19. PREDATORS

19

PREDATORS

YARA

D etermined, Irene wiped her cheeks and looked at me with bloodshot eyes that made my heart clench. Nothing affected me much, but Irene’s tears always had the power to shatter me. Misery draped its cold, black fingers around my soul—it was a thick blanket over my skin, and I couldn’t remove it no matter how hard I tried.

Every part of me wished Kat was here with us. She always knew how to comfort us, to just be there for us. All I could offer Irene was bloodshed and death. Kat would have given her courage and life.

“I know you will, Yara,” she said, giving me a cursory glance. “Now, go change that old, ratty T-shirt you bought five years ago and wear something good.”

“Do I have to? I look sexy as hell.”

“You are, but that T-shirt belongs at the bottom of a trash can. Go find something perfect, but not too perfect,” she said, pushing me toward my room. “Something that tells him that you’re not working too hard.”

“But I am.” I was working overtime for him. If only he knew!

“Well, he doesn’t have to know that yet,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “He doesn’t have to know you’re also stalking him.” Smirking, she walked away, and I went to change into a simple dress. I grabbed his boxers, wondering if I should wear them for him. Oh, how awesome it’d make me feel. But I knew it would be too much, too soon. If I had to get out of my dress—I was hoping we’d get there—I didn’t want him to lose it.

I’ll wear them for you another time, Ryden. Your boxers, wet with my cum… They were already wet. I used his boxers quite a few times to stop myself from going insane with wanting him.

Smirking, I painted my lips and applied light makeup. When I went back to the kitchen, Irene was making hot chocolate. She poured it into one of her cute thermoses—it had small red polka dots over the yellow background—and whistled when she looked at me.

“He won’t know what hit him.”

“Don’t come out when he’s here,” I said to her.

“God, you’re fucking overprotective. I know. I’ll make myself scarce,” she said with a huff, and then her annoyed smile faltered, and pain took over once again. Pain was like that unwanted guest who overstayed their welcome. Always there, clinging to us. There was no way to push it out.

“Irene,” I said with a sigh.

“I understand why you’re overprotective. I don’t want to complain, but…” She pressed her fingers against her forehead with a sigh. I bumped my head against her shoulder, making her smile a little.

“I know, but it’s only when you are with me, Irene. I can’t lose you as well. You know I can’t. It’ll destroy me.”

“Anyone could still hurt me, Yara, when I’m away from you,” she said. “I want to… see the world with you. I want to go to the coffee shop with you. I want to tell my friends about you. I want to show the world that I’m not an orphan, that I have a sister who loves me.”

I took in her broken eyes and her desperate smile, and pulled her into a hug, tightening my arms around her. She sniffled.

“I know… we’re not alone. We have each other,” I said, pulling away from her. “You’ll always have me, Re-Re.”

Without another word, she started to clean until the living room was spotless. She carried her books and laptop to her room, and I followed her.

“What I do is dangerous, Re-Re, and if I get caught, I don’t want the world to look in your direction. You’re the only one I want to protect now. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

“If you get caught, I’m not going to leave you alone. You know that.” The stubborn glint in her eyes reminded me, once again, of Kat. Kat was usually softer, kinder, but she could also be so fucking headstrong when she wanted.

“I do know that, but don’t. I want you to have only the best things, Irene, and I’m not… that,” I said. “Also, Ryden Sinclair isn’t someone I want to introduce you to, not after knowing what he is.”

“He’s you,” she said and then chuckled. She walked back to the living room and continued to clean. “So, do we leave it out here or…” she said as she leafed through the book that was on the table with a smirk.

It was a dark romance about an unhinged woman and her dragon lover, and the pages were filled with dark, unsettling scenes—unsettling to those with delicate sensibilities.

While I was reading that, my mind had wandered one too many times, envisioning Ryden and myself doing things from the book.

From the way he hesitated when I invited him to my house, I had a feeling that it wouldn’t be easy to lure him into my bed. Something had changed between the café and now.

“Put it back. I have a feeling it won’t offend Mr. Sinclair.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Yara,” Irene said, looking at me with a frown. “Are you sure about this? Really sure?”

“I’m sure, Re-Re. Now off you go.” I shooed her away and sank into the couch, my gaze fixated on the grand clock, its massive golden hands chiming the seconds away with precise ticks.

I knew lusting after Ryden Sinclair was a sin, but it was one I couldn’t help but want to commit. I wanted to be used in ways I hadn’t before. I tried to not be tempted by the devil in him, but I couldn’t. The images of him were like a haunting picture, playing over and over in my head.

I wanted this sin. I needed this sin.

And this, I knew, would be the lesser among the many sins I had already committed.

He came when my clock finally settled on seven. The golden twilight had turned into a moody gray, and the shadows cloaked the bright skies with their greedy fingers.

I switched on the lights, and their gleam filled the creases of darkness with a hazy glow.

He wore a black shirt, once again, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those beautiful serpents wrapped around the blood-red roses. The more I looked at them, the more I wanted to touch them and trace them, until they were engraved in my memory.

“Come in,” I said and found him staring at me and the clingy dress.

It was comfortable, stylish, and yet obscenely provocative. The rayon dress flared around me as I moved, slipping down my body in a soft embrace.

“Your house is beautiful.”

“No, it’s not. It’s big. Too big for one person.”

He smiled a smile that would push a woman to think of all the darkest, dirtiest, immoral things she would love to do to him.

We walked to the living room, sat down, and stared. In the silence, everything was so loud. The tick of the clock. The sound of my heartbeat. The breath leaving his lips.

He was looking directly into my eyes, but somehow, I felt his eyes on every inch of my body, watching and studying.

“Go on,” I finally said, and he cleared his throat.

“Yes. Where did we leave off? Victor and the…”

No. I didn’t exactly want to talk about Victor right now. I wanted to strip him naked and touch him. My eyes fell to the evident bulge in his pants, and my throat went dry.

The image of me in front of him on my knees, my lips parted, as he knotted his hands into my hair and forced me to take his cock was so vivid I momentarily staggered back. I wanted that so fucking bad.

You’re going to hell for this, Yara, Kat said , her voice amused.

I’m already going to hell anyway. And Ryden Sinclair is such a good reason to go to hell.

“So, Ryden, why do you think Millicent isn’t the one who killed Victor? She might look harmless, but she’s also the same woman who has made such conniving traps for these girls. She’s more than capable of murder.”

“She is, but it’s not her. Not this time. It could have been one of the girls he—” Ryden’s face went pale as if he couldn’t even imagine that.

What was his obsession with Victor Bane? Fuck, I wished I knew.

Gritting my teeth, I handed the photo back to him. “Those girls were too terrified to confront Millicent or Victor. Take Victor’s body to any other ME, and they’d confirm that my report’s not wrong.” Anger was slowly writhing up, pulsing against my throat. “Also, the detectives found some compelling evidence. They fucking found the murder weapon, Ryden, with Millicent’s fingerprints. If my autopsy report isn’t enough, that should be.”

“And that’s why I believe someone knew exactly what they were doing.”

My hand collided with the table in frustration, and his expression shifted to one of alarm. I took a deep breath and reminded myself not to lose control. Not in front of him.

“I analyzed the data. I studied the marks on his body, the wounds, the trace evidence, and documented all my findings in my report.”

“Forget the report then. Tell me what your gut is telling you,” he said, his dark eyes challenging me.

Well, of course, I knew who killed him.

“I don’t base my conclusions on gut feelings. I already told you, Ryden.”

He took in a frustrated breath, raking his fingers through his dark hair. He looked like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. The vein in his forehead throbbed, and for a moment, I saw the flash in his eyes—the look that came over when he killed Phil.

His burning gaze met mine, and I felt my heart jump. His hands were so big, and I could already imagine them around my throat… punishing me for my lies.

I wanted to push him more, break his control. I wanted the man I met that night. The killer.

“That’s a lie,” he finally said.

“You can’t prove it.” I stood up and walked to the kitchen. Pouring the hot chocolate into two mugs, I walked back to where he was standing, staring at the painting hung over the fireplace. “Here,” I said, and he whirled around and stopped. He was closer than I anticipated, and from here, the dust of gold in his gray eyes was so clear.

What would he do if I leaned in and took his lips between my teeth? Licked him down that small scar that had become my worst enemy?

“Hot chocolate?” His fingers lingered on mine when he grabbed the mug from me.

I had no idea what it was about him that made me feel like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Hot and cold. He made me feel emotions I was scared to feel.

“You’ll love it, Turtle Mocha,” I said with a smile, and he gave me a mock glare before taking a sip.

His eyes widened. For a cold and calculating killer, he was sometimes so fucking expressive. “Fuck no, this isn’t hot chocolate.”

“Spiced rum with hot chocolate.” I smiled.

“It’s delicious,” he said and licked his lips, and I caught myself licking my own. His eyes fell to my lips, and my breath hitched. I was aware of how close his body was, how sinfully delectable he smelled, how his eyes were no longer the smoldering gray but a midnight black.

The tension between us was so palpable that I could almost catch it at the tip of my tongue. I shouldn’t. That was the sensible decision.

When had I ever heeded my own warning? If I had, I’d still be locked within my father’s sins, thrashing within the binds he had created.

I broke the bonds.

Fuck. I want Ryden Sinclair, and I’ll have him.