Page 29 of Eye Candy

Maybe a few bites.

“Um.” She sounded startled, a bit confused, but mostly curious. “That’s why they call you Fang?” Those eyes of hers lifted, finally drawing away from my mouth and rising to meet my stare.

“I called myself Fang long before I did this to myself.” I leaned forward a bit more, my lips curled into a smirk. “Do you want to know why?”

She swallowed hard, but she was unable to take her eyes off me. She managed to nod.

Suddenly I was so very glad I’d only extended an invitation to her. She was cute. Small. Very… delectable. “You know how some kids like to bite when they’re young? Well, I found I never really grew out of it.”

“So, you just… go around, biting people?”

I chuckled. “Not exactly. I’d offer to show you, but I have the feeling your guards out there will throw a fit if I leave a mark on you.” Even as I said it, I detected the blush creeping up her neck, to her cheeks. “That’s what they are, am I right?”

The girl’s head looked down to her lap, and she slowly lifted the glass and took a sip of the water. “Yeah. My dad put Kieran on me and Lola—”

“Gave you Big Mike,” I spoke with a nod. “I see that. Why do you need two guards, Princess? The city’s a dangerous place, I know, but the two guards make me think you’re important—but I don’t know who you are, still, so you must be new.”

“My dad’s the mayor,” she said, lifting her eyes up. “I was kidnapped two years ago. I just got out. I… I managed to escape, and…” She bit her lower lip, probably unaware of how enticing that small gesture was.

I could tell she didn’t like talking about it. “That’s how you lost your fingers?”

“Yeah.” She took another sip of the water.

“May I?” I asked, extending a hand toward her.

Her right hand curled around the glass harder, her knuckles white. I could tell she was semi-uncomfortable with me, but still, she nodded. Without saying a word, she moved her left hand into mine.

The moment her fingertips grazed my palm, I could feel how soft her skin was. Like satin. Soft and smooth—well, save for the last two fingers, which had been cut off just above the first joint. An ugly scab graced the skin there, in the process of healing, telling me the wounds were still quite fresh in her mind and her heart.

“What’s your name, Princess?” I asked, not for the first time. I had no idea about politics; I really tried to stay away from it all. The one time I’d poked my nose in it had been when the DeLucas were trying to upheave the whole damn city a few years back.

“Laina,” she whispered out, letting me hold her hand longer than I should’ve.

I couldn’t help it, though. Her hand was soft, and the wound… it was a clean cut, just above the joint. How she’d gotten an injury that lucky while I assumed she’d fought off her kidnapper, well… it was almost astronomical.

Was she lying, and everyone around her was too happy to have her back to pay attention to the details?

“Laina,” I spoke her name softly, well aware her gaze had fallen to my mouth, to my teeth once again. “I hope you killed him on your way out.”

She pulled her hand away from mine, looking away. “I didn’t. That’s why I have two guards outside.” Laina took another sip from the glass, but she seemed so sad all of a sudden, so downtrodden it made me feel for her.

Ah. I understood it now, although when it came to Laina, I was still a bit unclear. She looked like cotton candy on two legs, but deep down she had a darkness to her. I could tell. Perhaps that’s why Lola had taken such an interest in her, why she’d given Laina my info and sent her to me.

Laina let out a soft sigh. “I don’t even know why I’m here. Lola said you did something for her, but she didn’t tell me what. It looks like you work on sculptures. I don’t know how that’s going to help me at all.” It sounded as though she was trying to convince herself to get up and leave.

“Let me grab something,” I said, getting to my feet. I walked around the couch, to my desk on the far side of the room, where I often sketched out my sculptures and plans for whatever I wanted to work on next. I dug through the drawers of older sketchbooks. When I pulled open the bottommost drawer on the left, I found it.

It wasn’t displayed, because it was an early prototype. My work had gotten much better over the years. I worked with metal, yes, but I didn’t just create sculptures. I did work for my brother, on multiple occasions. I did work for Lola, too. Anytime someone needed something along these lines done, they came to me.

I picked up the prototype, its metal aged, and carried it to the couch, where Laina sat, eyes still on her lap. She jumpedwhen I set the prototype down on the coffee table before her, the glass nearly falling from her hand.

“What—” She sounded breathless, in awe and full of fear simultaneously. “—is that?”

“You can pick it up, if you want,” I told her, standing there beside her, watching her reaction. I found her a strange sort of mesmerizing, this Laina. Perhaps everyone else in her life saw only what they wanted to see when it came to her. Perhaps no one saw the real Laina, and that’s what she was searching for.

Laina leaned forward, scooting to the edge of the couch. She set the glass of water down beside the prototype, carefully picking it up. “Whoa,” she muttered. “It’s heavy.” Though it wasn’t made for her hand, she slipped her right hand inside all the same. The metal glove dwarfed her hand completely.

As it should, since it was for my brother, the Beast.

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