Debt

by Nina G. Jones

But he is immune to my tears. In fact, he might even like them.

I’m not her goddamn hero. I can't make it all better. I can’t always be around to keep the nightmares at bay.

Why is it that I hate him, that I fear him, but then when he touches me, all I want to do is touch him back?

I have never liked or even loved anyone the way I hate Tax Draconi.

I think when you feel anything strong enough it becomes its opposite. I think you can love someone so hard that you hate them. And I think you can hate someone so hard you grow attached. That’s why some people spend their whole lives hating someone they repeatedly invite into their lives: they don’t even know who they are without it.

My dad used to warn me that the devil doesn’t have horns and a pitchfork, he’ll appear as the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. He’ll make you laugh. He’ll make you feel good. You’ll do things you never thought you would, but he’ll tell you it’s okay. And before you know it, you’ve sold your soul to him. That’s how I know Tax is my devil.

I am really starting to like the idea of keeping Mia alive, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.

How fucking sick am I? That I can slow dance with this girl in her living room while keeping that whole assassination option available to me?

But something about Tax is feral. He has all the trappings of a civilized man: wealth, material possessions, good taste. But the hidden part of him, it’s untamed, untouched by convention, much like a boy raised by wolves.

Tax is still a savage beast, but now, he is my savage beast.

There’s no one like Mia. She is delicate and fierce. She comes alive when she faces my ugliness.

He’s a good man, but he’s still bad. He’s light and dark, forgiveness and vengeance, beauty and ugliness. He’s all those things. My beautiful savage. And even savages protect their young.