Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy (24 page)

But he
also
believed that killers should be stopped—in whatever way possible. He hadn’t killed anyone…yet. But it would happen. It was an inevitability. His body—the cage confining Hyde—was failing.
He
was failing.
Nothing new
.

He took a deep breath, wondering what the last thing he wanted to remember was. With one more moment of life, what did he want? His bucket list was empty, had
always
been empty. He never made any plans beyond today.

He took one more look around the room. And he saw the bars.

No
. He did
not
want to die in a cage. No fucking way would he die being a captive. If his death brought freedom, he wanted his life to end with it. And if—
when
—he woke up in hell, at least he’d know peace.

His breathing was slow, his heartbeat barely a whisper. He pulled the needle out of his arm, capped it, and set it back on the throne, grabbing the make-shift key. By the time he’d even gotten the damn thing into the slot, he was irritable, all the calm of knowing how it was going to end gone.

How the hell did she make it look so fucking easy?
With that thought, her image appeared in his mind. Her confidence, her beauty.
Shit
. Not the way he wanted to go out—bitching about a key and thinking of her.

Damn it. He
already
had too much shit to regret. Did he really need to add to the fire?
What was I thinking?
He couldn’t
off
himself before he’d done what he needed to do. And he couldn’t take their stupid serum either. As much as he hated Hyde, he knew the bastard was an evil of the necessary kind. Hyde was as pure as they came—focused on one thing and one thing only. And it sure as hell wasn’t butterflies, daffodils, or apple pie.

It was hate. Hyde was a destroyer with no human emotions to fuck things up.

Mitch hated himself almost as much as he hated Hyde. But the creature inside of him, constantly pulsing with anger, was useful. To tear apart their enemies and keep her safe. Mitch owed Eden that much. And more. And then he could die happy. Possible in a pool of his own blood as Hyde ripped his way out. It didn’t matter. All he had to do was hold on until then.

Down, boy. If you behave, you might just get a cookie
. He needed to keep it together for just a little longer. A few deep, cleansing breaths would calm him down. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
It’s not working!
Even with the dose of narcotic he had running through his system, he just wasn’t feeling it. Maybe if he could stretch his legs, walk more than five feet in each direction, he could relax.

Okay
. It was worth a try.
In through the nose, out through the mouth, asshole.
So with slow, deep, cleansing breaths, he closed his motherfucking eyes like
she
had and tried to coax the stupid-ass make-shift key into opening the goddamned door.
Not working! It…it…it wor
—

Just as it clicked, he saw something move. The door to his room creaked. Even if Landon had been able to score some narcotic on the brothel’s doorstep, he wasn’t the type to come through a door quietly. He was more of a cow-bell-and-cymbals kind of guy.

Mitch’s pulse was doing double-duty, counteracting the effects of the small dose of morphine. Pushing the cage door open, he prayed the metal wouldn’t catch, wouldn’t scrape, the sound giving him away. He slowly crept towards the door with a fist ready, not knowing what to expect. Because, let’s face it, he seemed to be nothing but wrong about all of it, anyway.

As the door opened, he drew back his arm.

They both inhaled when they saw each other, but neither of them flinched. Nor did they move. Or exhale.

“What are you doing here?” Mitch asked, his voice gruff and irritable.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Eden tried to relax her shoulders, quell the intense fight-
not
-flight reaction she had when he’d surprised her by being so close to the door. But she knew it was just Mitch. Hyde’s presence was gone. Earlier, she’d felt him yank her into the room, like he’d had a chain around her neck. When the pull disappeared, she knew Mitch had regained control. For now.

“I’m fine.” He turned his back on her and walked away, giving wide berth to the cage.

She understood why he hated it, feared it. Who wants to be out of control? Like an addiction that no twelve-step program can fix. She understood because she remembered it. Had lived it. But no longer. Even though there were still moments, reactions she couldn’t control, thoughts she wished wouldn’t appear in her mind—namely lustful ones—she finally felt like she knew the skin she was in. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And she knew she could deal with Chastity,
if
she accepted all of herself.

But being so close to him, not seeing a happy ending in their future—at least not until he understood who she was now—it was painful.

What if she just pretended? Pretended to be the girl she used to be, who he fell for, who he remembered. Would that be enough for him? Would it be enough for
her
? Short-term—maybe. But lying is tough work. Being someone you’re
not
is even harder. Especially when you don’t like the person you’re pretending to be. When, inside, you know that you’re better than that.

“What do you want?” he grumbled, pacing a few feet away from the cage. Each pass was exactly the length of one of its walls, like he didn’t realize he wasn’t locked up.

“I wanted to make sure you were feeling better. And I wanted to tell you something.” She stopped herself from picking at the seam of her dress—that was something the
old
-her would do. Then she glanced at the syringe on the throne. “Of course, the perfect time would be while Landon was somewhere else, you were coherent, and there were bars between us, but how often is that going to happen?” She laughed alone. “One out of three isn’t bad.”

“
Two
out of three. I didn’t have time to shoot up.”

She flinched, just like he’d probably known she would, like he’d probably
wanted
her to.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not turning into your mom. ‘Cause aside from the whole mom-thing sounding truly awful, I’ve got no plans to OD. Or to leave you alone.”

“I’d be easier to believe you if you looked at me while you spoke.”

“What do you want from me?” He flipped towards her angrily, but kept his gaze on the floor in front of her, avoiding her eyes. “Did you come here to yell at me again? Go for it. I’m ready.”

She shook her head and then realized he probably wouldn’t see the movement. “No. I wanted to explain how I’m feeling. You don’t have to believe me, but I need to tell you. So, if you want, you can turn off your hearing. If you want…”
Damn it.
She really wanted her voice to sound tougher. But there were so many things that she just couldn’t articulate, feelings and wants and needs that he wouldn’t understand. So any words she might use seemed weak, pointless. “Never mind.”

“You want to tell me? Then tell me.” He looked at his nails.

She swallowed. “I want you to know that although a lot has changed, my feelings towards you haven’t.”

His jaw clenched, making his words tight and controlled. “Well, isn’t that nice. But I’m not in the mood for a roll in the cage right now.”

She stood there, wondering what she could tell him, what to say, so that he would give her the respect of
looking
at her. “This isn’t about sex. This is about
us
. The two of us. At least being able to get along well enough to be in the same room at the same time. Not a cage, not a bed. I want you to treat me like a person.”

“You sure?” he asked, running his hands through his hair. “You
know
how I treat people. Seems a strange thing to ask for.”

“If you treated me like shit, at least you’d have to acknowledge that I was alive. That I’m a
person
.”

“Are you? Are you a person?” His accusation hurt, almost as much as the look on his face as he lifted his head and glared at her.

“So…if you don’t think of me as human, then you won’t have to think about who you want me to be. Is that it? The sweet, little girl who needed you to save her from herself?” As she spoke, she paced, besting the speed and frustration of his. “Well, guess what? She was never real to begin with. You cared about a girl who wasn’t a complete person. I’m still the one you took to bed, the one you let your guard down with. But now I’m better, stronger. I feel like I finally know myself. And I
like
who I am. What—”

“Stop,” he said, his voice stern. Close.

They’d been slowly approaching each other until they were within touching distance. Their subconscious minds drawing them together in a way their stubbornness wouldn’t allow.

He fidgeted uncomfortably, but didn’t move away. “How…” Staring at her mouth, he dragged his teeth across his lip distractedly, as if their simple proximity made it hard to focus. Like two magnets—the closer together, the stronger the force.

“How what?” she asked.

“How did you do it? Break the wall? Did
they
do it or did you?”

“The wall between me and Chastity?”

He nodded.

“I think
I
did…by myself. Because they seemed as shocked as I was.” But she didn’t think of it as a wall. She felt combined—strengths from both sides melding together, bring some of their flaws as well. She was whole now—a whole person with good and bad. But now she had a choice. If she did something wrong, she’d made the
choice
to do wrong. And just that knowledge was freeing. “I don’t know how it happened or even what exactly happened. If I did”—she shook her head—“I’d tell you. So you could do the same with Hyde.”

“No. I could never do that with Hyde. He’s…” His lips tightened. “No.”

“Shutting the idea down before you’ve even considered it doesn’t get us anywhere.”

“And pipe dreams don’t get us anywhere either.”

“We don’t
know
it’s a pipe dream. If it worked for me…”

“I don’t
want
it to work for me. Hyde will never be a part of me. Never. Sure, he’s there. Always. And the bastard may be useful at some point. But he’s not me. If he was, I’d…hurt you. And I don’t ever want to hurt you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Not again.”

“Do you believe me?” she asked.

“That you’ve combined both sides of you? Yeah…I guess I do.” His nod was jerky, as if his neck muscles weren’t quite as sure. “Impressive, isn’t it? How long I can delude to myself? How you know when I’m lying to you, but I don’t realize it when I’m lying to myself. Now
that’s
truly fucked up.”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s human.” Then the question that she’d wanted to ask, been
dying
to ask but fearing the answer, came out of her mouth in a rush. “I know I’m not the Eden you remember, the Eden you loved, but is it…possible?”

He didn’t, or couldn’t, answer. Instead, he stepped back, leaving her empty. Not confused, just empty. She understood. Still hating it, she understood. He needed time.

Her gaze fell, eyes clouding. “It took some getting used to for me too, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” She swallowed and took a deep breath, smoothing down her dress. “It’s okay. Everything’s happening really fast.”

“I’m sorry, Eden.”

She whipped her head up and looked at him. “You called me ‘Eden’.”

He paused, then shook his head dismissively. “A slip of the tongue. It’s not what you think it means.”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s okay if you’re not ready. Once we get this thing straightened out and get you the help you need—”

His brow furrowed again. “They break into my house, shoot a jumper cable into my back, and you
still
think they’re trying to help us?”

“Not help for the sake of being
kind
. But ultimately, once they realize they don’t set the terms, they’ll give in and give us what you need.” She was their miracle cure, after all. And there
had
to be a perk to that, right? Either they helped him or she walked. Permanently. It was as simple as that. No negotiation necessary.

“No. They won’t,” he said slowly, as if the slower he spoke, the more readily she’d come around to his opinion. “For some reason you still think this is about us. They don’t give a shit about us. Why would they? It’s about control, Eden.”

Hearing him call her Eden sent a warmth through her, whether he realized he was doing it or not. It was probably
better
that it was ‘a slip of his tongue’ because the more it happened, the more it proved that the idea was sinking into his brain. He’d have to accept it eventually. And hopefully, she’d be there when he did. She hid her smile because, truly, her name was only one word, stuck in the middle of a bunch of others that were dangerous.

“I thought you would have figured that out by now,” he said. “
Everything
is about control. Controlling yourself, controlling other people.” His eyes were on her lips, drawn to them. The gruffness of his voice soothing her, despite the topic. “Fucking up what you don’t
like
so that what you
want
comes to be. So I don’t, for one minute, believe they ‘just want to help’.”

His every movement, the sound of his voice, even when they disagreed, did something to her. He was right—it
was
about control. And the first step was to control themselves. So she walked over to the other side of the room. “I’m not stupid. I know they want something. But if it gets
us
something in return, then what’s the problem? It isn’t a contest. I’m not looking for a gold star or a blue ribbon. I’m looking to keep us safe and alive. So who cares if they think they’ve won something, as long as we get what we need?”

“We know they need something from you, maybe from me, but only
they
know what.”

“They want blo—”

“Right, DNA, bodily fluids. Fine. But all they have to do to get
that
is ask.” He shrugged. “Well, not me ‘cause I’d
definitely
say no, but they could ask
you
. And you’d probably say yes, right?”