Page 75 of Dark Notes

She drops her knees to my sides, straddling me, as she holds my face in her hands. “He hasn’t raped me since August.”

August? I jackknife to a sitting position, my vision blurred by red fog. “This past August, as in two months ago?”

She clings to my chest, holding on to my head as she mashes her mouth against mine. The moment her tongue seeks entry, I kiss her back, angrily, possessively, tangling my hand in her hair and yanking her hips against mine.

I bite her lip. “His name.”

She rocks her pussy against my cock, thrusting her tongue and, goddammit, distracting me.

I rip my mouth away. “His name.”

She slumps, her whisper hollow. “Lorenzo Gandara.”

Latino? The same motherfucker lurking around her house that night?

“Does he ride an orange sportbike?”

Her fingernails dig into the back of my neck. “How do you know that?”

“Go to sleep.”

That’s the only response Emeric gives to my endless questions about Lorenzo. Eventually, my worries dissolve beneath the weight of fatigue.

I tuck close against the rigid wall of his chest, sheltered by the bulk of his arm around my back, and guarded by his vigilant gaze. I fall fast into sleep, lost in a great timeless space where forever isn’t long enough.

I’ve never felt this weightless, like a strange airy sensation has replaced my bones and skin, and there’s nothing left but my breath. Soft, floaty breaths of ether. Each exhale forms a cloud that joins the others drifting around me in a vast blue sky.

I’m dreaming. I try to hold onto the enchantment. It’s so safe and gentle here I don’t want to leave. Don’t wake up.

I blink against flashes of sapphire haloed by lamp light.

“Good morning.” Emeric’s blue eyes fill my horizon, so deep and majestic, glimmering with all the colors and stars of heaven.

I stretch my arms over my head, delighting in the softness of his bed. “I’m dreaming.”

He stands over me, biceps bunching as he plants his hands on the edge of the mattress. “Still dreaming?”

“Well…I was in heaven.” I reach up and caress the day-old scruff on his jaw. “Until the devil showed up.”

His lips crook up in a territorial grin, his complexion rosier than usual. His skin is damp beneath my fingers, his hair dark and drippy against his forehead.

“You already showered?” I drag my focus from his face, down his wet t-shirt, and pause on the gym shorts. “Oh. You worked out. What time is it?”

I shift to my side and find the clock on the nightstand. 5:15 AM. School doesn’t start for two hours.

He straightens, rolling his shoulders. “How long do you need to get ready?”

I sit up, the room wobbling around me as I recall the conversation we didn’t finish last night. “Depends. You haven’t told me how you know Lorenzo.”

“He’s no longer your concern.” He turns toward the bathroom.

“You can’t just go beat him up.” I slide off the bed and adjust the shirt over my thighs. “He’s an ex-Marine, a thug, maybe even a criminal. And you’re a—”

He shoots me a scalding glare that shrivels the rest of my words in my throat. His fist opens and closes at his side, his lacerated knuckles glowing red. Okay, maybe he could get a few punches in, but…

“It’s too risky.” I slump on the edge of the mattress, trembling against the idea of him fighting another one of my monsters.

Lorenzo rarely comes to my house without Shane, so it would be them against my teacher. Nothing good would come from that.

I meet his eyes. “The cops might get called. You could go to jail. Or worse, if you keep hitting stuff, you could break your hands and lose your ability to play piano.”

He strides back to me, his expression marbleized with shadowy lines of intensity. “Despite what you’ve seen, I usually don’t confront problems with my fists.” He raises one of those fists and strokes it across my jaw. “I prefer subtle and deceptive planning. Lorenzo Gandara won’t see me coming.”

Okaaay. So he’s going to…what? Go ninja on his ass?

He returns to the bathroom, his voice rumbling over his shoulder. “I’m taking a shower. Then the bathroom is yours.”

The door shuts behind him, followed by the hollow click of the lock.

I flop back on the bed, the shirt lifting to my waist and exposing me to the cool air. I don’t know what he did with my panties. I don’t even care. He’s seen me naked and put his fingers inside me. Yet all he’s let me see is his bare chest.

Why did he lock the door? What is he hiding? My pulse elevates as ridiculous theories fill my head. Is his dick malformed? Or maybe he doesn’t want me near it until the doctor checks me for diseases?

My emotions overflow, but the sharpest feeling is the one deep in my core. Just thinking about him naked sends a quiver up my thighs and a jolt between my legs.