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Hesitation isn’t in Van’s wheelhouse. If he threatens you with a fire, you best believe he’ll stay until the last ash falls—even if he must sacrifice his car.
Van Gogh doesn’t cherish material things. I suppose that’s one thing I used to admire about him. He didn’t form attachments to wealth or money. He despised both, yet…
“Go ahead,” I say. “I’m sure you’ve wanted to set this car ablaze for a while now.”
Don’t worry. Van would never set the car on fire with us in it. He might be vengeful, but he’s not suicidal. Existing in this shitty world is Van’s purpose. The world needs a punisher, and his mean ass is it.
“I’m surprised you picked such a flashy car.” I cross my arms over my chest, letting him know that the only way he’s burning my cat is to burn me, too.
And he won’t do that.
Not yet anyway.
He still needs to punish me.
A frightful grin crosses his face. “And here I thought you had forgotten me, Flower. You’re right; this car is dreadful, but a bride should have something, old, new, borrowed, and blue.”
He shrugs, sending a fleet of panic coursing through my stomach.
“I was only keeping with tradition.”
Van Gogh is anything but traditional.
“Are you saying this car is your way of giving me all those things?”
He nods almost proudly as the flame burns lower between his pinched fingers. “You know I like to be efficient, and while this car isn’t what I would have picked for myself, it was perfect for you.” He chuckles like it’s hard not to lose himself to the laughter. “I understand you might not love the idea of a used car, but the nice man at the police impound insisted.”
I gasp as fear grabs me by the throat. “You stole someone’s car?”
At least he’s stopped laughing as his face turns serious again. “I borrowed it, but don’t worry. I know you still need something new, so I put new plates on it.”
He chucks me under the chin. “Anything to make your wedding dreams come true, sweetheart.”
This bastard. He thinks his humor is charming. “I’d hate to seem ungrateful, but I believe the tradition is for the bride to wear the items, and unless this thoughtful gift can park itself on my wrist, I’m afraid we’ll have to be just like all the other rich people and be nontraditional.”
I should have known his smile held more than a stolen car. “That’s what the match is for, my love. If I remember, you always loved wearing the ashes of my enemies.”
The number one rule of dating a criminal is never to show them how attractive they are when they do bad-boy things. Van Gogh has never had a problem with confidence. He knows he’s brighter than most and more skilled with flames than firefighters.
His arrogance knows no bounds.
So, why not play his game and indulge me in his vigilante ways? Because. There’s more to Van Gogh than flames and a lousy attitude. I don’t blame him for seeking justice for his mother, but I hoped it wouldn’t define him.
I wanted him to know that I loved him more than the fear and match he held in his hands. He was kind, protective, and full of compassion. I’ve never seen anyone more selfless than Van Gogh. It isn’t the reason I wanted to run away with him, but it is the reason I’ve always waited for him to return.
He’s more than a villain, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get wet when he reminds me how much I love his brand of justice. Clearly, I’ve always had a kink, and a dark-haired smartass with a penchant for arson is it.
Van notices the flush settling in my cheeks. “There’s my flower.”
With the back of his hand, he brushes along the heat. “In the shadows of the west, she grows stronger at night…” Opening his mouth, he holds my gaze and lifts the match to his lips—something I’ve seen him do a million times, but this time, he hesitates, finishing his sentence. “To follow her true love east, knowing the price of his warmth, is her soul.”
I’m unsure if I’m turned on or terrified, but then he opens his mouth and places the burning match onto his tongue, snuffing out its light with his venom.
Van
I thrive on the discomfort of others.
Those are the moments where I find peace and justice. “Should I ask you again, Flower, or drag you out of the car?”
