“Oh. How do you talk to people then?”
He grinned, gesturing to the notepad, then signed. I didn’t know anything about the language, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what he was trying to say.
“You know sign language?”
Samael winked at me.
“Doesn’t it get frustrating having to write everything?”
It’d been a long time since I’d asked someone so many questions. On the streets, people liked telling you their life story. I usually didn’t give a damn how someone ended up homeless—I’d learned the hard way that’s how you came face-to-face with dangerous situations—but I listened anyway. Getting close to someone was a threat to your emotional well-being and I’d be damned if I’d take that risk. But there was something about Samael that intrigued me. It wasn’t his looks or the fact that he couldn’t talk. It was more than that. There was a blend of darkness and light in him. He went from brutally killing a man with a baseball bat to taking care of my wounds.
Samael shrugged as he closed the first aid kit. He held out his hand again, and this time I didn’t hesitate. I let him lead me up a set of stairs and down another hallway. Every part of my body throbbed, from my muscles to the cuts and bruises the idiot had given me, but I managed to walk without groaning in pain.
When he led me into a bathroom, I nearly cried in happiness. A sound escaped my throat before I could stop myself. It’d been a month since I’d had a good shower. The water pressure at the shelters wasn’t great.
He moved around the room, grabbing a clean towel from a rack and some soap, toothpaste, and a washcloth from the cabinet. Next, he grabbed a new toothbrush from one of the drawers, ripping open the package to pull it out. He passed all this to me. Finally, he tapped my shoulder.
“What’s that?” I didn’t understand.
He tapped my chest this time, plucking my ragged T-shirt.
Oh.“I don’t have any other clothes.”
Samael pointed at himself, then me.
“You have some for me?”
He nodded, grinning.
The bathroom was fucking amazing and my fingers tingled as I scrubbed my arms above my coat, reminding myself ofhow dirty I was under my clothes. The caked mud on my skin scratched against the coat. The bathtub was a massive clawfoot, with a separate standalone shower in the corner of the room. The glass of the shower was see-through. The showerhead hanging from the ceiling was so huge I could probably get wet no matter where I stood. The sight made me antsy to get clean.
Samael twisted the knobs of the bathtub and tested the water with his hand. When he was happy with it, he used the stopper and grabbed a bottle from the cabinet. He dumped some bubble bath into the rising water.
I couldn’t do anything but watch, excitement stirring inside me. My gaze ate up the sight of the steam curling above the water, and my muscles trembled, craving the heat against my body.
The corner of Samael’s lips curled and he touched my shoulder gently, squeezing. He pointed at me, then the tub, before he gestured to himself and the door. He was leaving now and the bathroom was mine. I couldn’t refuse that offer.
“Thank you.”
When the door clicked shut behind him, I immediately tugged off my coat before grabbing the hem of my filthy shirt, then hauling it over my head. My ribs and stomach ached with the movement, reminding me of the beating I’d gotten, but the excitement topped the suffering. My boots, socks, pants, and underwear came off next, and I stepped into the bath, the warm water sloshing around my legs.
The dirt marring my limbs was already soiling the water. It was probably best to wash it off first. I switched off the knobs and stepped back out, heading to the shower.
Before I moved through the open glass doors, I noticed a window looking out on the backyard. It reminded me of the bodies still lying there. When would the cops show up? I movedcloser, swiped the curtains aside, and stared through the small window.
It didn’t take long to see Samael. He stood over the body of Paul, the jerk who’d beaten the shit out of me. He picked up the bat and had it raised above the body before he slammed it against Paul’s face. I could almost imagine the sound of the crunch of bones shattering under the force.
Blood splattered across the stark whiteness. It was a deep red under the light of the moon and the glow effect that came with the snow.
He swung the bat again and again until the face was unrecognizable, and then he crouched, grabbing the body and throwing it over his shoulder with little effort. I hadn’t realized he was so strong, and my cock stirred at the sight.
I watched, entranced and unable to look away. I should’ve been afraid and horrified, but I wasn’t. What would he do with the bodies? He’d already moved them when he’d gone outside before so they weren’t as visible to his neighbors. Was this the first time he killed someone? He seemed to know what he was doing, so probably not.
He carried Paul toward the back door. I heard it slam open downstairs. I waited for a few minutes, and he appeared again. He grabbed the second body and did the same as the first. The remaining body belonged to Cal, and much to my surprise, he twitched. Almost like he was still alive. But maybe it was my imagination. He was dead. He had to be.
Samael trod through the snow to Cal and paused. I couldn’t see Cal’s face from here, but he shakily raised his palms toward Samael, almost like he was pleading. I didn’t expect that he’d get any mercy, and I was right. Samael brought the bat down on his head, blood spraying across the ground much like what happened to the others. I felt no remorse as I watched it happen.I wasn’t angry or afraid or shocked. It was amusement that consumed me.
I laughed.
