Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
SHILOH
Donovan won’t stop touching me. It’s not that I’m upset about it, but his hands are on my body and keep making a circuit, like he’s trying to make sure that the knife wound at my side is really just a shallow cut.
It hurts.
It hurts like a fucking son of a bitch, but Donovan’s okay, and I’ve definitely felt worse… so I don’t care if it hurts.
My hands lift, carefully cupping his face when he moves to check me over for a third time.
“I’m fine,” I say softly. And then, “Are you okay?”
He blinks at me in a daze, but I notice his hand goes back to my side and presses against the wound.
Shallow cut.
I needed to tell him it’s a shallow cut, because if he realizes it’s a little deeper than that and probably needs stitches, he’s going to make me go to the hospital.
“What do you mean? He barely touched me. I—”
“Donovan, you killed someone.” I interrupt him, and his eyes flick back to the dead body beside us like the horror of it is dawning on him all over again. I wish I could be more gentle about it. I wish he’d let me kill the man instead of doing it himself.
At least then he wouldn’t have that darkness lingering over him. Out of everything I’ve shared with him, this wasn’t one of the things I wanted him to understand.
“I did. I killed someone. Oh, shit, I killed someone. I killed someone, I killed someone, I—”
“Kyle Penton has a creepy shrine to Oakley in his house,” I blurt out. “I’m pretty sure he was planning on kidnapping him.”
Donovan blinks once, slowly, and then shakes his head back and forth.
“I… what?”
I was going to wait to tell him what happened—maybe not even tell him at all and just go clean up the mess before I let him know… but it’s the only thing I can think of to snap him out of the panic attack I can see rising behind his eyes.
I’m hurt, and he’s falling apart… and neither of us really has time to do this at a crime scene.
I mean shit, I’m getting blood everywhere. That’s not okay. I’m not going to be able to scrub this concrete floor without getting more blood on it.
“I called Oakley when I went to your apartment and you weren’t there. He told me it was probably a man named Kyle Penton and gave me his address.” I look at Donovan, surprised at the fear crawling up my throat as I speak. I didn’t want to have to deal with slipping up so fast…
I didn’t want to have to worry if he was going to hate me when I did.
“Loh, what happened?”
At least it isn’t what did you do? That’s a good sign, I think.
“I went to his house, and he had a whole room full of posters and pictures and trash and… Donovan…” I lean in, lowering my voice to a whisper like the dead body beside us is going to rise up and gasp in shock.
“I’m pretty sure he had a used condom in a collection case.
” Donovan’s eyes widen, and then he wrinkles his nose in disgust.
“Did he see you?”
“I…” I lower my gaze for a moment, biting my lip. “For a few seconds? I was in another room with a bed and a bucket and chains. It was a perfect serial killer setup, I swear. When he found me there, I might have… uhm…”
Donovan’s warm hands cup my face, turning my gaze back up to his. I’m surprised my eyes are burning, but I’m afraid. I don’t want this to push us apart. “Shiloh?”
That soft question forces me to answer.
“I killed him because I thought he hurt you. I swear, Donovan, that guy was a fucking freak anyway, and I’m pretty sure he was going to steal your best friend… but I was worried about you. I swear, I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”
He stares at me, his haunted gaze flicking between the body on the ground, the wound at my side, and then to my eyes. Finally, he leans in and presses his forehead to mine so my world is swimming in his dark stare and the sweet wash of freckles that trail across the bridge of his nose. “It’s okay.”
It’s okay.
Fuck.
I start shaking when I hear the words, even though I know I don’t have time for that.
“Is it? I’m sorry, Donovan. I meant what I said before…
I don’t want to lie to you. Sidney was right about one thing.
” My gaze drifts to his body and I shake my head.
“You’re my muse now. I only need you—your blood.
Our blood. Maybe I’m a monster, but you’re my peace.
You’re everything beautiful in the world that shows me it’s okay not to destroy things. My Mothra, right?”
“Okay, Godzilla,” he says, but I can hear the sweet wobble in his voice.
How did we end up paralleling his favorite movie? A monster and his peace… but it’s true, isn’t it? He makes me calm… makes me feel like I don’t have to destroy the world around me.
And now I need to figure out how to do that for him.
“And what happened here wasn’t your fault. You were just protecting me.” I try to make sure I emphasize those words so it doesn’t haunt him later. “It isn’t the same. You’re good, Donovan.”
That haunted expression is still chasing around the edge of his vision, though.
“But I kept going.”
I mean… that’s true. He could have stopped, but…
“You had no way of knowing if he’d get back up. He was going to kill me, or keep me… put me on display. You love me, right?”
That haunted expression turns back to me, and he nods. “More than anything, Loh.”
“Then trust me when I say I know a monster when I see it… and it isn’t you. You’re good.”
I’m shocked when tears pool in his eyes… even more shocked when he wraps me up in his arms and starts crying.
I want to stay here and hold him—I want to keep him in the shelter of my arms until the tears run dry and he realizes that what he did was out of survival, not malice.
I want a lot of things… but we don’t have time for that.
Every second that passes, the blood is drying on the ground, and it’s going to be harder to get out.
Every minute that goes by is another chance of someone wandering into Kyle Penton’s house and finding his body there.
Every tear is another little sluice of blood down my side that’s going to make it harder for me to move a dead body.
We have so much to do. I pull my phone out to see what time it is, and my eyes widen at the string of texts on my screen.
Twenty-four unread messages. All from Oakley. All in escalating degrees of where the fuck are you and is he okay and you’re both probably dead.
It’s the last one that makes my heart sink, though.
It’s been an hour. If you don’t call me in the next ten minutes, I’m calling the cops.
Oh… shit.
I fumble Donovan’s phone from my pocket and hit the call button and shove it at him.
“What?” he says, his eyes wide and his expression still a little dazed. Oakley’s voice comes through the speaker, yelling something about if he’s hurt I’ll kill you and calling the police now.
“Talk to your best friend before he gets us both arrested.”