Chapter 11 – Aster
ASTER
Through the reflection in my bathroom mirror, I take in the purple bruise forming across my ribs.
Jim Forde got a few punches in last night before I pinned him against the wall, and although I usually spend the day after a kill analyzing it repeatedly for anything I might have missed or forgotten in cleaning my tracks, today all I’ve thought about is her.
So much so that I coordinated a little run-in, just to see how she’s holding up from our interaction.
The answer? Apparently not well.
Last night, as I dragged the blade between her breasts, I’d have sworn she was enjoying it. But today? She looked terrified. Furious. And still strikingly beautiful.
Not to mention what seeing her in my shirt did to me.
In fact, I may have spent a bit too much time thinking about that in the shower…
Back in my room, I pull on boxers and a pair of shorts.
I’ve been awake for twenty-three hours, and the overwhelming urge to sleep is beckoning me to the bed.
I truly cannot remember the last time I got a good night’s sleep.
Yesterday I tried desperately, but all I could think about was the look in Lily’s eyes when I held the knife to her throat.
The defiance. The strength. Fuck, why was it so damn hot?
I basically stayed awake till the sun rose, trying not to touch myself. I failed.
The bedroom door bangs open, pulling my attention to the sight of a blonde-and-pink-haired, beautifully furious woman rushing in. I really need a security system. Then again, I don’t mind this particular intrusion.
“What are you—” She barrels towards me, and I stumble, hardly having time to brace myself as she launches in the air and tackles me to the ground.
My back slams against the wood floor with a thud, knocking the air from my lungs as her full weight presses on top of me.
She hooks a leg under mine, then flips us in my distraction.
“Oww,” I groan as she throws her arm around my neck, leg digging into my bruised rib.
The familiar sound of a knife unsheathing has my breath catching. Cool metal is pressed against my jugular.
“Leave. My. Friends. Alone,” she grits out.
My brows pull together. Is that what this is about?
In one fell swoop, we flip, my body on top of hers, knife thrown to the side, clanking against the floor.
Gripping her wrists, I flatten her arms to the ground.
My narrowed eyes meet hers, only dropping slightly to admire her chest rising and falling, still in my shirt.
Thank fuck I did a bout of stress relief in the shower because now is not the time to pop a semi. “What are you talking about?”
“Do whatever you want to me,” she seethes, angry eyes boring into mine. “But don’t touch my friends.” My head tilts to the side, and I roll off of her, standing up. She hurries after her dagger, then shuffles quickly to her feet, the tip pointed at me.
“You risked your life to come here and tell me to… back off?” I attempt and fail to hide my amusement.
“Risked my life?” Lily huffs a laugh. “You know…” She paces the room.
“For the first ten minutes I spent getting out of the stupid handcuff knot you left me in last night, I was terrified. I kept waiting for you to return and finish me off.” She pauses, turning to me with a snarky smile.
“Then I realized if you wanted me dead, I would be. So why am I not dead, Aster Blake? Why am I not chopped into tiny little pieces and presented like an O for your next photography session?”
“An O?” My brows raise in amusement. “And what makes you think I’m not going to kill you eventually?” Her confidence falters for a split second, and I can’t fight the grin spreading across my face. “Did you ever consider that I like to play with my food?”
Her face scrunches. “So you’re a cannibal?”
“Huh?” Nausea rises in my throat at the insinuation. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I might be a sicko, but I draw the line at cannibalism. She blinks at me, and I add, “I am not a cannibal.”
“Great, well, that’s a relief.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I need you to promise you’ll leave my friends alone,” she says, tone firm. “Haven’t you taken enough from me?”
“Mmm,” I say, stepping closer, and she tightens the grip on her dagger. “That’s not the only reason.”
“What…” She readjusts her hold on the handle. “What else would it be?”
I reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and she freezes. “That pretty mind of yours is swirling with questions.” She nibbles on her lower lip, and I swipe my thumb across, releasing it. Her warm breath hits my hand in a way that has my dick jumping. “Ask me anything.”
“Anything?” Her brow cocks, stare intense.
I nod as a beat of silence passes between us, and then her eyes lock with mine. “Why do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Kill.” If only she knew what a loaded question that was.
“I only kill people who deserve it,” I say, releasing my touch on her, and walk across the room to take a seat on the edge of the bed.
“And Violet deserved it?” she presses, anguish flooding her features.
“Violet?”
“You killed her.” Her body trembles. Who the actual hell is Violet?
“I know the name of every person I’ve killed. There’s never been a Violet.”
Her jaw ticks. “You’re lying,” she grits out, and I shake my head. “She’s dead. And you killed her.”
My brows furrow. “I’m not lying.”
But I am intrigued. Is this why she’s been following me? Do we have a case of mistaken murderer?
“Why should I believe you?” She narrows her eyes, face flushed. Her grip on the dagger is so incredibly tight that her knuckles turn white. My gaze wanders back to her beautifully furious expression.
“You’re hot when you’re mad,” slips out of my mouth, and I can’t deny the rush I get from the look of surprise on her face as she rapidly blinks away the compliment.
“Excuse me?” Her reddened cheeks and tight jaw only heighten her hotness.
“I said…” My knees split in invitation. Half teasing. Half hoping. Half wondering if she might be as unhinged as I am. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”
“Are you… hitting on me?” Her words drip in disbelief, voice rising on octave. “I’m sitting here accusing you of murder, and you’re hitting on me?”
“I’m sorry.” I’m not. “It’s just, I’ve been watching you for weeks and wondering what you smell like.” My eyes fall to her lips. “What you taste like.” She narrows her eyes again, nose scrunching. “Oh my god, I am not a cannibal.”
“Then you should probably stop using words like ‘eat’ and ‘taste.’” She takes a step closer, and given she has a weapon and mine’s across the room, I should feel worried.
But I’m not. Not even a little bit. “It’s a bit misleading.
” Maybe I’m coming on strong, but she’s cute when she’s flustered.
And it’s torture sitting here and pretending I don’t know exactly what she sounds like when she falls apart with her fingers between her thighs. “Well?!”
Shoving away the inappropriate thoughts, I stand to my full height, towering over her. “You want to know why I killed that guy?” I ask, and she nods. “He’s been arrested for assault and rape of a minor in fourteen states. Not one conviction.”
Her head rears back. “How is that possible?”
“Money. Power. Connections.”
“Who was he?” Her voice is almost a whisper.
“Low-level politician, but valuable enough to be worth more out of prison than in… You don’t have to believe me, but you’ll read all about it in the morning paper.”
“Is the reporting really unbiased if you write about your own kills?” she snarks, and my brows pull together.
“I always write the truth.”
She steps towards me, and I retreat, falling to sit on the edge of the bed once more. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Lily’s blue eyes sweep my body, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she was checking me out. Her gaze finally returns to mine, and my breathing halts. She’s so close I could just… She freezes as I tuck hair behind her ear once more.
“Is this some kind of game?” she asks, breathing out.
“You started it.”
“If you knew I was following you, why not confront me?”
“I’m curious.” I drag a thumb along her jaw, and her breath hitches, but she doesn’t swat me away.
“About what?”
“Why you’re stalking me.”
She scoffs. “I am not stalking you!”
“You were following me without my knowledge. That’s stalking.”
“Well, apparently, you knew, which according to your rules, makes it not stalking.”
I fight a smile. Damn, she’s got a mouth on her.
“Whatever you say.” I want to ask her a million and one questions.
Figure out exactly why she’s so fixated on me.
But in this moment, her fruity perfume is surrounding me, and adrenaline has me aching for physical contact.
When I slide my fingers into her hair once more, she stills.
“What do you want from me?” she repeats.
“Right now?” She nods, and while the emotions I’m feeling are frustratingly hard to decipher, they boil down to five words. “I want to kiss you.” Her eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn’t appear completely repulsed by the idea, which is why I stupidly say, “Can I?”
She leans into my touch. “Oh, so he’s a gentleman?”
She didn’t run. So that’s a good sign. “Would you prefer I not be?”
“Maybe…” Her eyes flicker with something dangerous as a wicked grin spreads across her pretty face.
A split second later, she’s brought her blade to my jugular, the cool metal pressing against it, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my dick jump.
My breath catches as she digs into my skin, and a stinging slice spreads over the side of my neck.
My hand flies to her wrist. “What are you doing?”
She pauses her torment, resting the palm of her hand on my shoulder to balance herself as she places a knee on each side of the mattress beside me, lowering herself to a straddle. “Trust me?” she asks, pretty eyes twinkling with mischief.
Unable to find any response besides the groan that slips past my lips, I nod. I’ve no reason to trust her, but the woman does have a knife to my throat. And she’s grinding in my goddamn lap.
Each press of her blade causes a burning sensation, and my heart pounds erratically while desire clouds my mind.
My hands absentmindedly find her waist, and I grip tight to avoid shrieking in pain like a little bitch.
It’s purely self-induced masochism that prevents me from stopping her as she etches her mark on my skin.
“Who are you?” I whisper, careful not to move too much.
“I thought you already knew?”
“Your name is not who you are.” I know that better than anyone. Being a Blake holds weight. But it’s that same weight that drags me to the depths of the ocean, drowning me until I’m left in nothing but darkness. “Tell me who you are, beautiful.”
“You really want to know?” she asks as blood trickles down my chest.
My eyes are pinned on her amused face. Then they focus on her plump lips mere inches from mine. “I really want to kiss you.”
“I’ll tell you what, Aster.” I fight a shudder at the way she says my name as she lowers the blade from my neck, gliding it between my pectorals towards my waist. “If you catch me, you can have me.”
I huff a laugh that’s cut short seconds later when agonizing pain erupts in my leg. Before I can register what’s happened, she’s pushed herself off me and bolted out the door. Glancing towards the jaw-clenching pain, I find her dagger lodged into the top of my thigh.
Grunting, I grip the pink handle, yanking the weapon out with a sting, and toss the bloodied thing to the floor.
The front door slams shut, and I hold pressure to my new spasming wound while rushing off the bed.
Blood oozes down my skin, leaving a trail behind me as I hobble in agony towards the window, where I spot Lily sprinting across the yard.
She turns, slowing her strides, and blows a kiss my way.
An unabashed smile splits across her face as she waves, then takes off towards the sidewalk and disappears.
What the fuck just happened?
I rush to the bathroom, taking pause in the mirror at the sight of bloodied handprints on my chest. Her bloodied handprints. With a steadying breath, I force my dick to stay in place. There is no time for arousal. This woman just slashed, stabbed, and dashed!
After grabbing the MediKit from under the sink, I first tie a tourniquet around my leg. Then I use a wet sterile cloth to dab away the bright crimson on my neck. Once it’s mostly clear, my eyes fall to the fresh wound, blood still weeping from the carved letters:
XO KARMA.
Another laugh escapes me.
Let the games begin.