Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

A life for a life? Is that fair? Is that our truth?

Every time I’ve thought about my future, I’ve always seen myself as some sort of side character. A person who gets tossed this way or that, all dependent on which direction the wind was blowing. Nothing but the means to keep the narrative flowing along. Always an object, one that just waits to be used however someone sees fit. Never the subject of the story. Even my own. But is it possible that I’m worth more than the “superiority” of my birth based on coincidence and circumstance, more than a speedway to gain rank, more than merely an asset? Thatsomeone . . .him. . . would end a man’s life just because the perpetrator threatened to harm me?

“Cub.” My demon cups my cheek in his palm. “I need to get rid of the body.”

I nod. That girl is still inside the restroom, but she could come out at any moment. When she does, she’ll see the dead guy. Awareness hits, and I grab the handle in a mad grip, keeping the door closed.

“There’s a back room down the hallway, I think.” I motion with my free hand to indicate the unlit passage to the side. “If you move him there, no one will find him for hours.”

He narrows his eyes at me in what I’m pretty sure is confusion. I might not know his name, but I think I’m starting to read him rather well. In the time we’ve spent together, I’ve shared things with him I’ve never shared with anyone else. His subtle reactions are familiar to me now.

His gaze moves along my arm, stopping on my firm grip on the knob. “Someone’s in there?”

“Yes. I’ll make sure she doesn’t come out until you’re gone.”

Pale-gray eyes meet mine again. He takes a step forward, coming up so close that I need to tilt my head all the way back to maintain our locked stare.

“You surprise me, cub.”

“Well, I’m glad we have our roles reversed for once.”

The edges of his lips curve upward. I’ve always found him handsome, but that tiny smile transforms him into drop-dead gorgeous.

“Head back to your friends and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“So, I won’t see you again tonight?”

“No.”

I try to stifle the onslaught of disappointment as I watch him grab the dead guy by the back of the shirt and drag him down the hallway. Is this all I’ll ever get from him? Short, sudden visits before he disappears again?

“What if someone else bothers me tonight, and you’re not there?” I call after him. It’s a pitiful attempt to make him stay, but I’m working with the only thing I have.

“I said you won’t see me. Not that I won’t be there,” he says just before turning the corner. “No one will touch you on my watch, tiger cub.”

Chapter 16

The steady tapping of raindrops hitting the window mixes with the low tones of a song streaming from my phone. I continue stirring the ravioli and throw a look out at the balcony where I have my pots of herbs all lined up. My original plants are maintaining a steady growth rate, providing me with a plentiful supply of freshness for my cooking. But I’m amazed at how well the celery root and parsnips are doing. Not only did they survive the winter inside my apartment in the small planter box I transplanted them into, but they seem to really like it because they’ve almost doubled in size since my demon brought them.

It’s been almost a year since we met, and we’re still playing this strange game of hide and seek. Sometimes, I would stand out on the balcony, and when I’d look down, he’d be across the street, leaning on the hood of his car. We’d watch each other for a few moments, and then he’d get behind the wheel and drive away. Or I would notice him lurking on the roof across the street, looking down into my windows. We would have our usual staring contest, and then he’d disappear again, leaving me with a thousand questions.

For a long time, those questions left me frustrated, but along the way, I accepted this crazy situation we’re in.

Every time he surprised me with a visit, I learned something new about him. Like last week, when I found him at my door, his shirt sleeve saturated with blood. Another knife wound, on his biceps this time. A straight clean cut right above his elbow, running almost all the way up to his shoulder. I sewed him up at my dining table. Thirty-six stitches. Then, I offered him a piece of cake that Zara had made the day before, certain he’d say no. He said yes. And I found another puzzle piece to fit into the mystery of him. My demon has a sweet tooth. The man ate his dessert before I even put the rest of the cake back into the fridge.

Every time he lets me see him, each time he comes by, I fall for him a little more. And every time he leaves, my heart aches. Little by little, without a conscious thought or even an effort on his part, I’ve fallen in love with a man who is still very much an enigma to me. The walls he keeps between us are more than impenetrable rock. They are a fucking mountain bastion. He won’t let me in. The little things he lets slip here and there, help paint a picture of his life before we met, and some things I’ve figured out on my own. But that’s all I have.

Secrets. There are so many secrets between us, they have become our norm.

We’ve never even brought up what happened at the club a month ago. There was no “thank you” on my part, no explanations on his, either. Just us, and that unspoken understanding.

In the dark.

I remove the pot from the burner, drain the ravioli and set it aside to cool off, and then walk up to the balcony doors to glance at the top of the building across from mine. It’s been raining nonstop since this morning, so my demon likely hasn’t come,but I still slide my eyes across the expanse of the roof. There’s nobody there.

I’m turning around when I catch movement below, on the street. A figure in a black coat, leaning on the wall by the building’s entrance, his arms crossed over his broad front. Rain is pouring down on him, soaking his hair and his outer layers as he stands there like some dark wraith. Our gazes clash, and like always, I feel the impact as a punch to the chest. It’s ever the same when I see him. My heart swells, and I forget to breathe—as if seeing him keeps all the air from my lungs.

Breaking our locked stares, I turn around and head across the room. I only pause at the door to put on my rain boots, then leave the apartment. My building is old, and there is no elevator, but it only takes me a minute to reach the ground floor.