Page 35 of Executing Malice
It shouldn’t, but the promise soothes the weight in my chest and I feel myself obeying without question.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DANTE
––––––––
She lies still in my arms.
There are no more demons chasing her.
No more cries for help.
No more fighting invisible forces threatening to harm her.
She lies where she has always belonged — folded safe against my chest. Her face wedged in the hollow of my throat.
I cradle her with my fingers moving in rhythmic strokes through her tangled strands. I breathe in the soft warmth of her skin stained by my scent. The moment is one full of such promise. Like I could simply close my eyes and sleep with her without worrying about her waking up in the morning and finding me here.
But there are still too many days left, too many planned gifts. As much as I want to rush and reveal myself to her, to start our lives, I have to be patient. I have to follow the plan.
Annoyed but accepting, I release her. I wait until the first hint of sunlight slices against the glass before I brush a kiss to her temple, drag the sheets securely around her in my place and slipfree. I’m very good at sneaking, slipping in and out of places. Leila remains oblivious as I slide off the bed and stand next to her, barefoot and topless.
I’d been half asleep when her whimpering woke me in my little hidey hole. It’s the first nightmare she’s had since my return. The gut-wrenching sound of it had me scrambling out of my makeshift bed and tumbling down the ladder like nothing ever changed. Like we were still kids and I’d pushed my bed against the wall dividing us just to hear her, to be prepared for that first uncomfortable groan.
I wonder if I caused it. If my gift yesterday had prompted her slip into the dream. I wonder if I’m scaring her.
I hope so.
I want her uneasy and scared. I want her unsure. I want her to question everything. Maybe that makes me an asshole, but everything I do is payback. A taste of her own medicine. The fact that she couldn’t even name me yesterday when she clearly recognized me said a lot.
I was that forgettable.
I meant nothing to her.
All those years we spent in hell together, fighting to survive every hour like a pair of soldiers...
I was so easily discarded in her mind that she couldn’t even assume, couldn’t even take a wild guess to my identity.
I turn away from her.
I have to. If I continue to brew in my anger, my pain, I might do something reckless. Something there is no coming back from. But yesterday was a clear sign that I need to finish this game. I need to see it through. I need to haunt her like she’s haunted me and break her like she’s broken me. I need to make her see me again, to remember she belongs to me.
Still, I bend at the waist and steal a kiss from her parted lips before leaving to prepare for the day. It’s going to be a long one ... for her. The thrill of it has my mood lifting slightly as I return to my crawl space and boot up my computer.
I test the charge on my new toys. They’re going to need every drop of juice for what I have in mind. I grin to myself as I check the connection and stow each item into my bag.
Toiletries in hand, I tiptoe downstairs. Laila is a creature of habit and won’t start to stir for another solid twenty minutes. After a hurried shower — I usually have more time — there’s ten minutes to spare when I sprint out the backdoor and across the yard. My strides are brisk, but unhurried headed to the wall of trees surrounding her property. Seriously, it’s a serial killer’s dream.
Not another house for miles. Each one neatly pigeonholed in a cocoon of wilderness. I’ve been coming and going as I please for a month and haven’t seen another soul. More concerning than that, no one’s seen me. I’ve been living inher attic for nearly three months and even her human cop person — still not her brother — has noticed.
Some fucking cop.
That’s the problem with small towns. Everyone gets so comfortable. They think nothing bad will ever happen to them. They’d notice.
I’ve been sitting outside her work every day forhours!Her non-brother hasn’t asked me once what the fuck I’m doing there. The only people who have are the busybodies, and Leila.
It takes some trekking to loop through the bushes and around to where I’ve parked my bike. It’s hidden well enough behind a thicket of brush about ten minutes from the house.
