“Be honest with me, Harding. What made you start coming here every night?’ she said.
“Honestly?” I said slowly. “You, Carmen.”
My answer caught her off guard, and she blushed a beautiful crimson. Like that fucking night. The same red as the blood that had spilled around Shiloh’s cock.
“I haven’t gotten the chance to see what you’ve made of yourself, darling. Maybe I should change that.”
That blush deepened, and she bit her lip.
C’mon, Carmen. Let me into your lair. Let me show you what kind of monster I am so that I can create a masterpiece out of you for my own creation.
“Maybe…I can show you.”
Bingo.
I kept the bullshit banter going, giving her glass after glass of alcohol and watching as her inhibitions melted away like the ice in my untouched drink. When the night finally settled, I walked her outside, letting her see how mean the world got after midnight, the corner streetlight flickering like a dying soul.
She smelled of bar varnish and cheap soap. A life she’d learned to make do with, and die with. Something in my chest hollowed and then hardened for the task at hand. I welcomed my darkness and smothered the light Shiloh had left in me, closing my hand around it like a firefly.
“You’re not like the others, Carrington. And nothing, like people say, either.” Carmen said as we approached her salon.
I heard the words, and I thought immediately of Shiloh, how soft he’d sounded when he’d given himself to me, how guilty, and how undone. It was stupid and perfect how my mindrewired her words into a memory of him. “You just look at me like…I don’t know.”
“Like you are breathtakingly beautiful?” I said to her, catching her chin in my grip and forcing her to look into my eyes. “Like I want to taste your skin.”
The truth, but of course it was to replace anything of Shiloh. Replace his darkness with my own, and shower him in his one and only mistake.
“Well, here we are. My little home away from home…I uh…I sometimes sleep here. It’s better than home, because my roommate is my brother, and he’s—well, he’s not always…the warmest man.”
I let her babble, and when her hands fumbled for the keys, I helped her, knowing exactly which one turned the lock, but letting her follow the ritual so I could follow mine.
“I can be warm, Carmen,” I whispered, making her shiver.
She swallowed hard and finally managed to get the lock turned, opening the door. “I hope you don’t mind it being small.”
Her slurred speech was hesitant. Like, I really gave a shit about her small-box-of-a-salon.
“It’s wonderful, Carmen. Like you. Where do you sleep? Show me your craft.”
So I can show you mine.
Carmen led me to the bedroom, where a small cot lay on the ground, and nothing else would fit. It was like a closet in here. Nothing more than a place to rest for the night.
Did she dream of him here? Did she cry out with moans of his memory?
It was time to own the effect Shiloh had left.
Time to remind my dear Sunshine that there needs to be a balance between light and dark.
“I know it’s not much, but I—” she said, and I cut her off with a firm kiss pressed into her lips.
“I’m going to be honest,” I said. “You wanted honesty, yes?”
She frowned, curiosity creasing her forehead. “I—yes?”
“I don’t care where we are, Carmen. A hovel or a castle will make no difference in what I want from you.”
She blinked, her intoxicated brain not catching on to anything.
