“What did the kid do?” he asks.
“I caught him when he kicked a dog. He was about to repeat the action and beat up the poor thing. So, I beat him up instead. With my shoe.”
“With your . . . what?”
“There was nothing on hand.” I shrug. “It was spontaneous. I wasn’t prepared. I was wearing these combat-style platform boots, really thick and heavy, and I beat the crap out of him with it.” I reach the bedroom and stand in its doorway. “I have something for you.”
He lifts his head from where he’s lying on the bed, and I swear his gaze brightens.
“The Crimson Violin.” He rises to sit, and I walk to him, handing him his precious instrument. He turns it in his hands, inspecting it.
“Don’t worry. I took good care of it.”
He gives me this look that screams,“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“You’re quite fond of animals?” he asks, setting the violin next to the bed once satisfied.
“Very. Every single person I’ve killed so far has harmed animals to some degree. I love picking the smug ones.” I grin as I climb next to him under the covers. “The rich ones who kill endangered species for clout, the ones who experiment on them, the assholes who are simply cruel, and the ones who have been reported for suspected animal abuse but the authorities either didn’t have enough evidence or couldn’t be bothered. I get so much fucking satisfaction from it.”
“Because they’re bad people, or because of your love for animals? Would you get the same satisfaction if you killed a murderer? Or a rapist?”
“Maybe. I never tried nor cared to. Don’t get me wrong, they need punishment too, but...animals are voiceless. Some of them love unconditionally, no matter what you do to them. They’ll fear you and still hope you’ll pet them. Love them. Trust them. I dream of smashing their abuser’s bones as they scream for mercy. I get fucking hot just thinking about that justice.”
He brushes a strand of wavy hair off of my face, a trace of a smile in his peculiar hazel eyes. It’s like looking at an eclipse—so incredibly rare and beautiful.
“How do you find them?”
“I have a list,” I answer.
“And you pick one from the list every . . . week?”
I scoff. “I wish, but no. I have to be careful. I research and watch my targets for a while, and when that angry beast inside of me begs for blood and violence, like when Bernard showed up at the fucking café, I pick one from that list. Doing it more often would require more resources. It’s too risky.”
“Interesting. I can certainly help if you’d like toindulgemore. I can protect you if you’d like me to.”
I draw back slightly, caught off guard by the offer. “Umm...thank you.”
I don’t know what else to say. I’m almost speechless.
He shrugs, settling deeper into the pillow, like what he just told me didn’t mean the world. “I understand you, Scarlet. And I appreciate what you do, how you channel that reckless energy. If I can help keep you off either your victims’ or authorities’ radar, of course I will.”
I burst out laughing because the surreal quality of this moment is really getting to me. “Well, in that case, seriously, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He smiles, a faint dimple appearing in his gaunt cheek.
Fuck, he’s such a beautiful man, with the longer hair at the top of his head falling lazily to the side. The sexual tension still lingers in the air, yet its hunger has subsided. Silence settles. Comfort too.
We lazily gaze into each other’s eyes, like we can learn all those unsaid things about ourselves if we don’t ask the questions out loud.
Our steady breaths are the only sounds in my dimly lit bedroom. Strangely heartening. Effortless.
The adrenaline drains slowly, and tiredness follows, weighing down my lids, but I’m reluctant to close my eyes. Like he would disappear if I fell asleep.
“Would you play for me?”
He watches me for a few seconds before he turns and grabs the violin off of the floor, then props himself against the headboard.
I interrupt him when he opens his mouth to ask a question I anticipate. “Something that...consumes you.”
