Vile laughed. The sound was like ice water down her spine. “You really think you’ve won? Oh, my dear, sweet, charming little thing. We haven’t reached that point in the story yet.”
“I prefer you as Moriarty.” She turned away from him to face out the window, not wanting to lose sight of what was happening to her sister. Not that she thought it was smart to take her eye off Vile. But she wanted to hide the fact that her cheeks had gone warm. “Go away.”
“I don’t think you do.” He was behind her, just like the professor had been, but this time he was pressing up against her. “I think you simply understand him.”
“I’m not a harlot.”
When he gently stroked aside a few strands of her hair away from her neck to kiss her jawline, he hummed. “You think I mean that as a bad thing? Lover, do you know how manyloose womenlive within me as their villainous selves?”
She shivered despite herself.
He chuckled. Whether at his topic of conversation or at the fact she was breaking out into goosebumps, she didn’t know. She didn’t want to know. “Despite the cliche of the gothic villain dragging away the vestal virgin, Idespiseinexperience. And there is nothing more boring than someone who denies their desires. Well. Denies them for real. I do love the thrill of the hunt.” Teeth scraped her throat. And they didn’t feel human.
She gripped the railing so hard her knuckles went white. “Stop it.”
“You say that, but I can tell you don’t mean it. And that’s precisely what I mean. You want me totake.You want me to hunt you down in the dark of the night, pin you to the dirt, and?—”
“Stop—” She was shaking. “Please.”
“This is what I meant when I said you would need to sign a waiver.” He chuckled and kissed her temple. “But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“You’re going to lose. Then we’ll go home. We’ll never cross thatbridge.” She wouldn’t even bother denying that what he said sent a thrill through her. Okay. She had a problem. A real problem. But she couldn’t let it get Sidney hurt. And so far, nothing she’d done had been at the expense of her sister.
“We’ll see. But either way,youreally come out on top, don’t you?” He paused. Then laughed once. “Well. Bottom. But you like it there.”
“Shut up.”
“Think about it. Either you’re right and you get set free…or you’re wrong, and my game continues—and you get to continue to live out your darkest, most sinful fantasies at my side.” He sank his fingers into her thighs, squeezing them as he pressed his hips into her.
“At your sidewhileyou try to kill my sister two more times.” Damn him. Damn him to hell. If that was even possible. She tried to shove him away but he refused to go, simply ignoring her attempt to rebuff him.
“I didn’t have to do anything this time. You did a perfectly good job of it on your own.” He nuzzled into her hair, letting out a shuddering breath. “You do smelldelightful…”
Where Moriarty had been stoic but fierce, Vile was strangely…raw, almost? Like someone eating their favorite pastry after decades of having never seen food. His touch was rougher—needier.
“If I didn’t come up with a plan, whatever you came up with was going to be worse.” She tried not to think about how good he felt behind her.
Or think about what was slowly wrapping around her ankle.
“Oh, really?” Vile leaned his head in close to hers and whispered to her. “I’m not sure Sidney will feel that way when she wakes up. Train wrecks are aterribleway to die. And you gave her a front row seat.”
Groaning,Sidney lifted her head. She felt like she’d been drinking for way too long, without all the fun bits. Just skipped straight to the headache and the hangover.
The world was swimming around her. Concussion? Probably. She’d only had one, back when she did competition figure skating. Going head-first into the boards around the rink was a great way to see birds and get out of a day of school.
Something had hit her. And judging by the two cartoonishly-cliche low-brow Victorian Londongoonsstaring up at her, that something had been a someone. Both of them were wearing ratty wool clothes, scally caps, and had more soot on them than should be allowed outside of a production ofAnnie.
At least she couldn’t smell them from where she was.
Which was, apparently, now that she was awake enough to notice,tied to the front of a fucking train.
“I am going to kick yourassfor this, Sasha—” She yanked on the ropes that bound her wrists to the front grill of the train. Whatever the name of the pointy bit was. She was strapped there like a shitty figurehead on a boat. Which meant that whatever the train hit, she would hit first.
“If you start yellin’, I’ve been given permission to break your other knee.” One of the two men grinned at her, showing off his rather spectacular lack of teeth.
“Yeah. Well. No one would hear me anyway.” She sighed. No, there was no point shouting. That’d be the easy thing to do, and Moriarty andIrene-fucking-Adlerwould have thought about that. There was a reason all this was taking place in a big construction yard in the middle of the night. “Where’s?—”
“Let mego!”Someone shouted from about fifty feet away. “Youutter oaf!”
