Page 75 of Beneath the Watching

Staring her down to put her in her place, I wondered if she would still be Ramone’s whore if Ilya hadn’t taken care of the problem.

“Asshole,” Kiara muttered under her breath, responding almost as if she’d heard me.

I didn’t respond to her taunt and took a deeper look. Her eyes were dark underneath and her thin frame had lost more weight. Her skin appeared tight, and her visage had dulled slightly. The fiery woman she’d been a few weeks ago was slowly deteriorating.

“Are you okay?” I asked her, sincerely. It was concerning because it appeared Ilya was overdoing the siphoning of her magic and energy. Energetic transactions were normal amongst demons, it was expected, especially during intimacy. Couples even exchanged or donated magic at times.

What I was seeing was not normal and it appeared my best friend had strayed deeply into the field of addiction and would cause himself no end of troubles. I would never hear the end of it.

“What do you care?” She sniped.

Stripping off my coat, I laid it over one of the stools at the kitchen island and ignored her.

“Kiara,” Mabel raised her voice slightly. “Stop it. You guys need to get along.”

Kiara’s shoulders slumped. “I’m trying. I’ve just been tired lately.”

Leaning back against the counter, I crossed my legs at the ankle. “Do you know why?”

She threw me an irritated glance and then lowered her head, pretending to peer at the sketches she and Mabel had spread out before them. “Yes.”

“You can stop him,” I told her. Mabel gave me an interested look. “She’s doing this to herself, love,” I glanced at Mabel and she went stared at the countertop.

“You don’t understand. Ramone sacrificed himself for me, but Ilya also killed him. I didn’t ask for any of this. Now, he’s out there pretending I don’t exist but also, he was going to killmeand...” She trailed off and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to think or what to do but Ilya comforts me. And he’s not going anywhere. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.”

Mabel met my eyes again, and I knew right then that we both understood. She’d told me once, and I’d witnessed it, that Kiara was damaged. Everything in her life—including herself—had worked against her. She was still in love with both men. Ramone being out of sight did not equal out of mind. This wasn’t something anyone could help her with.

“Ramone’s all I ever really knew of this place,” she said, quietly.

I had to stop myself from groaning out loud. The man was going to kill her, and she still longed for him.

Right then, Tiffany walked in. “This is not a revolving door. Benjamin. Jack. Get back to work,” I directed my men as the woman shrugged past me. I’d been too lenient, softened by a vision with ebony tresses. The two men shuffled by me, debating possums and hedgehogs in low whispers.

Tiffany glanced at them with interest, her gaze lighting on Jack just a little too long. She smiled shyly when he winked at her.Good Lord.

“Hey Kiara,” Tiffany greeted the woman before moving to Mabel’s side, who then gave me a smile of pity.

“I’m heading out,” Kiara announced. Mabel nodded and then slowly blinked, her eyes losing focus for a moment.

The door was shut after Mabel’s friend passed through and I waited until all was quiet. Tiffany sensed we needed space and mentioned she had knowledge of possums, excusing herself to go find my guards.

“You heard the Sentient,” I stated.

Mabel nodded. “It said death.” She shivered. “That’s it. Just death.Dead.” She lined up the colored pencils beside her drawing pad arranging the shades to form a rainbow.

My first thought was Ramone and the fact his soul had been in a coma. He hadn’t been truly dead at any point, and he’d be back amongst the fully functioning at any moment. From what I understood, he was still recovering but now back in the office and continuing to terrorize unsuspecting humans with his impossible demands and mood swings.

“Ask it what it means.” I knew she wasn’t completely comfortable with the voice that followed her everywhere. It wasn’t an intrusion she fully welcomed.

“What do you mean? Who’s dead?” she asked softly, nudging the bottom edges of the pencils into a smooth, even line.

The hum of the refrigerator buzzed louder as the compressor kicked into gear. Our guests’ voices could be heard, a faint static several rooms away. Colored pencils tumbled onto the floor as Mabel tapped them in frustration.

I bent down to gather them and held them in my fist. “Try rephrasing the question. Maybe you’re not asking the right ones.”

She sighed, holding out her palm. “Which death are you talking about? Is someone going to die?”

Mabel’s eyes widened and she curled her fingers around the writing instruments she now gripped. “The voice said many people will die. What do we do?”

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