Page 21 of Nightshades
I need to figure out what that word means. With how strongly I feel towards Lula, I’m assuming it means I belong to her too.
“Sorry about that, Little Dream. I never want us to be interrupted again. I feel very protective—no—possessive of you, Lula. You’ve been possessing my mind for days. You belong to me. I know you don’t understand that, but you will, Detective. You’re good at piecing things together. You’ll figure me out before you understand what’s happening to you.” I reach over to the passenger seat, searching for her purse to get her address.
I’m not finding it.
I pat the pockets of her purple coat, growling in approval when I feel something inside her pocket. Slipping it out, she surprises me with a money clip that holds one credit card, her license, and cash. I reach back in her pocket and pluck out her keys.
“You look so pretty in your license photo. No one looks that good in a damn picture.” I’m annoyed with her beauty.
How the hell is she going to stomach staring at me?
Too fucking bad. She’s going to have to get used to it.
Grabbing her phone, I type her address from her license into the GPS app. When it gets done loading, the time to her house is only three minutes.
“You were so close to being free of me tonight. And what a travesty that would have been for you.” I wrap my arms around her and throw her over my shoulder, snag her coat and the files under it, then speed to her house by following the directions on the map.
The air is cool from the storm, the fog rolling over the ground. With every exhale, my breath turns to vapor, and all I hope is that Lula is breathing it in.
It doesn’t take long to get to her house. I stand at the bottom of the steps, staring at the red-painted front door. The porchwraps around, and a swing is to the right by the door, while a few rocking chairs are to the left. The grass is a little overgrown, and something about the house itself seems empty.
She hasn’t made it home. It’s missing the touch of her beauty.
I climb up the steps, the wood groaning from my weight. Opening the screen door, I accidentally rip it from its hinges.
“Fuck.” I put the key in the lock, careful not to break it and leave her vulnerable. “I’ll fix that.” I step into the foyer, the blood on the pads of my feet slick against the hardwood floors.
A coat rack is the only object to the left with a simple pair of shoes tucked beside it. I toss her coat onto it, rocking the rack on its legs.
I have to bend down to walk through the archway that leads to the living room. A small yellow sectional couch sits next to the fireplace. No boxes frame the room. It’s as if she just moved in, but there’s no way to prove it. There’s a coffee table, too, that has seen better days. It’s worn, the finish rubbed off, and the corners chipped. I toss the damp files on the surface, allowing me to readjust Lula in my arms.
Peering around the room, the only thing on the wall is the TV that is mounted. No pictures. No art. No decorations of any kind.
Her house is bare.
“Did you just move here? Why don’t you fucking own anything, Lula? I don’t like this. I’ll steal you everything you could ever want. How do you live like this?” I have to pass through the kitchen to get to the bedroom.
Out of curiosity, I open the cabinets to find them all empty except one.
One plate. One bowl. One mug. Her silverware is right next to them too. A fork, a spoon, a butter knife, and a steak knife.
Only one of each.
Opening the fridge, I snarl when I see an almost-empty jug of milk and a half carton of eggs to the side.
That’s it. That’s all that is in her huge stainless-steel fridge.
“Little Dream,” I growl in warning. “You aren’t taking care of yourself. I don’t like that. I will feed you. You have to be strong for me, or I’ll kill you. I’m serious. I probably will. I think it would bother me too.” I stare down at her, her eyes closed, and her chest rising and falling, proving she is still alive from the accident I caused.
She’s…softening me in ways that I don’t like.
“Yes, it would most definitely bother me.” I brush a long strand of hair from her face so I can see her.
She hums, nestling her face into my chest.
It softens me even more.
I growl in distress from the new feeling of warmth spreading across my chest when I stare down at her. I’m not sure how I feel about being forced to care about this human, but I know I’ll do everything in my power to protect her.