Page 49 of The Taskmaster

I’d never seen her look as beautiful as she did in this moment, and I wanted to take the moment and cling onto it forever. I never wanted to let her go. We were standing in the aftermath of a murder and yet, I hadn’t felt so connected to another person in my whole life.

Without a second thought, I let her hands go and placed my hands on her face, blood smearing her cheeks. I moved closer, so close I could taste the sweetness of her breath as she stared back at me, her mouth opened slightly as she gave a silent gasp.

With my lips a whisper from hers, I sighed. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.” And then I leaned into her, pressing my lips against hers, praying she wouldn’t pull away.

She didn’t.

She closed her eyes and kissed me back, igniting a fire in my smouldering soul. And as her lips moved against mine, I felt myself melting into the kiss, wanting so much more. Our tongues teased and tangled in the most sublime dance as the kiss deepened.

We were two strangely broken people, standing in the middle of a crime scene, getting lost in the chaos the only way we knew how.

By embracing it.

Holding on with both hands.

My head swam, giddy from a feeling that was so alien to me, and yet I craved more.

Why had I waited so long to do this, to feel this?

Kissing her was everything.

A high as sublime as any kill.

I held her face as we kissed, thankful that in her distress she’d opened up to me. She’d let me in and accepted me for me. I’d all but admitted who I was just now, as I stood in front of her and gave her my rules. I’d never done that before, not with anyone. But with her, it felt right. And it dawned on me, as she pulled away, breaking the kiss and biting her now plump lips, I’d had a first with Abigail. This was my first proper kiss, a kiss that actually meant something. A kiss that wasn’t stolen but given freely.

She touched her lips as she cursed to herself, “What the fuck am I doing?” Then she shook her head like she was trying to shake some sense into this situation.

“Who are you?” she asked, her eyes hazy as she stared back at me with a bewildered gaze.

“The other half of you,” I replied.

Chapter Thirty-One

ABIGAIL

“What does that even mean?” I asked as I tried to ignore the way my heart pounded and my body wanted to move, to step forward and get lost in him again.

After what I’d just done, and where we were, it felt fucking surreal. And yet, so real. I felt alive.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Isaiah stepped into the kitchen and then emerged, holding a kitchen towel. He came to stand in front of me and started to wipe the blood from my face, stroking so gently it felt strange considering what had happened. A tender moment amongst the madness. So intense that I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

He moved to my hands next, lifting each one in turn to wipe the blood away, and I just stood there, struck dumb. Speechless. There were no words to use in this instance.

“You came here for a reason, tonight, Abigail,” he said, as he slowly cleaned each of my fingers, peering up at me through his lashes, eyes boring into mine like he was trying to read my soul. “I think I might know what that is. You have a feeling, an urge. You need to act on it, or it’ll eat you alive. I get that.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t think you do.”

I didn’t have an urge. I wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, not in the way he thought. There wasn’t an itch or a feeling. He didn’t know what he was talking about. I came here out of duty. I had no choice.

I moved my hand away and took a step back. I had to. My mind was so messed up that it was feeling all kinds of crazy things.

“Who was she?” he asked, nodding to the slumped body as he threw the bloody kitchen towel onto the floor beside the armchair.

“Someone who didn’t deserve to live,” I replied, surprised at my candour.