Chapter 15 #2
There’s a glint of anger in his gaze, but it dissipates like smoke in the wind as if I imagined it, because he’s crestfallen in the next second. “Fuck, Iris. I thought you wanted this. I—”
My tone is glacial. “What part of my body language were you reading, huh? The part where I was as stiff as a board in your arms or the one where I was inching away from you?”
“I’m so sorry.” He rakes a shaking hand through his sun-streaked hair. “I want you so much that I didn’t think—I didn’t think at all. I—fuck—punch me.”
His words confuse me enough to douse a bit of my rage. “What?”
He takes a tentative step forward. “Punch me. That’s what I deserve, so do it.”
“Yeah, you deserve it, but I’m not going to.
” I suck on my teeth, then shake my head.
“Just—just don’t ambush me again. I’m not ready for anything like this, okay?
I don’t want a relationship, Noah. And even if I was ready for one, it wouldn’t be with you.
Friendship is the only thing I can offer you. Nothing more than that.”
“I completely understand, and I’m so sorry.”
I suck in a lungful of calming air.
“What do you think the key is for?” Noah says after a few moments, to break the tense silence, which is louder than a raging storm in the confined space of the small office.
“I’m not sure,” I mumble, but something tickles my memory. Earlier, while scouring through the drawers, I saw a sealed envelope from a company that seemed familiar. However, I didn’t think much of it because I couldn’t remember where I’d heard of it before. “Actually, I think I know.”
I spin on my heel and sift through envelopes in the second desk drawer again in a frenzy.
I find it quickly—it’s the same company I hired to move my stuff from my aunt’s house to my apartment.
I received an email from them a few months later announcing that they also added storage box units to their services.
My fingers tremble in anticipation as I rip it open, then rake my eyes over the monthly bill for the storage unit and its address.
Fuck, yeah!
I pass it to Noah to take a look while I insert the flash drive into the computer’s slot.
A window pops open. It’s password protected.
On instinct, I type in the first thing I think Erik would use: “demon whore.” Shit.
I’ve got two more tries. Maybe “demon-loving whore.” It’s wrong.
Drumming an erratic rhythm with my nails on the desk, I ponder if I should try again and risk never seeing what’s on it.
I sense Noah approaching to look over my shoulder. Thankfully, he doesn’t invade my space.
C’mon, Iris, think! What would a psychopath who hated women use as his password?
I think back to the significance of the paintings, which Erik must have felt a deep connection to.
Why else hide these under the one with the strongest message?
A scantily clad woman, riding a beast, commanding demons while bringing men to their knees…
I can’t believe I didn’t think of it first!
The New Testament, Book of Revelation 17:5.
Fingers trembling, I type in “whore of Babylon.”
This time, I can’t contain the excited scream from slipping free when another window pops open.
Twenty-five folders stare back at me, each titled “demon whore,” followed by an assigned number.
I open the first one. There have to be over a hundred videos here, so I choose a random one.
It’s footage from inside someone’s bathroom.
A brunette woman is taking a shower. It’s not clear at first what’s happening, but then a moan reverberates over the running water as she moves—a man is eating her out, on his knees.
I close the video, uncomfortable as fuck. This is nothing like the time I attended the succubus party with him. Those were willing participants; they wanted to be watched. This woman wasn’t aware that Erik had put cameras all over her apartment and was stalking her.
Holy shit! What if—
I scroll to the last folder in a panicked daze.
When I finally open it, I choose another random video.
The room is dark, shrouded in shadows, but even so, it takes me about a second to recognize my bedroom.
And lying on the bed—fingers sliding in and out of my pussy—is me.
I feel so violated, more so when I realize this is one of the moments etched on my brain forever because sitting in the armchair in the corner, watching me, is Kaiden. And that sick fuck has tarnished it.
The sound of the front door being unlocked slices through the silence. “We have to go,” Noah whispers, tone steady, but his body trembles with undisguised anger.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’m so stupid. In my earlier frenzy, I completely forgot he was watching over my shoulder. Did he see Kaiden? Did he recognize him? Does he know what the Elite demon running the Obsidian Conclave looks like?
Calm the fuck down, Iris! The room was dark, and the camera was behind Kaiden.
He only saw his back, that’s all. Fuck, at least I hope so.
As Noah zips through the room to close the door, I safely remove the flash drive, shut down the computer, and pocket it along with the key and the envelope I found earlier.
“Brutus! Mommy’s home.” At hearing Britney’s voice, the dog lets out a series of sounds so awful they seem to come straight out of the pits of Hell rather than the body of a two-pound Chihuahua.
“What do we do?” I mouth at Noah while we both press our ears to the door.
He shrugs.
“Brutus? Why are you in the bathroom? Oh no, did Mommy close you in there by mistake? Bad, bad, dog! Look at what you’ve done.
You made Mommy step in poopoo. No! You’re not going anywhere.
Mommy has to bathe you. You stink. Oh God, there’s shit and piss everywhere.
Why are you acting like this? Brutus, calm down! ”
I crack the door and peek through the gap just as Britney disappears into the bathroom; her gagging sounds now muffled by the closed door.
Throwing one more cursory glance at my back to make sure everything is in place, I tilt my head to Noah to signal him it’s time to go.
We tiptoe through the corridor until we’re in the building’s hallway.
Luckily, Brutus made such a ruckus there’s no way Britney could have heard us. We bolt into the elevator.
“Phew! That was a close one,” I let out on a relieved exhale.
Noah doesn’t even look at me, his eyes drilling holes in the elevator doors while we descend. His fists are so tight I’m surprised his tendons don’t fracture under the pressure. “Who was that? Watching you?” he snarls acidly.
I huff in disbelief. “First, that’s none of your fucking business.
And second, don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up that you weren’t even concerned that Erik—who almost raped and murdered me—was stalking me like a creep?
He probably put cameras all over my apartment.
Who knows for how long he had been watching me?
In all of my vulnerable moments…I feel so fucking violated, and you’re concerned about that?
Frankly, you can take your jealousy, Noah, and shove it up your ass.
” Folding my arms over my chest, I mutter, “Un-fucking-believable.”
Noah snaps his eyes shut, and after a few moments, he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
A brittle laugh escapes my lips. Men and their fragile little egos. “Yeah, you’ve said that a lot today. I don’t want you to drop me off anymore. I would rather walk.” Without sparing Noah another glance, I stalk out of the building and into the empty streets of Ashville.