Page 30 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats (Till Death Do Us Part #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lilah

Violet is really pretty. It’s kind of annoying. She has this sweet and innocent look about her, even though I know she's far from either of those things. No one would expect this girl to murder anyone. She looks like she spends her days perfecting her cosplay outfits and watching anime.

Though Atticus doesn’t look at her the way he looks at me, he’s still looking at her, and for a moment, I consider scooping his eyeballs out. I’ve gotten pretty good at it and may even be able to do it before he realizes what’s happening. He wouldn’t expect it from me…

As I watch him from across the table, I see something on his face that I haven’t seen yet. Worry. And that makes me feel bad. So, scooping his eyeballs out won’t be necessary just yet.

He settles his attention on Violet, and says, “There are two things I want answered immediately. Why are you killing all these men? And how did you know about Lilah?”

Oh? She knew about me? My eyes narrow, and I glance at her from the corner of my eye.

“I don’t need to answer either of those questions,” she says as she picks at a cuticle.

“Why are you acting like this?” Atticus says. “You never used to be so—”

“So, what , Atticus?” She jerks her head up to glare at him, her words like venom. “Don’t act like you know me anymore. It’s been nearly ten years—”

“Which is your fault.”

Violet shrugs, uncaring, as she stares down at her nails again, her temper seemingly gone. “It was for the best.”

“You think so? Because I don’t. Look at you. You’re one body away from getting arrested.”

“I said I’m fine,” she singsongs, but I hear the annoyance beneath that tone.

“You’re not!” Atticus shouts.

I’ve never seen him mad like this before. Like… actually angry over something.

I feel like a child caught in the middle of a fight between my parents, and I don’t like that. My parents never had the opportunity to fight like this, since my mother died during labor. But if they had, I think this is what it would feel like.

“Are you keeping me here all night?” she says after a long pause.

“Yes.”

“Then can I have a bed to sleep in? I’m tired.”

She gets up, holding Atticus’s gaze. I expect him to yell at her again, to tell her to sit down, and demand answers.

“Yes, of course.”

He softens and it confuses me. I like him when he’s like this, but I like when it’s for me . I don’t like knowing other people get these parts of him too.

With a sigh, he moves around the table and offers me his hand. He offers me a smile, and I take it… because why am I even mad right now? I’m just being jealous. I don’t like the way it feels, but really, he isn’t doing anything wrong.

We head up the stairs with Violet following behind.

I stand in the doorway to our room, watching as he leads her to a bedroom a few away from ours. There are five total, and though I’ve never seen a maid, there isn’t a speck of dust in any of them.

Atticus and Violet share a quiet, quick conversation before she shuts the door in his face. He stands there, unmoving, for a few seconds before coming over to me with his head hung. I move aside to let him in and step in after him, shutting the door.

“Are we going to be safe?” I ask.

“Violet will not hurt us,” he says firmly.

If I thought fucking a serial killer was dumb, this is really dumb. I’m going to sleep in a house with two of them. One of which seems angry as hell.

“You’re feeling better?” Atticus asks as I climb into bed.

“Yeah,” I answer as I pull the blankets up to my chin, wanting to sleep.

I’m not sure if he wants to talk, but that isn’t what I want to do right now. Going to sleep and waking up to a new day sounds like the best option.

The blankets are pulled off me a second later, the cold air brushing over my skin, causing goosebumps. My eyes pop open, and I see Atticus coming down over me.

His lips are on mine, hand sliding along my side and settling on my hip. I widen my legs, and he moves between them, grinding his dick against me while his mouth moves to my neck.

Atticus sits back on his knees to pull my sweatpants off before taking his dick out. He leans back over me, guiding himself inside me. We moan together once he’s as deep as he’ll go.

“You feel so perfect,” he whispers against my neck as he rocks into me. “I missed you.”

Kissing my neck, he groans with each thrust. His mouth finds my ear where he nibbles, then he moves along my jaw to find my lips.

I dig my nails into his back, pulling him against me more, needing him closer.

We don’t normally do just the missionary thing, but he shows no signs of changing.

He seems perfectly content like this, going slow, and I’ll admit, it feels good.

He’s hitting all the right spots, and an orgasm is building.

Plus, it’s tugging on my heartstrings a little.

“Atticus,” I whine, lingering right on the edge. “I need to come.” He pulls out, and I cry out, “No, don’t stop!”

But his mouth is on me, sucking my clit while his fingers slam inside me, and I skyrocket into an orgasm that sends shock waves through my entire body.

Atticus climbs over me, sliding inside me again. He fucks me hard until he’s coming.

He cleans me up with a warm towel from the bathroom, then takes his clothes off and climbs into bed beside me, pulling me close. By the time I fall asleep, the sun is coming up.