Page 28 of Unholy Vows
Layla
“ I want to help.”
“And I said no.”
It was starting to feel like I was trapped in the Twilight Zone, having the same conversation on repeat.
Frustrated, I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at Malachai.
“Narrow your eyes all you want, Little Sinner. All it will do is earn you a punishment.”
We’d spent hours going back and forth, arguing over our next move.
While his priority was finding my stalker, Malachai was still pursuing his other extracurricular activities, chasing any lead on The Boston Phantom.
The Boston Fucking Phantom.
Because he couldn’t just be a run-of-the-mill psychopath, vigilante, friendly neighborhood Spiderman, or whatever.
No, he was hunting the King of Predators.
The man was suspected in the disappearance of over a dozen women — and that was only the ones they’d found. Many more remained missing, presumed dead. I shuddered at the thought of what he had done to those poor women. If anyone needed to be stopped, it was him.
And for reasons beyond my understanding, the idea of helping Malachai catch him was so freaking exciting, I was just about beside myself.
Knock knock, Layla. This is your therapist calling. You know the one you keep promising to contact but never do. Anyway, I have your diagnoses ready.
You are batshit fucking crazy, woman.
At least, that’s what I’d have said in her place.
Either way, for the first time since my attack, I felt as if I could do something to protect other women like me.
And I wasn’t about to let Malachai O’Connor stop me.
“I’m not some fragile little thing you need to lock away in a tower, Malachai,” I huffed, my irritation getting the best of me.
“You’re not fragile,” he agreed, sucking all the steam out of my anger.
“What?”
“You’re not fragile, and that’s the fucking problem.”
His eyes darkened like storm clouds as he stared at me, his jaw tight.
“You’re brave, and reckless, and stubborn.”
I blinked, thrown by the unexpected turn in the conversation.
“You’d run off, half-cocked, and get yourself killed.”
Malachai stalked toward me, and I took an involuntary step back. The malice radiating from him was terrifying… and intoxicating.
Stupid hormones would get me killed quicker than my so-called bravery.
Malachai didn’t stop his advance until we were chest to chest. I could feel each inhale of breath as he towered over me. It was suffocating, but it also felt as though I could breathe for the very first time. Like the first gasp of air after being underwater for too long.
Malachai’s hand curled around the back of my neck. It wasn’t rough, but his grip was firm enough to hold me in place.
“You forget, Layla,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine but not touching. “I am one of the bad guys. The people I hunt are just like me. I know exactly what type of monsters live in the dark, and I won’t allow them to lay a single finger on you.”
Malachai’s gaze remained locked on me. Fire clashing with fury.
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
I lifted my chin, letting him see the strength of my resolve.
“You’re not responsible for me. You’re not my keeper.”
“No, I’m not your keeper. But I am yours .”
My mouth opened and closed as I stared up at him. My fingers twitched at my sides as I struggled to figure out if I wanted to punch him or kiss him.
“You’re mine?”
“Yes, Little Sinner. I’m yours.”
Malachai stepped back half a step. Enough to let me breathe, but not enough that I could run.
Not that I would.
This unhinged, psychotic, beautiful, terrifying man… was mine.
“And you’re mine,” he growled, as he reclaimed the space he had given up.
His lips captured mine, and he pulled me against him as he deepened the kiss. The hand on the back of my neck fisted my hair as he gripped my dark brown strands to the point of pain.
But he didn’t stop kissing me, and I didn’t pull away.
Malachai’s tongue invaded my mouth, delving and stroking as if he needed answers and I was the key. He kissed me until my lungs burned and my knees shook. As he slowly relented, Malachai pulled my bottom lip between his teeth, nipping playfully.
“Tell me that doesn’t feel like divine intervention,” he murmured as he pressed his forehead against mine.
“I’m pretty sure God turns a blind eye wherever you’re concerned.”
Malachai’s laughter surprised me, but I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face.
“All right, Little Sinner,” he said, taking a step back and releasing me from his captivating hold. “You want to help?”
Malachai arched a brow, and I nodded eagerly.
“Then you do everything I say, exactly as I say it. To the fucking letter, Layla.”
He gave me a pointed look, and I nodded again.
“Absolutely, of course.”
My answer came a little too quickly, too eager.
“This isn’t a game, Layla. It’s blood and death and monsters that disguise themselves by wearing the faces of men. They don’t hesitate, and neither can you.”
The weight of his words sank in, and I shivered. They could look like Ray from the grocery store on the outside, while they’re hiding The Boston Phantom on the inside. Didn’t every true crime documentary start with some version of… no one ever expected it to be him?
And just like that, I understood why Malachai was so apprehensive. Most people can’t believe the truth. They can’t see the monster beneath the man. A single moment of hesitation, no matter how brief, could be fatal.
But I wouldn’t hesitate. I wanted this.
“I don’t care that you’re fearless, or if you’ve got a vendetta you’re trying to erase.”
His pointed stare made my heart pound in my throat as I swallowed thickly.
He couldn’t have known about my assault, could he?
“I will not watch you become another fucking ghost.”
The room fell quiet as Malachai waited for my response. Tears pricked my eyes, but they weren’t from fear or past pain. They stemmed from anger.
An anger that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.
It was time to take back my power.
My spine stiffened, and I raised my chin as I met his gaze head-on.
“Then we’d better get it right.”
A wicked smirk curved Malachai’s lip.
“There she is,” he cooed. “There’s my Little Sinner.”