Free Nikolai: A Dark Light Novella (Dark Light #2.5) by S.L. Jennings

away, disgusted with what she must see in me at this very moment. She’s right, and I don’t deserve her. I don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her. If I can’t be honest with myself, how the hell can I be honest with her? If I can’t accept what I am, how can I expect that of her?
    “I have to tell you something,” I finally say, my head still turned.
    “Ok,” she replies with a quiet, strained voice.
    I take a deep breath and release it, letting go of fear and reluctance. If I want Amelie to trust me with her heart, I have to be honest with her. I have to earn it. I have to be better than what I was before.
    “The day that Varshaun came to get me, we had some business to tend to in the Quarter.” I look back at her, my eyes gleaming with apology. “What was supposed to be a quick, routine stop turned … dark.”
    “Ok,” she says again, prompting me to go on.
    “Have you ever heard of Malcolm Boisseau?”
    A look of sheer disgust flashes across her face, answering my question. I don’t even wait for her to tell me how she knows him. The answer may push me to the brink of violence.
    “We followed up on a tip that Malcolm’s girls were engaging in black magic, which is forbidden in this city. And while we were there, something literally fell into my lap.” I run a hand through my hair and pull at the ends in frustration. “Amelie … I found out he was not only exploiting young girls, he was having sex with them too. He was fucking molesting children.”
    Amelie gasps and claps a hand over her mouth in horror. “Oh my God,” she says, letting it fall to her heart. “Oh my God, that’s terrible! How did y-…Wait. What do you mean he was?”
    I’m frozen in place, held by those penetrating eyes that seem to strip me bare to my soul. I don’t know how to tell her; I can’t find the words. I’ve killed dozens of times without shame, without an inkling of remorse or regret. I’ve done it for power, for revenge, hell, I’ve done it for fun. But now… now that my newfound conscience has taken the reins, I can’t even find it in me to confess my sins, no matter how justified they are.
    “Tell me, Niko… tell me what happened,” Amelie says just above a whisper.
    Tentatively, she reaches her hand towards me, her solemn gaze asking permission. I remain stock-still, holding my breath. Not because I have some weird phobia about touching - shit, physicality is all I know - but because it’s her touching me, her comforting me. Her showing me just a smidgen of affection. And right now, as her delicate hand rests on top of mine before sliding to my palm to interlace our fingers, I feel like she’s breaking me down, ripping me open. Taking every fucking defense I had and demolishing them with a sledgehammer. I’m the one helpless and weak spread out beneath her. I’m the one begging for her mercy, completely at her will.
    Tiny golden sparks meld with blue, before dying into a simmer on our skin. It hurts. It’s sweet agony and torturous bliss. It’s everything I never knew I wanted.
    “Amelie,” a voice rasps from somewhere deep within me. “I killed him. I killed that sick sonofabitch. And I liked it. I loved it. And I’m sorry.”
    She doesn’t speak. I don’t even know if she’s looking at me. All I can see are our fingers intertwined, that small part of us holding onto…something. Something much bigger than the both of us.
    “Thank you,” she finally whispers.
    My eyes dart to her face to find a soft smile on her lips, a look of admiration in her eyes. A look I’ve never been gifted with in all my years.
    “For what?”
    “For telling me. And for saving those girls. And for ensuring that he never hurts another child again.”
    “But…but now you know how vile I am. Now you know I’m a killer.”
    An unexpected chuckle bubbles from her chest. “Niko, I’ve always known you were a killer. Don’t forget that I’ve borne witness to your antics for the last ten years.