I switch on the light, and the mask, which is made from shards of a broken mirror affixed to the plastic underneath, reflects back onto her neck. Her skin is still inflamed, and it makes me itch to touch it.
I’ve never felt the desire to fix something I marked, but right now, I do.
“What is this?” she asks, staring down at the mask. I must have moved it and forgotten, not thinking she would be staying over. I should have known better. No parts of the hunt are ever to be brought to public knowledge. And while this isn’t public, her knowing about the mask is dangerous. If she told anyone related to the Forsaken that she saw the mask, they would kill her. No questions asked.
“Put it down,” I tell her.
Her perfect green eyes find mine, and then they lower into slits.
“I’m going to leave,” she states as she stands, still holding the mask in her hand. I eye it, and she stares at me for a moment before dropping it to the floor, where I’m guessing she found it. She grabs her phone from the nightstand, and the light from the screen illuminates her face as she presses a few buttons before she raises her head and meets my eyes. “Move… so I can leave.”
“You’re naked. You aren’t going anywhere. Get back in bed and go back to sleep.”
“No.” She quickly swipes my discarded shirt off the floor and slips it on. “I’m dressed, and now I’m leaving.” She goes to step past me, but before she gets too close, she holds up a finger. “If you touch me right now, you will never see me again. Do you understand me?”
My cock jumps in my pants at the authority in her voice. It’s the dichotomy of her subservience when I fuck her and the confidence she exudes when confronting me at every turn.
“I do.”
“Good. Now move so I can gather my things and leave.”
I step to the side, clearing her path to the bedroom door. I stand silently as she starts picking up her clothes from the living room floor. Then we hear a car honk from out front.
She looks at me from over her shoulder and asks, “What’s the hunt?” My fists clench at her question, and her gaze drops to my hands. “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” She hurries outside, without a backward glance or even shutting the door behind her. She gets into her car, and I watch her disappear down the street.
THIRTY-ONE
CORA
I’m sitting at the café with my laptop in front of me while I try to work when Arlo comes to mind. I’ve been trying to define what we are and what we are doing for a while now. He tried calling this week, and I ignored him. While I know I should end it with him, I enjoy it too much. It’s so different from what I had with Luke. Everything was clean and clear with him, but with Arlo, there are mixed feelings involved. The moment I saw him, I thought he was striking. But then he opened his mouth and demanded things, and I detested him.
Now, all I think about is him making me say “please” and the way he looks at me.
I’ve had many men look at me over the years, and I’ve learned to decipher the meaning behind the majority of their looks. Most men see a woman and automatically put her into a box in their minds. Attractive. Unattractive. Friend. Someone they want to fuck.
Arlo, on the other hand, is a completely different ball game.
Sometimes his eyes tell me he thinks I’m attractive and that he wants to fuck me, but other times his eyes are soft or thoughtful when he looks at me, like he wants to crack my head open and see what I’m thinking. It’s incredibly confusing.
“Hi, sorry to bother you.”
I look up from my laptop to see a woman I don’t recognize standing beside my table. She smiles softly at me, pulls out the chair across from mine, and I’m confused by her sudden interruption.
Glancing at my half-eaten cake and coffee, she says, “It looks good. Is it chocolate?”
“Yes,” I tell her. She’s dressed in a red suit that looks amazing on her. She has long black hair tied back in a tight ponytail and the softest baby-blue eyes I have ever seen.
But who the fuck is she?
And why the fuck is she interrupting me?
“Sorry, my name is Cressida. And I know it sounds weird, but a few sources have told me you’re close to Arlo Graves. Is that right?” When I don’t answer, she continues, “I can see your hesitation about answering my question. Smart. Have you met Soren as well?”
“Why are you asking me these questions?”
“These men are dangerous and very good at making people disappear. I want you to be aware of that.”
“Okay, thanks. Are you an ex of one of them?”
