Pieces of Autumn (22 page)

Sick guilt clutched at my heart. But there was no passion behind his words, and I knew the truth. I owed him nothing. My virginity wasn't chattel for bargaining. Not that he knew what he was asking of me.

Would it make a difference, I wondered? Would this version of Tate even care?

He licked his lips again, leaning over me, planting one hand beside my head. His eyes locked with mine and I searched, desperately, for that little hint of the man I knew. Anyone, anything.

Please
.

"You think the fear in your eyes is going to stop me?" he whispered. "It just makes me harder."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to kick him with my good leg, to drag myself out from under him, even if it meant I'd be mangled again and unable to run. I just had to get away. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't accept this fate.

My heart was thudding in my ears. I barely heard my own voice when I spoke, one last time.

"Please...I don't want it to happen like this."

He froze.

Recoiling, his eyes briefly flashing with something I almost recognized, he stepped back, back, back until he hit the wall. He kept staring at me. My nerves were still zinging with panic, my throat constricted, as I watched him.

Without another word, he disappeared through the door.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Trust

Tate

I woke up in the middle of a nightmare.

That, in itself, was not interesting.
 

Somehow Daniela and Autumn had merged, and I was the monster who ruined them. Again, not unusual. But something about it was bothering me, even before my eyes opened all the way.

Not like this...

Please. Stop.

My stomach twisted.

Mind racing, I tried to remember what had happened yesterday. Could I account for my whereabouts, or was it all lost in a haze of opiate withdrawal? I remembered going to Autumn's room. I remembered...

I remembered.

Dry-heaving into the sink, I remembered. Staring grimly at my reflection, gray and pallid and dotted with sweat, I remembered.

This is who you are. It's who you've always been.

Her words had been like a punch to the gut, sending me reeling. Saving me. Saving us both.
 

Not like this...

Daniela.

"Please, Tate...I don't want it to happen like that. Not with some stranger who bought me. Please..."

The two situations couldn't have been more different. But somehow, Autumn made me remember.

I wanted to crush every single pill I had, and bury them in the barn. I wanted to burn the house down. I wanted to carve an apology in my own flesh.

Would she ever believe me?

Could she possibly forgive me?

Saving her life was not enough. She'd seen an ugliness beyond the Viper, beyond just the dark impulses Stoker left me with. She saw, firsthand, what the pills did to me. Without hesitation or conscience, I truly became the monster that she insisted I wasn't. The tiny, fragile trust she'd placed in me was shattered.

It ought to have been a relief. Wasn't this what I wanted? To be free from the burden of her expectations? For her to finally understand I was too fucked-up to save?

All I felt was devastation.

I hadn't known how precious her trust was to me. I
couldn't
have known, blinded by my insistence that I hated it, that I'd never deserved it.
 

I walked down the hallway like my feet were made of lead.

The first knock had no answer. I was expecting that. Taking a deep breath, I called out her name.

Though she didn't respond at first, I swore I could feel her rush of panic.

"Go away. I have a gun."

Briefly, I actually wondered if she
did
. Shaking my head to clear the lingering cobwebs, I rested my hand flat against the door. A supplicating gesture, although she couldn't see it.
 

"You don't," I said, feeling the comforting weight of my revolver against my chest. "I know you don't. I just want to talk. I won't touch you."

"I have something sharp," she shot back. "And trust me, I won't hesitate to use it."

I tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. Somehow, with her broken leg, she must have dragged a piece of furniture to block it. My stomach churned.

"Don't hurt yourself. Stay off your leg. Can you do that for me?" I took a deep breath. "I'm opening the door. I just want to see your face. That's all."

She didn't answer.

It took some rattling, but the makeshift blockade started scraping across the floor. Enough to see her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, a letter opener clutched in her fist.
 

Her eyes were glinting like a cornered animal's. My chest tightened, but I pushed back the wave of anger, reminding myself that I deserved this.
 

"I'll stop," I told her. "I won't come in."

With a sharp exhale through her nostrils, she nodded. Once.

"Autumn, I'm sorry." Every part of me felt raw. "That's not...it wasn't me."

She snorted. "Seemed awfully familiar."

"You know what I mean." I had to fight back against the frustration again. "You saw it. I know you did. I was fucked up, Autumn. I was out of my mind. If I'd been..."

"You mean if you were sober, you would have only
threatened
to rape me, right?" Her knuckles were white around the letter-opener. "Rather than actually almost doing it."

Growling, I snapped back before I had a chance to think better of it. "You know exactly what I am! So what the fuck gives you the right to be offended?"

"You're right," she said, her voice quiet and cold. "I have known, all along. But for some reason I wanted to believe it wasn't true."

This was going about as well as could be expected.

What could I possibly tell her? That I'd rather cut off my balls than see that look on her face again? She wouldn't believe me.
I
didn't believe me. Obviously it wasn't true, and even if I promised her I'd never down a bottle of oxys again, I was still me. The best case scenario was still one of the worst imaginable.

I swallowed, hard, my throat trying to rasp shut and trap all my words inside.
 

Let her believe you're a monster. It's the truth.

"Where did you get that?" I was eyeing the letter opener.

"It was still wrapped up in the dress you rescued me in." She glared. "I took it with me when I left. Not so smart, are you?"

"My office." My fists clenched compulsively by my sides. "You saw my office."

"Yeah, I saw what was left of it." Her head tilted slightly. In spite of herself, she still wanted to know why. "I checked everything that wasn't locked for a weapon."

"I did that for you." My mouth felt like sandpaper.

Her eyes were cold, but something flashed in them. "Gosh," she said, quietly. "Thanks."

I was desperate, blood pounding in my ears. I remembered, with painful clarity, everything I'd said to her. That I wanted her, more than anything - that her fear turned me on.
 

It was all true.
 

"Thank you," I said, at last. "For stopping me."

She watched me, cautiously curious. "I didn't do it as a favor to you."

"I know." Closing my eyes for a moment, I let the self-loathing wash over me. "At least you know who I am now."

Looking at her face, I saw it. The lingering doubt. She didn't want to believe. Still, even after everything I'd done, she wanted to have faith in me.

She's sick, and you're enabling her.

The Viper had never made so much sense.

"Let me bring you something to eat," I said.

Her chest rose and fell, heavily. "I'm not hungry."

"You need food." I was watching her, suspended on a razor's edge, on the verge of breaking down. Her arm was trembling and the tears wanted so badly to come. But she didn't dare show weakness. Not in front of a psychopath like me.

My kindness would be her undoing. She wanted the food, not because she wanted to eat it - she just wanted to go back to normal, to have some reassurance that yesterday was just a nightmare. I wished I could tell her that. I wished I could wake her up, and be the one to comfort her.

She didn't say no, so I went to the kitchen to fetch a makeshift sandwich. I hadn't cooked properly in a few days, but some roast beef and cheese would be enough to keep her strength up.

She needed to heal. The sooner she was up and walking, the sooner she'd be able to defend herself. I didn't want her to be afraid of me.

Oh, but you do...

"Can I come in?" I was standing outside of her door again, the crack just big enough to let me through.

Autumn snorted quietly. "You can do whatever you want."

"I know." I swallowed a knot of frustration. "But I'm asking you."

She was silent. God damn this woman.

"I'm not coming in, unless you say it." I stood firm, making sure the plate was in full view.
 

"It's your fucking house." Her tone was losing conviction.

"And I don't want to get fucking stabbed in it."
 

I swore I could hear her rolling her eyes. "And how does this prevent that from happening, exactly?"

Narrowly avoiding the temptation to throw the plate at the wall, I gritted my teeth. "I'm trying to make this easier for you, Autumn."

"It's a little bit late for that." She sighed. "But fine. I give you my
permission
to enter."

The letter-opener stayed at arm's length, pointed directly at my groin, until I had set the plate down and backed away.

"Tomorrow, I have to put on your cast," I told her. "It'll make it much easier to get around. Is that all right?"

She nodded, around a mouthful of food. "Are there any painkillers left, or did you already snort them all?"

I bit back a reply. That was fair.

"Here." I produced the bottle that was in my pocket, tossing it towards her. She snatched it in midair and glanced at me. I was fighting a powerful instinct to lunge after it.

"How did you get hooked?" she asked, casually, turning the bottle around in her hand.
 

Off-limits.

But I couldn't. Not now. She'd already been punished enough.

"How do you think?" I crossed my arms, regarding her. She'd put the letter-opener down, but she was carefully keeping it in her peripheral vision.

"I'm going to guess Stoker beat the shit out of you," she said, with a sharp intake of breath.
 

"You guessed right," I said. "Congratulations."

The hard edges of her expression melted a little. "I'm sorry," she said. "That probably wasn't the most delicate way to bring it up."

I shrugged. "Delicacy isn't usually a concern of mine."

"Do you still hurt?" She stopped chewing for a moment to look at me, thoughtfully. Some of the fear had faded, but not all of it.

My fist clenched. "Every day."

It was a strange thing to admit out loud.
 

She blinked a few times, looking back down at her food. "Did they ever break a bone?"

"Just a few ribs. They always wanted to make sure I could perform."

"Did
you
ever break a bone?" She looked up at me, pointedly, her face very pale.

She meant someone else's.

"No. That wasn't allowed." I shifted my weight to my good leg. The bad one was never as bad as hers was now, but it was amazing how much damage a cane could do. "Same reason."

"What about when you got out?" She set her plate aside. "Joshua said..."

Fucking Joshua.

"Yes," I said. "I broke bones. As many as I had to."

Something like admiration was glimmering in her eyes, behind all the anger and fear and disgust.

God damn it, no. Don't let yourself forget who I really am.

"I wish I could break their bones," she muttered. "Every single one of them."

"It's not as satisfying as you imagine."

Autumn raised an eyebrow. "Maybe not for you."

The Viper snarled.

"You have no idea what it's like," I told her, sharply. "And you'd better pray you never find out."

Her eyes flashed. "You think I'm not strong enough?"

Something twinged in my chest. "I know you are. But Stoker breaks everyone."

With that, I left her alone.

I had to get rid of the pills.

There was a hollowed-out place in my chest where I'd once held her trust. I needed it back. I didn't know if it would make a difference, but I had to try. If nothing else, it was a gesture.

Not exactly flowers and chocolates, but it was the best I could do.

It took me a while, but I formulated a plan. After a few fingers of whiskey, I was ready.

I
had to trust
her
.

The panic thrummed in my chest, almost like I'd been shoved in a small room with a locked door. I no longer believed she was sent to kill me, but that hardly mattered. She'd be the death of me either way.

Shrugging out of my jacket, I sat down and pulled my revolver out of its holster. The grip was warm in my hand. I checked it compulsively. As always, just one bullet. Chambered and ready to fire.