“Let me guess, you’ll kill me?”
“No,hewill. Did you know that Killer has been repressing his bloodlust and murder instinct since he was in his early teens? Of course you didn’t, because you’re fucking normal. You don’t relate to his true self, so in order to placate your stupid-ass little morals, he’ll keep on repressing and repressing, and fucking repressing. And do you know who the first victims of serial killers usually are? Their lovers, wives, and mothers, as in, the people who made them repress in the first place. Last I checked, that’s you.”
Her words drill a hole in my chest and it takes me more effort than needed to breathe properly and even more to talk. “Last I checked, I don’t believe your words.”
“Go ahead and ask him then.” Her voice turns sinister. “Why do you think his favorite color is red? It’s the color of blood.”
I swallow and she laughs like a maniac. “What a scaredy-cat. You have the chance to walk away. Take it.”
“He won’t let me,” I say without meaning to.
“Hurt him by choosing someone else and he won’t touch you again.” She taps my temple. “Use your head and admit that you’re a good girl who’s not fit for him. He needs someone bad to the core to match his energy.”
Her words keep playing in my head on a loop long after she’s gone. I mull them over during classes, during lunch—that Killian sent me with Annika because he has classes—in the afternoon while I’m trying to concentrate in the studio.
Even when I FaceTime Grandpa and my parents. I totally had to cut those short, because they’d definitely know there’s something wrong with me.
Once I finish, I go on a drive and somehow end up in front of his house.
I let my head fall on the steering wheel as I breathe harshly. What the hell am I doing?
We were supposed to meet later for dinner, but I came two hours early.
I’m never early. In fact, I make sure to come late, just to get on his nerves. It’s my rebellion against the dictator.
Though I don’t come so late that he decides to be the one to pick me up, because that definitely means he’ll fuck me in the car first.
I consider leaving for now, but the gate opens. Apparently, I have automatic access to the mansion now along with the four founding members and the fifth one I’ve never met.
Once I reach the inside, I hear a commotion coming from the pool.
I head that way, and sure enough, Nikolai attempts to push Gareth into the pool and Jeremy is trying to mediate so he doesn’t drown him.
“Fucker thinks he can stay all prim and proper after waking me up from my fucking slumber. Get ready to have your corpse sent back home by international fast shipping.”
Nikolai kicks his cousin and Gareth grabs him at the last minute. A water bomb erupts and splashes water all over the edges, soaking a fully-clothed Jeremy.
“You fuckers tired of living?” He glares at them and Nikolai merely splashes him.
“Stop being boring. Even Satan’s heir is here instead of chasing after skirt.”
Killian is lying on a lounge chair wearing black shorts and an open shirt that reveals hints of his taut chest, muscular stomach, and some of his crow tattoos. He pays the scene no attention, looking straight through them.
His gaze is lost in the distance, half-thoughtful, half…gone.
I wonder what he’s thinking about at moments like these. What goes on in his abnormal mind?
His head tilts in my direction as if he knew I was there all along. And just like that, a smirk breaks his lips.
Killian’s smirks are different from his smiles. The latter are usually fake. His lazy smirks, however, are playful, mischievous, and a sight to behold.
It makes butterflies slash my stomach with the sole purpose of bleeding me out.
“Glyndon!” Nikolai shouts from the pool. “Tell me you brought your swimsuit.”
I walk to Killian. “I actually didn’t.”
“That’s okay. We can all go nude.” He waggles his brows.