Page 72 of Goldsin

I clutch his arm around my waist. “Let me just—” I look at the marked patches of skin. “Please.”

Something flashes behind his eyes at the word. The plea.

He takes a step back and gives me space to reach the bathroom cabinet under the sink. Kneeling, I gather everything I might need to disinfect and treat his burns. When I turn back to him I guide him to the countertop, and when he doesn’t sit on top of it I raise an eyebrow.

He flicks his eyes all over my face and then hikes himself up, allowing me to tend to his self-inflicted injuries.

I gently clean and dress each burn, my hands shaking slightly with the pent-up anger I feel at his stupidity—and the fear he might be more hurt than he’s making out.

All I can feel is this buzz in my mind. My mouth moves, answering all his questions, pouring my heart out for him. But I don’t hear myself speak. I’m caged in someplace else, hiding in wait for him to act on my words.

“I ... There’s a lot you don’t know. It’s about my mom ...”

I tell him about my mother’s suicide, her diary, and every monster mentioned in it. I tell him how Valentine is the only other person who knows what I’ve been up to. How he’s been helping me with this quest for vengeance. Then I tell him about the mysterious guy at Victoria’s party and the missing pages of the diary.

And about Lucian.

How I’m not sure anymore that what killed my mom was suicide. That maybe his father killed her once he was done with her. That maybe once he found out his pet had gotten pregnant by one of his friends he decided to move on to someone younger. Untainted. Pure.

I don’t tell him how one of those friends I’m killing off could be my father. Or how the thought leaves a sour aftertaste.

My hands are shaking once I finish tending to his skin. The truth lingers between us, heavy and tangible enough to be sliced by our silence.

I just shared the darkest corners of my soul.

There’s no turning back now.

“Are you going to kill Lucian?” is all he says.

Our eyes lock onto one another’s, the intensity setting my heart racing.

There’s no point denying it now.

I nod, swallowing hard.

A wicked grin slowly spreads across his face. “Torture the bastard first. Play with him. That sack of balls hates it.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

AURELIA

Ibutton up myMajeknitted black minidress, adjusting the material clinging to my body.

White details adorn the dress, one long strip in the middle accompanying the buttons, and four strips where the faux pockets are located—two on the chest and two on the hips. The hemline falls dangerously close to the thigh, leaving a hint of skin, but with the way the neckline wraps up and over the collarbone, this is a perfectly classy dress for the occasion.

Tonight, death is within my grasp, and I’ll be playing it like strings, making Marcus Whitman dance to his demise. I can hardly contain my excitement. My heart races eagerly, my fingers shaking slightly as I secure the last button of the dress.

Inhaling a steady breath through my nose, I try to regain control.

Tonight is nothing out of the ordinary. It’s just another night spent as a killer.

A killer, the voice inside my head haunts.Tonight you’ll have more blood dripping from your hands.

“God, you’re unbelievably sexy when you’re preparing for murder.”

Julian’s voice drops a note as it drifts to me from the bed, where he’s lying with one leg bent at the knee, fingers laced behind his head as he watches me intently. Not a care in the world, just my body as his sole focus. Not what I’m about to do tonight.

Maybe being a part of the Inferno Consortium from a young age shaped his perception, making murder seem like an inevitable occurrence in life.

---