
His yellow-green gaze held mine. There was no anger, but neither was there affection like when Shax looked at Angel. If anything, Merdon looked guarded. Did that, then, signify he really didn’t want to be mean to me?
“Hannah?” he asked when I remained quiet, his voice gruff yet gentle.
“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” I said, feeling desperate and confused as hell.
He tilted his head at me slightly.
“This room is real. Tolerance, your home, is real. The food that Emily makes for you is real.”
He’d misunderstood and was trying to comfort me, behavior that aligned with how a fey would normally act toward someone he liked. Was this the real version of Merdon?
My gaze shifted from one of his alien eyes to the other as I tried to understand the implications of what his devotion would mean. Merdon, one of the most intense, no-boundaries fey I’d ever met, wanted me.
Suspicion began to cloud his gaze the longer I stared at him, and his hand retreated from my hair.