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I shut my eyes, picturing the entire thing, all of it so vivid and clear, that it's tempting to lie back down and do it all again. Goosebumps pop up on my skin, thinking about how it all felt. How even in my drunken state, I could’ve sworn someone was watching me.
And that only made me keep going until my body burst with euphoria. Of course, that could’ve just been my desperate desire forhim. My filthy imagination.
With that conclusion, I stand up, discard the panties into the wastebasket beside the bed, and stroll past the balcony doors.
I halt. Looking back at them, giving them a once over. I don't remember closing the balcony doors. Then again, I was drunk and high off that explosive orgasm. Yes. That must’ve been it.
But...again...I chew on the side of my lip. It could only just confirm my previous suspicions of someone watching me, and 99% of the time, my gut is never wrong.
Three hours later
I lift the strap over my shoulder while peering into the long mirror.
This is it.
The moment I’ve been craving; that last kill. Of course, I have to look my best when I’m ending the life of the man who tortured my brother, the filthy human who has something to do with those kids being targeted. So, I chose to wear a black dress, and not the red one I packed. I need to look the part, but I also don't want to stand out too much, making it obvious I wasn’t the invitee to the ball. Carefully lifting the other strap to not smudge the white polish I painted after doing my hair. I realize it’s becoming repetitive. Every mission I accept, my nails need to be a different shade. White is purity and new beginnings, and that's what tonight is. I'm making the world pure again, free of an evil man.
Wicked Mal came over asking to get her nails painted as well. I can see she’s never indulged herself in that kind of thing with the way she eyes the polish like it was acid on her fingers instead of nail polish. She chose red. A similar color to what Eve said she would wear. Maybe that’s why I've grown almost fond of Wicked? She reminds me a lot of Eve. Evil grin, deadly eyes, the walk of a cat ready to prowl. Just much more feminine.
Besides that, I ignored the urge to ask if she saw Ronan this morning, but I decided against it. He already texted the plan, and we went over the pinpoints and our roles for tonight. So why would I ask her that? She’ll want to know my sudden curiosity, and I can't have her thinking too much about my ‘asking.’
I let out a sigh, raking my eyes over my figure. It’s simple but shows every bit of curve that I have. It’s a thin-strap satin dress that hugs my waist and exposes my back. The bottom flows down to my feet and shows off my entire snake tattoo.
I wonder how Ronan is going to look tonight. Probably something basic. I’m telling myself this to get over the unruly jitter in my chest that causes my stomach to do backflips. I head to the dresser and add on my earrings, bracelet, and necklace. Time to look fancy for a bunch of slithering, soulless people.
After applying my matte lipstick, I prepare for the most frustrating part of getting ready. The back. I lift my hand behind me, reaching for the zipper. It caught on a little, but it doesn’t zip high enough to clamp shut. The position only causes my shoulder to ache and my palms to sweat.Shit.
Why do they make dresses like this? Where is the side zipper?
I release an annoyed moan. Walking back to the mirror, I try again, but it doesn’t work. No amount of stretching will help this impossible obstacle. Maybe I’ll just get Mal to do it.
“Need some help?”
My heart shoots into my throat from his deep, velvety voice, beating so fast it hurts.
Ronan.
I swallow, mustering the courage to turn the opposite direction because I’m not afraid to face the man.Liar.
I face him, and now I’m bursting with heat, my entire body ablaze. I wish I didn’t turn around.It's been a while since I looked at him, but it seems like centuries.
So, basic, my ass.
He stands at the adjacent door. Watching me like he always does. But this time the look is different. It’s not the usual way he watches me, like a simmer on the stove, warming the water but not setting it to a boil. No, this, this is something else. A scorching heat that causes the water to bubble over and splash on the burner. It's the feral look he gave me before he kissed me in the arena. My throat closes, sending ‘lost circulation’ alerts to my brain.
It felt like someone was watching me. Like that.
He’s leaning on the frame with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a mask. Looking so devilishly handsome. He stares at me intensely, and I do the same, scoping out his outfit as I do. His black tuxedo fits perfectly against his muscular thighs and broad chest. His normally full beard is shaved down, only cut into chin strap beard and low mustache.
My mouth quickly waters and then dries simultaneously. My clit throbbing like last night when I fucked myself so good I cried out his name. Shit, that did happen, didn't it?
Flames ignite up my neck and my heart thumps loud enough to signal the lost souls below.
I lick my lips before sliding my eyes from his. “No. I got it. It’s not...” My words trail off as Ronan bounces off the wall, swaggering toward me with dimmed eyes.
Oh, fuck.
By the time he makes it to me, the room feels as if he created a force field of flames, containing me in his fire. My footsteps back, unwarranted. He smirks softly, like a demon would when he knows he’s trapped his victim.