Briony
My eyes are heavy as I feel the sleep catching up to me in my race against the clock.
Getting a full night’s rest before another day of teaching classes, then picking out a dress for attending a Governor’s Ball should be all I’m concerned with at the moment.
But of course, Aero has my mind.
He’s infiltrated that space of curiosity that’s grown into something I can’t ignore. Like a virus, he plagues me with the overwhelming need to know more. I’d say it was to protect myself from him, but the truth is, he could’ve killed me already. It’s his reasons for not that have me needing to know more.
I wait here in the dark, behind the door to my bedroom, listening for any sign of him. He always comes, but when? I haven’t the slightest clue.
The afternoon sun had set, and the night crept in around me like a blanket of anxious torture, clinging to my shoulders, never leaving. After his abrupt departure post-shower, he left me wondering where he went. Where does this man reside when not outside my home? What’s his profession, if any at all? Does he have family or close relations nearby? Surely there must be answers. A man doesn’t just pop up out of the blue with intimate knowledge of who you are without some history himself, especially not in this town.
I thought for sure that Saint would’ve called or stopped by to ensure I was alright after the event that went down when he dropped me off, but I’ve yet to hear from him.
Feeling my eyelids droop, I look across the room at the clock on my nightstand one last time.
3:13 A.M.
I’ll just rest my eyes for a second. Only a second.
As soon as I give myself the chance to do it, I’m startled straight by the sound of creaking wood. My heart races as blood rushes through my ears.
He’s here.
Sure enough, I hear faint footsteps pad their way up the stairs as if he just simply let himself in the locked front door. Slowly sliding myself up the wall into a standing position, I grasp the switchblade between my fingers, sliding it until I get a firm hold of it in my palm.
The footsteps grow near as the wooden floor gives way to his location.
I swallow down any last fears I may have as the brass doorknob slowly turns. The door pushes open and I can smell him before I can see him. Leather, sulfur, and the musk of man. So signature.
Steadying my breathing, I watch as he walks forward into the room, the light of the moon just barely illuminating his outline. The tall, lengthy man with broad shoulders and a slim waist. His shaggy hair is exposed, tossed in a mess atop his head, and I wonder if he’s wearing his mask.
Who are you, Aero?
He walks towards my bed before tossing the rosebud into the trash. His creepy calling card. I lurk near the wall behind him; my arm out, the knife pointed directly at the back of his neck.
His hand reaches out before him, grabbing the blankets on my bed into a slow fist. It’s funny how I can sense his anger just by the maddening grip of his large, tense hand, clearly visualizing the lack of a certain someone in the bed before him.
I take another step forward, trying to regulate my breathing, when his head turns ever so slightly, exposing his ear to me.
“What do you want from me?” I demand in the dark, now holding the tip of the knife to the back of his neck.
He turns towards me, allowing the tip of the knife to run along the skin, a red scratch forming in its wake.
My eyes trail up to his mouth, where a smug grin is forming. He’s wearing a new mask tonight. It’s a partial skull that’s cracked across his face in a jagged line, leaving a chiseled cheekbone, partial jaw, and his full lips exposed. His eyes seem darker. Colder than earlier, if that’s even possible for someone with his lack of a soul.
“There she is,” he says slowly, smiling as he leans forward into the knife at the base of his neck, against the large rose tattoo.
“Why are you here?! Answer me!” I demand, pushing the knife against him, not backing down like he probably assumes I will.
He wants me to fight? I’ll show him I can.
“What was your plan, doll? Were you going to kill me?” He smiles sweetly before licking his lips.
My heart thunders in my chest as his gaze travels down my body, leaving a trail of heat touching every place his eyes touch. I can feel the tingling of my breasts. My nipples harden into tight buds beneath my white, flimsy nightshirt as he eyes them both.
I paired the shirt with matching white night shorts that are shorter than short. If I need to distract the man with my body to get an edge over him, I’ll do it. Anything to not end up in a shallow grave in my backyard alongside Jacob.
It appears to be having a negative effect, because when his eyes return to mine, they seem angrier. I narrow my gaze right back at him, holding the knife steady.
“And with my own knife?” He clicks his tongue. “Savage little thing, you are.”
“What is this?!” I yell out. “What do you know, Aero? What kind of sick game are you playing?”
“I know that you’re in a lot of trouble, Briony,” he says, leaning forward even further before his voice drops into a low and serious tone. “And you need me a lot more than I need you.”
I marinate on his words, attempting to decipher them. Worried about cutting him, I watch as the knife against his throat now pierces his skin, a smear of blood forming beneath the edge of the blade. My mouth drops open as I suck in a breath, and in a split second, his arm comes up and grips the hair at the back of my head again. I gasp as he pulls tightly, forcing my head back. I hold the blade steady to him.
“This is your last chance, sweetheart.” He towers above me, looking down as blood slowly drips down his neck from the wound he keeps pushing into, as if he can’t feel pain. As if he enjoys it. “You won’t get it again.”
Something deep inside of me knows this man has no fear of death. He doesn’t know fear in general. Threatening him again was a huge mistake. One that will definitely hold consequences if I fail.
My lip trembles as my hand violently shakes in fear. I drop the knife between us and it lands with a thud on the hardwood beneath us. Aero looks down at it, then back up at my fearful eyes. In a swift move, he pulls a gun from somewhere behind him and backs me into the wall with his tight grip on my hair. I hit the wall hard as the edge of the gun rests near my temple. I shudder in fear as my breaths come quick and short and tears fill my eyes.
“I told you I don’t do well with threats,” he says sharply as I feel the heat of his breath against my cheek.
His knee presses between my thighs and he nudges, spreading my legs open as his hips pin me to the wall.
“Next time this happens,” he says, drifting the gun down my cheek, then down my neck. The barrel trails down my abdomen until he lowers it to the place my thighs meet, his dark eyes focused on mine. “I’ll give you a proper reason to cry.”
He rubs the gun between my legs, slowly sliding the length of it along the entirety of my tingling center, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat building there. My lashes flutter before I close my eyes tightly, trying to ward off the sensation I’m reluctantly savoring.
Aero’s presence does something different to me. He pushes me to feel things I’ve denied myself to save my soul. What I can’t decide is if falling into his darkness will set me free or destroy me entirely.
Staring down at me with his gun now pointed at my clit and a fistful of hair holding me hostage against the wall, he leans closer until our noses are touching, our breaths meeting between us. His dark, shaggy hair hangs over the top of the mask, leaving his fiery stare blazing through me. Gazing dangerously into my eyes, his tongue darts out of his mouth and I feel the warm wetness of it slowly licking from the bottom of my chin up over my lips to the bottom of my nose.
I whimper at the sensation, his direct stare terrifying me as he does it.
“Clean,” he whispers against my lips.
Then it hits me. He’d yet to lick me clean of Jacob’s touch over my mouth. This man is sadistic and twisted, and my body can’t seem to deny what that does to me. A sickness deep within me enjoys his demented version of affection. It has to be snuffed out. I need to get away from this psychotic man before I fall victim to these devilish charms.
My eyes dart to the door, then back at him. He studies me for a second before that terror-producing smile makes it return, showing me the white of his teeth and the oddly sharp cuts of his canines.
“Ah, I see,” he whispers. “My little doll wants to run, yeah?”
The muscles in my neck strain, and he eyes my throat.
“Do it,” he says, releasing his hold on me.
Taking in a deep breath, I watch as he slowly backs himself away from me. His calves hit my bed behind him and he takes a seat, laying his gun on the comforter beside him.
“Run, Briony.” He nods towards the door. “And if you make it out of this house before I get to you…I’ll leave.”
Freedom from him in his own game. If you want to make it out alive, run for your life. His words. I’d have to be fast. Smart.
“However,” he says, tipping his head. “If I catch you…” His eyes assess my body beneath the flimsy cotton night set. “You surrender yourself to me entirely, allowing me to show you the light.”
My brows knit together at his strange proposition. The light? It doesn’t matter. I’m going to make it out. I have to. I know the perfect plan.
“You’ll leave? And that’s it. You won’t return? I won’t see you in the shadows anymore? Lurking around? Watching? Waiting?” I pause, cautious, before adding, “Murdering?”
“That I’ll never stop,” he answers quickly.
I’d swallow if I could, but my nerves are running rampant. Studying me as I practically cave into a trembling bag of bones, he simply says, “I’ll give you a head start.”
Taking a few steps forward, his eyes follow me. I squat down in front of him, grabbing the edge of the knife from the floor. Slowly sliding it into my hand, I flip the blade down, holding it in my grasp as my eyes find the courage to look up at him.
“There’s my smart girl,” he says with a smirk, seemingly happy that I’m choosing to defend myself against him.
With the tension thick, an eerie silence fills the dark room as we stare at one another. The determined prey to the calculated killer.
“Three.”
Before he can say anything else, I turn and run.
“Two.”
I run for my life.
