Page 14 of Goldsin

But his focus isn’t on my body—it’s on something else entirely.

“Is that blood?”

“What? Where?” I stammer, my eyes darting down to where he’s looking.

And right there, just above the low neckline of my dress, on my breast, is a small droplet of blood.

DeMarco’s blood.

Before I can react, Julian reaches out and gently wipes away the droplet with his fingertip. He holds it up between us, clearly displaying the crimson stain, before doing something that sends a bolt of shock through my entire body.

He licks the blood off his finger. His gaze doesn’t leave mine the whole time.

“Julian! What are you doing?” Feeling both repulsed and inexplicably drawn to him at once, I watch him suck it clean.

“Interesting,” he says, unfazed by my reaction. “It doesn’t taste like yours.”

“Wh-what?—?”

“Your little secret,” he whispers, his voice taking on a dark, dangerous edge. “I’m going to find out what it is ... one way or another.”

CHAPTER FOUR

AURELIA

Has Julian always been such a psycho?

The encounter with him still lingers on my skin like an unwanted ghostly touch, his whispered promise ingrained in my mind. He tasted DeMarco’s blood without second-guessing it. God. I can feel the two glasses of champagne I drank earlier threatening to come up.

Liar.You liked it. His depravity lures you in,my inner voice reprimands me.

Turning my head to the side, I give myself a once-over in the entryway mirror of my apartment. My cheeks and my neck are now an oxblood color—an embarrassing contrast to my pale complexion.

Julian isn’t here, but simply the memory of tonight makes my hands tremble. At least I know he can’t reach me now. Well, he could. I’m only an elevator ride away from his penthouse.

I dart my gaze around the small living room, searching for Valentine, but all I find is the empty greenvelvet couch and the TV turned off. The lamp next to the couch is off too.

The only source of light comes from the small, rusted gold sconce above the irregular oval mirror in my entryway. My own restless face stares back at me.

My hair is luckily still pinned behind my shoulders, although some strands have escaped, thanks to Julian’s playful fingers. A few more strands cling to my neck, while others spring on alert like I just came back from war.

And I might as well have.

I hate how easily he gets to me even despite my best efforts to remain calm. If he wants me to feel a certain way, he always gets what he wants.

He’s had this power over me ever since we were seven.

Couldn’t I just remain a distant memory to you?

What an idiot I was back then to complain when he stopped giving me attention.

I let out a deep grunt before straightening up and walking into the narrow corridor connecting the living room to the kitchen. A sense of relief immediately rushes through me at the familiar surroundings. White picture frames are scattered across the wall, containing photos of my youth. Most of them are photos of myself smiling at Valentine behind the camera, but there are also some of Julian and me.

Every time I walk past them I’m overcome with the thought that sometimes the pain of losing people is worth it for the memories you have with them.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the burned scent ofvanilla coming from the curved green diffuser on the light wooden console table. I bought it for Valentine last Christmas. He’s a coffee addict, and the smell is starting to linger to the point of being nauseating.

Just like what happened with Adrian and Julian tonight. The memory picks at my nerves.

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