12. Sisi
12
SISI
F amily dinner had been an interesting affair, but I'd found it hard to concentrate on what was being said around me. Not when all I could think about was Vlad and his weird yet oddly appealing offer.
His presence in my room had taken me by surprise, and for a moment I had been afraid of him. Not for long, though. Certainly not after he'd opened his mouth. How he'd managed to both insult and amuse me in the same sentence, I have no clue.
But he'd proven even more intriguing than I'd originally thought.
Slowly letting go of my fear of him, I'd become curious as to why he'd try to get to my room so sneakily. Being friends with Marcello, you'd think he would use the front door, not the window.
None of his actions make sense, which, in theory, should make me more wary. In practice, however, this is just making me more interested in him.
It's also probably the reason why I'd accepted his offer in the first place. Not that I wouldn't mind living a little, but his persona seems to intrigue me more than the outside world.
I'm not dumb, though. I could tell that there was something he was hiding from me. I hadn't really bought his flimsy excuse that he wants to do a favor for his friend, or that he may need my help in the future. And even to his ears it must have sounded too phony.
Still, with him occupying my mind for so long, I'd just jumped at the opportunity to know more about him. Especially considering that duality of him, the way he'd seemed more beast than man at Sacre Coeur, or the way he'd felt too much of a man under me.
A blush envelops my features as I remember just how good that had felt or how he'd seemed embarrassed by his own body's response.
The internet has a wealth of information, and from what I've read, he's anything but indifferent to me.
It should scare me, this foreign feeling that seems to have made its home in my body. But while I feel some apprehension since I don't know Vlad that well, I want to remedy that.
Tapping the screen of my phone, I anxiously wait for his message, since he'd promised to take me somewhere tonight.
My phone buzzes and I'm quick to open the text.
Open the window.
I do, looking down onto the lawn where Vlad is waving at me. Frowning, I glance around, since I'm sure Marcello had increased the number of guards around the house recently.
"Down," he mouths to me, using his fingers to point toward the ground.
"How?" I mouth back, watching as he takes his phone out to text something.
Jump! I'll catch you.
I read the message twice, looking between my phone and Vlad, then raise an eyebrow at the outrageous idea.
Seeing the skepticism written on my face, he shoots me another text.
Promise to catch you. Trust me ?
I tilt my head to the side, looking at him for a moment. He has an inviting smile on his face, as if he's daring me to jump, ready to mock me if I don't.
Taking a deep breath, I hike up my skirt and climb out the window, my head already spinning as I look at the distance between my room and the ground.
"Come on," he says, his arms open, his hands motioning toward him.
I guess it's now or never.
Without dwelling too much on it, I close my eyes and take my hands off the windowsill, flinging myself forward and into Vlad's waiting arms.
My landing is not what I expected. True to his word, Vlad's arms come around me, locking me tight into his embrace.
Our faces are millimeters apart, and as I stare into those black eyes of his, everything else fades away.
"Oops," he whispers, wobbling a little before tilting back and falling, with me on top of him.
"I shouldn't make a habit of falling on top of you," I whisper, my pulse speeding up as I feel the heat emanating from his body.
"Next time you can fall under me." He winks at me, and it takes me a moment to realize what he means.
"You..." I clench my fist, ready to wipe the grin off his face, when I hear a sudden noise.
Vlad does too, because his features change immediately, his playful expression gone and replaced with a serious one.
Quickly helping me to my feet, he wastes no time in throwing me over his shoulder and running in the opposite direction of the noise.
He stops in front of a car, placing me on the hood. His arms braced on either side of me, he gives me a droopy smile.
"That was a close call," I say, almost breathless. "I hope I won't have to jump out the window every single time."
"And miss falling in my arms? Why ever not?" he replies, amused.
I shake my head, pushing at his shoulder and jumping down.
He opens the door for me, inviting me inside .
" I 'm surprised you have manners," I observe dryly as he gets behind the wheel, buckling his seatbelt.
Head tilted to the side, he gives me a dangerous look.
"The moment I forget my manners," he starts, his tone bleak, "you run."
I blink twice, surprised at the quick change in his disposition.
"Is that what happened at Sacre Coeur?" I ask, curious.
He purses his lips, and for a moment he doesn't seem inclined to answer my question. But then I see an almost imperceptible nod.
"If that happens again, you need to run as far away from me as you can," he eventually says, and a chuckle escapes me. He doesn't share my sentiment, his features still grave.
He's not joking.
I immediately sober up, and a million questions go through my head.
"Are you... ill?" I muster the courage to ask.
A dry laugh escapes him, his eyes still focused on the road.
"Ill... I wish. At least an illness has a cause... and a cure. What I have has neither."
"I don't understand," I reply, frowning at his cryptic words.
"It's not for you to understand, Sisi. Most days I don't understand myself either." He smiles ruefully. "But I've had enough time to come to grips with the fact that I may never be okay."
"How long have you had this... condition?"
"Condition... That's an interesting way to put it. Who knows, maybe I've always had it. I don't remember a time when I was different. It just got progressively worse over the years."
"Does it hurt?"
He spares me a glance.
"Not for me," he states, and I remember the way his eyes had been glazed over, how his hands had been ready to end my life. Except he hadn't.
"You were going to kill me, weren't you?" I push, seeing this as an opening to learn more about him.
"Yet I did not," he replies ambiguously.
"Why? "
He doesn't answer for a moment. He slowly turns toward me, his eyes clear, his gaze shrewd.
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
We don't speak for the longest time. I try to come to grips with what he's just told me, and a chill envelops my body.
Isn't that what captivated you in the first place? The pure savagery hiding behind the expensive suit.
If I'm honest with myself, that's exactly what had drawn me to him. The fact that he's both man and beast, human yet not entirely humane. There's something deep within him that could crush me in a second.
As I sneak glances at him, I'm once more struck by the way his muscles coil, as if he's trying to keep himself from snapping at any moment. Even when his playfulness is at its best, there's still a tension that radiates off of him.
It's also becoming clearer that I am courting danger by being with him. Yet, why can't I find it in me to care?
Maybe because I see in him what I've tried very hard to surpass in myself; violence that's asking to be let out, blood demanding to be spilled.
I'm at a point where I have to wonder if I am what I am because I've been conditioned, by being called evil my whole life. Or, I've simply always been this way, and some people have astutely noticed before my wickedness manifested.
I wonder... What would he say if he knew I'm a murderer?
Somehow, I think he would not bat an eye.
"Have you ever killed someone?" I ask, my eyes on his profile. The more I look at his face, the more engrossed I find myself in his micro-expressions–the rehearsed and the spontaneous.
His lip pulls up in amusement, and he chuckles.
"Someone? Define someone."
"One person? Two?" If he's in the mob like my brother, then he may have committed crimes.
I almost laugh to myself as I realize that not too long ago I was worshiping God in his very house, and now I'm condoning all types of crimes .
"One?" He turns to me, his expression one of disbelief. "Sisi, you wound me." He feigns a hurt expression.
"Then how many?"
"Are you sure you want to know? You might run for the hills," he says, but I persist, thinking it can't possibly be that bad.
"Tell me."
"I can't say I've counted," he turns to me slightly, as if waiting to see my reaction, "but it must be somewhere in the thousands." He shrugs.
I stare. Open-mouthed. I just continue to stare at him, waiting for him to say it was a joke.
When he sees I'm not reacting, he pulls over.
Turning fully toward me, his lips are drawn in a tight line.
"Don't try to make excuses for me, or even make me into something I'm not, Sisi," he says, his fingers going under my chin and pushing it up, forcing me to stare into his eyes. "It's better if we go into this with some degree of transparency. I'm a cold-blooded killer. I don't need a reason to kill. I just do. So next time you see me in a rage, you run. Because I can't promise you won't be next."
"You're trying to scare me," I whisper, my upper lip quivering.
"Is it working?"
I shake my head. I don't know why. The rational side of me knows I should be terrified. I should have been scared the moment he'd had me by the throat, my feet in the air, his eyes emotionless as he'd looked at me. He could have easily snapped my neck.
"It should." He comes closer, and I feel his breath as my own. My pulse quickens, my eyes dropping from his eyes to his lips. "I should scare you, Sisi. I should fucking terrify you," he rasps, but I'm not paying attention to his words. I can only see the way his lips move, his tongue sneaking out to wet the lower one, his teeth white and straight, the dream from the other night making me clench my thighs in discomfort, as I remember his painful bite on my skin.
"How... would you kill me?" I raise my gaze to his, swallowing hard as I see exactly what he wants me to—an emotionless killer.
"Why?" His voice is thick, his gaze unflinching.
"Tell me," I urge him, a sick desire forming inside of me.
Too much time spent in the cemetery must have addled my brain .
His hand comes up to my face, brushing the bangs from my forehead.
"I like to bathe in human entrails," he says with a straight face. "The bloodier, the better. But for you, I'd make an exception," he comments, and I frown. His fingers caress my birthmark before going lower, down my cheek and neck. "I wouldn't put a single mark on your body."
Confused, I'm about to open my mouth and ask him what he means. But just as my lips part on a question, one finger shushes me, his mouth brushing past my ear.
"Lethal injection. You would be dead in minutes. Then I'd embalm your body and keep you for my eyes only." His low hum makes the hairs on my body stand up.
He's talking about killing me and keeping my corpse, and the only thing I'm feeling is an intense tingling in my tummy.
"And what would you do with my body?" I ask with a breathless tone.
The corner of his mouth pulls up, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he parries with a question of his own. "What would I do indeed? Tell me, Sisi, what do you think I'd do?"
I can't answer, even though deep down I know. I can only stare into those wicked eyes, intoxicated by the depravity I see in there.
I was never meant to be a nun.
Not when I'm getting aroused thinking this dangerous man would kill me... and keep me.
"Still not scared?" he asks, his eyebrows raised expectantly.
I shake my head, the briefest movement as a smile spreads on his face.
"You surprise me, Hell Girl," he whispers. "You almost look like you mean it."
"Hell Girl?"
"The only saintly thing about you, Sisi, is your name. The rest..." he trails off, his eyes drifting to my chest.
A breath catches in my throat at his perusal. I have the sudden urge to take his hand and press it to my skin.
"You're wicked," I manage to say instead.
"Good that you believe that," he drawls, taking my hand and spreading my fingers out. He lowers his lips to the tips, the warmth of his mouth sending a shiver down my body. "Do let me know when you're scared."
"Why?"
"Fear tastes best," he purrs, giving me a roguish smile, his teeth gleaming, and I have a sudden flashback to my dream and to his blood-stained teeth.