The Undertow of Evelyn Graymore
Page 117
“Actually…” I purred, pulling his hand and guiding him back toward the dock. “Let’s go see your deck. It’s so big,” I giggled, playing my part flawlessly. “I want to play outside…”
Preston’s eyes were hungry as he grinned back. “You’re a freaky little thing, aren’t ya?” He stumbled forward, following my lead. I didn’t even have to use my magic. That, I would save for later.
The night was dead quiet, fitting for the pain I was going to inflict on him. Only the lapping of water against the dock’s pilings filled the air.
The bay stretched out in front of us, black and endless as it blurred into the night sky like one singular void. I sensed Layne’s presence nearby. Out there, lurking just beneath the surface. It was comforting, knowing he was close by, even if he couldn’t come onto land, it still eased the nerves that were gnawing at my insides.
Pulling Preston’s wrists, I guided him as he stumbled down the sloped pathway toward the dock. The scent of cut grass and saltwater filled my senses as I took a deep breath in.
“I like to come out here to think,” Preston said, gesturing to the backyard and dock. He teetered on his feet as he spread his arms, proud of his kingdom. “Clear my head and shit.”
Clear your conscience, you mean? To wash my blood off your hands?
I hated him. Only a psychopath would be able to move on with their life after murdering someone like he did. Like I was just another thing on his to-do list.
Blood boiling, my grip tightened around his hand.
He looked down at it, laughing cautiously. “Uh…you alright?” he asked, brows raised.
I forced a smile, my eyes narrowing. “Mmm, yeah. Sorry. It’s just so beautiful here. It’s a little overwhelming.”
We stepped onto the dock, my heels clicking softly against the wooden planks, the sound echoing across the water below. Small waves lapped at the pilings, and I sensed the magic thrumming beneath us as the water called out to me.
This is it. This is where it ends.
“So,” I coaxed, “Do you bring all the ladies here, or am I just special?” My voice was light and playful as I played with his shirt collar.
Preston laughed and smiled wickedly. “Only the ones who deserve my time.” He reached for my waist, pulling me in. His breath was hot against my skin. It reeked of alcohol and rot.
“Mmm, lucky me,” I purred, resting my hands against his chest. His heart beat beneath my palms—strong, elevated, and absolutely overflowing with darkness.
I can’t wait to rip it out of you, I thought.
Gaze moving toward the water’s edge, I nodded toward the end of the dock. “Follow me...”
Preston obliged with lust-filled eyes, and we made our way out to the very end of the dock.
“So, have you always enjoyed living out by the water?” I asked, tilting my head, as if my question wasn’t a loaded gun I couldn’t wait to pull.
Preston chuckled. “Well, I have properties all over the place. A few in The Highlands, Hunt’s Point, and another out in Broadmoor. They’re all sick, but this?” He gestured around us. “The privacy and views here on the island? I can do whatever the fuck I want out here, and nobody can stop me.” A serpentine grin split his face. “Can’t beat it, babe.”
Blood pounded in my ears. “Broadmoor, huh? That’s funny—wasn’t there a little fish market down by the docks with that name? Or no, it was close to that. It was like, Gray-something…”
Preston’s eyes shifted, and his mouth curled. “Yeah…some shitty fish shop my family bought after the dipshit owner finally keeled over, stubborn bastard.” He looked at me with his endless black eyes and scowled. “We’re gonna turn it into something actually worthwhile now.” He waved his hand dismissively, moving them back to my waist.
My hands tightened on his shirt, the fabric rippling in my grasp. My claws were threatening—fucking begging—to break through my glamour.
Don’t ever fucking talk about my Dad like that.
I’ll kill him.
I’ll fucking kill him.
Preston didn’t even notice my reaction, too busy raking his eyes across my body, imagining all the vile things he wanted to do to me, I’m sure.
He was drunk and aroused. Grinning at me like he’d won some kind of prize, like I was some goddamn trophy for him to claim.
Don’t drag this out, Evelyn. He doesn’t deserve to speak, Layne’s voice echoed in my mind. We must harvest every ounce of darkness from his heart.