His (18 page)

“No,” he said. “I’ve already given you what you asked for. Now you’ll see a bit of what I have to face each day.”

He paused, and looked down at me with pity in his eyes.

“I don’t get to kill, and you don’t get to come.”

     Gav    

Breathe in, breathe out. Water splashed on my face, cooled my heated skin.

I couldn’t believe what she was making me do. The shadow left me alone for a moment, but as soon as I left her side it was back, sliding in at the corners, uncurling its tendrils around my center of vision.

She’d saved the man for one day, that was all. If I wanted to, I could kill him tomorrow. The thought calmed me somewhat. Imagining the man on my table, my knife slicing down through the layers of skin and muscle and fat. Exposing his insides to the air. Blood isn’t red until it meets the oxygen in the atmosphere, and then it changes color instantly.

Yes, I could kill him later. It soothed me, and I played out his death in my mind like a tape, rewinding, replaying, changing parts around. Would I cut off his fingers first? That sometimes made it better, to hear their screams as I popped the joints one by one. Fingers weren’t lethal, and I could keep him conscious throughout. Yes, that’s what I would do.

I returned to the bedroom in a better mood. She lay staring at the ceiling and would not look at me when I came and sat beside her.

“I’m going out for the afternoon,” I said.

She whipped her head back towards me.

“You said—”

“I won’t kill him today. We made a trade.”

“A trade.” She whispered it.

“Not sure if it was worth it? Well, kitten, you can always change your mind.”

“No.”

“I’ll bring you back a present. No trades, just a gift.”

“Untie my hand, please,” she said. “One hand, that’s all I need. That’s all I—”

“Later,” I said. “But not when I’m gone. I can’t leave you untied. Surely you understand that.”

The rejection rippled through her body. I put my hand on her stomach and she winced.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Not if you’re going to leave me.”

I lifted my hand away from her.

“I’ll be back,” I said. “And… thank you.”

She looked up at me, confusion quirking her beautiful arched eyebrows.

“For giving me a measure of relief. It’s not enough, not for me, but you tried. I—thank you.”

I turned and left before she could respond.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

     Kat    

He came back later and threw a few books down next to me on the bed. Then untied my hands and feet. An hour earlier, I would have been ready to throw myself at him in a desperate attempt for either an orgasm or an escape, but I had calmed down a lot since then.

He had, too, it seemed. He smiled comfortingly at me.

It was his
thank you
that had really made me look at him differently. Strange that such a little thing could make me feel so much better. But I felt that I’d given something to him that he couldn’t take himself. In a way, he needed me.

That was good and bad at the same time. There was no way he would ever let me go, but maybe I could convince him slowly to give me more space. More freedom. And then—

Then what? I couldn’t risk trying to kill him again. I would take it slowly, I decided, rubbing my wrists. Try to gain his confidence back. Then I could decide on my next move.

I picked up one of the books.
The Billionaire’s Courtesan.
The cover was one of those pink and gold numbers with raised lettering. I always wondered why they didn’t do the bumpy lettering over the woman’s breasts. It would be a heaving bosom. Get it?

Yeah, I didn’t make myself laugh, either.

“I thought you might like these,” Gav said.

“Romance novels?” I tossed the book down and looked at the others.
The Cowboy and the Bride.
Her Last Virgin Night.

“There was one on your cart when we first met.”

“That’s… sweet of you.” I picked up the cowboy one and rifled through the pages. The second chapter started with him “
exposing his throbbing member
” and only got worse. I giggled, cupping my hand over my mouth. The word
member
seemed so funny at that moment that I had to suppress a burst of laughter.

“You don’t like them?”

“No, it’s just...We make fun of these.”

“We?”

“Jules and I. My friend, the one that was there. She called you Fabio afterward, because of how you looked.”

“Oh? How did I look? I don’t have that stunning long blond hair.”

I looked up at Gavriel as he sat down next to me. I didn’t know if it was because he’d untied me, or because I’d finally gotten him off, but I felt like we were having a normal conversation for the first time. It was weirder than any other conversation we’d had, strangely enough. Like we’d known each other for longer than we actually had.

“Come on. You know how you look.”

“Well-groomed?”

“Attractive. Much hotter than any guy that normally comes into the library, that’s for damn sure.”

He laughed. With the early afternoon light coming in through the window, the room felt cozy. Romantic. If I hadn’t known that I had just been bound up on the bed, thinking this man was going to kill me, I wouldn’t have believed it myself.

“I don’t think I could be on the cover of a romance novel.”

“I think you could.” I flopped down on my back and let my eyes skim over the pages without reading anything. “That could be your new career.”

“Stop killing people and start ravishing virgins?”

“Sure, why not?” We were
flirting
. This was so weird.

“I only picked up one virgin book, but there were dozens of them on the shelf. What is it about romance novels where the heroine has to be a virgin?”

“Easy. She has to be perfect,” I said. “Or at least perfectly innocent. The heroes too.”

“Mmm?”

“That’s the thing about the heroes in these kinds of books - they’re always so perfect. Perfect looks, lots of money, super confident, huge cocks. They’re book boyfriends.”

“Book boyfriends?”

“You’ve never heard of that? Like, if you really like a guy from a book, if you’re totally obsessed with him. You pretend he’s your book boyfriend. It’s a way to imagine yourself dating a charming billionaire.”

“I kill billionaires. They’re usually horrible people.”

“Come on, Fabio.” I swatted him with the paperback. At least he was talking about killing other people and not me.

“My name is Gavriel.”

“Super hot, super rich, super big cock. You don’t think you’d make a good book boyfriend?”

“I’m not a goddamn book boyfriend.” His words were flat, and although his mouth was curved, the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He’d lost the flirtatious manner he had when he walked in.

“No?”

Gav stood up and walked to the window. I thought he would just ignore me, but then he spoke again. His voice was lower, more serious. His long fingers tapped the windowsill as he spoke.

“I kill your book boyfriends. Your billionaires, your CEOs. I carve them limb from limb and destroy the evidence. Nobody could ever mistake me for a hero.”

“No. No, I suppose not.” I licked my lips. I didn’t know what to say. “Thanks anyway. For the books.”

He turned back to me, his face pleasant and inviting again. The light pouring in through the window illuminated his front, shone through his white shirt and gave him a halo around his dark hair. He was wrong. Standing there, all smooth planes and hard lines of muscle, he looked exactly like a hero. But I knew better.

“Aren’t you going to use them to pleasure yourself?” he asked.

“What, the books? Like, right now?”

“Yes.”

An idea sparked in my mind and made it to my tongue before I spent any time thinking about it.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“A trade?”

He smiled.

“You know me too well, kitten. What do you want from this trade?”

That was easy. There was one thing I’d been dreaming about for all the hours he had me locked up in the basement, for all the hours he had me tied up to his bedposts.

“Take me outside.”

His eyes flashed dangerously as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

“Outside?”

“Just for a little walk. My legs are so cramped from staying inside.”

He thought for a moment, one hand stroking his chin where his black stubble had been growing like a lawn after the spring’s first rainstorm. Such a liar. He would be perfect on a cover.
The Pirate Rogue
, I thought to myself.
The Handsome Killer
.

“Yes. That’s a fair trade.”

He sat down in the arm chair next to the bed and motioned to the books.

“Well?”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Are you going to stay and watch?”

“Of course. This is a trade, after all. How could I be sure you’d truly pleasured yourself unless I was a witness?”

I blushed, then cursed myself for blushing. God, here I was with a murderer, a serial killer, someone who I’d tried to kill, and I was embarrassed to have him watch me get myself off while reading a romance novel. Some things just don’t make sense.

“I’m not really in the mood right now,” I said.

“That’s what the books are for.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I was about to speak again but then he cut me off.

“We can stay here for a while. Until you’re ready. I’ve already been outside once today.” So nonchalant. Such an asshole.

In the window beyond his chair, the pine branches beckoned.

“Fine,” I said. It wasn’t fine, but it would have to be. I really did want to go outside. For one, I wanted to see what the house looked like underneath the windows, if there was a possible escape route from the bedroom. And for two… well, I hadn’t been outside in days.

I shoved the pillows up to the top of the bed and lay back, propping my elbows on my knees. Picking up
The Cowboy and the Bride
, I began to read.

     Gav    

At first, I could tell she was nervous. The book’s pages flipped rapidly, and I saw her cheeks flush pink. One hand rested on her knee, and the other held the book open, creasing the well-worn spine. How many women had held that book this way, I wondered?

None so beautiful as her. Her hand was soft with curves, her fingernails clipped sensibly. I longed to see her touch herself. Page after page turned, and nothing.

“Are you not used to having someone watch you, kitten?”

She flushed harder. God, her lips were delicious when she bit them slightly, the pucker of her cheeks as she got mad.

“I… I’ve never. Not with someone watching.”

“Take your time, then.”

“I was, thanks.” Her sarcasm was clipped and she raised the book to hide her face.

But then, oh then—her hand moved down, under the hem of her dress. I saw the fabric slide up over her creamy thighs, the sweet pink silk of her panties revealed inch by inch. Her fingers grazed the fabric just over her sweet slit.

I’d tasted her there, and the memory of her delicious flesh aroused me instantly. It’s true, we men are visual creatures. I wanted to watch her, every piece of her, as she touched herself. Thankfully, the book slipped lower and I could see her nose peeking over the cover, then her mouth. Her perfect pink heart of a mouth, almost as tasty as the lips between her thighs.

Her fingers stroked slowly, patiently. So patient. The sensation must be barely there. I could see between her legs the fabric darkening, turning wet. Her eyes softened, her eyelids drooping down at the corners as she continued reading, continued stroking.

Shifting in my seat, I was not prepared for the small gasp that came from her as she found herself. Such a slight squeak of pleasure, and yet it caused a rush of lustful thoughts to come over me. I was hard, getting harder with every small whispering breath of hers, and I couldn’t help but stroke myself with the back of my knuckles, as though smoothing out the fabric of my pants.

“Are you touching yourself over there?” Her voice had a hitch in it, but it was teasing, playful.

“Why did you think I wanted to watch you?”

Her eyebrows raised, and just as quickly settled back down as her eyes moved over another paragraph. Her fingers pressed harder, squeezing from both sides through her panties. She turned the page with her thumb, expertly. So she
had
done this before, just not with an audience.

I unzipped my pants. She moaned, and my cock twitched. I imagined myself between those legs. She was mine, mine and nobody else’s, but I admit that I couldn’t help but feel jealous that it was not me who was arousing her, not me teasing her to the edge. My hand gripped my cock. Most women I took home couldn’t wait to jump into bed with me. This was… different.

Good, but different.

     Kat    

The words on the page swam before my eyes. I’d gotten as far as the first hayloft scene, where the cowboy had realized that his bride was, surprise, surprise, a virgin. Then he’d gone down on her, and I’d stopped imagining a cowboy.

My eyelashes fluttered as I moved my hand between my thighs. I could feel myself starting to get wet as I read along, but I wasn’t reading the words anymore. There wasn’t a cowboy in my mind, no virgin bride rolling around on the hay. I was imagining Gavriel.

I tried to bring my thoughts back to the book at hand, but it was no use once he started touching himself. I turned the pages and tried to avoid looking directly at him sitting over there in the chair. He’d pulled out his cock and was stroking it slowly, easily. I watched the foreskin sliding up over his head, then back down, his hand tightening at the base.

It was true - I’d never had a guy watch me masturbate before. But also, I’d never watched a guy jack off. I mean, I’d seen clips from comedies where they did it - the classic bathroom scene in
Something About Mary.
But never for real. No guy had ever masturbated in my presence, let alone while watching me. The strangest part of it was how much it turned me on, to see his long fingers wrapped entirely around his erection.