“Why?” I say. My voice is a whisper, but the sound is a blade. “Why buy me at auction? Why not just tell me the truth? Why do any of this?”
He sucks in a breath, jaw working like he’s chewing rocks.
“You want the answer?” he says, voice low.
I nod, slow, deliberate.
He closes his eyes, rubs both palms over his face. When he opens them, they’re bloodshot and hollowed out.
“I wanted you, Daisy,” he says, and the words hang there, rotten and undeniable. “To claim you as my own, but we’re step-siblings. I couldn’t do it in the open. So I did it when the world wasn’t looking.”
“And when I wasn’t aware of my true identity,” I add in a flat tone.
He nods, shame boiling beneath his skin.
“When did your attraction to me start?”
He thinks for a long time, jaw tense, then says: “A while ago. Maybe when you were eighteen? You were living at home still, and you’d swim laps in the backyard pool. I’d tell myself I was just looking out for you, just being a good brother. But it wasn’t that. It was never that, and I knew it.”
The words burn, but I don’t flinch.
“Why not just tell me who I was though?” I press.
He laughs, hollow and desperate. “Would you have believed me? Would you have stayed?”
I think about it. The answer is obvious. No. I would have gone straight back home. That’s what any normal person would do.
“My attraction to you is wrong,” he says. “I always knew it was wrong. Our parents—hell, the whole world would see me as a monster. I tried to force myself to stop, but then I saw you wandering on the street and—” He shakes his head, broken. “It was like a sign. You didn’t know me. You didn’t know anything. I thought maybe ...”
“Maybe what?” I ask in a flat tone.
Hunter looks up at me, blue eyes anguished.
“Maybe nothing. I took advantage of your amnesia,” he says. “I bought you, and I kept you. And I’ve been enjoying every inch of you ever since, like a total bastard.”
He stands, pacing now, hands digging furrows through his hair.
“The only thing I haven’t done,” he rasps, “is take your virginity, Tara. I thought—some fucked-up part of me thought that if I left that intact, I’d be honoring you. That I’d be less of a monster if I didn’t break this last piece of you.”
The words hit like a fist. I stagger, almost laugh, but it’s a sharp, bitter sound.
“That’show you honor me?” I say, voice going sharp. “By leaving my pussy cherry intact, but enjoying my asshole nonstop? By lying? By using me while you know we’re family?”
He collapses into the chair, face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I never meant to hurt you.”
But he did. Over and over.
My chest is a vise, squeezing tighter with every second.
“You could have told me,” I say, “but you wanted me like this. You wanted me blank and needy, so you could be my whole world.”
He nods, shame pouring off him.
I want to hurt him, but I want to hurt myself more. Because even now, with everything exposed, I can’t stop wanting him.
He looks up, pleading. “Tell me what to do, Daisy. Tell me how to make it right.”
I don’t have an answer. Not now, maybe not ever.