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I slipped from under the covers, resigned to the obscene cold temperature at which Aeron set the thermostat. I heard the shower running, but neither of my voices perked up at the idea, so I continued to the kitchen.
You’re not going to eat here, are you?
I shook my head to no one in particular. I was hungry, but I’d wait. The kitchen clock showed 11 am, and I inwardly groaned. I was skipping work again. Fuck, Alex was going to be pissed after watching Aeron walk me out of the office. Unfortunately, he’d also patiently wait for me to return so that I could give him the newest scoop. No doubt Nyla had blabbed we were back together or some shit.
I wanted to ignore my phone on the kitchen table, but waiting to find out how much trouble I was in was definitely worse. Better to rip off that band-aid now.
That’s the spirit!
I made a mental note to ask why Dark was being all quiet and evasive.
One text from Samael.
Killer, we need to talk. It’s about your father.
I didn’t know what to make of that since, technically, I was still pissed at him for not telling me about Aeron’s interview. I’d come back to it later as I flipped through the other notifications—a few voicemails, none of which I was entirely pleased to see.
I clicked on the first one, wondering what the bitch Nyla wanted.
Oh. My God. Killian! You didn’t! Alex is pissed. Like fucking pissed. What did you say to Phoenix? He got so mad at The Gods here. Like they were all tongue-tied and kept asking about his college relationships—which would mean you, by the way—and he wouldn’t answer, saying we needed to ask you for permission. But whatever, he left to give us a minute, and then next thing I know, he was carrying you out the goddamn door. What the fuck happened? Did y’all get back together and not let me know? Wait… that’s not possible. I distinctly remember you running off with the cop at the club before you got all weird. I have so many questions—
“Message deleted. Next message.” The automatic voice rang out. Apparently, Daemon hadn’t scared Nyla enough to make her leave well enough alone. I would have to change that tomorrow.
Alex’s voice came through the phone this time.
Killian, I wasn’t going to push it last time because you’re one hell of an employee. But that doesn’t make you invincible. Phoenix is going to be one of our biggest stories. You have two goddamn choices, one of which you will make by 8 am tomorrow. Either you agree to an exclusive on his college years, or he’s back in my office, picking up where we left off. 8 am, Killian. I don’t care how many important men you’ve fucked; one of those won’t be me.
I bristled with the idea of either choice. I hated both of them. But I was soon lost to the third voice, which wasn’t one I wanted to hear again.
Son, I’m worried for you.
After an unhealthy pause, I thought the messaged had ended until my father’s voice picked up again.
There are things you don’t understand and forces you can’t see working against you. I’ve ordered a protective detail for you—unofficially. One of my detectives—I trust him—will ensure you’re safe. He told me about your criminal journalism research, and I hoped you had moved on to something else. It’s dangerous. Stop by the house sometime. We can catch up and make dinner, just like old times. Don’t forget that I love you.
I gritted my teeth, trying to swallow my rage. Entirely too many things were wrong with my father’s message. First, he never ordered protection for me unless something went down. I knew of two instances where I’d had a fucking bodyguard following me everywhere. I had never found out why, but I knew my father had closed some high-profile cases during those times.
The only high-profile case he was working on now was The Three Terrors. Fuck. The other problem with his message was that he wanted me to stop by the house. I hadn’t been entirely truthful to my men, or anyone else, even myself. My father had left me enough money to go to college and start a decent life. I had no business living in a rundown apartment complex, hanging onto my closet studio like rooms were going out of style.
Not only could I have been living quite comfortably, but I also had a basement in which I could have stayed. That room was attached to my father’s house, and I wanted no part of that place. My last memories were of my mother succumbing to her voices and my father saying those goddamn awful words before committing her, “Don’t forget that I love you.”
I bit back the bile rising in my throat as I angrily punched the table. Shoving the phone into my pocket, I let my eyes roam Aeron’s place. It was tidy, like really clean. Spotless. But not in a way that looked like he was hiding something. It was like Aeron was just a normal person, doing ordinary people things. The movies didn’t do cannibals justice. My gaze lingered on the kitchen table as I ran my fingers across the glazed wood.
You’re wondering how many surfaces he’s put dead bodies on, aren’t you?
So Dark wasn’t hiding? I didn’t really know what was going on with my voices anymore. Or me, for that matter.
I want to know if any of those bodies have ended up in his bed.
I tensed and pulled my hand back. “No-o. I’m not wondering those things.” I was definitely curious about them, especially after Aeron so rudely denied fucking me into the table this morning.
You want to know if he’s fucked any of those bodies before he’s devoured them.
No one but you is wondering that, Daemon.
Daemon chuckled, and I tried to ignore them. Yeah, I was a sick motherfucker, but I wasn’t that sick. My stomach grumbled, but I couldn’t even trust the new chip bags in the cabinet. For all I knew, Aeron packaged his own food. There had to be at least an apple around here, right? Fruit had to be safe.
I aimlessly roamed through the empty rooms, trying to take my mind off food—but it was impossible. I had skipped breakfast this morning, entirely too focused on getting fucked in the shower, which was worth it. And food had kind of been the last thing on my mind this weekend…
