Page 116 of Safe Word

‘Is something wrong?’

Everything was wrong – she wasn’t her, for starters.

‘Vai via,’ I snarled – go away. She cursed, small and shrill, before stumbling into the dark. Her perfume trailed after her, an artificial sweetness that made my stomach wrench. I made a note to myself not to bring the new employees out like this again. I was beginning to run out of them. Especially with cops finding their pieces around the city lately.

Zipping up my trousers, I lifted my gaze to the flat on the third floor. My pulse steadied. Because my angel was waiting.

With a few swipes on my phone, the cameras fell into silence. The screen started looping obediently.

It took me a few minutes to climb up the flimsy fire escape. The latch on her window gave easily under my touch – familiar at this stage. One day, I would fix it. A guardian had to protect what was his.

Inside, the stillness greeted me like a cathedral after a flood. The only light spilt from the moon, tracing her outline across the bed. She lay there in crimson, untouched and unaware, every breath a benediction. The sight of her stole something from my chest.

I moved closer. Knelt beside the bed. The air tasted of dust and skin and salvation. She didn’t stir. My pulse hammered in time with hers. I told myself I would only watch – just one more moment in her presence before she was reborn into what she had always meant to be.

The knife in my pocket whispered like a prayer.

Not yet. Please – I pleaded with it, the words beating against my skull. But her throat gleamed so beautifully in the moonlight, and my hands trembled as if some unseen choir had called my name.

I took in a deep breath to steady myself. And I set the blade free.

It was small, delicate – just like her. Just like they all had been, but she… she was the ultimate creature. Her blood was pure enough to consecrate the steel for the final time – the blood of a martyr who felt pain, loss, surrender, and still walked with her head held high.

And once it was sanctified, I could finally purify myself of all the wrongs humanity had bestowed upon me.

Oh, my beautiful Paula – my salvation.

The blade ached for her, and I settled it against her neck, tracing a teasing line right across that throbbing jugular. I could almost imagine the soft pool of crimson there, dipping low between the slopes of her neck muscles, her collarbone…

I wouldn’t strangle her, I wouldn’t soil her lungs with the breath of death. She deserved to taste her own sacred blood. Rejoice in it.

‘Travis?’ she murmured.

My heart seized at the softness of her voice.

‘Shh…’ I whispered.

‘Please… no.’

My brows drew tight as my gaze caught the knife, its edge suspended above the pale curve of her throat. For a heartbeat it gleamed like it wanted to decide for me.

‘I’ll be good…’ she mumbled, eyes still closed. She wouldn’t be able to open them – not after the silent benediction I had dissolved into her drink hours before. Even her resistance had belonged to me now. Even her sleep.

‘I know you will, angel,’ I whispered back. I hadn’t spoken to her this way… ever. Somehow, I couldn’t stop.

That damned blade was suddenly too heavy in my hand.

‘Cain…’ she breathed.

The name detonated in my skull.

My blood surged, pounding through my veins until the effort of stillness became torment in its own right.

She dared to summon his name here – into this sanctified hollow where only I should dwell.

She—

—suddenly lifted my chin, pulled me closer with a trembling hand. And pressed herself into my chest as though seeking safety in the very shadow that threatened her. And she—