Chapter Twenty-Two

One hour, twenty-six minutes, and fourteen seconds.

That's how long it takes for me to devour him.

Well, half of him, anyway. His entire chest and abdomen have become one giant, open cavity.

I sit back on my heels, having tossed my shoes elsewhere at some point, and assess my macabre masterpiece. Coming down from my post-ravenous high, my rational brain goes ballistic.

I ate someone

I ate someone.

I. fucking. ate. someone.

A familiar panic sets in as my heart hammers inside my chest and cold sweat gathers at my temples, inside my palms, and pools in between my breasts. My pulse thrums in my ears, drowning out the heavy drumming of music reverberating from the club outside these walls.

My nameless victim stares openly into nothing, those blue eyes of his dulled and lifeless. Strangely, I feel no sense of actual disgust at the revelation that I just ate his entire front, the exceptions being his face and limbs. He's torn open from the neck down, his torso almost completely obliterated, yet I stare at him with the apathy of someone standing before a buffet deciding whether they should help themselves to seconds.

It's the consequence that has me panicking. How the fuck do I explain this? How do I clean up this mess? Shudders wrack my boy as the logistics of it all bombard me like gunfire.

What if someone walks in?

What if -

Strong hands settle upon my shoulders, and I'm blanketed by the comforting scent of cedarwood and vanilla.

"Rhi." My name rolls off his tongue like a prayer.

I don't speak. Instead, I wrap my arms around myself.

Nick settles behind me and draws me in between his legs. His hands slide up and down my arms in a soothing motion before he pulls me against his chest.

"Breathe, Rhi." His lips are against my hair. My arms finally unlock and fall to my sides. Nick takes each of my hands in his own and rests them atop his thighs. The firm muscle beneath my fingertips awakens an altogether different hunger, which snaps me from my stupor.

"What did I do?"

"Nothing he didn't deserve."

The warmth of his fingers seeps into my neck as his palm glides up my throat. His forefinger and thumb gently cup my chin while his other hand slides across my waist, urging me to face him. I hesitate for only a moment before my body turns, and I'm staring directly into burnt gold eyes while straddling his waist.

My gaze is then drawn to a slim, gilded mirror resting against the back wall. The woman staring back at me is reminiscent of a creature straight from a horror film. Scarlet paints nearly her entire face, hair matted and stuck to her temples by the dark substance. Her hands rest on Nick's shoulders but are coated in blood up her forearms. So much so, she might as well be wearing scarlet gloves. Her strange eyes are unnaturally aglow, no sight of the blue I'm accustomed to. A sharp green with a reptilian slit of onyx is the only other color I recognize.

I suck in a gasp. Even though my fangs and claws are no longer visible, the sight before me is enough to allow self-loathing to creep in. Never mind the fact that the worthless piece of shit had it coming. It's the unsettling reality that the scene behind me is what I'm truly capable of. That I'm a murderer.

A monster.

Nick's fingers find my chin once again, directing my attention to the soft expression on his face.

"He was more of a monster than you'll ever be."

I hadn't realized I said that out loud, but his words alleviate some of the tension in my bones.

"How can you stand to look at me like this?"

He pushes my tangled, bloodied hair from my shoulders and cups my face between his hands. "It's impossible not to look at you, Rhi."

My lips part. "But my eyes-"

"Are the most beautiful symphony of green and blue." One of his hands falls to my mouth, his thumb pressing into my bottom lip. His other arm wraps around my waist, bringing me flush against his chest. " You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I've thought so since the moment I laid eyes on you. "

Woman . Not creature. Woman. And yet…

"Even like this?"

Flames darken the gold in his eyes to a smoky amber. "The sight of you covered in blood makes me painfully hard." He grinds his hips against me to prove his point, and I exhale roughly at feeling his rigid length between my legs. "Besides, that's where it all started, remember? Your bloody hands tearing into my shirt while my fingers fuc-"

I dig my claws into his shoulders, cutting him off before he can finish. "I remember perfectly well, thank you very much."

His answering smile is something to behold. The one I fell in love with. Then his forehead creases and a solemn expression washes over his features. "Tell me the truth: are you okay?"

I close my eyes, leaning my cheek into his palm. "I don't know."

A muffled squeal pours from my throat as he lifts me from the ground in one swift movement and deposits me on the couch.

"I'll be right back," he says.

Nick disappears into another door next to the mirror, which I make out to be a small bathroom through the slight opening. I hear the sound of running water, and Nick returns with two drenched towels. He gently wipes my face, his gaze somehow both intense and reverent.

I reach for the towel. "I can-"

He pulls back and shakes his head. "Let me."

And so I do.

He cleans my face, working his way down my neck and chest, each of his strokes gentle and comforting. Every now and then, his eyes flit to mine, swimming with a myriad of emotions I can't even begin to fathom. It's hard enough with him being so mercurial; possessive and licentious one moment, protective and compassionate in the next. Not to mention, the constant push and pull of stay with me; no, stay away from me.

Isn't that exactly what I'm doing to him?

Nick stands, his eyes roving over my body as he assesses his handiwork. Once he seems satisfied enough of the blood has been wiped clean that I can walk out of here without drawing any curious glances, he holds out his hand.

I slip my feet into my shoes before I slide my palm against his, reveling in the perfect way his fingers curl around mine. Of all the things I miss most about him, it's the simple moments. His genuine smile, the one he reserves only for me. His attentiveness and knee-jerk reaction to always put me first. Do I love when he becomes completely unraveled and loses himself to his most primal urges and fucks me within an inch of my life?

Of course, I do.

But I'd be the worst sort of liar to ignore how much I miss his gentle companionship, too.

Nick gives my fingers a tug and wraps his hand completely around mine. I rise from the couch and follow his lead, glancing behind me just once.

"What about-"

"I'll take care of it," he says reassuringly, sneaking a glimpse at the eviscerated body on the floor. His side profile could be the model for a Roman coin, all sharp angles and muscle hewn from marble.

Nick leads me from the private room back into the main floor of the club, not sparing a single glance at the debauchery unfolding before our eyes on every surface of this room. He simply whisks me through the naked throngs of bodies writhing against one another, and if he's at all affected by the heady moans and powerful grunts that rise above the club's music, he certainly masks it well. In fact, when Nick shoots a furtive glance at me, his expression appears gloriously bored.

I dart my gaze over to VIP, finding no trace of Lyncus, and a deep seed of worry burrows in my gut when my attention slides to the bar and the girls are nowhere to be seen. Nick ushers me up the winding staircase, and it's only when we are back in the entrance's darkened corridor that I stop.

"Where are the girls?" I ask when he faces me.

"I told them to go back to campus."

"And they're ok?"

Nick furrows his brows. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"There was a guy with them. He came with…" I trial off, unsure how to formulate the rest of the sentence. The guy I consumed like a rabid animal?

Realization sparks in his eyes. "Let's get in the car, and we'll talk."

I follow Nick outside, and he shoves his hands in his dark pants pockets. A car beeps not far from the club's doors, flickering lights beaconing its location among the strip of cars lining the street. Though the word car is a far cry from the Batmobile Nick stands in front of. The vehicle looks as though it can cut through the air like a saber. Sleek and refined, with a dangerous edge.

Just like him.

Nick patiently waits for me to join him, hands still in his pockets. Tendrils of dark curls fall to his forehead, those same luscious locks I grasped in carnal pleasure while his deft fingers worked me until a savage scream tore from my throat.

Blood rushes straight to the spot between my legs. I take tentative steps toward him, his mouth fighting a smirk as he no doubt scents the arousal rocketing throughout my entire body.

Well, well. Aren't I fickle? I went from spiraling into an existential crisis of being a murderer to having my thoughts consumed by what Nick did to me on that balcony.

He opens the passenger door for me, and I make a conscious effort to slide gracefully into the seat. Once I've tucked my legs inside, Nick closes the door and enters through the driver's side.

I shoot him a quizzical look.

"What?"

"Are you fighting crime later, Batman?" I gesture to the dashboard of the car, ladened with more buttons and gadgets than a Homeland Security console.

Nick releases a hearty laugh, and something warm and heavy stirs within my chest. "I thought you were a Marvel fan?"

I shrug, securing my seatbelt as the Batmobile rumbles to life then glides smoothly from the curb and into the street. "I'm also a Heath Ledger fan. Best. Joker. Ever. "

Nick side-eyes me with a smirk. "I agree."

All the tension from earlier has evaporated, leaving me nostalgic for moments like these, where it feels like we are a normal couple enjoying each other's company. No deadly bargains, surreptitious truth potions, and the ever present pendulum that hovers bringing Nick's death closer and closer with each damning swing.

Just us.

Nick returns his attention to the road, and I shift uncomfortably as a weighted silence settles in the space between us.

"So, what is this contraption?" I ask.

He smiles again, light and genuine. "An Aston Martin Vanquish."

"Oh." I leave it at that, because I have no idea what that is.

Nick doesn't attempt to make any further conversation, so I drag my gaze to the window, watching the city lights cast a soft orange glow on the crowded streets. People mill about as though it's two o'clock in the afternoon rather than after midnight, living up to its nickname: "The city that never sleeps."

Warmth seeps into my skin at the feel of Nick's hand on my thigh, and I whip my head in his direction. He continues to stare directly at the road, so I drop my gaze to where his hand rests on my leg. His touch is gentle and soothing, his forefinger tracing indolent circles on my inner thigh.

"How are you doing?" he asks, eyes still on the road.

"I'm…not sure. It's hard to come to terms with what I did. Not so much killing him, because you're right, he deserved it." Anger heats my blood as I recall the disgusting things he'd told me about what he did to other women, assuaging my short-lived guilt trip. "But, you know, actually…"

"Eating him," Nick finishes matter-of-factly.

"Yeah." I swallow as Nick curls his fingers so his knuckles take over stroking my skin. I side-eye him. "Have you ever eaten someone before?"

A wicked slant graces his mouth. "Just you."

I roll my eyes as blood rushes to my cheeks…and core. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Nick doesn't elaborate, and the soft graze on my inner thigh creeps beneath the hem of my dress.

"Are you implying I'm the only woman you ever -" I make air quotations around the next word. "Ate?"

"Yes," he replies, completely unruffled, eyes still fixated on the road.

I scoff. Nick was a notorious playboy when I first met him last year. Although I don't want my thoughts to stray anywhere near what he might have done with other women, I'm not fucking stupid.

"Too bad I don't have your convenient truth potion at my disposal."

Nick's hand stills on my thigh. As Fate would have it, because she's a sadistic, traitorous bitch, the car slows to a stop at a red light. He shifts in the seat to completely face me, one firm hand still gripping the steering wheel, eyes dark and somber.

"You are the only woman I've ever fucked with my tongue, and the only woman I want to come all over my face."

Gods. My breath catches in my throat. When he speaks like that, completely obscene, I have to remind myself to breathe.

Which, I still haven't.

"Do you believe me?"

I nod, unable to form even a single coherent sentence.

"Good."

The light blessedly turns green, and Nick shifts his attention to driving. We're nearly out of the city, and Alystair is only another ten minutes once we get on the highway.

Nick's hand never leaves my thigh during the remainder of the trip, and we both remain silent right up until he slows the car as we approach the gated campus.

"You aren't coming back to campus?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "I have to head back to the club and take care of a few things," he says pointedly.

He's obviously referring to the dead body I left in that private room, but a sour taste washes across my tongue at the thought of him going back to Strega among all those willing, rapacious patrons.

He reaches for me and brushes his knuckles down my cheek. "Are you going to be okay?"

No. I'm not, but not for the reasons he's thinking.

"What are we doing, Nick?"

He pulls both hands from my skin and sighs, again looking away from me. "I don't know."

"You have your answers from me," I argue. "You know why I pulled away. You know I was just trying to protect you, and I still want to, if staying away from you is the right thing to do, then I will. Though, I'm not sure it is anymore. You evidently know about the necklace, and you have your reassurance that Jesse and I haven't been intimate since I've been with you." His head snaps up at that, eyes bright and burning. "So, where are my answers? Don't I deserve some? "

"Yes," he surprisingly answers. "But you won't like the answers I'll give you."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"No."

"No?" I half yell.

He whirls on me, and in seconds, Nick's entire upper body swallows mine as he looms above me.

"What if I told you that who I am, what I am, will make you hate me?" He shakes his head. "I'm fucking selfish and will take whatever you give me, even if it's these stolen moments between us. I..." he swallows roughly "…I don't have control anymore, Rhi. The monster is winning."

His heart thunders furiously against my own. I lay my palm against the left side of his chest and brush the wayward tendrils of onyx that dip towards his forehead. His eyes flutter closed, and he shudders beneath my touch.

"I've seen that monster." I say softly. "You didn't hurt me then, and you won't hurt me now."

Nick rests his forehead against mine, lips only a whisper from my own, and it's all I can do to not tilt my chin up and claim his mouth.

"Not this one," he says, remorse lingering on every word. "This monster is more than the flesh and bone creature you met in the crypt. That was a mockery of the beast I truly am."

"Tell me." I run my tongue along the seam of his lips. "Please."

His eyes open then, twin pools of danger and devastation. He lets out a frustrated groan before righting himself and returning to the driver's seat.

I stare at him, beguiled. Anger and my own frustration threaten to spill over. "Is this how it's going to be? Are we just going to continue hurting one another?"

"I'm trying not to hurt you, Rhi."

"Physically, maybe. But emotionally? Mentally? I'm a fucking mess, and I know you are, too."

Nick meets my gaze, war raging within his eyes. Yet, he remains silent.

A heavy ache unfurls behind my ribs. Tears scald my eyelids, threatening to tumble down my cheeks, but I steel my spine and harden my resolve.

"If I get out of this car, it ends between us. For good. You stay away from me, and I stay away from you." A muscle works in his jaw. "No more coming to my rescue. No more cornering me in dark rooms. We. Are. Done."

The final three words are nails in the coffin, deafening to my own ears. I'm partially calling his bluff, hoping to crack that marble exterior and finally get him to confide in me.

But it's not all smoke and mirrors. I meant what I said. I'm emotionally and mentally exhausted. I can't take the push and pull between the two of us anymore. I want him all in, with me, to solve this mess together. Or I want him gone.

Aside from his haggard breathing, Nick doesn't utter a single fucking word. His lips press together tightly, like he's fighting to keep the words from escaping his mouth.

In the end, he wins.

I can't do it anymore.

I clench my fists, lengthening my claws to dig into my skin. I feel the blood pool within my palms, but that's exactly what I need. Physical pain to ground me, to distract me from the thought that Nick is hellbent on fighting to keep his own secrets more than fighting for me.

For us.

I scramble from the car, determined to keep him from seeing the tears leaking down my face. I dig my claws deeper, relishing the sharp sting as they pierce the tender flesh of my palms. Blood pours through my clench fists, but I ignore it, intent on making it behind the safety of those wrought-iron gates .

I never make it.

Instead, I'm thrust against the moss-covered pillar, a firm hand on my throat and another pinning me in place by my waist. Nick's firm chest presses against mine, rising and falling in a staccato rhythm. His eyes bore into mine, absent their earlier despair and uncertainty. Now, they blaze with conviction. Desire.

Possession.

"You seem to be forgetting something, little liar." Darkness curls within the syllables. "There isn't a single version of reality where you and I are done. I will never sit by and let harm come to you. If another man looks at you, I'll take his eyes. If another man touches you, I'll take his hands. But the only danger you should worry about stands before you, more monster than man, who would give his dying breath to follow you inside those gates and never let you go." He presses his forehead to mine. "But I can't. And despite your wishes, I won't stand by idly if you end up in harm's way. So, we are not done. Because you're mine. In this life and all others."

His fingers slide from my throat and around my nape, fisting themselves in my hair. He uses his fierce grip to angle my mouth towards his before claiming my lips and tongue with a dominance that has my knees buckling. If it weren't for his hand still at my waist, I'd certainly melt to the ground.

Nick commands my mouth with sinful precision, and I'm completely pliant beneath his lips and hands. I grasp the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer, but just as I reach for his face, I'm suddenly alone, bereft of his all-consuming warmth and electrifying touch. Though the kiss was brief, my lips feel swollen and bruised, still tingling from phantom kisses.