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In fact, it’s almost like those two weeks didn’t happen at all.
Almost.
Except that I can’t forget them. Can’t forget how they made me feel. How he made me feel. And I can’t help but wonder if he walked away because of what he found out when he went to Florida. Because he said as much, didn’t he? Not only heard but saw.
The news reported Judge Callahan’s disappearance three weeks ago, but the story isn’t a headliner anymore. People move on. They forget. At least these sort of things, they do.
Turned out Kill was right about one thing. It doesn’t make a difference to know that he’s dead. That he suffered when he died. It doesn’t make any difference at all because the dragons, they’re inside us. Inside me and Jones.
Having mine slain didn’t make a difference in the end.
Almost having a hero didn’t matter.
Almost doesn’t matter.
I shut the lid of my laptop and look around my dark apartment. I can’t work. I haven’t been able to since everything happened. I think about Jones and wish I could talk to him. Just hear from him that he’s okay. Even though I know it’s for his own good, it still hurts to stay away.
It’s late and I didn’t bother to turn on any lights. The sounds of the city fill my apartment and street light filters in from between the slats of the blinds. I get up, go to my bedroom, switch on the lights there.
Tonight, I’m going to go through with it.
Tonight, I’m going to take back my power. My control.
Tonight I’m going to put Killian Black out of my mind, even if it means breaking the one condition he gave me.
From inside my closet, I find one of the dresses I used to wear when I went to The Black Swan. After stripping, I put it on and look at my reflection. The little pink dress is too short and too tight. Too cheap. It exposes too much of me. It says that I’m available. That I’m on the prowl.
I pull my hair into a ponytail and apply makeup. Heavy makeup with dark lipstick. The makeup, too, matches the dress. It sends the same message.
Not bothering with stockings, I slip on a pair of fuck me pumps. They hurt my feet, but I need that too right now. I don’t stare too long at my reflection. I don’t want to do this but I have to. This is the only way I’ll be free of him. I just need to go back to the way things were. To a time before him.
I put on a long coat and head out to my car, which is parked around the corner. This is the third time I’m going to The Black Swan, except that this time, I’m determined to enter the bar. The last two times I turned around and drove back home. Like I’m keeping my end of the bargain. My promise to him. Tonight though, I’m going through with this. My time with Kill is up anyway. He can’t expect me to never fuck again. I’m sure he doesn’t care at all who I fuck, actually. If he did, he wouldn’t have walked away.
I arrive too quickly and I have to force myself to get out of the car. The parking lot is full and lights flicker inside the building. It’s run down, outside and in, the wood looking like it’ll collapse at any time and maybe that’s part of the appeal for me. I get to the doors, pull one open. I’d forgotten how the scent of cigarette smoke mixed with that of cheap whiskey. How it clung to your clothes and hair for days.
I see the eyes that turn my way when I step inside. Scanning the room for my prey, I make my way to an empty stool at the bar. That’s how I look at the men here. Prey. That’s all. They will serve a purpose. Feed my need.
“Whiskey neat,” I order, not sure why because I’m not a whiskey drinker, but tonight, when the bartender sets the chipped glass in front of me and pours, I swallow it all and signal for a second.
The liquid burns my throat. It’s not like Kill’s whiskey. The burn of the good stuff is different. But that doesn’t matter. I swivel around in my seat, lean my back against the bar. As I scan the eyes of the many men here, I zero in on one. A tall, blond, and not so handsome stranger.
He’s standing against the wall with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-full beer. He raises his glass when he sees me looking.
I cock my head to the side. Finish my drink. Stand.
I’m still wearing my coat, but I unbutton it, slide it off as I turn and walk toward the bathrooms. I don’t have to look back to know he’s following.
