You know what’s broken. You just don’t want to acknowledge it.

I slapped the voice away, raising my eyes.

Q sat stonily, looking part-sculpture, part-monster. “Yet another lie. Qu’est-ce que je vais faire de toi?” What am I going to do with you? Leaning forward, his pale eyes searched mine, tearing through my defences, uncovering things I never wanted him to see.

“I told you to stop lying to me.”

“And I don’t.”

He snorted, his mouth tightening.

I said, “There is such a thing as too much knowledge. Give me time, then I’ll have no need to keep things from you.”

“I gave you time before and look what happened. You built a fortress and blocked me out. You were so damn cold, so f**king untouchable. Forgive me if I don’t trust you won’t do it again.” Q’s hand flew up, his fingers latching around my throat.

I froze, battling two emotions: I knew Q wouldn’t hurt me—not like Leather Jacket—I knew it was love driving him to anger. But I couldn’t stop the panic bubbling in my veins or my wide eyes from giving away too many secrets. I was a victim, and Q didn’t do well with brokenness.

His gaze darkened as my heart thrummed under his thumb. “For God’s sake, Tess. You can’t even let me touch you. How ever did you let me f**k you yesterday?”

I bit my lip to keep from spilling my dirty lies. I let Q hit me yesterday as he needed to remember himself before it was too late. I gifted my pain and would gladly do it every night for the rest of my life to keep him happy. But I would have to fake it. Fake something that before was as much a part of me as inflicting pain was for Q. We’d been the perfect mirror image of each other, and now the image was dimmed, clouded.

When he took me yesterday, I forced the memories and horrible history away. When he hit me, the clenching of my insides wasn’t from pleasure, but instead from panic. I allowed Q to believe it was lust.

I didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t need to know my dreadful secret. It would break his heart and wedge a canyon between us. Time would heal me. Time would fix everything.

It would.

I had to believe that.

Keeping my voice as steady as possible, I said, “I love it when you touch me. And sleeping with you yesterday meant the world to me.” I brought my arm up, breaking his contact around my throat. Flashing my diamond ring in his face, I added, “You proposed yesterday. You offered me your life, your fortune. Everything you’ve done for me, I’ll never be able to repay. Let me try to find normalcy by loving you and accepting everything you need to give me.”

Q scowled. “You’re saying you would happily let me string you up and use the cat o’ nine tails on you right now?” His gaze glinted. “You would grow wet for me and pant for my c**k just like you did before?”

My heart galloped. Why did he have to ask such probing questions? He knows. I was stupid to think he didn’t. Did he guess I no longer craved the delicious line of pain and pleasure? “Yes,” I breathed. “I would give you everything. Just like you’ve given me.”

Q grabbed my hand, twisting the filigree wings wrapping around my wedding finger. The diamonds glittered even in the dawn, and my heart glowed knowing Q had imbedded a tracker in the gold so he would always know where I was. The comfort knowing he would hunt for me was tremendous. My monster would come. Just like he’d done before.

“You hide so much from me, but you forget I can smell fear.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Do you regret saying yes? Have you had second thoughts about marrying me?”

“What? No!” A spike of horror pierced my heart. “Why on earth would you ask that?” Yanking my hand back, I glared. “Accepting you was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. If I smell of fear, it’s because I don’t feel worthy of you.”

“Worthy?” Q snarled. “You don’t feel f**king worthy after everything you’ve lived through because of me?” Dragging hands through his hair, he glowered. “You still don’t get it.”

My pulse thudded. The memories I never allowed to surface bombarded me: the grisly bloody heart Q lay at my feet. The black raven wings he’d worn as my dark angel when I was drugged up and hallucinating. How could I feel worthy of someone so much more than me?

“No. You don’t get it. I came to you as a gift. You tormented my mind, turned my body against me, and showed me things I never would’ve been strong enough to want before you. Not only did you send me away because you thought you would ruin me, but you massacred an entire trafficking ring to save me.” My larynx snapped closed with emotion. I wished I could make him see how in awe I was. How much I loved him. Half of my soul throbbed with cosmically bright love while the other dripped in filth and ruin.

“You gave me not only your empire and love but also your greatest fear. Don’t you think I know how hard it was for you to let me tie you up and abuse you? You let me be your master, Q. How can I ever repay that?”

I expected Q to scream. To list the ways I’d repaid him in his f**ked-up rationality, but instead he propelled himself off the bed and stalked to the bathroom.

The door slammed shut; I waited in the centre of the bed for the shower to turn on or for something to smash as he took his violence out on the amenities.

Seconds after the door rattled in its hinges, Q stormed back out. “I’ll tell you how you can f**king repay me. You can marry me. Today. I’m not waiting any longer.” Q’s melodic accent cut through the room, whipping me with urgency.

“Any longer? You proposed yesterday.”

“Don’t answer back, Tess. Not unless you want me to drag your delicious body down the bed and f**k you. Having you argue is the worst kind of aphrodisiac, and I know you don’t want me.” Pacing like a caged animal, he snarled, “The knowledge you’d still spread your legs for me is wreaking havoc with my barometer of right and wrong.”

He took all choice away. He was right. I didn’t want him. Not while anger poured off him in crimson waves. But I did want the connection. I wanted to be reminded I hadn’t pushed him away even though I’d tried so damn hard. I wanted to apologise in more ways than words.

Q spun away and yanked open a dresser. Grabbing shirts and underwear, he snapped, “Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

I scooted off the bed, obeying instantly. “Where are we going?”