Ciara’s jaw drops even further. “You guys are crazy!”
If she thinks that’s bad, what led to us taking the bike out in the first place was even crazier. I still can’t believe I killed someone. I actually killed someone, and what’s even more surreal is that part of me doesn’t even feel bad about it. How can I? For one, what Aiden said was just fact. Carl did use me; he did everything he could to make me vulnerable and take advantage of me. He raped me and left me with scars that took years to heal.
I thought I would be terrified to watch him die, but instead, I felt a sense of relief and pure, unadulterated arousal as Aiden teased me, kissed me, and whispered in my ear the entire time. All I could think of was Aiden. Not the body on the table, not the fact that I was about to murder my rapist—Aiden’s overwhelming predatory gaze made me feel safe and protected.
My boyfriend is a serial killer, and I’ve never felt more alive and secure than I do when I’m with him. I’ve stopped trying to understand it and have just embraced the thrill of being with someone who truly understands me in ways no one else ever has.
Most men claim they would kill for their loved ones, but Aiden will actually do it, without hesitation or remorse. And I find that both comforting and insanely arousing.
When we got back to the warehouse, we showered together, washing away the evidence of our latest conquest. He had the back room adorned with fairy lights, candles, and rose petals. Slow music played in the background as he poured us both a glass of champagne, and we danced the night away, lost ineach other’s arms.
He’s currently out disposing of the body; I’ve no idea what his plans are. All I know is that he took cat litter and a shovel with him.
“I bet he didn’t leave with that trademark scowl on his face when he left for work this morning,” Ciara muses, a sly smile playing on her lips.
My phone buzzes, interrupting our conversation.
Aiden:Settle this argument! Champagne, pink, blue, green, or purple?
Katie:What are you up to?
Aiden:Pick a colour, bug.
Katie:Hmm, I do like greens and blues; champagne and pink are nice too.
Aiden:Not helping!
Katie:Champagne, then, it’s neutral and goes with everything. Why?
He doesn’t respond. So I resort to badgering him.
Katie:Aiden??
Katie:What the hell are you doing?
Katie:Aiden James Quinn!
Katie:I hope you like your hand, because you’re about to become well acquainted with it!
Aiden:I think Robbie has crotch lice. He hasn’t stopped scratching all day.
Katie:The fuck?
Robbie:Do not believe a word he says, your boyfriend is a filthy liar!
I give up.
“What’s all that about?” Ciara asks, curious about my continuously buzzing phone.
“God only knows,” I sigh, tossing it back down on the table. “He’s with Robbie at the moment and wanted to know what colours I like.”
“He’s probably buying some slutty lingerie for you to wear later,” Ciara jokes. “He seems like a black lace kind of guy.”
“Red is more his style,” I reply with a smirk. “Bare is even better.”
Ciara twirls a lock of hair around her finger. “Well, at least he’s putting some thought into it.” Her finger pauses mid-twirl and says, “You seem disgustingly happy with him. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“He’s different,” I admit, feeling a warmth spread through me at the thought of him.
