Page 154 of On Edge

“No, I assumed she decided to go it alone, but then you showed up and told me she was dead. I didn’t know what to believe. I had a friend I trust do some digging.”

“Mr. Black?”

“Dante found out Darrow was at Grayfleet the day she vanished.”

“So it was Darrow who killed her?” Tears prick under my eyelids. But the relief and closure I’ve been needing for so long doesn’t seem to materialise. Instead, I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself from feeling all the dark things inside me right now, wanting out. “And what about you and…Nell?”

Something flickers in his ruby eyes. “You really want to know?”

“Please, I have to.”

“Every Tuesday night, we’d meet for months. But then one day she stopped coming. I went to all our usual meeting places, hoping—” He cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Every Tuesday night.

Troy and Nell…every Tuesday?

“It matters.” Why am I pushing this? Why do I need to know? Is it to punish myself? “Did you…love her?”

“Sage.”

“Did you?” My voice feels raw, broken.

He stares at me for a long moment. “I admired her. She was fearless, willing to risk everything for what she believed was right. She was…”

“Everything I’m not.” The ugly inside of me comes out. I don’t care if it hurts.

“That’s not what I—“ He exhales sharply. “You’re different. You’re...”

“Obedient?”

“Mine.” His fingers clamp down on my jaw as he leans in, lifting his mask partly. “Now stop asking stupid fucking questions.”

His lips crash against me.

Breath warm and laced with whiskey, his scent is darkness and sin. But as soon as he penetrates my mouth, I dart mytongue out and taste copper. Then, I’m kissing him back with equal desperate hunger. He grips the rest of my cocktail dress, his fist bunching the delicate fabric, and then he rips it right down the middle.

He pulls back to stare at me. “I’ve wanted to rip that dress off you all night.”

I shiver in response, unable to stop him when he slides a hand between my legs, his thick fingers teasing my slit. Not that I’d ever want to, not when soft, eager moans fall from me as he swirls me into submission.

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet,” he whispers.

The demon mask has slipped back in place, and it’s as though I’m being groped by a hellish monster in the dark. I can feel myself quivering from top to toe as he drags his digits through my drenched folds. The smell of old leather, mingling with the coppery stench of blood, makes me want things I shouldn’t ever want.

The demon cocks his head. “This turns you on, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” I admit, looking up at the mask under my lashes. I feel like I’m about to get devoured alive by a creature from Hell, and some dark part of me, that comes alive, twisted and hideous in mirrors and dreams, can’t wait. “Please make me come, I need it.”

“You need it, do you?” Troy the demon chuckles.

“I need you.”

He groans. “Fuck, you kill me, you know that?” Then he pushes his fingers inside me, making me squirm in the chair. “Is this what you want?”

I nod my head. “Yes, so much.”

“Good girl. Now let me show you what happens when you chase monsters.”