AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You shouldn’t let her rattle you like that.” The whisper slices through the darkness, startling me. A little squeak escapes my lips before a leather glove clamps over my mouth, pulling me into the darkest corner of the mudroom. “Shh.” His lips brush against my temple as he shushes me, a shiver trailing down my spine. Fear is absent beyond the initial shock of finding him hidden in the shadows. If anything, warmth coils in my belly, my thighs brushing together involuntarily. This shouldn’t be how I feel.
As the hitman draws me closer, his body pressed firmly against mine, a heat wave washes over me, and my arousal intensifies. It’s in how his arm envelops my torso, how his gloved hand flexes against my mouth, and how his breath fans against my face. All of it has me arching into him, my body betraying the potent effect he has on me. Taboo, yes, but an undeniable, eerie rightness accompanies it.
“Get rid of them,” he grinds out, releasing me while pressing a towel into my hand. Oh, right, the towel. My reason for returning here.
Before stepping back into the light, I cast a glance over my shoulder, my eyes seeking the shadow where I know he lingers. Nestled in a corner beside the washer and dryer, he resembles a living shadow concealed in the deepest folds of the mudroom’s darkness.
I should be terrified of this man, yet inexplicable relief washes over me.
Turning back, I reenter the kitchen. Tatum is finishing up the dishes, while Jani drones on about their family. I often forget they are cousins. Even though their mothers are sisters, they look nothing alike.
“Thanks, Tate,” I say, trying to act normal and not like there is a murderer in my mudroom.
“You need a hot soak and one more glass of wine,” Tate declares, snatching the towel from my hands before pulling me into a tight hug. Her embrace radiates a sense of comfort that I crave. “Ignore Jani,” she murmurs in a hushed tone. “I’ll get the hat back for you.”
I can only manage a nod, my voice seemingly lost in the maelstrom of the evening. Across the room, Jani stands with the bottle of wine clutched in her hand.
“Thanks again,” I say, pulling away from Tate’s embrace, though it’s over too soon. Feeling a strange mix of pettiness and newfound boldness, I swiftly take the wine bottle and place it in the fridge before giving Jani a quick, tight hug. I don’t allow her to react, purposely cutting off any potential disagreement.
Perhaps my newfound resolve stems from the enigmatic presence lurking in my mudroom.
“We’re heading out,” Tate announces with an infectious grin stretching across her face. Her amusement is palpable.
“See you in the morning.” Jani waves, shaking her head as she leaves.
I cast a lingering glance back at the mudroom, finding only darkness and the outline of my backdoor. Facing the front of the house, I follow Tate and Jani, escorting them out. A prickling sensation dances on my neck, much like earlier, but now, I think I understand why.
After locking the door and drawing the curtains, I spin around, almost as if compelled, and there he is, emerging from the shadows like a figure of dark retribution dressed in black. The cowl drapes over his forehead, shadowing one eye, which remains hidden behind those frustrating glasses.
My stomach swirls with a mixture of anticipation and unease as I gaze at him. My palms dampen, and my tongue turns as dry as a desert.
He discards his gloves first, tossing them haphazardly on a nearby table. I watch as he lifts a hand to remove the cowl, revealing his face, followed by the slow tug of the bandana, exposing that distinctive septum ring. I yearn for a better look, a confirmation that it’s Lyric’s.
His inked fingers slide the glasses off next, casting them onto the table atop the gloves.
“Lyric,” I whisper, the sound of his name both surprising and not. Something about this revelation makes sense, as if puzzle pieces are falling into place. His eyes now hold meaning. They are not a stranger’s vacant eyes, but a killer’s chilling gaze.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. In his case, they are the windows to a dark and ruthless reality.
Strangely, I can’t muster any worry about that. Perhaps that’s the core of what’s fundamentally wrong with me. Throughout my life, safety has eluded me. It wasn’t until I moved here that a semblance of security settled in, even if it was short-lived and shattered by a fateful call. Now, though, with him in my living room, an inexplicable sense of safety weaves around me. Illogically, I don’t fear the man or the palpable darkness that clings to him like a second skin.
I hardly know him.
I silently observe him as he absorbs the details of my living room with an unfiltered intensity. He takes in the minuscule artifacts that tell the story of my life—the pinboard decorated with Milo’s abstract art, a few cherished pictures of our parents, and perhaps the subtle markers of who I am.
Then, with a gravity that draws my eyes, his focus returns to me.
“Go to bed, Charlotte,” he commands, rooted in his position across the room. His form remains statuesque, a sentinel guarding secrets he’s unwilling to disclose.
Not this time.I refuse to merely comply with his demands without asserting my own inquiries. I deliberately close the distance between us, but only just so, the coffee table serving as a makeshift barrier. “Why are you here, Lyric?” The question spills from my lips, embodying my quest for the truth.
He inclines his head slightly, studying me with an enigmatic tilt to his lips. “You know precisely why I’m here.” The words hold an undertone of implication, heavy with the weight of insinuation.
“You killed Sal.” He gives me a curt jerk of his head, agreeing with me. “Now you’re here.”
Finally, playfulness whisks away the madness in his gaze, and he smiles. Taking two long strides, he stands before the coffee table. It isn’t much, but it’s a barrier nonetheless. “Dove,” he utters, his voice a rich, chocolatey murmur that seems to touch the depths of my being.
My heart races as the reality of his presence solidifies. “What happened to songbird?” The question tumbles from my lips, my breath hitching with the surge of emotions swirling within.
