Jace's eyes flipped open, his heart still thumping with terror. He hadn't had that nightmare about his mother's death in years. Now it haunted him regularly.
A hand stroked his belly in the darkness. "You okay?" Aggie murmured groggily.
"Yeah."
"You've been moaning in your sleep."
"Nightmares. I probably shouldn't eat a twelve-ounce steak right before bed."
She cuddled closer and rested her head on his shoulder. Pain snaked through his chest as the weight of her head disturbed one of his slowly healing wounds. He kept all protest to himself. He wanted her there to remind him that he deserved it. The pain.
"Tell me about it."
"You don't want to hear it."
"Was it about killing your father?"
He hesitated. He should have never told her about his father in the first place. "No, it was about my mother's death."
"How old were you?"
"Nine."
"That's the same age I was when Grams passed away. How did your mother die?"
"We were in a head-on car accident. I was in the backseat when it happened. Wasn't injured. She lived for a day. Broken back. Multiple internal injuries. Her face was pulverized."
"I'm sorry, baby."
Thinking about it made his stomach clench with disgust. Not with his mother. With himself. "I was afraid of her—afraid of my own mother. Just because of the way she looked. So I never said good-bye. My father never forgave me for surviving the crash."
She took his hand and squeezed it. "That's horrible. No wonder you have nightmares about it."
"I haven't for a long time though. I thought I'd finally buried it for good. It must've been that hospital stay that brought it all back." Or you. He pulled his hand from hers and rolled onto his side, dislodging her from his shoulder.
She snuggled against his back, her arm stealing around his waist. "Thank you for sharing yourself with me. I know it's hard for you."
He snorted. "Are you this caring and understanding with everyone?"
"No. As a rule, I hate men." She chuckled. "You're just lucky I latched onto you, I guess."
"Enjoying your little pity party?"
Her breath caught. "Wow, Jace. That was hurtful."
He didn't like the breathless quality of her voice. He didn't want to hurt her. He wanted her to hurt him. He turned to face her and cupped her cheek in the darkness, feeling the wetness of her tears against his fingertips. His heart squeezed. He'd made her cry?
"Do you really think the reason I'm here is because I pity you?" she asked.
Of course that was why she was there. Why else would she be? "Don't you?"
Her hand covered his upon her cheek. "I sympathize, Jace. I want to take your pain and replace it with laughter, but that's not pity."
"I don't want you to take my pain, Aggie. I need it."
"Why? Because you feel guilty about your mom? About whatever you did to your father?"
"I do feel guilty, but that's not why I need it."
"Then why? Help me understand, Jace. You know I'll hurt you physically as long as you need it, but I want to know why."
"It's what I deserve. And sometimes I think even pain is too good for me."
She kissed him tenderly. "You're wrong. You don't deserve pain. You deserve to be happy."
"I'm happy enough. I have my music."
"Yes, I'm glad you have something important to you. And you have…" She hesitated. "…me."
His heart skipped a beat. "I'm not sure what to do about that actually."
"Do you like me?"
"Very much."
"Then just go with it."
"Go with it?" This conversation was getting entirely too serious and high-pressure. He took a deep breath. "Does going with it involve you tying me up and doing things to me against my will?"
"Maybe."
He pushed her onto her back and covered her body with his.
"Awesome."
Before he could kiss her, she asked, "Will you tell me about your father?"
"Sorry, I can't, but you can tell me about yours."
She hesitated.
He kissed her chin, her jaw.
"I never met him," she whispered, as if the words frightened her.
"Never?"
"No. He seduced my mom, knocked her up. As soon as he found out she was pregnant, he split."
Jace released a huff of air. "Lucky you."
"You didn't have a good relationship with your father? Is that why you killed him?"
He kissed her gently, hoping to distract her. He didn't like to think about his father, much less talk about him. As his lips caressed her jaw and throat, she melted beneath him. So receptive. So wonderful. So understanding and accepting. He knew he'd never find another woman like her. Knew she'd be gone as soon as she figured out what kind of man she'd mixed herself up with. He wished he was worthy of her. He also wished he wasn't so physically weak and tired. The spirit was willing. The body wanted to curl into the fetal position and pass out from exhaustion.
"You're tired," she murmured.
"I'm sorry I haven't been a good lover to you lately."
"Not true."
He yawned. "I'll make it up to you when I'm back on my feet."
"I have no doubt that you will."
"Anything you want to do, I'm game. I promise."
His body sank into hers as his strength waned.
She chuckled. Just before he drifted back to sleep, he heard her murmur, "You don't want to promise that, sugar. I have some pretty unusual tastes."