Page 14 of The Reaper's Vice

“No. But it is.” He pierces me with an intense gaze, and I have to look away, my own fingers unwittingly trailing to the little bird tattoo. Most people who see it mistake it for a dove or some other small bird. When I tell them it’s a shrike, all are confused. They want to know what it means, what it symbolizes to me.

But the truth is, I don’t even know myself—one of those things that have been lost to time, to the dark corners of my memory. The only thing I know is it’s special to me. That itmeantsomething to someone at some point.

“What are you thinking about, precious? Where have you gone?”

I relax into his chest, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull me into a comforting nothingness. “I’m here,” I say. “And nothing of importance.”

“Hmm.” He twirls his finger absentmindedly through a string of white hair. “Always so secretive.”

My throat constricts, and I look at the clock on the wall, noting how late it’s become. “I should get going…”

I move to push off Ivan’s chest, but he holds me down, pushing his face into my hair and taking a deep inhale.

“You could stay here with me, you know,” he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair like each strand is made of glass. “The world out there is cruel. Dark. You should be somewhere safe. Be with someone who can give you the light you crave.”

A low laugh puffs from my lips without my meaning to. I pat Ivan’s chest, shifting as far as he’ll let me as he devolves into whispers of his many ideas and epiphanies. Ivan could go on and on about his views on the world—and he often does. In truth, it’s my least favorite aspect of our encounters. Sitting here listening to a madman’s ramblings for hours always leaves me a little more unhinged than when I started the day. And I’m already two nuts loose of a bolt as it is.

“I really think I should get going.” I attempt to free myself for a second time from his hold. His arms are like a vice around my shoulders, but after a few more tries, he finally allows me to get up from the bed.

I feel his eyes following me as I step toward the door, where someone has neatly folded my dress and lingerie. His disappointment fills the air with a rancid stench as I pull the straps over my shoulders, and I worry for a moment that this will be the time he decidesnotto let me leave.

Ivan likes his dolls to choose to stay,I remind myself.There’s no way he’d keep me here against my will. It goes against everything that gets him off.But when I take in the hungry sheen in his smile, my heart stutters in fear.Maybe… maybe he’d reconsider for the right “doll.”

“Will you let my driver take you home? I hate for you to be out alone at night.” His eyes are molten in the glow of the bedside lantern. “I can’t bear the thought of my best toy being injured by another's hand.”

Though my head is still swimming, I manage to pull my clothes on without too much trouble. Ivan pouts from the bed, but I hardly give him another look as I wobble toward the exit.

As soon as I step out of the club, I tilt my head back, closing my eyes against the glowing stars as the night air whips against my skin. Before I know what’s happening, I’m walking down the sidewalk. Except I’m not heading in the direction of civilization or my apartment, where my roommate waits for me.

I’m heading to the forest.

5

ORION

“SASS MONSTER”

It’s nearing twilightby the time I make it to Ghost’s house—though,lairis probably a better word to describe the underground fortress built into the northern cliffs of Moriton. I walk over to the stone hatch nearly hidden by the fallen leaves and debris littering the small clearing and crouch down, my fingertips trailing along the cool slab as my mind races.

This is a bad idea. They’re finally happy—you shouldn’t involve them in your mess.

But even as the thought passes, I find myself pressing my wrist into the small divot into the stone, listening for the telltale click that will signal whether my key still opens Ghost’s door.

Nothing.

I straighten as a heavy sigh brushes my lips, my eyes drawn to the gray skies above and snagging on a singular black crow dotting the heavens. I frown, longing to reach out and experience that sense of freedom. Of wonder. But I’m just a man—stuck here on the ground.

The stone hatch suddenly scrapes open, drawing my attention to the earth. My brows hit my hairline as I look into the dark stairwell that leads to Ghost’s lair, the shadows thick and foreboding with the terrors beneath. With a shrug, I enter the hatch and take the stairs down, the scent of damp growing stronger the farther I descend into the cliffs.

Several flights later, I enter the large circular living space, squinting my eyes against the harsh light blinking from the iron sconces situated throughout the room. A haunting melody makes its way to my ears, and I jerk my gaze toward the grand piano sitting in the center of the room. My mouth pops slightly as I take in the little girl perched on the bench like a tiny black-haired bird, her fingers moving across the keys with a skill far surpassing her age.

There’s a little black ball of fluff sitting next to her on the bench, his tiny legs curled beneath him as he slumbers. Feline eyes slide open, and Brett’s cat Venom pierces me with a judging stare as he pins his ears back. Ghost’s Great Pyrenese, Rupert, lies at the girl's feet. He picks his head up for a brief moment, huffs at my intrusion, and lies back down to continue listening to the serenade.

The girl must feel my gaze on her because a moment later the sound comes to an abrupt halt. There’s a soft squeak as she turns in her seat to face me, and I’m immediately taken aback by the strange swirling purple of her irises.Ghost’s eyes. So this must be…

“I’ve been waiting up forhours.” There’s a hint of irritation in her high-pitched voice. “What took you so long?”

“I’m sorry… ” I murmur, not quite sure why I feel the need to apologize to this girl I’ve never met. “I had to walk here on foot.”

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