Page 92

Every piece of information I’d uncovered so far about Kieran led me to: he’s a likely killer. But dangerous or not, I still can’t find a way out of this town. Christian seems ambivalent to remove me from the premises for hushed reasons. And there are far more dangers in the world than a man who believes he’s a god. So I remain within the Lazarus house.

Misty trots over from the library with a book in her mouth, slobber dripping down the sides of the leather binding.

“Yuck.” Misty drops the book at my foot. It’s Sara’s book. Grabbing a cloth, I wipe it clean and place it atop the hearth. There had been no time to pore over her words as Christian had stolen every one of my nights to sit beneath the stars and listen to him talk. Maybe this is a reminder to delve into her world once again—fabricated composition or not—it might still be beneficial for me to finish her book.

So far, I’ve learned that Christian too, may be impacted by this town’s peculiarities. For one, when broached with the topic of his past, and connections to Kieran, all emotion seemed to drain from his face. Then, the silence and the loop back to asking me what the question was. I’ve also asked him about Daisy’s part in all of this. Is she the wife or was Sara Wren the wife? He couldn’t remember the answer. We also tried, to my dismay, looking for the resting places of the creatures. None were found. This confirmed one truth: the creatures do not hunt Christian Valen.

From this small observation, a certainty settled over me: everyone here, including Christian, was hiding something. But while Kieran hoards his secrets, Christian seems willing to help me unravel them.

Now that I am a willing participant in Christian’s sleuthing, I find myself enjoying the slow burn of learning Kieran Lazarus—of him becoming a new habit I can’t break. His eccentricities are allowed to pass as calculation. Or maybe because I find him interesting. What drives a man to such lengths? To bridge science and the occult? Why dissect bodies and throw them into a void where unethical experiments are conducted?

I like to think I am mapping the topography of his emotions beneath that stone-cold exterior. Is he a man, or a storm pretending to be one? And what will happen when I am eventually caught in his torrent? If Kieran is allowed his secrets, then so am I. And secrets—I am learning—hold power.

In our usual meeting location, Christian waits patiently beside his vehicle.

“Asshole.” Our shoulders brush as I pass him and climb into the passenger seat. I’m only half-joking because I hadn’t seen him in a whole day.

Time swallows you once you begin to miss someone.

He doesn’t close the door immediately. Instead leans against the frame, studying me with a hunter’s eye.

“Good evening, little bird,” he says, amusement dancing across his features.

Folding my arms against my chest, I school my features into indifference. Though my body betrays me, an unwilled tug of my lips threatens to break free. I want him to think I’m unaffected by his nearness, by the warmth of his body crowding the doorway. I want him to know I’m immune to the dangerous charms he lays bare before me because when he’d left me a week ago, my skin ached with need. Ached until I was filled with anger and there was nowhere for it to go.

“Sorry I didn’t make it last night. I know you’re expecting more,” he murmurs.

I answer with a blade-sharp glare. It’s easy to be myself around Christian.

Easy around both of them.

What am I supposed to do with this pull between both men who speak in half-truths? Christian was the one who wanted initiation yet failed to carry our spark to fruition.

You’re thinking too much.

My gaze travels the length of his body. He isn’t dressed like a Sheriff tonight. Just a dark sweatshirt and worn slacks, the casualness somehow more alluring. Butterflies betray me, rising traitorously beneath my ribs when his hands settle on my thighs, thumbs grazing slow circles as if he has any right. Despite basking in our secret moments, the night when he’d left me ravenous for a taste of him lingers always at the tip of my tongue. Is he going to tell me he has to let me go again? Will I have to settle for my fingers and only the image of him in my mind? Each night on repeat we part ways, the thread between us unspools, and I find the frustration building.

“Tonight, may be difficult for you,” he says quietly. “But I want you to know I’m always here for you. Only you.”

I meet his eyes, unblinking. “What did you find?”

His hand slides up to cup my cheek, it’s warm. Before I can speak again, he leans in. I lean away, raising a hand between us. “This is not a date. Let’s just do our jobs.”

He steps back, towering stature of desire and conceit and laughs, deep and mirthful. “One day, you’ll find yourself begging for my arms. You’ll see.” He squeezes my thigh before closing the door and circling the vehicle to the driver’s seat.

I want to provoke him enough to see if he’ll relinquish control.

“What are we going to do about the lab?” I ask instead. Kieran’s been uncharacteristically friendly with me. Allowing us no room to snoop freely.

“How does finding the grave of the couple who died in the car accident sound?” His gaze cuts sharply toward me as he starts the vehicle and we creep slowly away from the grounds.

“Good. Is that where we’re headed?”

“Glad to see your spirit is still intact,” he says.

A huff of breath expels from my mouth.

“Your turn,” he directs, expectantly.