Je Suis a Toi (Monsters in the Dark #3.5)(11)

Cupping her cheek, I breathed, “Are you okay?”

She leaned into my touch with a gentle smile. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

I shrugged. “I can think of a few things.”

She glanced away. “Well, so can I. But nothing relating to what just happened in the barn.” Tearing off a piece of chicken, she chewed thoughtfully. “You know, this birthday weekend isn’t just for you.”

I dropped my touch, ladling another mother of pearl spoonful of caviar into my mouth. Caviar could never touch metal or silver. If it did, the texture and taste were completely ruined. The high maintenance eating habits of the rich never failed to amuse.

“What does that mean?”

Tess glanced my way; her normally guileless blue eyes shadowed with questions. “I know you’re unhappy, Q.” She waved me away as my temper thickened and I opened my mouth to argue. “Before you say anything, I don’t mean you’re unhappy all the time. But there is something you’re keeping from me. I need to know what it is so I can fix it.”

What if you can’t fix it?

What then?

I sighed heavily. “There’s nothing to fix, esclave.”

“I say otherwise.” She hung her head, pouring more champagne as an excuse not to look at me. “I need you to tell me soon, Q. Before I go mad with worry.”

Stopping her fumbling, I placed my hand on hers. “I know I haven't been fair, keeping this from you. But I’m almost ready to talk about it. I promise.”

“You are?” Her eyes met mine.

I nodded unwillingly. “Almost.”

“So you’ll tell me before the week is over?”

A week?

That’s all I have?

How could I put into words something I didn’t even understand myself? How could I describe the longing inside me and admit I’d been lying for months, or explain the indescribable desire for something I’d never wanted before?

It was my turn to look away, glaring at the countryside and the glittering yellow sunshine. Snow still lingered in ditches and valleys but overall, winter had been too kind. A few leaves still clung to branches, and the occasional rustle of mice and voles spoke of an existence refusing to die even with temperatures teasing with freezing.

If nothing perished, nothing could be reborn.

The same mistakes and hardships would linger.

“Q…” Tess stole me back to her.

Gritting my teeth, I tore off a piece of fresh baguette. “Fine. You have my word. By the end of the week, I’ll tell you.”

If you don’t figure it out before then.

Tess was the most inquisitive and determined person I knew. She’d probably already guessed what my problem was. She could most likely put it into words far better than I could.

In a way, I wanted her to.

Maybe then, I could understand what the f*ck my issue was.





THE LAST WARMTH of sunshine faded as we drove up the incredibly long driveway of Castelnaud-des-Fleurs. The Castle of Flowers.

Anyone with an income as sizeable as Q’s could rent this private estate—costing a small fortune for a few days’ stay.

I’d found it thanks to the contacts Q had made in the property world where he’d earned most of his wealth. We regularly brushed shoulders with building officials, high-powered governors, and businessmen with money and power.

Those same businessmen were on a secret list that Q and I’d compiled of known sex offenders and traffickers. I might have found my happily ever after, but I hadn’t forgotten my vow to help others. Along with our charities and regular donations to the families we’d already saved, we kept track of underground dealings and recent sales of women. Including a new trafficking ring that’d opened in Europe called the QMB—the Quarterly Market of Beauties.

Q had enlisted spies to watch and report. He wouldn’t let it go on for much longer before he slaughtered those doing the buying and scavenge for those who had been sold.

We weren’t bound by propriety and paperwork of the law.

We didn’t stand by and let such evil occur.

Q didn’t tell me much about what he arranged, or how far he had them punished, and I didn’t ask. That day he’d found me in the warehouse and wrenched the heart from the man who’d broken me had shown just how dark I truly ran.

I didn’t squirm when Franco told me exactly what Q had done after Frederick carried me to the plane. I didn’t gag when he spoke of the gore, or lament and ask why Q had been so savage.

Instead, I thanked him. From the bottom of my soul. He’d only done what that bastard deserved, and I wouldn’t ruin his gift and sacrifice by ever being weak. Q could kill every last trafficker with his bare hands, and I would stand beside him with a rag to wash away the blood. I would spread my legs for him even while he smoked with sulphur from the gun he used to exterminate such vermin.

Did that make me a monster, too?

Yes.

And I accepted that wholeheartedly.

Turning off the ignition, Q gave me a gentle smile. Whatever violence that we’d given into in the barn was sated and whatever shyness and unwillingness to talk from our picnic had been shoved away to discuss at a later time.

He would tell me.

I trusted him.

And I didn’t care what it was, I would do it. Because that was what our marriage was. He took, I gave. I asked, he gifted. We were on a never-ending tug of war where we each took turns to win. But there was no losing. We had far too much happiness to ever lose.