Page 20 of Kill for a Kiss

He slows soon after, the bike evening out as we approach a stretch of glowing lights in the distance. The city opens up, its lights shining in a dazzling contrast to the quiet roads we left behind. For a moment, I forget everything else. All I can focus on is the wind in my hair, the feel of Stan in my arms, and the thrilling speed that pulls me into the present.

The bike slows down much more, its rumble quieting as we approach a new stretch of road toward a sparkling plaza. Storefronts gleam beneath warm lighting, their windows adorned with designer fashion and fine jewelry. The sides of the streets are lined with sleek sports cars that reflect off the glossy pavement. Well-dressed folks walk around, laughing and chatting.

The bike moves smoothly with Stan, and my gaze drifts back to him. He parks, the bike coming to a stop.

My arms are stiff from holding onto him, and as he stops, I finally loosen my grip, and take a deep, relaxed breath.

Stan reaches up first, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his short dark hair. But I barely notice him now. All I can see is the plaza, the light catching on glass, with silver jewels winking in storefronts. My heart pounds at the view. It’s like stepping into a world too grand for me to be in.

Stan notices. “Getting a good look?”

I nod before I can think better of it. “It’s…incredible.”

He chuckles, swinging a leg over the bike as he stands up. “Yeah?” he says. “Then let’s take a walk. Show me what catches your eye, and we can grab some proper food while we’re at it.”

His invitation pulls me out of my thoughts. For a moment, I’m stuck, my mind clinging to the fragments of memories that seem so far out of reach. But then curiosity wins.

I slide off the bike and take his offered hand. The warmth of his palm against mine sends an unexpected jolt through me, and I wonder if I’m more drawn to the plaza and its silvery shimmers, or if it’s Stan with his easy charm and the way he watches me.

Then his hands reach for my helmet. Before I can even react, he’s unfastening the strap with gentleness I didn’t expect again. His fingers brush against my skin, and the air feels warmer all of a sudden.

My helmet’s off, and the morning breeze rushes through my hair. My breath catches when I see the color of his eyes. Dark gray and familiar. I blink and imagine Damon’s eyes. Then—with another blink—I envision themasked man’s eyes. A chill runs down my spine at the memory of his presence consuming me in a way that felt like suffocating on smoke.

And now Stan, standing here with that same intensity, looks like he knows something I don’t.

My pulse speeds up, but I can’t find the words. I can’t break the silence between us, and for a second, I wonder if he feels the tension too.

“See? You survived,” he says teasingly.

I blink, taking in his words. I force a small smile, though I’m not sure how convincing it is. “Barely…”

He grins and breaks the tension inside me with a light laugh that somehow makes everything feel fine again.

I blink a bit more, taking a steadying breath, trying to push away the unfamiliar feelings swirling in my chest.What just happened?

But before I can fully process it, Stan’s voice pulls me back. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go scandalize the rich, then find something to eat that tastes as good as we look.”

I let out a quiet laugh before I can stop it. My fingers wrap around his offered hand. I feel even warmer now, more relaxed.

The plaza stretches before us. Shop windows sparkle with trinkets behind glass. People move around us, voices blending with the musical strings of a violin. It’s playing a song I know, but can’t recall entirely. Though, it’s a pleasant slow song all the same.

Stan walks beside me, his hands in his pockets, glancing at me. “Go on,” he says. “Lead the way, Elle.”

I hesitate, my fingers curling into the hem of my shirt. The moment stretches, but there’s no pressure. He’s simply waiting. I take a step, then another, weaving toward a side street lined with hanging flowers.

A shop window catches my attention, with its display of delicate porcelain teacups, their gold rims glowing in the light.

“Pretty,” Stan muses beside me. I turn to find him watching me, a smile on his face. “Didn’t peg you for a bone china kind of girl. That’s the kind we have back home.”

I blink, unsure how to respond. His smile widens, and a quiet laugh escapes me. It’s rather light, even as a chill brushes the back of my thoughts.

We keep walking, the hesitation lifting away again with every step. A fountain catches my eye, its marble figures frozen in a graceful pose. Nearby, a bakery window sparkles with golden tarts, their layers glistening in the sunlight.

I don’t even realize I’m smiling until Stan nudges me lightly. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

I pause. Maybe I am. For a second, I try to recall what had been tugging at me, or what had made my chest feel tight. But thosethoughts are slipping away now, like the last remnants of a dream before waking up.

I feel the warmth of the moment, the way Stan’s gaze stays on me, easy and patient.