Page 123 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
Another flash. Her hair, colored to represent the night, was carelessly thrown over her pillow as her green sheets swathed her.
Each time the storm showed Mikko her room, the harder it became for him to remain where he was. He yearned to touch her—to caress her skin and risk her sensing he was there. Despite knowing she wanted to kill him, that she was coming for him or Cristiano, Mikko’s lust was undeniable. Maybe he could blame it on his childhood, soriddled with pain and loss that when faced with it now, it turned him on. His body was confused—unregulated. He yearned to push past the boundaries she’d erected, and if she didn’t wake up, maybe he’d visit her in her dreams.
With the continual flashes of lightning to hide it, Mikko slipped his phone from his pocket, needing to solidify this moment. His camera clicked, the flash blending in with the storm. Anika barely stirred. These photos would join the rest of them.
A soft sound came from her silhouette along with the shifting of the sheets. Mikko froze, barely breathing. After a few seconds, Mikko was confident she was still asleep—unaware of the predator lurking in her room. Buthewas well aware of the predator prowling beneath her skin.
Anika had shifted more to her stomach, leg hiked up, and hugging that damn pillow. In a short burst of light, like the flash of a camera, he committed the image to his mind. Her sleep shirt had ridden up dangerously, hem barely covering her stomach. Floral ink trailed up her legs and arms.
“Fuck it,” he whispered, rain pounding against the window, drowning out his words.
As if a spell had been broken, Mikko stalked to her bedside. His clothes smelled of petrichor which made him hesitate briefly. Her sheets were dry and warm and smelling of her in a way he knew intimately. It drove him insane. Need made him abandon all reasonable thought and without another second to waste, he silently crawled into bed with her. He expected her to wake under the shifting mattress, but she didn’t, deep in sleep and ignorant of the beast crawling into her sheets.
Mikko laid down on his side, his front facing her back, about a foot separating them. Feeling her body heat pouring off her in waves, he was tempted to close the distance, buthe didn’t. He was careful not to lay on her hair fanned out behind her, threatening to tickle his skin.
“Looks like we’re meeting onmyterms,” he whispered, voice lost in the inky darkness and raging storm.
Mikko wasn’t sure how long he laid there, ruminating in Anika’s presence. When she was asleep like this, it was easy to see her as she truly was. There weren’t any walls in his way to block her true emotions. Now, in the soft caress of sleep, he could feel the solitude she ensconced herself in. It sounded silly to think, but his emotions had always ruled him, and so, he’d learned to also read others so he could rulethem.
As the storm died down, Mikko resigned himself to leaving. He needed to go home to change and ask Cristiano for any more leads on Dimitri. They’d reported him as missing, unable to find him or any trace of him after Cristiano announced his absence.
Worry threaded itself through his heart along with whatever else consumed him when he looked at Anika. While there were no tangible leads, he knew who’d done it. All he had to do now was wait for the evidence to show itself.
Sliding soundlessly from her bed, Mikko crept back toward her door, but something glimmered out of the corner of his eye.
A necklace on her nightstand.
He hadn’t seen it at first, too consumed with her when he’d first arrived, but now…
Now, his eyes couldn’t stop staring at it. Stepping closer, mind trying to keep up with what his eyes were seeing, Mikko realized why it caught him off guard.
He recognized it.
And it wasn’t because he’d seen it around Anika’s neck.
It was because it was Dimitri’s.
35
Threaded
Mikko
Mikko’s vision blurred, the streets dark and indiscernible, but he couldn’t stop.
Ever since he’d left Anika’s house, he hadn’t been able to slow down, his Audi speeding along the interstate. His discovery shouldn’t have come as a surprise, her guilty actions and words clearly laying out her plans before him. But finding something as concrete as Dimitri’s necklace? It was everything he’d been looking for weeks ago.
The metaphorical blindfold had been ripped from his eyes. And what had she done to him to warrant his necklace being at her house? A wave of jealousy flooded him.
He’d been too consumed with seeing her as someone he couldn’t get out of his head—a beautiful entity ensnaring its prey. Only after it was too late to escape did he see the monster before him.
Fingers shaky, Mikko dialed Cristiano, needing to talk to someone else. He hoped his friend had sobered up enough to be able to tellhim he was being dramatic and misreading the evidence. Anythingto prove him wrong.
The ringing was loud in his car’s Bluetooth while he waited for Cristiano to pick up. His fingertips drummed the steering wheel, breathing becoming more erratic.
“Hey, what’s up?” Cristiano’s sleepy voice came through the car speakers. He sounded sober enough, and Mikko’s breath of relief was audible. “Everything okay?”
“I—” Mikko’s voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s Anika.”
