Page 10 of A Virgo’s Muse (BLP Signs of Love #12)

Last night was art. Not the kind people hang on gallery walls to be admired under filtered lights, but the kind that left fingerprints on your soul.

The studio still smelled like us, like fresh paint, sweat, and whispered promises.

The white tarp crinkled beneath us, stained in bold streaks of blue, red, and deep violet.

Her body curled into mine, skin bare and warm.

Her leg tangled around mine like her soul didn’t want to let go.

Desire was asleep on my chest, mouth slightly parted, breath slow.

She looked… safe. And for the first time in years, I did too.

We didn’t just fuck. We made love. And I knew the difference now. I’d been inside a lot of women. Physical, transactional, forgettable. I’d walked away from bodies without ever looking back.

But with her? The second I felt the inside of her, her warmth, her rhythm, her trust, I knew I wasn’t ever walking away. I wasn’t built to love. But last night, I loved her. And now I had to protect what I loved.

I reached for my phone quietly, careful not to wake her. The screen lit up with messages I’d been ignoring all night. But one stuck out.

Sade missing .

I clenched my jaw. The text came through hours ago, a short, clipped update from one of my guys. She never made it home. Her phone pinged near the studio but then went dark. I could’ve ruined the moment. I could’ve jumped up and gone into full hunt mode, but I didn’t. Not yet.

I held Desire tighter instead. She needed the night, and I did too. I didn’t ignore it. I sent a few of my soldiers out in quiet, unmarked cars. I didn’t want Desire knowing until I knew more. She’d panic, and if she spiraled, I knew she’d shut down completely. And now? Now, I was out for blood.

Morning light crept in through the studio windows when she stirred against me. Her lips brushed my chest, eyes still lazy with sleep.

“You stayed,” she said lowly and her voice husky.

“I told you I would.”

I kissed her forehead then helped her dress in silence. When I dropped her off at her apartment, I didn’t say much. I just said that I had to handle something, and I’d be back.

She didn’t ask questions. Just nodded and kissed me like she already knew.

I drove away, jaw tight, the taste of her still on my tongue, and a storm brewing in my chest. I went home first. When I made it there, I went straight to my bathroom.

I stripped out of my clothes that held paint on the inside of them.

I turned on the water to the hottest setting then turned on the shower. I allowed it to warm up while I got my towel and clothes ready.

Placing them on the toilet seat, I stalked back over to the shower, opening the shower curtain and stepping directly into the water allowing the heat to scorch my skin.

I grabbed my body rag and my body wash, placing some of the soap onto the rag before I scrubbed my body. I repeated this same thing twice before I stepped completely under the shower head, allowing the water to run from my head to the rest of my body.

I stayed in for a little while longer before I got out. I used the towel to dry off. I then lotioned my legs and arms before spritzing some of my cologne on then putting on my clothes. Then I was right back out the door.

Later that Day

I met up with Ghost and Trell behind a burned-out trap house on 9th. They were waiting with the engine running and weapons ready.

“You find her?” I asked.

Ghost nodded slowly. “We got a lead. Camera across from the studio caught her heading to her car. Then… nothing. Blacked out footage after that. Someone jammed the signal.”

Trell passed me his phone. My jaw ticked when I saw it… a picture of Sade unconscious in the back seat of some dusty-ass car. Her head lolled to the side with a fucking seat belt across her chest like she was just asleep.

Underneath the photo was a message:

I’m taking bitches out like a tomb raider. -Santos.

Mr. Patchy Beard Wannabe Boogeyman. The walking fucking L. I exhaled through my nose slowly, not out of fear, not out of worry. I was mad… livid actually. I was mad that I gave this nigga enough space to think he could breathe in my direction, let alone touch someone I gave a fuck about.

The thing about men like Santos? They moved with noise, desperate for validation. But when I moved, I moved in silence, and when I came, I came to finish.

“I want two cars tailing his last known address,” I told Ghost. “Nobody moves without checking in with me first. I want Sade found alive. And when we get her back…” I let the silence stretch. “…we bury this nigga.”

I lit a Black and Mild and took a slow drag.

Trell chuckled uneasily. “You finally ’bout to snap, huh?”

I looked him dead in his face. “Nah. This is me calm.”

Later that Night

I pulled up outside of Desire’s place. She opened the door before I could even knock. She was barefoot with her hair wrapped and an oversized tee hanging off one shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, eyes scanning my face. “You okay?”

I nodded, stepping inside. “Yeah. Just missed you.”

That wasn’t a lie. She was my peace. But she was also my pressure point, and Santos knew that. He didn’t snatch Sade just to make a statement. He did it to test how far I’d go when the things I loved were on the line.

I kissed her slowly and softly and let the weight of the day melt into her lips. She tasted like home.

“I’m not staying long,” I whispered. “Just wanted to see you.”

She nodded, pressing her head to my chest.

“You smell like smoke,” she said.

“Been cleaning up ashes.”

She looked up at me, curious, but didn’t ask.

She was starting to understand the world I came from.

I didn’t tell her about Sade. Not yet. But I would fix it before it touched her.

Because if Santos wanted a war, he just fucked around and signed his own death certificate. And this time, I wasn’t showing mercy.