Chapter 29 Come for Me – Koen
COME FOR ME
KOEN
Now
Needing to take the edge off after our little bonfire, I stop by Briar’s on my way home.
Careful to park my bike down the street, I keep both my hoodie and my neck gaiter pulled up over my nose just in case before walking the rest of the way to her building.
The seasons have just about crossed over into winter so no one looks twice as I stalk down the street, my motorcycle gear giving me a pass for my covered face.
Not that anybody would say anything about it in this neighborhood.
Hell, I could drag Briar into the alleyway in broad daylight and have my way with her and I doubt anyone would blink a goddamn eye.
The teenage drug dealers hanging out on the corner scatter when they see me coming. Likely recognizing my bike. Good instincts, if poor decision making skills.
It’s been nearly a week since I pulled Briar out of that warehouse.
I’ve watched her nearly every night. Only mafia business has kept me away from her, but as soon as it wraps up, I’m here. In the shadowed alcove at the end of this forgotten alley, or on the fire escape of the abandoned building next door—watching.
No one’s come for her.
I also can’t find a reason why she was targeted. I know from my guys that she spends most of her day at the Delacroix Conservatory uptown. Other than that she stays home, hangs out with her roommate, and she dances.
It’s becoming more and more obvious now that she doesn’t need my protection, but I can’t make myself stop.
She practices at that abandoned studio nearly every night. Sometimes after spending all day in the studio uptown. Setting out just after ten p.m., every night like clock-work.
I click my tongue.
She should vary what times she leaves, what days she goes. It’s too easy for someone to learn her schedule and it pisses me off how she’s putting herself at risk.
I follow her, making sure she gets to and from the studio safely.
I want to follow her up the rickety wooden stairs and watch her dance from inside, but I tell myself that’s getting too close. Because if I were to see her—really see her—or catch an inhale of her sweet scent, I might never leave. I might never let her go.
The building next to Briar’s is abandoned, and after the first few nights tucked deep into the shadows of the alleyway, I’ve begun climbing the old fire escape, giving me a better view into her room.
I climb two floors higher, allowing me to see right into her bedroom.
There’s less cover up here, but if she looks out her window, she’s more likely to look down than up.
I settle in, taking a seat and allowing my legs to hang off the edge as I lean over the iron bars, taking a long, deep, pull from my cigarette.
It’s not long until she appears, tossing her dance bag on the floor before disappearing back out into the hall for her evening shower. Reappearing a short while later, she’s in an oversized sweater that just brushes the tops of her thighs, and thick socks that come up to her knees.
Oh.
Briar turns out the light and climbs into bed.
Her room is illuminated in the red glow from the old neon sign above me, a few of the letters still working.
She has no curtains. With the building abandoned next door, I’m sure she thinks she doesn’t need them.
Doesn’t think about who might be watching.
But I do. I think about it every night.
She lies very still. Too still. Staring up at the ceiling.
What are you thinking about? Do you ever think about that night? Did it ruin you like it ruined me?
The darkness in me wants to corrupt her, mark her as mine and drag her with me straight to hell, and I grip the bars tight to keep myself from storming across the street and claiming her.
I’m here to make sure she keeps her mouth shut. That’s it. Making sure that no one else tries to take what they have no right to—that no one tries to touch what’s mine—is an added benefit.
But she’s not yours and she never will be.
She was too good for me then, and she’s too good for me now. I had to let her go—shove her away so she wouldn’t follow after me like I wanted to follow her. I left her after that night. Left the goddamn country to stop myself from trying to find her. She deserves better than me.
My hands are stained with blood, my soul hollowed out after submitting to the darkest parts of me to do what’s necessary to survive. She’s everything I’m not. A bright light to my endless darkness, soft and delicate to my serrated edges.
But she’s not all soft.
There’s a darkness to her too. I saw it years ago, and so did she.
The shadows in her were drawn to the shadows in me, like a moth to a flame.
She’s not as innocent as she seems. She fought back at the warehouse, and I saw the way she looked at Lorenzo on his knees, her blue eyes flashing with violent thoughts, a dark wish for retribution even through her fear, and that makes me wonder what happened to her.
Briar tosses and turns. She hasn’t been sleeping well.
A pang of guilt flickers through me. I hope it’s not because of me.
I wasn’t thinking too clearly after I’d found her.
I broke into her room. I scared her. I needed to.
It was a necessary evil. I wasn’t going to hurt her.
But I had to make sure she wasn’t about to go off to the police with what she knew.
The need to protect my brother stronger than my moral compass.
Fucking Aidan and his goddamn mask. I ought to superglue the thing to his fucking head next time we run a raid.
Briar throws off the covers and I watch her check the locks on her windows one more time.
Ah, shit.
The overwhelming urge to let her know that I’m watching, to let her know she’s safe, overtakes me but I reel it back in.
That might not be how she’ll see it. I tighten my fist on the iron railing I’m leaning over to keep me from stomping over there and yelling at her to fix the locks on her goddamn windows.
Then maybe I wouldn’t have to sit out here, watching.
Briar turns back to the bed. Stopping to stare at it, her head tilts to the side in thought.
After about a minute, she climbs back into bed but she doesn’t lie down. No, instead she stays on her knees, the oversized sweater she has on slipping down and revealing the soft golden skin of her shoulder. Her back is to me but it’s the smallest movement that catches my attention.
Fuck.
My heart skips a beat. I should look away, I should—
Briar’s head falls back as she picks up the pace, building herself up, and it’s too late. I can’t look away. I stand frozen, captivated by the late night performance, her fingers teasing, stroking—her mouth falling open, and the way she bites her lip immediately to withhold the sound.
I can almost hear the little whimpers.
Before I know it, I’m imagining my fingers shoved into that perfect little mouth, having her suck on them while I bury my cock in her.
Her hand moves faster and she falls forward, her back arching as she gets herself close, giving me a better view.
It’s the same position I had her in that night and fuck—that does it for me.
Unzipping my jeans, I grab hold of myself, stroking hard, fast, matching her rhythm. Remembering how it felt with her dark hair wrapped around my fist, and oh, how I long to pull it back, forcing her to deepen the arch of her back.
My cock throbs and I squeeze tighter.
Her hips lift and her movement grows more desperate as she spreads herself wider.
Christ, I nearly come at that.
There’s a growing tension in her hips. I see the way she’s winding herself tighter and tighter until she starts to tremble, in desperate need for release.
“Come on baby, come for me,” I mumble under my breath, fisting myself hard, needing to come myself, but holding off—waiting for her.
She stiffens, burying her face in her pillow to silence the cry as she falls apart, shaking from the intensity of it. I imagine the way her clit pulsates, the way her muscles contract, heating with her arousal and tightening around her fingers.
I spill into my hand with a low groan, not taking my eyes off of her as her body collapses into the sheets. Still at last.
Completely spent, breathtakingly beautiful, and blissfully unaware of the dark shadow watching from outside.