Chapter 12 – Lily
LILY
I am an idiot.
Not only am I an idiot, but I’m a dead idiot.
Aster let me live, and what do I do?
Break into his house—again—and carve him like a jack-o’-lantern.
Not to mention I etched my calling card into his neck. Let’s hope this man’s a goddamn idiot like the rest of them and doesn’t put two and two together.
Why the hell did I do that?
The only single thing keeping me calm is remembering the look in his eyes right before I stabbed him.
Adoration. Desperation. Lust.
Here’s to hoping his desire to fuck me overpowers his desire to kill me.
Oh my god, what if he’s a necrophiliac?
Bile rises in my throat. I’m going to be sick.
I’ve possibly pissed off a cannibalistic, necrophiliac serial killer.
I’m going to be murdered and consumed.
My muscles burn as I sprint down the street away from his house. I didn’t drive since I came immediately after leaving Amara’s earlier. Zuri insisted we have a tea party, which turned into a movie night, not that I’m complaining. But that meant my threatening of Aster Blake had to wait.
I’m not even sure I was that convincing. He was laughing the entire time, and there’s a 99% chance that when I straddled his lap, he had a hard-on. He also had the audacity to ask to kiss me.
He asked to kiss me.
Why does that stick out so much?
Aster seems like the kind of guy to just take what he wants.
He takes lives like it’s nothing. I would assume if he wanted to kiss someone, he simply… would.
Although I suppose I shouldn’t be giving a man credit for doing the bare minimum of asking for consent.
But consent is so damn attractive.
Especially when the request is coming from a six-foot-five, dripping in sex bad boy.
Even running full speed, heat pulls between my thighs.
Damn it.
Murderer!
Cardio and horniness are not friends. Every pound of my foot on the pavement sends vibrations through my body that should not have me this worked up.
I wonder if anyone’s ever had an orgasm while running before.
Girl, what the fuck is wrong with you?
Forcing the thoughts to the depths of my mind, I plot Aster Blake’s murder the rest of the run home.
I could chop him into pieces and leave him in his freezer. Too messy.
Maybe catch him off guard in an alleyway and pull a plastic bag over his head. Too risky.
A sickening thought creeps in. Perhaps a bit of poison in that caramel macchiato he loves so much would do the trick. Something slow-acting so they couldn’t trace it. I mentally run through a list of slow-acting toxins. Maybe anti-freeze?
When I round the street corner, my driveway comes into view, relief washing through me.
Liam’s cruiser is gone. Rushing inside, I’ve never been so thankful to be alone.
He told me to stop these late-night activities, and coming home in non-exercise clothes, dripping in sweat, doesn’t seem like something easily explainable.
Once in my room, I slam the door, locking it for good measure.
“Fuck!” I shout to myself, pacing the room, clenching and unclenching my fists.
My fingers stick to my palm, and I glance down, finding them stained with blood.
Aster’s blood. I must have touched him without even noticing when making my escape.
My heart rate sputters. I can’t believe I did that.
Not only did I slice him up, but I also…
enjoyed it? Energy courses through me, vibrating to my bones in a way I’ve never felt.
I rush to the bathroom, turn on the sink, and red liquid pools in the basin as I scrub my hands clean.
Three times for good measure. Once the water runs clear, I reach for my dagger on my thigh, cursing myself when I remember I left it in his leg.
Luckily, I have extras, but that one was my favorite.
None of that was planned, it just sort of happened, but I can’t find it in me to regret it.
My phone rings, and I pull it out, an unknown number flashing across the screen.
I grip the device so hard my knuckles turn white. Is it him?
Against my better judgment, I accept the call.
“Lily?” a rough, unfamiliar robotic voice says. It’s extremely deep. Definitely someone using a voice modulator.
I take a steadying breath. “Who is this?”
“You’ve been looking for the Kodak Killer.” It’s a statement, not a question. Goosebumps scatter across my body. Could it be Aster? Is he toying with me since I wounded him?
“Who’s asking?”
A laugh rumbles through the line. “That’s not relevant.”
“It feels relevant.” My body racks with a shudder. “What the hell do you want?”
“Why are you looking?”
What kind of idiotic question is that?! “Because I’d like to find the person terrorizing this city!”
“Terrorizing?” They seem almost in disbelief. “Don’t you mean protecting?”
“Are you delusional? Kodak is killing innocent people.”
There’s a pause in the line. “Is that really what you believe?”
“Of course?!” I pace the room as frustration courses through me.
“Tsk. Tsk. I’d think you of all people should understand the line between innocent and guilty isn’t always so clear.”
My heart stops. Do they know I’m Karma? “What would make you say that?”
“You’re involving yourself in things you don’t understand,” they reply, ignoring my question.
“I understand plenty.”
“If you continue this”—my stomach twists in knots I don’t think will ever untangle—“there’s no going back.”
There’s no going back to a time before the Kodak Killer ruined my life either. “I understand the risks.”
“Do you?” they ask so calmly, it almost has me second-guessing myself.
I run a hand through my hair, gathering my non-existent thoughts. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“You could be the one who ends up dead.”
The call drops, and a chill runs down my spine. I blink at the phone in my hand, unable to formulate a single word. Is Aster hoping I’ll take a break from stalking since I injured him? He wants time to heal before we start our little game again?
Swallowing hard, another possibility pops into my head. Is it someone else?
How do they know I’m looking into the Kodak Killer?
Is it Kodak himself?
Does he want me to stop?
Am I getting close?
A million questions fly through my mind before my head hits the pillow.
And a million more by the time the sun comes up.