Chapter 6 Heartbeat
The alley encounter keeps replaying in my head. It was a warning, no doubt, and he definitely said my name.
I’ll call Lana tonight. Maybe Elias can look into it. Or that FBI agent I’ve seen at Arcana & Bloom before—Tristan Clarke. He helped with their mess last year.
Dramatic music reaches my ears, and someone screams. I lurch in my seat. A man carves out his first victim’s heart on the screen.
My pulse careens off a cliff.
The comfort I find in horror films disappears. Now isn’t the best time for movies. I gather my purse and stand, ready to leave.
But a shadow falls over my lap, and the faint scent of amber and leather is back.
Stronger.
Someone slides into my row. I frown, eyeing all the empty chairs in the dark theater.
Why is he sitting next to me?
I first spot the dark boots and pants. Leather jacket. Large hands inked with thorns, strong fingers curled around a popcorn bucket. With a rough sigh, the man sits one spot away from mine.
Something about the way he sprawls in the seat—an aura too large to be contained in these old, polyester chairs—makes me sit back down. As if my body decided before my brain could intervene.
Leaving would be logical. But I don’t come to horror movies to think.
When I drag my gaze upward, my eyes widen.
Obsidian hair drapes over his eyes. But there’s no mistaking the strong profile, or the black mask that covers from the tip of his nose to his strong jawline.
“You again,” I say. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stalking me.”
Ren turns toward me, his brow lifting. No words, as usual.
“What are you doing here?”
He juts his chin toward the movie.
Of course. He’s here like anyone else—to watch a movie. As if Ren could be normal like the rest of us.
Bewildered, I slide my phone back into my pocket, torn between the need to go home and the urge to stare at the man some more.
Then, like that settles everything, he dangles the popcorn bucket in front of me.
A flicker of amusement curls my lips as I take the offering.
“How are you going to eat this with your mask on?” I mutter, plopping a handful into my mouth. “Won’t you get it dirty?”
My eyes close and I moan as buttery goodness hits my taste buds—at least three pumps of artery-clogging sin in this thing—just the way I like it.
I reach for another handful and open my eyes.
My hand freezes when I find him staring in that unnerving way of his.
His pupils darken, hunger stark against the whites of his eyes as his gaze dips to my mouth.
Heat coils low in my belly. I dart my tongue out to wet my dry lips.
He wants to devour me.
I jolt. Ridiculous thoughts, Aria.
Then, with his intense gaze still on me, he rolls up his mask from the bottom, revealing his skin, inch after inch.
My mind blanks. My fingernails dig into my palms. Swaths of skin play peekaboo with the dim light—a chiseled jawline with a smattering of scars, half hidden by scruff.
Then I notice his lips—sensual, like the statues of ancient deities.
He lifts a few kernels from the bucket, his fingers brushing against mine. The softest hiss escapes him, and he slowly pushes the popcorn into his mouth.
My nipples tighten, and I look away.
What’s wrong with me?
Low chuckles reach my ears, and I cross my arms, the movement only making me more aware of the swelling in my breasts.
I haven’t had sex in over a year, since Blake died.
Blake.
The thought douses ice water on my libido. The engagement ring hanging around my throat presses like a weight on my chest. It’s betrayal, the sensations coursing through my body.
Shame steals my appetite.
Thank God it’s dark in here. Otherwise, no one could miss the throbbing hard-on sticking out of my pants like a fucking baton.
When I tailed Aria from Arcana & Bloom—still doing my recon to see if she’s even aware she’s holding a key—I saw I wasn’t alone in my interest. A few lackeys from the Carusos also followed her. I spotted the single crucifix tattoo on their wrists—lower-level goons.
I handled it quietly. Quick snaps to the neck. Done. Sebastian, The Antihero Syndicate lawyer, will handle the paperwork.
But now, I don’t worry about that.
Because Aria looks devastated.
The fire from moments ago vanishes as she turns away from me, ever so slightly, her eyes unseeing but locked onto the big screen.
Tears gather in them.
A sudden desperation riots through my veins, and I do the only thing I can think of that won’t have her scurrying away.
I text her.
Ren
If you’re scared of horror movies, you probably shouldn’t have come alone. Or at all. Gongzhus should stay safe at home.
Her phone pings. Frowning, she picks it up, her eyes widening when she sees my message.
“How did you get my number?” she whispers. “And what is this gongzhu thing? I don’t remember consenting to a nickname.”
Someone clears their throat.
Ignoring them, I respond.
Ren
You’re Lana’s friend. I have all her contacts. Part of keeping her alive back then.
It was a favor to Elias, not a hardship. The Kongs were more than happy to send me on a mission to learn more about the king of the underworld.
They still don’t know I’ve been conspiring with him for the past decade to take The Association down.
Aria huffs under her breath. Then she scowls. “I’m not scared of horror movies.”
I bite back a smile.
Ren
Doesn’t seem that way to me.
“And who made you the arbiter of my feelings?” she hisses.
My mind flashes to the note she gave me back then in the café, and I smirk.
Ren
Arbiter, huh? Fancy word. You do read. Huh.
Her mouth drops. “That’s the most offensive assumption and…” My smile widens. “Are you laughing at me?”
Ren
You forgot, didn’t you? You said that to me before.
Aria’s head tips to the side. She’s clearly forgotten that brief interaction. My chest pinches, and I tell myself it’s heartburn.
“The Little Prince!” She scoots closer. “You never told me if you liked that book. Did you?”
Ren
Admit you’re scared of horror movies and I’ll tell you.
She’s giving me the wide-eyed, surprised look again.
“I see the serious bodyguard persona is all a front. You’re hiding an asshole underneath.” She huffs, crossing her arms. “It’s been a long day, mister,” she begins, her voice picking up in volume, “I’ll have you know I just—”
“Shut up,” someone hollers behind us. “Flirt elsewhere.”
I turn back and glare at the middle-aged man in the corner, who gives me the middle finger.
Just as I’m about to stand and remove his voice box for being disrespectful to Aria, a faint plume of clean soap and sweet cotton wafts to my nose.
Aria plops onto the seat next to me.
I freeze. The devious glint is back in her eyes.
She grabs her phone and types in it.
Aria
I feel bad. Talking during a movie is rude. Silence is golden.
Ren
Rule follower, aren’t you?
Her eyes snap to mine, and I realize my mistake. She can’t know I’m Ghostface444, a man she’s been pouring her heart out to for months.
TellNo1 is supposed to be anonymous. It’s a way for me to understand this woman my mind can’t seem to get rid of.
I quickly reply.
Ren
The Haunting of Amityville is overrated. A killer wouldn’t announce his presence that way.
“Huh?” Aria murmurs.
I nod at the big screen. The villain is in the middle of his big, long monologue while the victim shrieks and screams.
Ren
This is the part that always ruins it for me. The speech.
If you need a monologue, you’ve already failed.
Just snap the neck. Quick. Efficient. Or a sniper bullet.
Aria gapes at me. But the earlier sadness is gone.
Something about that hits me hard, and the next words flow out without thought.
Ren
If you want them to suffer, crush the larynx first so they can’t scream.
A beat of silence follows. I probably scared her.
Any moment she’ll run out of the theater and call 911.
Her fingers fly over her phone screen.
Aria
You’re nuts. But I’ll bite. If you were the man in the movie, what would you do?
My attention flicks to the film for a second, then back to her, finding her expression open and curious, no fear in sight.
Tugging my lip between my teeth, I type my response.
Ren
If I were face-to-face with someone who hurt the person I care about, I’d take my time. Snap every tendon, break every bone.
Her lips part, and a pulse flutters in her neck.
The air crackles with tension, pulling me toward her.
Ren
Then when they’re about to pass out, I’d shock them back to life. Rinse and repeat. Edge the pain.
My gaze drops to her lush mouth.
Ren
Tease them with it. Again and again. Torture them until they rue the day they were born.
Aria gulps, her chest rising and falling, twin dark points tightening through her sweater.
She’s turned on.
My dick jolts in my pants.
She brushes back her hair and clears her throat.
Aria
You’re joking…right?
Ren
Maybe. But you agree with me.
“No, I don’t,” she whispers, inching closer.
My body heats. My fingers tingle. I want to reach around and grab her hand, memorize how soft her skin is. I want to angle her face closer so I can peer into those soulful eyes and see if I can find my answer.
Why? Why is the one woman I can’t seem to ignore the one whose dead fiancé’s heart I carry in my chest?
And if she learns what’s under my ribs and the shit I’ve done…she’ll hate me.
As she should.
Aria wets her lips and turns back to the screen.
“You’re right. This movie’s horrible. I can think of ten thousand better ways to kill the guy too.” Her words come out in a barely audible whisper.
Like a confession.
I wonder if this is what normal couples do—confess their secrets to each other in the dark.
Couples? Really? God, the damn glitch is making me lose my mind.
Ren
Yeah? How would you kill the guy?
“I’m not supposed to say that. Nurse and all.”
Ren
Hypotheticals. Think of it as exercising your creativity.
She snorts and elbows me playfully. Then she grins.
Something trembles inside me. My head spins. I want to see that smile again. That cute little dimple.
Aria types on her phone.
Aria
Depending on the situation, a knife to the carotid may be satisfying. Or gouging out eyeballs. Messy though. And the punishment has to fit the crime.
My cock twitches. I lean closer as I reply.
Ren
Bloodthirsty little thing.
She bites her lip, and I catch a flush blooming on her face.
“Disappointed? I’m supposed to save lives after all.”
Ren
No.
She cocks her brow.
Ren
Not disappointed.
She flushes. “Hypotheticals. Assuming these are bad guys, of course.”
Ren
Of course. I wouldn’t dream otherwise.
A loud shriek tears through the room. The villain has his next victim quaking at the edge of a rooftop.
Aria giggles, then slaps a hand over her lips.
“What?” I mouth.
“Another monologue,” she whispers and motions to the big screen. “You know what’d be hilarious and totally subverting expectations?”
My lips twitch. I’m sure she’ll tell me.
“If the guy takes her in his arms and starts dancing. The victim will probably stop screaming because it’s so out of left field.”
She snickers, and a rush of warmth gathers behind my sternum.
“So,” she eyes me and asks, “why do you watch horror films then?”
I don’t, because the real world is far more terrifying.
Ren
Controlled violence. Hoping the shock factor would actually surprise me.
She stops smiling, and a heaviness blankets her frame.
Fuck. I’d snap my own neck if I knew that’d make her smile again.
“Me too,” she says softly. “Life isn’t fair. And maybe, in movies, I get…closure. Scary things happen, but in the end, I can still walk out of there alive.”
I don’t respond.
She dips her head closer, ever so slightly, her golden eyes peering into mine, like she’s trying to see into me.
I flinch, every impulse telling me to turn away.
She grabs my hand and continues in a hushed voice, “The world you live in with Elias is dark. Dangerous. Maybe you keep watching because you’re waiting for something to finally scare you. Something worse than what you’ve seen in real life. Maybe then you’ll feel…normal.”
Her words echo between us, and the spot beneath my scar aches.
In this moment, I’m not numb like a human weapon.
I just…feel.
Aria gives me a sad smile and turns away.
But I snag her hand back, turn it over, and trace a word on her palm.
Soft strokes. A hook. More strokes.
安. An. Safe. Peace in Chinese. A vow I should never make to her.
Then I lift her palm, close my fist around it, and cross my arms over my chest.
Safe.
Lies. They’re lies.
I don’t keep anyone safe. I take safety from them.
Aria stares at me, clearly confused. Her plump lips part, and my throat goes dry.
Holding her gaze, I lace our fingers together and press them over my heart.
Over her dead fiancé’s heart.
Can you feel it beating, Aria?
Heat rushes straight to my head. I tell myself it’s only curiosity, something I can satisfy and move on from.
I’m wrong.
If anything, the craving deepens.
My heart batters against my rib cage. I wonder if she can feel it through our touch.
“It’s strange,” she whispers, her eyes dazed.
Her fingers close around mine—a soft pressure—but it feels as if she’d kissed me.
“What’s strange?” I mouth.
“The fog clears when you’re around,” she says. “I’m…at peace.”
My breath snags.
A dark voraciousness opens in me…hunger, need.
And I want.
More.