Page 23 of Seven Graves

“I like Halloween, and I collect priceless things. Why are you here?”

It shouldn’t have surprised me at all that he climbed, uninvited, into my coffin and scooched in next to me. I’m beyond caring at this point. I made room. “I came to see if you were serious. I’ve gotta feeling I know what you meant, but I hope I’m wrong. And I missed your sick smile.”

“I don’t have a sick smile with anyone but you. And you ruined a very expensive toy.”

Speaking of sick smiles…

“I did do that, but at least I was nice enough to bring you a replacement. And I cleaned it.” Devil take my eyes for dropping right to his lap.

His snarky grin faded slowly, and he stared into his cup.

“I’ll understand if you don’t help, Seven.

I came because I wanna know, yes. But I also came to tell you that if you decide not to…

I’ll leave you alone. I’m thinkin’ I made an unguarded decision, dragging you into it, anyway.

To be fair, though…you’re one hell of a fucking distraction. ”

I stared at the side of his face until he finally turned it back to me. “Why me?”

“Why? Because you’re fucking perfect . Why not you?”

Okay, so my whole life has been the complete opposite of this.

I got passed over on every scale. I still do, if you want the truth.

It’s become something of a normality to me, and I’ve become fine with it.

I don’t have any self hate. I’m actually really happy with my life.

The only thing that’s started bothering me lately is that it’s nothing if not a bit lonely sometimes.

I can handle lonely. It’s just that…nobody tells you how hard it can be.

Men usually keep a healthy distance from me, and here I am…

sitting in a coffin , having coffee with a half-naked serial killer that’s in line to take over the Irish mob…

and he’s not running . Neither am I. Nobody’s ever looked at me and thought perfect was the right word. No one except my family.

“I’ll do it. I’ll help you. But I have one condition. Two, actually.”

His eyes lit up like a bright green flame.

“Name it.”

“Don’t ever wake me up like this on my day off again. And stay out of my drawers.” He sighed, poking his lip back out and it drove me mad.

“And the second?”

I was a little nervous about this one, but I’m not doing this without it. “I wanna meet her. Your sister.” His brows raised in surprise.

“I can’t decide if I’m excited or terrified about that.”

But he didn’t say no. That means that she’s real, and he’s not pulling one over on me just to get me to stay on his radar. But then…I don’t think I’ll ever be off his damn radar, regardless. I held my hand out.

“Deal, or no?”

He shook my hand and honestly…I’m pretty sure I just made the infamous ‘Deal with the Devil’. He dragged the back of my hand to his lips, and his lip ring was cold as he pressed a kiss to it, letting it go and smiling at me like the fucking serpent in Eden.

“Should I strip down and leave now? Want me to walk backwards?”

“Honestly, I’d love to push you out of this coffin and watch you hit the floor, but it’s too early for this shit and I didn’t plan to leave my bed until at least ten. So…you know the way out.”

I pulled my blanket around myself and climbed out, making my way back to my bedroom. “Want me to read you a bedtime story first?” He leaned over, grabbing my book off the table and I just about shrieked. “How ‘bout this one? That page you marked was awfully interesting.”

Face beet red, and dignity crashing out, I turned around and slammed my bedroom door, relishing in his whine when I turned the lock.

I shouldn’t have said a word about him finding out how well he’d fit in that coffin. When I’d decided that I was gonna force myself to get up and pee, it was well after noon, and the apartment was so quiet that I thought he’d taken the hint and left.

He didn’t.

I stepped into the living room to find Malek stretched out, one arm behind his head, the other draped across his inked body—holding my smut face down on top of his hard stomach.

He didn’t fit in this coffin at all. Not physically.

He fit in a way that made no sense to me.

He’s fitting into my dark, weird existence.

I could fight this like a feral city cat, but I have this gut feeling it’s not gonna do a damn bit of good.

Something about him is constantly pulling me in, and when I have to see him fucking sleep with the innocence of a newborn…

it really doesn’t help fuel the fight in me.

But…I think I might have something that could fix this little issue.

I smiled devilishly and tiptoed around the corner to my kitchen, taking the two biggest pans off the rack that hung over the kitchen island.

Revenge is so fucking sweet. I had to bite a hole through my lip to keep from bursting out laughing as I inched closer to the coffin.

One last look at the little sleeping prince and I went for it, slamming the pots together repeatedly and giving my best screamo rendition of “Baby One More Time” .

I have to admit…Malek’s wailing could have been epic for my backup singer.

He looked like I’d scared him enough to make him blow chunks all over my coffin—right before he flipped over the lip, sending my book flying and hitting the floor hard enough for a decent bass additive to my little ditty.

I was doubled over in snorts and almost painful laughter while he laid on the floor, both hands covering his face and peeking at me through his fingers. I couldn’t breathe.

“Sílim gur chuir mé cac orm féin…”

Whatever that means.

I can’t get a word out to ask. I laughed myself back to the kitchen to hang the pots back up and heard him chuckle under his breath from the floor behind me. “Okay, so I deserve that. Shite .”

“You do. And then some. To think that you could have woke up in the quiet of your own house…”

“See, I planned to…but I was curious about this wee book. You almost had me believin’ you thought I was a psycho. Here, I find out maybe I don’t need a doctor at all…just a few energy shots and a girl that likes graveyards.”

I went to the fridge and started pulling out this and that, glancing at him while he made no attempt to get up from the floor. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Do lassies really like this shit, or is this all just entertainment?”

I set a container of chicken salad on the island and pulled out two beers. “Guess you’ll never know. Should I even ask if you’re on your way out?”

“Not if you’re gonna flash a beer in front of an Irish man . If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were startin’ to love me, Little Viper.” And cue, the shit-eating grin…with the dimple.

I yanked two forks out of the drawer and gestured to the bar chairs across the island. “Sit. Since you refuse to let me have a moment’s peace, I suppose we need to make good use of the time.”

“That’s hurtful. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask one. Sit .”

He got up and the deep vee that disappeared into the waist of his jeans was distracting enough that I momentarily lost my train of thought.

“Yes ma’am.” When he finally sat, I was grateful to at least have the lower half of him obscured from my line of sight, but the rest of him was still making this chicken salad a second-best option for lunch. “You make that?”

“No,” I said, scooting the container to rest between us and handing him one of the forks. “The other love of your life. Desiree has chicken salad on Tuesdays. You should feel special. I don’t even share this with Greg.” Malek glanced up with a worried look.

“Who the hell is Greg? ”

I took a bite and grinned while I chewed. I wanted to make a smart comment, but I wasn’t about to do it when talking about my brother. Gross. “Greg is my only sibling. I thought you knew everything there was to know about me.”

He forked out a bit of the salad, sniffing it before nibbling off the end.

I tried not to let on that it was kind of adorable when his eyes lit up and he started digging into it like a starving animal.

“I’ll be honest, lass. Your family wasn’t really my centered interest. It’s always been you.

” It made me feel better, knowing that, but at the same time… he is in the mob.

I popped open my beer and raised it to my mouth, and Malek’s fork came to a screeching halt halfway to his chin.

It seems like anything I do is his ‘centered interest’, and I’m having a hard time not being turned on by it.

“So, tell me about your sister. When are you planning on doing all this, and is this gonna be one of those things where we have to burn down the entire establishment?

Or are you just gonna hack ‘em one by one?”

He grinned. “I didn’t realize that was an option.” My bottle hovered near my lip, and he stared intently, waiting for…God only knows what. “First swallow’s always the sweetest.”

Good grief.

I drank down a fourth of it, letting him get his rocks off, watching like a pervert.

He slid his tongue over the fork, practically eating in slow motion.

Looks like the game is still on. “I’d rather arson not be the option, so if you could make my job a little less demanding, that’d be great.

I also don’t plan to be there when it happens, so don’t ask.

” When he got a little quiet, I looked up to find him chewing and looking at me like he was lost in thought.

“What about you?”

I stabbed into the container, digging around and knotted my brows. “What about me?”

“How’d you even get started with this? The girl I met in my house that night is far from the one I’m falling for.” His grin was ridiculous. I ignored the comment he obviously sought entertainment for the most.

“Honestly? Except for the respect I have for the ones that loved ones trust us with…to me, a body is just a body. The leftovers of what once was. One day, I think I found myself wondering what happens to bad people nobody will miss, and it grew into a lucrative idea. I posted the ad on the Dark Web and…there you have it.”

“So, you feel different about the ones that people like us kill off? Like…like they have no soul?” It almost felt intrusive, and to be honest…I wasn’t really prepared for it.

“I—yeah, I guess I do. Or I just pretend they don’t. Like I said, I don’t ask questions. I clean up, I cover up, I move on. It’s like having a double life that you don’t actually have to live. Just…occasionally change the sheets. I dunno.”

We ate in silence for a minute and then Malek started smiling down at the container. “So. People like me. Soulless. Rotten. Damned. What would you do with my body?”

Good question.

“Hm,” I hummed into my beer. “Not sure. Might have to think on that one. For you, I’d probly get creative.”

He snickered and took another bite. “If you ever have to dispose of me, I’ll make sure to leave you the best part.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Malek. I want no part of you.”

He stood and pressed his palms to the counter, leaning over our lunch towards me. I wasn’t gonna give him an inch. His tongue slid across his lower lip, lingering on the hoop that he caught with his teeth. He’s baiting me…and it’s working. “You will .”

“Someone’s awfully sure of himself.” I turned my fork in my hand and touched the prongs of it under his chin. His snakelike smile got wider.

“I’m sure about a lotta things, Seven Grey.” His nose nearly touched mine and I pressed the fork harder into his skin.

“Do tell.”

He eyed my mouth, and my heart raced. “Well, for one…I’m sure that your little stunt last night was an invitation.

I’m sure you liked what you saw this morning.

I’m pretty sure that your sweet little pussy was wet, and not because of the water runnin’ off the hard cock you couldn’t stop lookin’ at.

” I swallowed hard, gritting my teeth and seething at him, pissed that he’s fucking right.

“Think so, fucker?”

“I do. I’m also sure that you’d already made up your mind about me before I came back to this apartment, and that some small part of you waited in that bed for me to make quick work of that lock and prove to you just how much better I am with my tongue than I am with a knife.”

His fingers wrapped around my wrist, and I froze, not breaking his intense eye contact as he moved the fork to the side of his neck.

“Jugular’s right here, love.”

“I know where the fucking jugular is, Jack the Ripper.” A low chuckle rumbled in his throat, and he finally backed off, turning towards my front door and slipping his bare feet into his boots.

I was wholly and unequivocally stunned, fork still raised where he’d left it and watching him pull a black leather jacket around his bare back.

“Thanks for lunch, Nathair Bheag. I’ll text you about the play date with Bridget.”

He left without a spare glance behind him, while I stood there like a deer caught in headlights.

Not a single thing he said was wrong. I nearly stumbled, trying to catch a glimpse of him out my window, and spotted him getting into an older model black car out on the street.

At least now I know what he’s following me around in.

It’s fitting. He would drive a car like that.

He glanced up at me, smiling and then pulled out onto the street.

I couldn’t stop thinking about every word he said.

Not when I was cleaning up the kitchen or righting my messy coffin.

Not when I’d locked up and gone back to my room to make my bed either.

I was hot. Needed relief. My mind kept drifting to the toy waiting in the drawer—the one with his name carved into it.

I must have stared at the damn drawer for a solid twenty minutes.

I know damned well he’s gone. Would he have set up cameras in here? Fuck it. I yanked the drawer open…

My Girthmaster is missing.

“Goddammit!” I found the note he’d left sitting pretty on top of the pile of other toys.

“Malek!”