Chapter 16
M y little thief, with her ghostly pigtail braids with pink ribbons, strolled into my sanctuary, her eyes probing every shadow as if expecting monsters to emerge.
“What’s this place?”
“My little secret.” I reclined against the cold-stone gargoyles and balcony ramp, tilting my head back to welcome the embrace of the deadly black night.
The cool breeze brushed against my face, tempting me, urging me to plummet into the abyss below. I entertained the idea of what falling would feel like. Peace, probably. Either way, I didn’t know why I brought Dalia here. Perhaps I relished making a dramatic entrance, or maybe I had an unhealthy penchant for theatrics.
“So you brought me to your special place or something?” she prodded.
I straightened my spine, meeting her gaze. “Or something.”
“Have you ever brought someone here?”
“No. But don’t get any ideas thinking you’re special,” I warned. “You’re ordinary at best.”
A smirk graced her lips. “Your words are always vile, Levi, but your actions tell a different story. You’re like a cat leaving a dead rat at my doorstep to seek attention. From others’ point of view, it’s creepy, but from the cat’s point of view, it’s… cute, I guess.”
“Interesting metaphor.” I shifted away from the railing, prowling toward her. “Do you know the somber story behind this roof? The cursed tale of Morticia’s death?”
She shook her head. Of course she didn’t.
“She was in love with one of the Hungway brothers, the creators of the houses of Pantheon, and she jumped from that roof to find death because of a broken heart. Isn’t it cute ? Since then, the roof has been off-limits. It was the favorite spot for students to…” I replicated the descent with a sweeping motion of my hand, whistling the sound of their crash.
She stood at the edge of the wrought-iron ramp, teetering on her tiptoes, her eyes locking onto the chasm below. It was as though the void tugged at her very soul.
Who knew my fractured doll was fascinated with the morbid too?
I towered over her, the thrill of the moment coursed through my veins. She remained oblivious to my stealthy approach, ensnared by the abyss before her.
Drawing near, I allowed my breath to ghost over her ear. “Your fall would be a sight to behold, a breathtaking plunge into chaos. Shattered bones, ruptured organs—an exquisite display of destruction. But I’d be there to savor every moment.”
Rather than shrinking away in terror, she pivoted, her gaze locking on me. “I think you’re lonely.”
I withdrew, taken aback by her refusal to hurl insults my way. “Don’t tell me you never thought about it? For a moment, for it to be all over.”
Because I did. I do.
She met my gaze head-on, her arms folded with goose bumps on her skin. “Why are we here?”
I shed my jacket, causing her eyes to widen in intrigue as I placed it to the side instead of offering it to her. She probably expected a chivalrous gesture.
“You want something?” I teased, enjoying the way her frustration obscured her eyes. If she pleads, maybe I’ll oblige.
“I’m on the roof where people have jumped to end their lives, with you, clearly not the most trustworthy person on earth, and you still haven’t told me why.”
“I’m here to help you.” I twisted my words. I had battled the good and the bad side of my rather reckless decision for days.
“Help me?” She chortled as if the thought alone was surreal to her. “How exactly?”
“You want redemption,” I said. “My mother’s music score—or should I say scores, since there are two of them; I’ll grant you the privilege of uncovering their secrets.”
Look at her. Her eyes widened, gleaming like a rich kid on Christmas morning.
“But I thought—” Her words rushed out, a rise in her pitch. “Why did you change your mind?”
“Maybe it’s the satisfaction of doing something right?”
“I don’t buy it.” Smart girl . “I think you have no other choice. You need me.”
That was correct. If someone in this wretched world could find the right essence of the music scores, it’d be Dalia—which made me loathe her even more for it. Sometimes, the more you run away from what you want to avoid, the more it rushes back to you. And since Dalia’s arrival, it was worse—as if all the dead parts of me were awakened.
“So it means this is valuable to you, in some way.”
It wasn’t. I only needed to have the confirmation. To move on once and for all.
“You were my mother’s favorite. It’s about time you prove yourself worthy of being her student, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “I’ll help you. I know how it is to seek closure with losing a parent.”
“You and I are nothing alike.”
“We both lost our—”
“No.” I took a threatening step toward her. “You were loved and cherished, a little princess guarded safely in heaven. We’re nothing alike.”
Her eyes roamed over mine as if they were open wounds. “What happened to you?”
“Is this when I tell you about my heartbreaking, unloving backstory, and you realize I indeed have a soul and need saving?”
“I won’t pity you, but maybe I can understand you,” she whispered. “I seek freedom the same way you seek control. I’m loved, it’s true, but I was caged all my life. I wasn’t allowed to do things like other kids my age. I grew up thinking that I was a drag for everyone. It’s not a beautiful life, Levi.” Her eyes locked on the void again. “Everyone dies around me, but I continue to live for some reason. I feel lonely, just like you. But I’ll never bow to you, Levi. I want to exist on my own. I want to try.”
Pain masked her features, and a part of me understood her. Surviving tragedies. That was why I came here. Because I knew that it could be all over in a matter of seconds. Not that anyone would miss my existence; they’d probably even have a bonfire to celebrate my death.
I hummed, plucking one of the pink ribbons that tied her hair. I wanted it, so I took it, having no interest in rehashing my childhood. One side of her hair flowed freely, and I slid the ribbon onto my wrist. It felt like another handcuff added to my collection.
“I wonder, do I haunt you?”
“No,” she denied a bit too quickly, betraying the dark truth lurking underneath. “I’ll help you with Lucie’s composition, but that’s it.”
“You don’t make the rules,” I said, cocking my head to the side. “You’ll also play the music for me when I ask you to.”
“What?” Her eyes widened. “I’m not your music slave.”
“Not yet,” I replied with a sly grin, snagging a loose strand of her white hair and twirling it around my finger, drawing her nearer. “Be glad you have an audience who appreciates your exquisitely dark and sad melodies. After all, the violin was once known as the devil’s instrument, and you, my dear Dalia, are as divine as you are chaotic.”
Every time she’d grab a violin, she’d think of me. She’d see me watching her. She wasn’t much different from Paganini—the violinist rumored to murder women and use their intestines as violin strings. He imprisoned their souls, their screams echoing from within his violin. But Dalia imprisoned my ghosts and removed all the darkness from the world, just for me.
Her lips curled. “I accept.”
“Just like that?” I feigned surprise, letting go of her strand.
“Yes,” she said. “On one condition. If I succeed with the music scores, you’ll forgive me.”
She should have reached for a higher standard than forgiveness; she was a poor negotiator.
“Sure.”
Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her glossy pink lips shimmering. “So, what are we, friends?”
She’s never giving up.
An urge clawed at me, tempting me to sink my teeth into her lips and taste their sweetness. Those oversized eyes, framed by luscious lashes, fluttered like the wings of a trapped butterfly. I couldn’t help but notice every detail, every nuance of her, even the exact shade of green that adorned her eyes. I hated myself for it.
No, we’ll never be friends.
“More like each other’s dirty little secret,” I hissed, punctuating my words by pressing her against a phoenix gargoyle.
She bit her lips.
“Did you ever kiss someone else after me?” I prodded.
“Yes,” she blurted out. “And he was nothing like you.”
“Oh?” I pretended to be offended. “How was he? Slow and annoyingly cautious, treating you like a fragile doll? Or was he rough, almost tearing at your core, leaving you breathless? Did he barely touch you, or—” I grasped her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my touch. “Did he grab your throat, nearly choking you in a kiss worth dying for, staking his claim with his tongue? Or did you lie to me to piss me off?”
“Why would it piss you off?” Thump. Thump. Thump . Her heartbeat intensified. “You don’t like me.”
I didn’t need to like her to be pissed off. Liking something was brief and left no trace. Liking was the greatest scourge of this world.
“You should be glad I’ll never like you.” I traced the outline of her parted lips with my thumb. “I’ll always hate you.”
Hatred was permanent, intense, and powerful.
“No, you hate how I make you feel,” she whispered.
Right, because my fucking soul was a graveyard of broken memories, and she was the main one.
I bent down to her level, our breaths mingling. “Why did you lie about kissing someone else?”
“To hurt you.” She gulped. “Because I know I’m not your only kiss.”
My thumb grazed her lower lip before curling around her jaw, lifting her chin to meet my gaze. A subtle flicker danced in her eyes. Was it pain? A strange sensation prickled at my fingertips. I was willingly touching her. Again. For no purpose. Worse, my cock was pulsing in my trousers. It probably just was because I hadn’t fucked anyone in months. This didn’t have to mean something.
Just like the fact I never allowed anyone else to kiss me but her.
“Would you really think I’d save my kisses for you?” I sneered.
In a blink, that flicker in her eyes was gone. “No.”
“Good.”
“Good.” Her whisper brushed against my lips, and fucking goose bumps erupted on my skin. “I think we settled everything.”
She was like a fucking virus, infecting every byte of my system. My muscles contracted, as if a goddamn inferno was raging inside me, and it couldn’t be contained. Collecting her ribbons wasn’t enough; I had to take more.
She was the poison and the remedy.
“Almost,” I taunted. “You gave me a deadly kiss once, so I’m going to return the favor.”
I yanked her to me, her body tightly locked against mine. My tongue prodded her mouth open, our lips pressing together. Hers were soft, almost silken. She tasted like a sweet blend of sugary pink, rose, and honey—likely the ChapStick she wore—and I lost all sense of purpose or restraint.
I took and took everything I could like a starving beast.
I kissed her with all the oxygen in my lungs. She clung to me, her fingers leaving burning bruises wherever they brushed my skin. Each glide, each taste, each stroke was like my own damnation, but I couldn’t stop. She ground herself against me, and my hands firmly grasped her waist.
My muscles tensed. My cock throbbed. Everything faded into oblivion—my hatred, my plans for her—replaced by raw, consuming desire.
I captured her lower lip between my teeth, taking my sweet time to taste her venom. My life was dedicated to maintaining absolute control, and she was breaking it again.
She moaned, a melody that resonated in my bowels, and I let myself touch her the way I always forbid myself to. I cupped her breast. The absence of a bra allowed me to feel the hardness of her nipple. Fuck. I wanted to rip her clothes apart. Have her on her knees. No, wait. First, I wanted to feel how wet my little doll could be before I fucked her against—
Dammit. Grappling with a semblance of self-loathing, I summoned every ounce of willpower to pull away.
She gazed at me with wide, bewildered eyes, her disheveled hair a testament to what shouldn’t have happened. Her trembling lips revealed a blend of shock and desire. She was breathless, struggling to regain her composure.
I was no better off—I wanted to tear my own skin apart to stop feeling that flutter in my stomach, that fire igniting my core, my heart threatening to come out of the confines of my chest.
“Let’s forget this ever happened,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
She left like a fury, and I crumpled on the floor.
Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia. Dalia.
Her name was being carved in my mind all over.
Her eyes were etched in my pupils like a cigarette stain that would never stop burning.
I would have liked to extract her from my soul.
I let out a thin laugh in the middle of the fucking silence. Using Dalia to silence my mother’s ghost. Breaking her, piece by piece, so she would remember me forever. Bringing down her asshole father because he was the ultimate and last person on my list who had to pay.
All my plans were redesigned in the face of the new goal taking shape.
Watching her wasn’t enough.
Haunting her wasn’t enough.
“Oh, Dalia, you’ll wish we’d never have met.”
Dalia Mercier would be mine.
Completely mine .