Page 27 of The Hellkeeper

I stare at him. He stares back, completely unfazed. This is my life now.

I rub my temples. “God, I need therapy.” I’d heard that word used by many teenage girls in the restaurant, and when Margaret explained it to me, I decided that yes—teenage girls, me too.

“I can be your therapy.”

I point a finger at him. “Stop trying to be flirty.”

He shrugs like he’s physically incapable of not flirting with me.

“Alright, your turn. Ask me something,” I say. I need to admit that I don’t want the conversation to end with him. I wish we could have something normal, but it’s clear that neither he nor I are that. Why not pretend for now?

He thinks for a moment. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

I should lie and say something harmless, like sneaking extra food from the communal pantry. But instead, I find myself telling the truth. “I ran away.”

“Do you regret it?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

For a long moment, he says nothing. Then, softly—“I’ve run away too.”

“From what?” I blurt out, wanting someone to relate to me desperately.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he watches me, dark eyes burning into mine. And I realize that this is the longest we’ve talked without me trying to escape.

Chapter Eleven

Damien

My little flower is a narcotic. My little flower is a drug. My little flower is my high, everything I could ever need or want.

I breathe, sleep, and eat this girl. She's carved into my bones, woven into my blood. If someone cut me open, her name would pour out. She's the only person in this godforsaken world I've ever opened up to; and the only one I ever will.

She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll tell her everything. Just like she’ll tell me all of her secrets. There will be nothing between us. We are one.

I’m giving her time to understand this. To let the truth seep into her skin, to let it settle into her soul. But it’s getting harder.

Harder to pretend I don’t notice the way she bites her lip when she’s thinking.

Harder to act like I don’t see the heat creeping up her neck when I lean in too close.

Harder not to pin her down and show her exactly how her man can worship her; how he can make her feel like the goddess she is.

I want to kneel at her feet, lap at her essence, and thank her for letting my filthy hands touch her pure skin. I want to ruin her so completely that when she closes her eyes, the only thing she sees is me.

I want her moaning my name in prayer, whispering it like it’s the only salvation she has left.

But for now, I wait.

The rifle is steady in my hands, pressed firm against my shoulder as I watch my target. I haven’t been able to accompany my girl to work these past few days as I’ve been catching up on all the hits I’d ignored in favor of sleeping under her bed.

My eyes never stray from Edward Moore. One of the biggest drug dealers in the underground. You wanted a hit of something rare? He had it.

Hadbeing the key word.

Because Edward Moore decided to repent. Decided to go clean. Decided he could screw over the very people who made him, missing shipments to gangs who had already paid.

Now, they all want him dead.

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