Chapter Twenty

EVA

I have no idea what the time is.

I barely have cognitive function.

Nycto fucked me every which way he could. Now, I lie in the bed completely spent, his fingers gently stroking up and down my stomach.

Nycto lies on his side facing me, his head propped up by his hand, with a wicked grin on his face. “You look tired.”

My heavy eyelids get harder to pry open. I exhale in sheer relaxation. “I don’t know how you kept going.”

“Chiquita, I can still keep going.” My eyes widen, and he laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep myself under control for the rest of the night. You need to rest.”

Bringing my hand up, I swipe his hair away from his eyes. He’s never looked calmer, more at ease than he does right now. It suits him. “As much as I want to keep doing this all night, I probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow as it is.”

He chuckles and flops back onto the bed, his arms folded behind his head like he’s the king of the world.

I slide in, my hand resting on his chest, my head falling into the nook of his neck and shoulder.

It feels right.

A safe space. Like home.

His arm falls protectively around me.

This is the best feeling in the world.

Ivy is here and safe, and I’ve given into the temptation of Nycto.

Everything is as it should be.

Except for one thing…

… something that’s been plaguing my mind since I arrived here.

Will he open up to me now?

“Nycto?”

“Mmm…”

I hesitate, not wanting him to get mad at me, but I figure if there’s a time for me to ask, it’s now. “What’s your name? Your real name?”

He exhales loudly like he’s not sure where to go with that question, and I don’t want him to do anything he doesn’t want to. “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Alec…” He pauses, and my eyes widen in shock. “My name’s Alec. Alec Ripa.”

Alec tightens his grip on me as my eyes well with tears. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me, Alec.”

“You can only call me that when it’s just us. If there’s anyone else around, it has to be Nycto. It’s a respect issue for the club.”

“I get it. I’ll only use it for emphasis.”

He grins. “Like when you’re screaming my name in pleasure?”

I slap his chest playfully. “Something like that.” I place my head on his chest, glancing up at him. His hand comes out to stroke my cheek as we stare at each other.

“Can you tell me why the light in here is red?”

His eyes divert. I’m losing him. I’m pushing too much, too soon. “I get it… that you don’t like the light. Sometimes, it feels like the light is too much for me too. Too overwhelming.”

Nycto’s eyes shine back at me in understanding, like maybe I’ve hit the nail on the head. I just want to understand him.

He clears his throat. “The red helps for sleeping. Sometimes, I have trouble getting to sleep. Because I don’t like normal light, having a red LED has the least wattage. It changes the circadian rhythm and improves melatonin.” He scoffs out a half laugh. “Or some shit like that. Some doctor recommended it for nighttime, but I use it in here all the time because I can’t stand normal lighting.”

That’s interesting.

I had no idea he had trouble sleeping. Honestly, since I’ve been here, I haven’t noticed it at all. “I had no idea you have trouble sleeping.”

“Since you’ve been here, I haven’t had any issues.”

“Do you think it’s ’cause you have someone in your bed with you?”

“It’s because I have you in my bed with me.”

I lean over to press my lips to his briefly. That spark I felt the first time I kissed him is back with a vengeance. My lips tingle as I pull back with a contented sigh.

He’s happy.

At ease, even.

I want to keep prying, but I don’t want to overstep and have him put his walls back up.

He interrupts my internal decision-making process. “Just ask, Eva.”

“Why do you dislike the light so much?”

He tightens his jaw, his eyes clenching shut like he’s trying to pry out a memory—to not see something that can’t be unseen. Instantly, I regret bringing it up. Whatever it is, it must be painful. My hands splay out on his chest, trying to soothe him, and his face softens. His eyes open, a distant stare taking hold as he looks right past me.

“My mom was young when she had me. Fourteen or so, I think they said. She was a runaway. Had no idea what to do with a baby, so she took me to a family care facility and handed me in.”

“So, you don’t know who she is? Or your father?”

“I don’t really care. She left me. It’s her fault I grew up the way I did.”

I tense, but the words come out anyway. “Foster care?”

His body goes rigid beneath me. “I moved around a lot when I was young, but when I was about ten, I was placed in a more permanent home. A boys’ home.” I nod, urging him to continue. “I was the youngest of seven boys living in the smallest house. There wasn’t enough room for us all to share the bedrooms, so they moved me into a tiny closet under the stairs. They figured I was the smallest, so I would fit in there.” My stomach twists. That is not okay. Like some Harry Potter nightmare.

“They put in a beanbag for me to sleep on, and I had an overhead light with a cord I could pull to turn it on. I was so fucking scared of the dark. The other boys knew it too.”

I hate where this is leading.

“They would pick on me. They were all older, in their teens, so they thought it would be funny while I was outside playing to take the light globe out from my closet.” He shudders. “When I went in that night and the door was shut, I tried to turn on the light, but it wouldn’t start. It was pitch black… I was terrified.”

I swallow the tight knot in my throat.

“I moved for the door to open it, but those fuckers had locked me in.”

My heart pounds for my poor little Alec. How innocent he must have been. Those boys turned him from a normal kid into a scared little boy in one instant. Shit like that causes psychological trauma.

But if he was scared of the dark, why does he now hate the light?

“I spent what felt like hours banging on the door, crying, screaming for them to let me out. My foster parents didn’t come to my rescue. They were as scared of the older boys as I was. I was so frantic I broke my fingernails clawing at the door.”

“Jesus, Alec,” I whisper, my eyes flooding with tears.

“Then, as the darkness had truly set in… I gave up. I sat back in the shadows of the closet, shaking, crying, wishing for hell to swallow me whole. That was when I heard the lock click.”

“They let you out?” I ask.

He tenses all over. “Worse.” He inhales with the memory. “They opened the door, and I stood, racing forward to get out. They shone the brightest flashlight I’d ever seen directly in my eyes.” He winces like he’s seeing the light all over again. “After being in the dark for so long, it was like I was blind. I fell on my ass back on the beanbag while they all poked fun at me, then slammed the door shut, locking me in again with the key that’s in my closet.” The key—the antique-looking filigree one. The one I tried to escape with. No wonder seeing me with it made him so mad.

“I was disorientated. I didn’t know what was happening. I couldn’t see. The light had completely thrown me off. I felt sick. I was so emotional from the stress of it all that I threw up all over myself and the bean bag, but I still couldn’t see what was happening. All I knew was they could hear me losing my shit, and they were laughing their asses off.”

A fat tear falls down my cheek as pain crosses over his face.

“I was back in the dark, lying in my own vomit with my anxiety through the roof.” His nostrils flare. “And every night, they would do the same thing. Keep me in the dark, then open the door, flashing me with the bright light, disabling me completely. Then, they started throwing things in when they would flash me with the light. At first, it was simple shit like a pie in the face or a bucket of mud. Then, the real torture began. The spiders came next…”

I let out a gasp.

“Then there was shit I don’t even want to remember. So, you understand how I was living in darkness all that time. It became the only thing I could rely on. When the light came, so did the boys. So did the torture. Light was pain. Light was my enemy.” My bottom lip trembles, thinking of the horror he went through. “They didn’t let me out of that closet until social services came… four years later.”

My hand flies to my mouth. “What? I hope they were arrested!”

He clears his throat. “No… just taken to other homes. But they’re the reason I joined the club. So my brothers could help me find my revenge.”

I steady my nerves. I’m pretty sure I comprehend what that means. “And did you? Find your revenge?”

He finally smiles a genuine smile. “Let’s just say I found that fucking key, and they met the darkness. Unlike me, they didn’t get a chance to be blinded. And in some ways, the red light reminds me of what happened to them that day.”

I have no idea what that means, but I’m pretty sure all those boys are dead now. It scares me a little that I’m happy about it. There’s no doubt in my mind they deserved it. There’s no reason to torture a poor, defenseless little boy.

Animals. They were nothing but animals.

“I’m so sorry you went through that. It fucking kills me to think about what they did to you.”

His muscles relax a little, and he exhales. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for them. Did they fuck with my head? Hell yeah. Do I do things a little fucking weird? Maybe, but I am who I am. I don’t know any other way.”

My fingers slide along his chest as I stare up at him. “I happen to like who you are.”

The happiness on his face shines brightly for a split second, then everything stops. All the bad in my life is well again, just from the joy in his expression. He shines like the stars at midnight in the middle of a field, with no city lights to dull their brilliance. Despite everything we’ve been going through, the way he ignites like this from one small compliment means so much to me.

I mean as much to him as he means to me.

I hadn’t figured it out until this very second.

“That means a lot, Eva.”

I lean in, again pressing my lips to his softly. I need him to understand there’s no judgment from me about his past. If anything, I think more highly of him. He survived. I pull back with one more thing I’m desperate to find out the answer to. “Can I ask something else?”

He shrugs. “Sure, why not.”

“Why ‘Nycto?’ What does it mean?”

His hand comes up to smooth a strand of hair from my face. “It’s short for Nyctophilia.”

I furrow my brow. “Is that some kind of weird sex thing? Like… you fuck dead people?”

He bursts out laughing. “No, that’s necrophilia. Nyctophilia means I have a preference for the darkness or night. Basically, I find comfort or relaxation in the dark and get anxious in the light.”

His childhood has shaped who he is today. Even down to who he is as a biker. It’s sad in a way, but I understand something like that would stay with me too. He’s been traumatized. It changed him irrevocably. He’s trying to live his life the only way he knows how—by shutting out the light. The thing that hurts him. It might be weird to people who don’t understand, but I get it now. Though, maybe he needs to talk to someone about his issues. He obviously hasn’t had any form of counseling about his childhood.

“Nycto, have you talked to anyone about your past?”

“Yeah, sure. A few brothers here and there. The people who need to know do.”

“No, I mean, talked to someone, like a professional, to help you with your demons?”

He scoffs. “They don’t help, chiquita . What’s the point in dragging up old memories? I put it to bed when I…” He pauses. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over with. I’m fine.”

I take in the dull red glow illuminating the room. “The reason you couldn’t sleep before I got here… was it dreams? Nightmares?”

His face scrunches as he glares at me. “Where are you going with this, Eva?”

“You believe you’re okay, but you were traumatized. Alec, you need to talk to someone and find out if this behavior is normal for someone after the trauma you’ve been through.”

“It’s too damn late. We should try to get some sleep.”

He’s shutting down.

“Nycto… I was out clubbing with my sister when we were taken at gunpoint, tied, blindfolded, shoved into a shipping container, and sailed to a new country to be sold for sex. Maybe it would help for me to talk to someone too.”

He holds me close and presses a kiss to the side of my head.

I know when to stop pushing. I will try again in a couple of days. For now, I need to let this go. “Thanks for opening up to me.”

Nycto closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “Good night, chiquita,” he whispers.

I slide into his side, getting comfortable. “Good night, Alec.”

I can’t tell what the future holds for Nycto and me, but his past was miserable. If I can keep him focused on how good life can be, maybe he might start to deal with those demons that still haunt him. Because I’m sure they do, whether he believes it or not.

He might want to push me away for wanting to help him, but maybe that’s a risk I need to take.