Epilogue #2
I focus on the torn cardboard box I’m crouched down behind as everyone laughs. Happy, ignorant that all their lives will change soon.
They’re currently getting dressed, and my eyes swivel to the mirror propped up against the opposite wall. From here, I can make out Rowan pulling off those tight pants he was wearing. What’s revealed are lean legs and a bulge right between.
My dick is uncomfortably hard now.
I should recuse myself from this job, have one of my brothers do it, but I don’t move from my spot. Don’t bother to send a text or make a call to get out of this. No, I just crouch down lower, mostly to stay out of view, but also so I can see his ass when he pulls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
And it’s a nice ass. One in a jockstrap. One, in another life, I’d spread and push into.
But instead, I’ll be pushing the knife into his jugular and holding him while he bleeds out.
At least I can make it mostly painless.
“Marcy, did your mom like the oat bars?” Rowan asks.
“She loved them.” A pretty brunette smiles at him, patting his shoulder as he passes. “You didn’t need to make them for her, but thank you.”
Rowan smiles. “She’s been sick; it’s the least I can do.”
“That’s Rowan, our resident mother hen,” one of the other men says teasingly. “Why don’t we get your oat bars?”
“I literally brought in brownies today.” Rowan points dramatically at an empty Tupperware dish. “Did you forget already?”
“Brownies aren’t oat bars.”
“Fine, I’ll make oat bars tomorrow.” Rowan sighs, but I spot his secret smile as he ducks his head. “Meet you at Rounds?”
Several yeses chorus back at him. I frown. What the fuck is Rounds?
Rowan isn’t done, smiling beatifically at the man closest to him. “You okay with locking up?”
The guy winks. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Ha,” he says with a smile, and my chest aches more. I rub at it, wondering if I should mention it to one of the others. They’ll probably make me see a doctor. Ansel certainly will if he gets wind of it. Best to keep it to myself in that case. “Not the boss yet.”
He has really nice teeth. I hate that I notice. I shouldn’t be noticing anything about him apart from how fast he might run or how strong he is.
Really strong if he can stay on pointe for as long as he can.
“You will be soon enough,” one of the other male dancers says. “He has to make you the manager eventually.”
“We’ll see about that,” Rowan says lightly, and then with a wave, he slips out the back, leaving me to stare after him. Well, fuck. I completely missed my chance to murder him.
I’ll just have to figure out what the hell Rounds is and meet him there.
I mean, murder him there.
Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
Rounds ends up being a nightclub, where the music is trendy and the alcohol is cheap. It isn’t in the nicest place in town. So murder here will go down easier.
It will be tragic, but not unexpected.
I find Rowan at the bar, his ass out as he leans forward, his hand around a bright, colorful drink.
I watch as he downs it and then pulls someone next to him onto the dance floor, his body moving in a way I can only ever dream of.
Shadows hide me as I keep him in my sights. He and the man are now wrapped around each other. They look good together. I’d look better with him, I think as I clutch my knife tighter.
Perhaps I can kill both of them.
I shake that thought off. I’m not allowed to kill randos because I’m grumpy.
Wylder made that rule.
Fucker.
He’s become more chill since sorting shit out with Neo, but I suspect this is one rule he won’t bend on.
I watch for long minutes, ones that stretch into an hour, my body moving in time with the music bumping the floorboards. It’s hot in here, but I barely feel it under this coat. I can’t focus on anything other than Rowan. The way he smiles. How his hips move. The sweat dripping down his neck.
I think he even clocks me watching him, but I can’t be sure because he turns away too quickly, a smirk on his face.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. Not when I’ve made my decision.
I want to fuck him before I kill him. Want to peel those clothes off and fill his hole with my cum.
Maybe that makes me a twisted fucker, but I’ve never pretended to be sane. Something’s always been a bit screwy in my brain, and that was even before Father got involved.
Rowan turns suddenly and meets my stare. I freeze, unsure of what he’s going to do. But he just winks at me before waltzing off the dance floor. He grabs another drink from the bar before vanishing through a door.
I follow. I’d like to say it’s because he’s my target, but I’m not sure that’s why. I just have this…need to know what he’s up to. Where he’s going. What he’s doing.
Pushing past people gyrating against me, I follow through the doorway and come to an immediate halt.
What the hell?
Axes are flying through the air, slamming into targets at the other end of a lane.
For a second, I have to do a double-take to make sure I haven’t stumbled into one of our training rooms. But a rub of my eyes shows that, nope, I’m not tripping.
Evidently, this is something you can pay to do. For fun.
Who knew? Not me, that’s for fucking sure.
My cock grows harder as I watch Rowan move up to a counter and slap the hand of a man behind it. He’s given a small tote of knives and axes before moving to a caged throwing lane. He sets the tote down on the ground, and I move up a few feet behind him.
I’m past trying to be discreet. He’s already caught me watching. Might as well lean into it.
So I take up a spot against a pillar and watch.
He hits each and every target with the grace of a skilled assassin.
I’m beyond intrigued. My fingers unclasp the knife and tuck it away for later use.
I won’t be killing him right now. He’s too fucking beautiful in this moment. A dancer and an expert knife thrower.
I could use some tips before he goes.
“See something you like?” I hear him say, and my eyes slide from the target to see he’s standing in front of me. He’s caught me. Not that I’ve been trying to hide. I’m out in the open. “I saw you watching me back there on the dance floor.”
I smirk. “Who’s been watching who?”
He cocks his head and gestures to my overcoat. “It’s that coat you’re wearing. You look…hot.”
He flushes, and my dick twitches again. Fucking thing has a mind of its own. “You look…hot too.”
He swipes his forehead and smiles wider, those perfect teeth flashing at me. “Thank you. Knife throwing is a lot of work. Takes a lot of…stamina.”
“Care to give me some tips?” I ask, shoving off the pillar and moving toward him.
As I approach, towering over him, I realize his lithe frame is the perfect size. I could easily pick him up and bounce him on my needy dick.
He’s a murderer, I remind myself.
So am I, my brain counters.
“For dancing or throwing?” Rowan smiles so brightly it’s almost painful to look at. “Seems you could use a little help with both. I saw you dancing against the wall…if you could call it that.”
I study him closely. How is it possible that someone who embodies such sunshine is hiding such darkness within?
His smile falters slightly. “If you want, of course. No pressure. I’m easy. Easy-breezy.”
Every word out of his lips causes me more confusion. More intrigue.
I can’t help but want to work him out.
I shouldn’t. I know that.
Trouble is, I’ve never been good at doing what I’m supposed to.
“Oh, I want,” I say finally, touching his hip. “I want to learn all of your moves.”
Rowan bites his bottom lip, leaning in so close to me. He smells like lavender cookies. His breath is warm on my cheek, and I inhale deeply before he suddenly twists and something flies through the air, hitting the target dead in the middle.
I blink as recognition hits me. I know that hilt. It’s the dagger my father gifted me. The one I was going to use to slice that pretty neck. Somehow, he took it out of the sheath, and I had no idea.
Suddenly, I’m looking at him through new eyes. Ones that can see how he might have committed the crime I’ve been sent here to punish him for.
Doesn’t stop me from becoming even more intrigued.
Rowan glances back over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling. He looks like a fae warrior right now, in these lights, that knife still vibrating from the perfect way it landed.
“Like how I did that?” His hand lands on my chest, dragging up over my fiercely beating heart.
He grins up at me, like he has no idea of the kind of danger he’s inviting.
“Care to tell me why you have a knife in your pocket? You gonna kill someone?” Mischief sparkles in those hazel eyes, telling me he doesn’t mean a word he’s saying. “You kinda look like a killer.”
He has no idea. No fucking idea.
Thing is, he’s not wrong.
I am a killer, and I’m going to kill him.
Just not tonight.
Thank you for reading Vigilant!