Page 30 of The Devil of London

“You’ve been alone too long. It made it easy for you to crave what he offered you. He knew everything about you. As he tortured her for the last time, she told him about your views on life, favorite shows, favorite things within the world, and it made it easy for him to lure you into his trap. He became the perfect man. Your ideal match.”

“I should’ve demanded she talk to me. It’s my fault she ended up murdered and thrown away like trash, Khaos. If I’d have just made her talk about what had happened, she wouldn’t be dead.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. He told her he had her parents held in a secondary location. She’d have done anything he wanted to spare their lives. Everything he did to her was aimed at getting him closer to being your ideal match. You were his target, and she was merely a bird he forced to sing for him.”

“I doubt that very much,” I whispered in a self-depreciating tone. Khaos was my ideal match, and we had very little in common.

“Yet, he knew you inside and out, didn’t he?”

“No, he knew the surface stuff,” I admitted in a soft whisper. “He knew the parts of myself that I allowed the world to believe was me. I created an image for them to think I was like them. But I am not. I am nothing like them. They fear the darkness, but I welcome it inside me. I’ve learned that without darkness, no one would see the beauty of the night. They’d miss what wonders await them inside it. Dark magic is the same. It coexists with light magic because once you’ve mastered both, there’s no limit to what you can do.”

“You’ve learned to harness both?” he asked, but I closed my eyes, shutting him out. “I always knew you’d be powerful, but I’m starting to think you’ve been keeping secrets from me, brat.”

“It isn’t a secret if you’ve never asked the question before. It’s been fifty years since we’ve spent more than a few moments together. I’ve changed, which I’m certain you have as well.”

“You think I’ve changed?”

“Haven’t you?” I asked as he pulled into my driveway.

Staring out the windshield, I watched his men slinking out of the shadows to nod at Khaos. Once he’d opened my door and offered me a hand to help me from the seat, I hugged my waist.

“Can you get rid of him before we go inside?” I asked sheepishly.

“I already had Ryat remove the head from your bedroom. You need a shower and then sleep because we have shit to do tomorrow. I need your assistance on something, then you are free to collect what you’ll need for your stay at my manor. You’ll have tonight to do anything you need to accomplish before you’re expected to be at my estate for the weekend. Since we murdered Camden, I’m confident they’ll need to regroup before slithering out of the shadows. It doesn’t mean we let our guard down. Understand? I’ll have men stationed around your home and shop.” As I started to argue, he held up his hand. “The last time these assholes came for us, you ended up buried in a swamp. I won’t chance that happening again. For now, we take precautions to safeguard against them. Now, let’s get inside. You are cold.” My shivering had little to do with the chill and everything to do with hunters being in town.

Chapter Thirteen

Khaoshadlaidouta black and white pleated, high-waisted box skirt, a black Queen Anne bustier top, and the anchor necklace I’d removed last night. There was also a pair of mid-thigh suede boots on the floor with the hefty price tag left on them. Rolling my eyes at the zeros attached, I considered complaining about him dressing me, but I also approved of the outfit, so I held my tongue.

I quickly dressed and pulled my hair into a French twist, so it looked as if I’d tried to look presentable. Next, I applied a thin layer of eyeliner with mascara, then finished with Armani Ecstasy red lip stain and some lip gloss.

When I exited my bedroom, the silence of the house made my hackles rise as I strolled through it, peering outside through the blinds. Khaos was dressed in his signature crisp, white dress shirt. A blood-red tie hung loosely on his neck, which matched the thin layer of fabric visible in his pocket. Apparently, he’d had his men retrieve clothes for him after his impromptu visit to the cabin last night. Blowing the air from my lungs, I exited the house and let my gaze drift to my neighbor’s house. I made a mental note to check on her once I returned home tonight.

Khaos’s attention lifted from his phone to my face before rolling down my body, pausing at where I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to chase away the morning chill. He gave me a cocky smile as he opened the car door and grabbed a long, single-breasted coat from the backseat. Then, like an idiot, I allowed him to assist me in sliding it on.

“Your morning glow suits you, Aderyn,” he murmured before stepping back to allow me to enter the vehicle. The men waited in other Land Rover, waited for Khaos to take the lead of the motorcade.

“I’d say thank you, but I’ve yet to figure out what your game is, Khaos.” He was being nice for a reason, which was unsettling. Khaos did nothing without reason, and he had stuck to me the moment I’d reappeared in his world for a reason. Was he being nice because I’d almost been murdered by a psychopath or because he’d forced me to go into that cabin last night?

“Why do you assume I’m playing a game?” The moment I was in the seat, Khaos grabbed the safety belt and buckled me in before closing the door and moving to the driver’s side.

“You are being nice to me. You’ve never been nice to me.” It was the truth. Since I’d met him, there had only been two times in which he was nice. Once was before I had fucked him over and almost had him burned at the stake. Instead, I had been the one almost burned alive, and he’d intervened and prevented it. The other was when we’d all gathered in New Orleans and rebuilt our lives together. “Normally, it’s a front, which ends with me chained to a bed for your entertainment.”

“You like being chained to my bed.”

“You assume I do, but you know what it means when people assume shit. Right?”

“How is your ass this morning?” he countered with a smug grin tugging on his sensually, full lips.

“You’re an asshole, Khaos.”

“I fail to see what my being an asshole has to do with the current state of your pretty, very red ass,” he mused in a huskily whispered tenor. “About last night—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said in a rush of words. “I obviously have shit taste in men.”

“You really do. Don’t you?”

“Present company included, but we both already knew that.”

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