Page 2 of The Heart of Midnight

I much prefer the eyes of my midnight visitor.

Just thinking about him has me clenching my thighs and squirming where I stand. I shouldn’t want him to come to me, but that doesn’t seem to be a memo my body cares to receive. The way he takes charge...

I hear Scar’s motorcycle before I see it, ushering those dark fantasies away for later, because they aren’t thoughts I’ve ever shared with anyone. Not my best friend Janet, not even Scar. And I’ve talked about some dirty things with both of them.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach when he knocks. When he’s home and I feel the killer’s eyes, I call him for company, but on days like today when he’s away, he comes over without prompting the second he sees my lit-up home. It’s hard to remember how we got here. Whether he came because of my lights or if I turned them on specifically to beckon him over is muddy in my memory, but all I do know is I’m happy he comes. I’d be in a panic without him.

When I swing the door open enthusiastically, I take in the dirt and grime clinging to him from his job as a mechanic, but more than that I see a level of calm in his eyes that wasn’t there this morning. I have to hope that means he had a good day. “Hi.”

“Avery,” he says in that low, sexy voice. “Are you alright?” Already, his eyes are darting around the entryway. He steps in, hand glancing across my lower back as he scopes out the dining room and living room, then turns to face me. “Did you hear something?”

“Not a noise, no. More like a feeling? I don’t fully understand it, and I’m sure you think I’m insane by now, but...” I’m rambling like a madwoman and he’s still staring at me like I’m anythingbutcrazy. “I think Muerte is out tonight.”

His jaw sets as he opens the door to my hall closet to peek inside. “You’re probably not wrong. Are your other doors locked? Windows, too?”

“Yes, of course.” I watch the veins in his forearms as he squeezes every single door handle, thoroughly checking each room to bring me peace of mind. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that they all look like me?” I rush out. “I mean most of them are prettier, but I just mean brunettes around my height.”

He freezes with his hand on my bathroom door and his back toward me. “I... hadn’t noticed. But Avery, you can’t honestly believe there’s a single woman in this city prettier than you. Do I need to check your mirrors out while I’m here?”

Huffing, I reach out to shove him playfully and have to stop myself from squeezing the solid muscles. God, he’s aman. “Can’t hurt, I guess. Maybe he’s a spirit or something and that’s how he leaves no evidence behind.”

“Maybe. But whoever or whatever he is, he’s not here. Your house is Muerte free,” he quips, turning to ruffle my hair. “You’re safe tonight.”

“Thanks again.” I take his hand when it drops to his side and marvel at how callused and huge they are. “You want a drink or something?”

I’m an idiot. He’s covered in filth from work, and I’m offering him a drink. I should be offering him a shower, but gods, just the image of him in my shower does things to me.

“I could go for a beer,” he admits. “I should go home and clean up first though, I don’t want to cover your new couch in oil. It was a bit of a messy day.”

“I can tell,” I tease. “Looks like you rolled around in the dirt once you clocked out. Take your time though, I’m alright here.” That’s a lie. I want him to rush back here and stay until I fall asleep. There was a time when I’d want him gone early so my midnight visitor wouldn’t get caught, but he hasn’t come in months. It’s been too damn long, and unfortunately, it’s the only way I can even get off with a partner. It just doesn’t cut it when they won’t take complete control, when they won’t make me feel like I’m owned even if just for the night.

“I’ll be back then,” he confirms. “Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

“Should probably have given you a key by now,” I joke when we reach the door, then close it before he can give me a response. It was a ridiculous suggestion anyway.

Three

Scar

I would pick the one woman in all of Saint City that might actually be fucking clairvoyant. Shealwaysknows when I kill, always. The only solace I take is that she doesn’t even believe herself. As I scrub the dirt off my body from the grave I dug, I wonder if I’m starting to dig my own when it comes to her. Where does this end, anyway? With me in a body bag, probably. Maybe in a supermax prison or on the run somewhere with no extradition, but definitely not behind some white picket fence with her as my happy little wife.

Shit doesn’t work like that for monsters like me.

Still, I can’t bring myself to stay away from her. The moment I’m cleaned up and my dirty clothes are in the washer, I head back over to her house and knock with my heart — or whatever’s left of it — lodged in my fucking throat.

She still looks just as beautiful when she answers it this time. “So... you promised me a beer?”

“I did.” She steps aside and locks up after I enter. “I also warmed some leftovers for you since I doubt you stopped for food on the way home.”

Chuckling, I’m suddenly very grateful for the beer. She’s a terrible cook. She means well, but the last time I ate something she made, I ended up smuggling most of it out to the raccoon who lives under her porch. “Food sounds great,” I say anyway. “One of these days, I’ll have to cook you dinner as a thank you.”

“You’d have to make it home before me to do that,” she says in that flirty tone of hers. “You work much harder than me anyway, so I don’t mind. Plus, I make you check under my bed for monsters. It’s the least I can do.”

She also lets a masked stranger do unspeakable things to her without calling the police, so maybe she’s right. The least I can do is choke down some dry meatloaf with a smile on my face. I think it ends up being more of a grimace, though if she notices, it doesn’t seem to hurt her feelings.

Two beers later, we’re on her couch watching an emergency broadcast discussing the women who have gone missing recently, and I don’t miss the way she scoots closer to me. “You think any of them are still alive?”

I have it on good authority they’re not, but just seeing their faces is making me fucking hard again. This is not the fucking time, not when I’m already trying to figure out how to slip something in Avery’s drink so I can come see her later without worrying about consequences. I need her more than I’ve ever needed any of the others.

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