Chapter Four #2
My nightmare screeches in protest as I yank the man’s spine from his body. Blood pours like a waterfall onto the pavement and my bare feet. Unraveling the roots from his throat, the body drops to the ground. His lifeless eyes stare at me, his cheeks still wet from tears.
No one ever knows when they are going to die. That’s what makes their death a little sweeter. The plans they had for tomorrow will never come. All their hopes and dreams have come to an end.
So sad.
Anyway.
“I won’t be needing this.” I place the spine onto his body, giving his torso a small pat. “You seem to need it more.” I smirk at my own joke, then step over him and head back to my mate.
I need to figure out what that word means. With how strongly I feel towards Lula, I’m assuming it means I belong to her too.
“Sorry about that, Little Dream. I never want us to be interrupted again. I feel very protective—no—possessive of you, Lula. You’ve been possessing my mind for days.
You belong to me. I know you don’t understand that, but you will, Detective.
You’re good at piecing things together. You’ll figure me out before you understand what’s happening to you.
” I reach over to the passenger seat, searching for her purse to get her address.
I’m not finding it.
I pat the pockets of her purple coat, growling in approval when I feel something inside her pocket. Slipping it out, she surprises me with a money clip that holds one credit card, her license, and cash. I reach back in her pocket and pluck out her keys.
“You look so pretty in your license photo. No one looks that good in a damn picture.” I’m annoyed with her beauty.
How the hell is she going to stomach staring at me?
Too fucking bad. She’s going to have to get used to it.
Grabbing her phone, I type her address from her license into the GPS app. When it gets done loading, the time to her house is only three minutes.
“You were so close to being free of me tonight. And what a travesty that would have been for you.” I wrap my arms around her and throw her over my shoulder, snag her coat and the files under it, then speed to her house by following the directions on the map.
The air is cool from the storm, the fog rolling over the ground. With every exhale, my breath turns to vapor, and all I hope is that Lula is breathing it in.
It doesn’t take long to get to her house.
I stand at the bottom of the steps, staring at the red-painted front door.
The porch wraps around, and a swing is to the right by the door, while a few rocking chairs are to the left.
The grass is a little overgrown, and something about the house itself seems empty.
She hasn’t made it home. It’s missing the touch of her beauty.
I climb up the steps, the wood groaning from my weight. Opening the screen door, I accidentally rip it from its hinges.
“Fuck.” I put the key in the lock, careful not to break it and leave her vulnerable. “I’ll fix that.” I step into the foyer, the blood on the pads of my feet slick against the hardwood floors.
A coat rack is the only object to the left with a simple pair of shoes tucked beside it. I toss her coat onto it, rocking the rack on its legs.
I have to bend down to walk through the archway that leads to the living room.
A small yellow sectional couch sits next to the fireplace.
No boxes frame the room. It’s as if she just moved in, but there’s no way to prove it.
There’s a coffee table, too, that has seen better days.
It’s worn, the finish rubbed off, and the corners chipped.
I toss the damp files on the surface, allowing me to readjust Lula in my arms.
Peering around the room, the only thing on the wall is the TV that is mounted. No pictures. No art. No decorations of any kind.
Her house is bare.
“Did you just move here? Why don’t you fucking own anything, Lula? I don’t like this. I’ll steal you everything you could ever want. How do you live like this?” I have to pass through the kitchen to get to the bedroom.
Out of curiosity, I open the cabinets to find them all empty except one.
One plate. One bowl. One mug. Her silverware is right next to them too. A fork, a spoon, a butter knife, and a steak knife.
Only one of each.
Opening the fridge, I snarl when I see an almost-empty jug of milk and a half carton of eggs to the side.
That’s it. That’s all that is in her huge stainless-steel fridge.
“Little Dream,” I growl in warning. “You aren’t taking care of yourself.
I don’t like that. I will feed you. You have to be strong for me, or I’ll kill you.
I’m serious. I probably will. I think it would bother me too.
” I stare down at her, her eyes closed, and her chest rising and falling, proving she is still alive from the accident I caused.
She’s…softening me in ways that I don’t like.
“Yes, it would most definitely bother me.” I brush a long strand of hair from her face so I can see her.
She hums, nestling her face into my chest.
It softens me even more.
I growl in distress from the new feeling of warmth spreading across my chest when I stare down at her. I’m not sure how I feel about being forced to care about this human, but I know I’ll do everything in my power to protect her.
She’s mine now.
Opening the nearest door, an empty room is revealed. Nothing is in here except dust.
“Detective, we are going to have to talk about this,” I warn.
I try another door, revealing another room with—shocker—nothing fucking in it.
“Do you even live here?” I grumble, trying another door which opens to a bathroom.
Even the bathroom is empty. There’s no shower curtain, no towels, no toothbrush. I begin to worry, wondering if this is even Lula’s home, when I open one last door, and her scent hits me as if I’ve struck a wall.
Bending down again to walk through the doorway, I stand in her room, realizing this is where she must spend most of her time. The room itself is still a bit sparse. It has more personality than the rest of the house.
There’s a long wooden dresser against the wall that seems to be used too. The drawers are worn, and a few don’t have handles. There’s a crack running down the surface of it, and it’s just as worn as the coffee table in the living room.
A mirror is attached to it as well, the edges rusted, and there’s a picture slipped into the groove between the wood and glass. It’s of an older couple on the beach with emerald-colored waters behind them.
The woman looks similar to Lula except older. Her hair is long and brown with streaks of grey, and she has a few more wrinkles on her face. This couple must be Lula’s parents.
“So sorry your daughter is damned to be trapped with a monster like me. I am, quite literally, your worst nightmare for her.” I pluck the photo free and turn it around. No one should be allowed to see Lula, not even her parents’ memory trapped in a photo.
I analyze her room to try to get to know this woman who is my mate. She seems to only live off what she needs, not wants, but there is a trickle of what she loves in this room.
Bright, colorful green curtains hang on the window, the bottoms fur-lined in dark green. Her comforter matches, the very bottom lined in fake feathery material.
Two pillows are at the head of the bed, and a deadly rage builds inside me, wondering who the fuck shares her space.
I’ll kill him to make her love me. I don’t care what I have to do.
A lamp sits on a nightstand, along with a laptop and a bottle of water. A connected bathroom is to the left, where all her toiletries are. The towels are various shades of green.
“Is green your favorite color?” I ask, noticing the way my heart seems to skip a beat in hopes that it is because my entire being matches the glimpse of her personality she’s allowed herself to show in her room.
And there is only one toothbrush, which makes me release a breath.
Good. No one else shares her space.
I set her on the bed, carefully placing her head on the pillow. Picking up a fistful of her hair, I bring it to my nose, inhaling deeply, and drift the silky strands over my cheek.
“You smell so good, Little Dream.” I crawl on top of her, caging her head in with my hands, and drag my nose down the soft flesh.
Her bed breaks, the slabs underneath snapping in half from my weight, and the entire mattress falls to the ground.
“Oops. I’ll fix that for you. You’re going to need a stronger bed so I can fuck you properly in it.” I cut her shirt from her body with a quick slice of my sharp claw, revealing the sexy light blue lace bra.
Her brows pinch together, and she turns her head, pressing her uninjured side of her face against the pillow. A blue and purple bruise spreads across her cheek from hitting the steering wheel.
A feeling of guilt swims in my veins, irking me with emotions.
I do not like that my mate was hurt because of me.
I’ll have to find ways to apologize. Is there a way I can heal her?
I noticed that I heal quickly. The scientists said that’s due to the vampire DNA.
If I had her drink my blood, would she heal?
I don’t bleed normally. When I’m cut, black smoke drifts into the air. I’m assuming it’s the nightmare that lives within my skin.
“I’m sorry you hurt yourself trying to save me.
” I pop the button off her slacks, and it clinks onto the hardware floor.
“You should have hit me, Little Dream. I wouldn’t have been hurt.
You’re so sweet to think of me though.” Her zipper grinds as I lower it.
“No one has ever thought of me before. Not like that. No one has ever cared about my life before.”
I grab her hips, fisting the material of her pants in my fists, and tug them down her legs. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” My claws tear into clothing, and I rake them down, the threads breaking to reveal her body.