“Unacceptable,” I mutter under my breath.
I yearn to dress her in custom-made outfits, to brush her wavy brown hair until the strands turn to silk under my touch. She appears skittish, looking over her shoulder, her gaze shifty as it sweeps over the crowded street behind her.
Her friends seem unaware of her discomfort, but to me, it’s as glaring as the morning sun. I’m sure Zazel told her about my little visit earlier, and a thrill of excitement runs up my spine at the thought of Veil now being on edge because of me.
I smile, my eyes narrowing with delight.
As long as I’m in her head.
Her little crew continues down one of the main avenues leading to the harbor when I witness Veil slam straight into a woman walking in the opposite direction. I chuckle at Veil’s shocked reaction, fumbling to apologize, her body language frazzled and alarmed.
My steady gait slows to a stop while Veil continues to apologize. Until my attention zeroes in on her tucking a wallet into the deep pocket of her coat.
I can’t believe it. My heart squeezes, and glee swarms my chest at the sight.
Oh, my pretty, pretty, petty thief.
You’re not as sinless as I thought.
I turn ravenous. Needing to peel the layers of this little enigma.
Maybe she does belong in my neighborhood after all.
Eventually, the four of them disappear into a building, which I recognize immediately as one of those illegal bars that I turn a blind eye to. I should care. But I don’t. As a slave to the god of trickery, who would I be if I didn’t allow my followers to emulate my cunning nature?
They can do as they so please, as long as they worship me.
Knowing I’ll immediately be recognized if I stroll inside withoutsomethingto conceal my identity, I look around the busy street for anything that might help my current conundrum.
I snap my fingers at a random passerby. “You,” I order, “hand me your hoodie.”
They startle, eyes widening when they realize who I am, but promptly do as I said, nervously unzipping their hoodie and handing it over.
I smile. “Much appreciated, love.” My voice is sickly-sweet, like a mouthful of honey. I flick my fingers in their direction. “Now off you go.”
Typically, I’d never be caught dead in something as uncivilized as a zip-up hoodie, but alas, desperate times call for desperate measures. I shrug the damn thing on, still warm from its previous owner, and I curl my lips in disdain, disliking the feeling.
I pull the hood up, ensuring my face is at least half concealed before stepping into the dive. My appraisal is quick, and I locate my petty thief near the bar, drinking a pint with the other three.
Luckily, there’s a crowd tonight. I snake my way through the throngs of bodies, finding a table in the dark corner, facing the bar.
I order a gin on ice from a passing server and turn to face my prize, my heart racing as I gobble up every little piece of her I can.
Like the way she presses her fingers to her mouth after taking a big gulp of beer. Or how her pointed nose crinkles when she laughs. The idle twirl of a strand of hair around her finger as she listens to her friends speak.
I grip my glass, knuckles whitening.
I need it all.
For the rest of the night, I study her—consumeher.
Even hours later, it’s not nearly enough.
I can’t ignore the growing lust surging through my veins as I watch her. My gaze is fixed on the flush on her cheeks, and I’m overwhelmed by the sudden desire to be the reason behind her skin burning up. My train of thought turns desperate; needing to know how warm her skin feels under my possessive touch.
As time passes, my impatience grows and grows and grows until I can barely contain it.
I thought I could bide my time.
