4. Hes a 10, But Also Probably a Serial Killer
P ick up the phone.
My phone rings again, and I stare at the jumbled lines on my arm, checking for the fourth time I am reading them right. My hand trembles as I reach over and see an unknown number calling.
“Hello?”
“Hello, kitten.” His voice is low and husky. The sound of it washes over me with unearned familiarity. It fits into every nerve ending inside my body, making them all fire at once.
It’s like a fucking orgasm.
Pressure builds between my thighs, making me squirm and forcing me to reposition myself on the bed. I can hear him faintly breathing, but the line is otherwise silent.
“How old are you?” I ask, some part of my mind needing confirmation that my panties are not getting wet over the sound of some teenager’s voice.
He certainly sounds like a full-grown man.
The more significant concern should be that I know he has killed twice.
Not that I am under any illusion that the murders were one-off events.
“Thirty-five.”
I sigh in relief, my body continuing to hum with anticipation. He's dangerous, and that only adds to the excitement, despite the logic. I hear him laugh, low and dark, as if he can feel the war raging inside me.
“What fucking took you so long?” I snap, and his laugh turns into a low growl. It sounds like a warning, but a fire rages to life inside me instead.
“I’ve been busy,” he says, without the anger I expect. There is a hint of seduction, or maybe that is just how my twisted body decoded his tone. “But now that I’ve seen you, kitten, I know why you’re mine.”
I swallow hard, feeling my heart hammering in my chest at the words I’ve always wished to hear, only now I wish they came from any other set of lips.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” I ask, fighting through the lump in my throat.
“A name is a powerful thing, kitten.” His voice is a low purr, reminding me of the sound of the Hellcat in idle. “You, of all people, should know that by now, Kira.”
My body hums at the sound of my name coming from the lips that I just mentally cursed and I lose myself to the image of what they might look like.
What would they feel like pressed against my skin?
I flop back against the bed and squeeze my thighs together, mentally chastising myself with a reminder that he is a killer.
“Is that how you got my number?” I ask, craving to hear his voice again.
He laughs darkly, causing the hairs on my arms to rise. “No. I got it from Alexander’s phone.”
My stomach bottoms, doing a far better job dousing the flames of arousal.
“Nice nipple rings,” my soulmate adds, making my body swing back in the other direction and my nipples harden at their mention. I had texted a picture to Alexander six months ago when I first got them pierced. Alexander hated them and told me to take them out.
I told him to go fuck himself.
That was our first fight.
I can feel the bars inside my nipples now, slightly tugging while my soulmate breathes into the phone like he can feel it, too.
“You sure as fuck know a lot about me,” I say, unable to sit and listen to him breathe while the pressure between my thighs settles into a dull, nagging hum. “But you won’t even tell me your name? You don’t want me to refer to you as Alexander’s killer, right?”
“Am I his killer, or are you?” he asks, bouncing me through another round of sobriety.
That’s what I need.
I sit up and grab my drink off the table. The ice clinks against the glass, and I know he can hear it. The line stays quiet as I take a deep sip, enjoying the refreshing chill followed by the hard bite of the alcohol.
“I didn’t know what you would do with his name,” I answer, calmer.
“It didn’t stop you the second time.”
I’m stunned silent momentarily, caught in the accusation that one is equal to another before my mind clears. “I meant to kill him .”
While I hadn’t intended for Alexander to die, I couldn’t deny that I would have fired another round into Todd myself if I could. More importantly, I didn’t feel bad about it.
“You’ve got a taste for it now. Bloodthirsty little kitten.” His words sound like praise, and I can’t stop my body from reacting.
Disgust hits me a moment later when I remember the topic.
“Why did you call?” I ask, feeling like I have broken through some kind of spell. I don’t let him answer. “Why did you come to the cemetery? And, while we are at it, why haven’t you responded to me until now?”
I wait, listening to the steady sound of his breathing.
“Goodbye, Kira. I look forward to the next name.”
I don’t write another name. Instead, I stay inside my house for my second round of bereavement. I need every day, and I’m still not confident I am ready to return.
Regardless, I pass my psych evaluation and head back to duty.
I’ve prepared myself to see Cathy’s empty desk, and I even know what to do if Rex sits there rather than by my feet.
What I’m not prepared for is the sight of a man sitting at Cathy’s desk.
He’s wearing mirrored sunglasses and lounging back in the chair with his heels on the desk.
His hands rest behind his head, tangling in short auburn hair.
His beard is trimmed short on a strong jawline and much darker than his hair.
I can see myself in the reflection of his glasses. I look like I am about to lose my shit.
“Who the fuck is this?” While I mean to keep the thought inside my head, James’ laughter tells me I have said it out loud.
The stranger smiles, one side of his mouth tipping up further than the other. His feet slide from the desk, landing on the floor with a controlled thump. He shoots toward the ceiling as he stands.
I place my best guess around six-two… maybe six-three.
“Killian,” he says. “I’m your new partner.”
He extends his hand, and I see my confused reflection. At least my face matches my thoughts. Rex sits beside my leg, not giving a fuck about Cathy’s replacement.
I raise an eyebrow, my arms crossing over my chest. “No one told me about a new partner.”
“We’ve been showing him the ropes for you, Kira,” James says, and I sidestep the desk to head for him.
My palms land flat on James’ desk, and I lean down. The urge to punch Cathy’s replacement simmers just beneath the surface. But I have something else in mind. I’m close enough to have a private conversation, but my tone is loud enough for everyone to hear.
“What are we working with? Mateless?”
James smiles, but I don’t miss how it fails to reach his eyes. Darkness lives inside him, the bottom of the hole left by Cathy’s absence. It lives in both of us and sharpens our smirks to a cruel edge as we silently agree to test Killian’s skin.
“Mateless. Recently,” James says, just as loud, but he includes a fake whispering tone.
“Five years ago,” Killian says from behind me, but I don’t turn to look at him.
“Recently,” James says, starting his sentence for the second time, “graduated. He took a year-long stay in Arkadia Asylum—”
“Hey!” Killian shouts from behind me, and I smile at James, finding the chord to hit. I file the information away, not needing to use it yet.
The floor trembles as Killian approaches, and I can feel it in my palms against the desk. James’ smile finally reaches his eyes, but only because they have filled with a twisted joy.
Dark humor and violence. That’s what the mateless rely on. Killian is one of us now. He needs to get used to it. We might not share the same pain, but it is the one thing we all own.
I straighten up, turning around before using the top of James’ desk as a seat.
My feet brush against the floor less than a foot from Killian’s shoes.
He looks down at me with those stupid fucking glasses, denying me the ability to glimpse his inner truths.
The eyes are always crucial. Wearing glasses indoors is enough to make me suspicious.
“If you have questions, ask them. I’m an open book. But none of that shit.” Killian points to me and then to James.
“Trust is earned around here, Killian.” I look around at the other officers.
They are watching intently, and I am no doubt a leading source of entertainment for them.
I think I’m boring, but I’m all for it if it brings a little spice to their life.
“And I don’t know you,” I say, looking back at Killian but softening my tone.
“We don’t function like soulmate pairs. We work as a group.
Your partner is just the person working alongside you. ”
I look over my shoulder and see James standing, literally having my back.
I point back at James. “He’s earned enough trust to tell me if I should even waste my time learning your name.”
“Feisty one. Aren’t you?” Killian smiles, dropping his tone lower.
“How did your soulmate die?” I ask him directly, challenging his confidence.
“Car accident,” he says without flinching. “See. Open book.”
Nothing in his tone suggests he is speaking about the single worst moment of his life. I look back at James to confirm Killian’s story, and he nods.
“The Asylum?” I look back at Killian, intentionally poking at the subject to see if he reacts again.
“Tried to kill myself,” he says, as if it was something that happened to someone else.
I make a mental note and move on.
“And how did you get into the police academy with that on your record?” I laugh, feeling like this is a joke or a welcome-back prank.
Killian’s arms cross over his chest. Every ripple of muscle beneath his shirt push the fabric to its limit, creating a taut and uncomfortable fit.
“I passed the psych eval. Temporary insanity from the shock of my soulmate’s death.
I have skills that can be of use here. And clearly, I’m not afraid to die. ”
The silence stretches through the station. I feel flushed and uncomfortable, caught inside the reflection of his glasses, like I am under a magnifying glass. James’ fingertips brush against mine on the desk, helping to bring me back into my body.
“I just buried one partner,” I say, needing to clear my throat to strengthen my tone. “I’m not interested in burying another. If you’re looking for a quick trip off this world, I won’t help.”
“I’m here now,” Killian says with unwavering certainty. He leans down and places his palms on James’ desk, crowding me but not touching me. He brings his face within inches of mine, making my reflection zoom in. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I can still feel James standing behind me, finding myself trapped between the men. A humming in my blood reminds me that my soulmate is also with me. I straighten my back, and Killian moves like a repelled magnet to maintain distance between us.
It shouldn’t feel comforting to know I can arrange my new partner’s funeral should he become a problem, but it does.
“What’s your story?” Killian asks backing off to give some space between us as he attempts to flip the script. A rookie move.
I’ve spent my whole life on the bottom rung. He’s just dipping his toes into this world.
“No soulmate,” I say, starting off confidently with the same story I have told my entire adult life.
But the moment the word soulmate leaves my lips, my tongue turns to acid with the realization that it is now a lie.
I catch the change in my expression in the reflection of Killian’s glasses and wonder if he noticed.
“Never known love. Makes me a cranky bitch. And I drive.”
I pull the keys to the cruiser from my pocket and watch myself dangle them in front of Killian. He leans back, putting more space between us.
“Fine by me,” he says, with no resistance.
Once he sees the Hellcat, his tune will change.
“Alright, Killian,” I say, sliding off the desk, and he steps back. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”