Page 23 of Violent Little Thing

Come Here

ADONIS

“ C ome here, menace.”

Her cheeks round at the nickname before she juts her chin up and walks into the room.

She looks tousled. Comfortable. Safe .

The unspoken intimacy of having her seek me out after she woke up hits me so I sit up straighter, trying to dislodge the hope before it can take root.

She had no other option. If things were different, I wouldn’t be on her short list. Or any list of hers.

Delilah joins me on the bench and slides down my way until the gap between us is closed.

“This whole time I thought the piano in here was for show. I didn’t know you played,” she murmurs, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

They’re bigger than her face and the visual makes me bite my bottom lip.

Everything she does makes me smile. It’s a disease .

“Why are you looking at me? Play something,” she demands, voice soft but firm.

“I forgot I exist to entertain you, menace. Forgive me.”

Her cheeks rise again, and she lets her lips curve in tandem with them as she turns to look at me.

That damn smile is worse than the sun. Too bright. Too warm.

Too much of what I’m not supposed to notice. Not supposed to crave.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Because that’s what you are.” She looks proud when I say it, and I shake my head and turn back to the keys in front of me.

Delilah’s eyes stay glued to my hands as I play a random melody, letting my fingers graze the keys in lazy strokes before I settle in to play the first movement of Moonlight Sonata.

Soon, I forget anything but the notes vibrating through my fingers and the woman sitting at my side, riveted in place because of me.

She only moves to breathe, but when I’m done, she clasps her hands to her chest and whispers a rapt, “ Wow .”

From the corner of my eye, I notice the red staining her cheeks is gone and all that remains is a hint of a smile to match the excitement dancing behind her lenses.

Something I did caused that.

That pride takes on a life of its own when she asks, “How do you remember all that? You weren’t reading any music.”

“Muscle memory. I started lessons when I was six.” After that, I was never allowed to stop. Excellence was expected so perfection is what I strived for. The countless nights I spent in practice rooms at boarding school were damn near worth it for this interaction.

Until this second, Delilah Rose’s fascination is something I didn’t know I needed to check off my bucket list.

Beside me, she adjusts her weight on the bench, crossing one leg over the other. The shift has her brushing against me, her skin touching my skin.

She’s committed to being the reason I end up in an early grave.

At least she’s consistent.

“You’re so lucky.” She sighs, barely brushing me again. “I would have given anything to be able to take lessons.”

Lucky is a word I’ve never used to talk about my training but hearing her say it and knowing what kind of house she comes from strikes a different chord.

“You wanted to learn piano?”

“I wanted to do anything .” She tries to laugh but clears her throat when the sound dies prematurely.

“The violin fascinated me more than anything. Sometimes, when my dad threw parties, he’d hire a violinist. I remember falling asleep thinking they sounded so pretty.

I wanted to make something that sounded like that. That felt like that.”

“You can still learn. You’re young, Delilah.”

“With what money?” She forces a watery laugh. “Besides, I don’t think my brain can handle learning something like that at this age. I can barely remember my GED subjects…” I wait for her to elaborate, but she shakes her head. “Anyway, I just don’t think I can. I’ll always love hearing it though.”

For a while, we sit in silence, me studying her profile while she studies the keys. Wonder plays over her features, and I don’t think it’s a look I’ll ever forget. Every time my mind tries to flash back to what I saw on that tape, I anchor myself here by following the sound of her voice.

She asks me question after question and I answer them, realizing it’s the first time a conversation between us hasn’t ended in five minutes.

Raking a hand through her hair, she drowns me in a cloud of my favorite scent and faces me again. “What else can you play?”

“What do you want to hear, menace?”

Lips pursed, she tilts her head. “Surprise me.”

So, I play the song I learned twenty years ago. When I was a teenager and the only thing on my mind was getting good grades and watching anime in my free time.

A minute into “Merry-Go-Round of Life,” I’m back in the theater, watching Howl’s Moving Castle for the first time.

I was so fucking naive and optimistic about what life had in store for me.

But at least I got to experience it. Had Delilah ever been to the movies?

This song could mean nothing to her, but it’s a part of me so I play it for a second time without pausing for her reaction.

When I’m done, the weight on my shoulder pulls my gaze away from the instrument and to the brown tresses in my peripheral.

“Damn, I put you to sleep, menace?” An uneven laugh escapes as more pride tries to swell in the hollow I had before she walked in here.

Of all the ways I thought this day would end, none of them led me here. Because the same woman who tried to send my world up in flames this morning is sleeping on my shoulder now.

Time slows until every second feels like a minute. Then her head lolls, sailing toward the keys. I stop it, using nothing except my palm to catch and cradle her head .

She doesn’t wake up, her soft snores continuing like nothing happened and I cock my head to watch her freely.

After pulling the glasses off her nose, I tuck them into the front of my shirt. I can’t help it, so I smile at the contented look on her face.

My head dips on its own, chasing that closeness I didn’t know I needed until she showed up.

The only thing I know right now is that I’ll do anything for this woman. Without question. Everything except let her go.

I can’t let her go until I know every man that fucked with her is in the ground. Her brother is at the top of that list, but something tells me that the more I watch those tapes, the more people will find themselves on the wrong end of my Beretta.

Gathering her in my hold, I stand and use my foot to push the bench out of my way.

Delilah’s arms snake around my neck on instinct and she melts into me like she’s done it before. She has . Just never awake.

Upstairs, Titus is sleeping in front of her open door. Stepping over him, I get Delilah back in bed and stare at her until a minute morphs into ten.

My fingers move the hair from her face, smoothing over her soft skin before I pick up the abandoned bonnet on her pillow and pull it back over her head.

“What am I gonna do with you, menace?”

Finally, I unclip her glasses from my shirt and set them on her nightstand next to her phone.

On the way out, I pull out my phone to text Alonzo.

Me: Her dad arranged a marriage for her?

Despite the hour, Alonzo responds in seconds.

Alonzo: Yeah, three

Me: The fuck? Why didn’t you lead with that?

Alonzo: Didn’t think it mattered. Your houseguest handled them all

I pause outside her door.

Me: What does that mean?

Alonzo: I’ll clip the files and send them to you later today

Me: Aight

It’s not relief that washes over me as I walk to my room, but something close. If her father wasn’t already in the ground, I’d work this stress out on him, cutting every finger off his hands and feeding them to him before I put a bullet between his eyes.

Since I can’t do that, I hop in the shower and let the water wash away the visuals of what he did. I clean until I empty everything in my head and the only thing left is the way Delilah looked in that dress this morning and the way she fell asleep on my shoulder.

Without thinking, I grab the bottle of strawberry body wash and pump some into my hand…