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NINETY

AMETHYST

Xero is determined to keep me off-balance. One minute, he’s overbearing and rude. The next, he’s loving.The only consistent thing about him is that he always takes a different route home. This time, we return to my house’s crawlspace via a marble mausoleum.

I knew they had doors, but I had no idea people could enter unless they were depositing remains. We walk in through an arched entrance, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

I avert my gaze from rows of coffins fit into openings in the walls, trying to ignore the chill running down my spine. Cobwebs cling to every corner, casting an ominous aura. A ghostly breeze blows through, making me clutch at my chest.

Xero’s phone light illuminates the way, and I cling to his side with both arms wrapped around his biceps.

“Scared, little ghost?” he asks.

I shiver. “I keep waiting for something to jump out of the shadows, accusing me of a crime I can’t remember.”

“We’ll unlock your memories,” he murmurs.

“How?”

“I sent someone to your psychiatrist’s office to look up your records. Once we have them, you can read up about your past. ”

Relief escapes my lungs in a long breath. “You’d do that for me?”

Xero pauses at the end of the walkway, where there’s an iron staircase leading down to goodness-knows-where. Slender beams of moonlight shine in from the high windows, accentuating his masculine bone structure.

“Amethyst, I would crack open a thousand heads to get a glimpse of your past.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“You’re my sweetest obsession. From the moment I knew you existed, I’ve been addicted. I would slaughter every man who tried to keep me from possessing you.”

His gaze is so intense that it’s almost unbearable, yet I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s as if his heated stare has the power to sear through my flesh and render my bones to ash.

Shadows flicker across his chiseled features, making him seem otherworldly—almost divine. My heart thuds, and I struggle to maintain my composure. His presence is so overwhelming that I can’t breathe. My legs tremble so much I can barely hold up my own weight.

When he reaches out and brushes a stray curl off my face, his touch sends a zing of sensation that goes straight to my core. My arousal surges, making my knees buckle. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his broad chest.

“I’ve got you, little ghost,” he says, his deep voice echoing across the mausoleum walls.

It’s too much. I’m powerless against Xero’s allure. All I want to do is give in to his irresistible charm, even though part of me knows it would be a mistake. How can I trust my instincts when I can’t even trust my most basic senses?

Breaking away from him, I walk backward, down the stairs, my hands gripping the iron banister.

“What are you even saying?” My words come out so hoarse that I barely recognize them as my own.

“You’re mine. Mine until the end of time. Mine until the sun goes supernova, and the moon crumbles to dust. Mine until the entire universe is reduced to atoms. And even when there’s nothing left of existence but mere echoes, my soul will reach out from the void to find yours.”

He descends toward me like a specter, our height difference exaggerated by the stairs. I feel so small, so weak, so insignificant, so undeserving of such a grandiose declaration.

“Xero, this is insane,” I say, my voice breathy.

His chest rumbles with a deep chuckle that resounds across the stone walls. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“No one has ever…” I reach the bottom of the stairs and lower my lashes. “Well, you know my past.”

“Don’t let some unworthy bastard dictate your value,” he growls. “That man was too blind to see your worth, your strength, the beauty of your spirit.”

I bow my head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words. “All my life, I’ve been a burden,” I murmur. “Someone who has sleepwalked from one messy situation to another. Life isn’t a fairy tale, and handsome princes don’t exist. The moment I become too much trouble, you’ll leave.”

“Don’t compare me to your mother,” he growls.

My head snaps up, and I meet his eyes, which are deep pools of black ringed with electric blue.

“That woman is superficial, brittle, weak. She’s too vain and shallow to give you the love you deserve.”

“Maybe she’s tired of covering up my murders,” I mutter.

“Do you think I give a shit about something as trivial as a few corpses?” he asks with a crooked smile. “Don’t forget, I spent a year cleaning up my firm’s kills.”

I huff a laugh. “That’s true.”

“You forget that I like a woman with blood on her hands.”

Warmth fills my chest, and my heart flutters. “What if I’m a compulsive killer?”

He presses me tighter against his chest. “If you want to kill assholes, I’ll be there at your side with a rag in one hand to wipe down your fingerprints and a shovel in the other to bury the carcasses.”

I chuckle. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Maybe I am, but nothing you could ever do would make me recoil.” He cups the side of my face and brings his lips close to mine. “I’m not afraid of your demons. I can’t wait to set them free.”

My heart pounds so hard, I swear it’s trying to break through my ribcage and nestle into his chest. I’ve never felt so accepted or so seen. Nothing I can ever do could drive him away, and knowing that gives me a strange sort of security. For the first time in my entire life, I feel loved, protected, special.

Even when I was with Mr. Lawson, a large part of me knew it was wrong. He never took me out to eat, never introduced me to any of his friends, or even allowed me to use his first name. The man was always so paranoid I would slip up and reveal our secret relationship.

Xero wanted the whole world to know we were in love. He made me the president of his official fan club, wrote about me in his responses to the fans, and introduced me to his sister. Not to mention the great efforts he’s making to destroy an evil organization that wants me dead.

“Is this love?” I whisper against his lips.

“Love? That’s too bland to describe what’s in my heart. You’re my North Star, my guiding light, my entire purpose. I’m obsessed, addicted, compelled to worship at your feet, if only to sate the hunger inside me only you can quell.”

“Xero—”

His lips crash down on mine with a kiss that steals my breath, and his fingers tangle into my curls, holding my head in place. He devours my mouth, his tongue twisting around mine to explore every crevice and stoke the flames of my arousal.

My knees buckle, and I fall against him, feeling the press of his long, hard cock.

“See what you do to me,” he growls into the kiss. “I can’t function, knowing you’re so close. If I had the choice, I’d be inside you every hour of the day.”

“Do it,” I say.

He raises a brow. “Now?”

I nod.

He sweeps an arm across the stone room. “Here?”

I turn in a circle, finally taking in my surroundings. The lower level floor of the mausoleum is more spacious than upstairs, containing two ornate marble coffins laid side by side, with a stone seating area around the edges.

Between them is a walkway that leads to a decorative arch. Sconces hang on the walls, each holding unlit candles. With Xero here to protect me from stray ghosts, I can appreciate that it’s creepy, yet romantic.

“Yes,” I say, my gaze meeting his. “Right here.”

He advances on me, his hands encircling my waist. He walks me backward to one of the stone coffins, his eyes shining with desire.

“Is anyone buried inside there?” I ask.

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

He lifts me to the coffin’s ledge, so I’m sitting atop its marble surface. Cold seeps through the fabric of my skirt and stockings, making me fidget. Easing down my upper body, Xero smooths his hands up my thighs, and pushes the fabric up around my waist.

“Open for me,” he says, that deep voice curling around my senses like smoke.

Even though I’m wearing a fitted black leather bodice with a zip down the front, and a matching black jacket with gloves, I still manage to shiver. I part my thighs, my breath hitching as his warm fingers skim my panties’ lace trim.

I stare up into his darkening eyes, my heart pounding hard enough to rattle the marble.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re laid out for me like my own little corpse bride.” Xero reaches for the zipper and pulls, releasing my breasts.

Cool air swirls around my exposed flesh, making my nipples tighten into hardened peaks. His gaze rakes over my body with a hunger so palpable, I swear I feel it brush against my skin. Every inch of me shivers, but not from the cold.

“Are you wet for me, little ghost?” he asks.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” I whisper.

With a groan, he slides my panties to the side, his long fingers exploring my slick folds. All the while, his cruel eyes drink me in like I’m the last drop of water in hell.

“That’s my good girl,” he rumbles, his thumb pressing against my clit. Two of his fingers push into my entrance, stretching me open.

My pussy clamps around the thick digits, wanting more. Needing it.

“Xero,” I whisper. “Please don’t tease me like this. I need you inside me. It hurts to be so empty.”

At my words, his pale eyes transform into twin flames, burning through my outer layers until I feel naked.

“You want this cock?”

“Fuck, yeah,” I say with a groan.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he says, his voice urgent.

“I want it.”

“Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.”

He enters me in a hard thrust that makes me see spirits. Floating dots of white that dance in my vision like twinkling stars. The stretch is incredible, every inch of my core filled to the brink of ecstasy. I arch my back, my inner walls adjusting to his girth.

Xero bends over me, his mouth clamping around my jugular. “You’re mine,” he snarls, his teeth closing around my skin as he punctuates the sentence with a hard thrust. “You’re all I ever think about. You’re all I ever want. You’re in my lungs, under my skin, in all four chambers of my heart. You’re the blood running through my fucking veins.”

He grips my hips and fucks me hard and fast, each push and pull igniting every nerve with sparks of pleasure. I cling to his shoulders, my nails digging into his leather coat. It’s the only thing tethering me to the world because each thrust pushes me deeper toward a precipice.

“Oh, God,” I say, my voice choked.

“That’s right. I’m your God now, and your cunt is where I rule.” He quickens his pace, his piercings hitting every pleasure spot inside me, drawing out desperate moans.

It’s too much. Not enough. I don’t know if I should scream for more or beg him to stop. My entire world concentrates into this moment, and it’s just me and him and the fireworks detonating in my soul .

Tension builds in my core, which tightens in anticipation of a climax. My body trembles, every nerve ending tingling with need. This orgasm is so close that I can almost taste it in the air.

Bucking against him, I cry out, “More, Xero. Please!”

Xero’s hot breath fans against my skin as he drives into me with hard and fast thrusts. Every slam of his hips pushes me further to the edge of a dangerous precipice.

“Come for me, little ghost,” he growls into my ear.

My clit swells to four times its usual sensitivity. Every move he makes only adds to the increasing pressure. It builds up inside me like a geyser about to erupt. I breathe hard and fast, not knowing if I’ll survive this intensity of pleasure.

Finally, an orgasm rips through my system, sending me spiraling into a whirlpool of euphoria.

“Don’t stop.” I cling to his broad shoulders, trying to stay afloat as waves of sensations crash into my senses. All the while, Xero pounds into me with unrelenting force.

Just when I think I might drown in all the pleasure, he stiffens, filling my core with streams of warm cum. My pussy flutters around his hard cock, savoring every drop until he collapses on top of me with a throaty groan.

In that moment, with our bodies intertwined and our hearts synchronized into a single, frantic beat, the truth of his declarations sink into my psyche like stones.

Xero doesn’t just complete me. He fills gaps I never knew existed. He’s the one person in the world who accepts my weaknesses, and the only man who’s ever shown me the inner layers of his heart.

Why do I keep resisting him? He isn’t the only killer in the mausoleum. I know to the depths of my soul that he won’t shy from the ugliness of my past that’s too traumatic to remember.

He exhales a long, happy sigh that warms me to the core. “I love you, Amethyst Crowley. Every beautiful, broken piece. And I’ll never let you go.”

My chest tightens. This is the point where I reciprocate. “Xero, I–”

He places a finger on my lips. “Don’t say the words until you mean them with all your heart. Take your time. I’ll wait. ”

Afterward, he helps me off the stone coffin, his hands steady and supportive. We gather the bag of items we took from Mom’s house, and he carries me back through a series of stone tunnels. The air is cool and damp, the echo of our footsteps the only sound.

As we navigate the winding passages, I rest my head against his shoulder, reveling in a deep sense of satisfaction and safety. The familiar walls leading to my crawlspace come into view, and I shift in his embrace.

“I have to torture a few people,” he says as he opens the door to the bedroom and sets me on my feet. “Can I leave you here on your own?”

I glance back toward the hallway. “Are those men still in the other room?”

He shakes his head. “The two I left alive are being interrogated in a chamber on the other side of the cemetery.”

My shoulders sag. “Good.”

“The bathroom door is beside the skeleton, and the kitchen is over there.” He gestures in the direction of Mrs. Baker’s crawlspace. “And I’ve left your phone charging on the nightstand in case you need anything.”

I rock forward on my tiptoes and give him a peck on the lips. “Go.”

Xero smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I watch him leave, admiring how he straightens to his full, majestic height as the concrete floor slopes down to give him more head space. As he disappears into Mrs. Baker’s territory, I walk around to explore.

The first door I open contains an office with a desk and nine monitors mounted on a stand, broadcasting every corner of my house. In each corner are smaller screens showing different angles of each room.

My breath catches. That’s how he made me feel I could never hide from his ghostly presence. He installed cameras everywhere.

But that’s not even the worst of it.

One wall is filled with blown-up pictures of me, going about my day. Some are of me in the shower, others are me outside the home. In between them are screenshots from some of the spicy videos I shot for Xero while he was in jail.

I gulp. He said he was obsessed with me, but this is pathological.

But there’s more.

The wall opposite that one is like a crime board, covered in a complex web of photos, maps, and articles, all connected by thin red lines of string that lead back to a haunting collection of enlarged polaroids my eyes refuse to focus on.

I work toward them slowly, taking in pictures of Myra, her family, Mr. Lawson. Jake is there, along with the four men from X-Cite Media Xero captured. So is Lizzie Bath.

My heart pounds as I allow my gaze to settle on photos of Sparrow and Wilder, who I thought were only figments of my imagination. According to one picture of a younger version of me dancing between them at a party, they’re real. I study the background, finding the banner of a college frat house hanging on the wall.

Shit. I remember agreeing to go to that party with a classmate, who had even let me borrow her red dress, but I have no memory of even stepping a foot inside. My gaze returns to the photo of me sandwiched between the men. I’m wearing that damned dress.

“How the hell did that happen?” I mutter.

Finally, I force my eyes to confront what’s in the middle, which is a group of spine-chilling images. They’re all me. All naked. All when I was no older than ten. In one, I’m confined in a metal bathtub filled with ice. In another, trapped in a straitjacket. In a third, I’m sitting in a padded room, my eyes wide with terror. There’s even one of me with my head locked in a bizarre form of cage with metal protrusions piercing my skin.

I can’t even dismiss them as artificial intelligence because the child has every single one of my scars. The one someone posted through my letterbox had been disturbing enough, but there are so many here they could fill an entire photo album's spread pages.

Where did Xero get these images, and why didn’t he tell me they even existed?