Chapter 4
Chapter Four
QUENTIN
I stepped into the scalding hot shower and scrubbed the blood from my skin, freeing my endless array of tattoos from the coat of crimson.
I hadn’t planned to kill anyone tonight, but my anger got the best of me.
Mark’s condescending tone set my teeth on edge. Each arrogant word that came out of his mouth stoked a rage in my gut that I couldn’t ignore. I pounded a clenched fist against the tiled shower wall, and pink-tinged water slid down my forearm.
It was a stupid and risky move, stabbing him repeatedly and leaving him in the alley by the same coffee shop I’d visited earlier in the day, but in my own weird way I wanted her to know.
I wasn’t exactly sure why.
I was no one to her.
To her, I was the stranger in the coffee shop.
But what she didn’t know was that from now on I’d be the stranger lurking in every bar, restaurant, or coffee shop in which she would go on a date. I would be the darkness hidden in the shadows, just hoping for a glimpse of her.
I was always one to stick to the shadows.
By killing her date, I had made it that much harder to protect her from afar, having to triple-check every step I took to watch her from the darkness.
It didn’t change anything. I still couldn’t allow myself to do anything more than be an outsider, a watcher from afar.
I grabbed the bar of soap from the shower ledge and tried to scrub my frustrations away with the blood that still remained.
Would I want to stay hidden forever?
Women always wanted my attention, their eyes lingering, imagining some brooding bad boy with a heart of gold. If only they knew. My fingers traced the scar on my abdomen, a reminder of the darkness lurking beneath my carefully crafted facade. Their fantasies barely scratched the surface of my twisted reality.
I didn’t want just any woman. There was only one whose eyes, hands, and lips I wanted on me—my little moon.
The problem became a matter of if I could put my knife down long enough to let her in. I couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger, and that meant my mission of cleaning Portland’s streets of scum would have to come to an end.
I would never know love; would not let myself even entertain the idea of a woman.
Was I willing to risk it, stop everything, all for a woman I hadn’t even spoken to?
In the end, it wouldn’t matter.
Because no matter how much I wanted her, I could never let her want me.
* * *
“Q! Help me with the keg, would ya?”
I grumbled from my seat on the sofa in the living room before tipping back my beer to finish it off.
Joey was my best friend. He gave me a home when I had nothing, so I guess helping him carry the heavy booze inside was the least I could do.
In typical Joey fashion, he had decided to throw a random rager on a Friday night and invited half the city to flood our apartment. As always, he’d somehow roped me into helping him arrange it at the last minute. You’d think after five years of living together I’d be over his bullshit, but there was no getting used to the man I now looked to as a brother.
This time though, I knew exactly why he was doing it.
Turns out the random blonde chick he was banging on our couch wasn’t one from his revolving door of women. He’d actually been seeing her for the last several months; I just hadn’t noticed it was the same girl. Rory, I remembered him saying. He wanted to make a good impression on her, especially since he was catching feelings for once. I had a lot on my mind, so I hadn’t exactly remembered her.
My mission.
My desire to rid this city of its villains…
Anora. From the moment our eyes met in the coffee shop, her intrigued gaze seared into my memory. Now her face haunted my thoughts, refusing to leave.
How her lips would taste.
How she’d look underneath me.
How she’d sound when she moaned my name.
“Where to?” I asked, lifting one end of the keg.
Joey wordlessly pointed to the living room, lifting the other end, and I walked backward until he seemed satisfied with the position before setting it down.
“Thanks, man.”
I grunted my reply and returned to the couch, but not before I stopped and swiped another bottle of beer from the fridge. Anything to take the edge off the thoughts swirling in my mind. Anything to quiet the voices shouting nonstop and turn them into whispers.
* * *
The bass thrummed through the floorboards as bodies pressed against each other in our cramped living room. From my perch on the couch, I watched the colorful lights Joey had bought “for vibes” bouncing off the walls and gyrating bodies. Perfume, sweat, and cheap beer mingled in the air. My cup never emptied—a parade of giggling girls made sure of that, each one’s fingers brushing mine as they handed over fresh drinks. I never asked for their attention, instead wanting to remain hidden and away from everyone else.
Even with all the drinks, I was barely buzzed.
It was hard to make someone numb when they already felt nothing.
People looked like flurries of color around me.
Like time just flew by while I stayed still.
It wasn’t until Joey entered my line of sight and I saw a flash of silver hair that time was the one to stand still.
“Q! I’d like you to meet Rory.” He gestured toward the blonde at his side. “Rory, this is Quentin Thorne, my roommate.”
“So, you’re the roommate?” Rory laughed while sticking out her hand, but I could barely hear her words. My brain had emptied at the sight of Anora standing before me.
I tried to give my attention back to Rory, pretending I wasn’t ogling her friend. She seemed like a nice enough girl; one I may have judged prematurely when I saw her naked on our couch.
The couch my ass has been planted on for the last several hours.
I did my best to keep my face neutral as I stood up, placed my hand in Rory’s, and returned her handshake.
“Quentin, this is my roommate, Nora,” Rory chirped, blind to the growing tension between us.
Anora’s eyes met mine, and the party faded to background noise as an invisible thread pulled me closer.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, holding my hand out.
“Likewise,” Anora replied, yelling over the music, her eyes flashing with confusion as she hesitantly gripped my hand.
I tried and quickly failed to ignore her quick intake of breath when we touched.
Was it fear?
Electricity zinged all the way from my brain to my cold, black heart. She hit every part of me and all I did was touch her hand.
She pulled her fingers from mine, the fear in her eyes deepening for a reason I couldn’t understand. Our friends were oblivious to the terror-filled cloud that began to swirl around us, but one nudge of a drunk guy into my shoulder was all it took to remember who and where I was. To solidify my resolve.
Anora could never find out who I truly was, or that fear would do nothing but continue to grow.
* * *
The party went on for what seemed like an infinite number of hours. Even though our two-bedroom apartment was a decent size, it still felt like we were packed together like sardines.
I spent most of my time in the same spot—ass planted firmly on the couch—until a couple sat down next to me and decided they had no respect for public displays of their tongues plunging down each other’s throats and I moved to a spot on the wall. My beer eventually turned warm, but I was too lazy to get a new one and the women who had attempted to entertain me before didn’t dare get close to my broody self now.
The only thing that hadn’t changed was where my eyes were constantly glued—on the ray of moonlight among the strobes of party lights and strokes of darkness.
Anora.
But even she wasn’t enough to quench my undying need for peace and quiet.
After two hours, I’d officially hit my limit. I could only stand human interaction in small doses, and it’s a miracle I lasted as long as I did.
I broke away from the crowd and made my way toward the roof of our building. I pushed open the ice-cold metal door and walked outside, breathing in the chilly November air.
At first, all I saw was my exhale of breath in front of me, until I noticed Anora leaning against the brick ledge, staring up at the stars. I had seen her slip away from the party but had no idea where she had gone.
I paused and took a moment to drink her in. She was dressed in a pair of black jeans, a black crop top, and a leather jacket. It was a perfect contrast to her silvery gray hair. It practically glowed in the moonlight as it flowed down her back and almost touched her perfectly rounded ass. She was uncorrupted in every way. But damn it if I didn’t want to tarnish that perfection.
“Not a fan of people?” I asked, causing her to startle. I laughed and made my way slowly closer to her.
I have to give her credit; she recollected herself quickly before answering my question.
“Not exactly,” she replied, voice airy and smooth. “You seem to be a fan of me, though.”
I chuckled at her words, surprised she’d caught on so fast. I also couldn’t help but notice the fear thick in her eyes despite her calm tone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You were at the coffee shop yesterday. Now you can’t keep your eyes off of me at this party and follow me up on a balcony without invitation.”
I wanted to commit every syllable of every word she said to memory. Implant her in every part of my brain so she’d never be able to leave it.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I had never felt this way about a girl before, and I’d known her for less than forty-eight hours. It was psychotic, but I couldn’t help myself from giving in to the part of my brain that told me it was fine. That I could think about her this way. That I’d somehow earned that right.
I just wished that part of my brain would also explain what it was about her that drove me so fucking crazy.
She was obviously fearful of me and my intentions, but I still found myself infatuated. She tried to be so brave, but I could tell I frightened her already.
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” I tried to argue, wanting to gaslight her into doubting herself. “I don’t drink coffee.”
I crept closer to her, like a predator stalking his prey, watching her chest fall and rise quicker with my every step.
“And last time I checked, you were in my apartment.”
I was inches away from her, so close I could smell her perfume, breathing in deeply and letting it fill my lungs. She flinched at my inhale, and a dark chuckle left me. I was getting off on her fear, having fun like I never had before.
She was prey, but in an entirely different, more intoxicating way.
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said, straightening her spine and pushing out her chest in an attempt to look strong. “Stop following me around like a creep.”
I slowly leaned closer, our lips only a whisper away, the temptation to give in and feel them against mine almost too much.
Her fake nerves-of-steel act dissipated with every breath, and I knew she could see in my eyes that I would never obey her demand.
“You can run, little moon, but you can’t hide from me.”