Page 96 of Unholy Bonds

“It’s hard for you, isn’t it?” he said, the tender resonance of his voice almost a caress on my cheek. “I’m sorry I made you live it again.”

“I—after years of doing this, I’ve become good at this. Good at not thinking, not feeling, only doing what I’m supposed to do to bring the killer to justice.”

“And you’re good at it.”

“Thank you. Things like these… they’re just too much to take.”

We left my office, tired and consumed.

“Keep chasing him, Ryden. Don’t stop yet. You’re right. I feel it, too.”

“I have no plan to stop until I catch him, whoever he is.”

38

BIRTH OF POWER

YARA

The next day, I was waiting for Ryden, dressed for the art exhibition. He said he’d pick me up at seven. I opened the text messages from The Strangler and read it for the hundredth time.

There were exactly thirty-two days until my birthday. What did he mean by gifts? More dead women?

A strange part of me wanted him to kill. It would serve as a confirmation that he had indeed arrived in Detroit at last, closer to me than ever. Closer for me to finally have my hands on him. I felt bad thinking like that, but…

My thought was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell chiming. I adjusted my pantsuit with a smile and walked out.

It was exactly seven. His punctuality only added to his magnetic charms. The man wasn’t just sexy, he was also… respectful. Not when he was ordering me to suck his cock, or when he was stalking me, but those were the times I didn’t need him to respect me.

I opened the door to see him in a suit, his tie slightly crooked, and my breath hitched. He took me in from head to toe, and his eyes changed.

“God, no one will be looking at the paintings if you’re dressed like this. You’re so fucking intent on killing everyone, aren’t you?” his voice was soft, almost a gasp, as if he couldn’t properly breathe.

With a grin, I leaned closer and kissed his stubble. “You look just as magnificent, Ryden. Good enough to eat in a single bite. Shall we leave?”

“Let me look at you for a few more minutes,” he said, running his finger through my hair. “I want to take that suit off of you, Red, and do dirty things to you,” he whispered, tugging at the lace bodice of my pantsuit, his eyes darkening in lust as he took in the bra I had chosen just for him.

The naked desire in his eyes made me want to pull him into my house by his coat lapels and never let him leave. To tie him to my headboard and do things to him… things he would enjoy.

“I do love art, but I want to… explore more of your body,” I whispered, running my fingers down his shirt until I reached closer to the visible outline of his erect cock. “It’s art in itself.” He jerked back from me as if my touch was fire.

“Don’t say things like that, Yara, and don’t touch me… if you touch me, I’ll come right here. I can’t,” he groaned, tugging me by my hand. “I promised you an art exhibition, and you’re getting it. Come on, let’s go before I fucking change my mind,” he growled, his voice pained.

Smiling, I locked the door and walked to his shiny black car as he continued to stare at me, his eyes wide with appreciation. He opened the door for me with a bow.

“Why are you so fucking beautiful, Red?” he grunted as he took his seat on the driver’s side.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s such an inconvenience,” I said with a teasing grin. I pressed my hand to his thigh when he finally started the car, after staring at me for another few minutes.

“Red, I’ll die from a perpetual erection if you continue with this,” he said as I ran my finger up his cock, which was already hard as rock. Fuck. The man was easy to turn on, and it gave me the power to know that he was putty in my hand.

“We already established that’s a good way to die,” I winked, playing with him, enjoying his little grunts and remarks until we reached the gallery.

The name of the gallery, Arts and Apostles, was shining in silver glowing letters. Everything smelled like paint and turpentine. Ryden held my hand in his and walked me through long corridors dotted with white lights on the ceilings, casting a soft glow over everything.

The display itself was art; each piece hung in a perfect corner, where it belonged in such a way everything came together in perfect harmony.

“We’re committed to showcasing a diverse array of mediums, from abstracts and sculptures to digital installations. I hope you’re enjoying our first showcase.” A woman was talking to a guest.

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