Page 12 of Demented

It seemed Andreas hadn’t been completely silent. Noir supposed he was grateful in a way. But Noir fucking hated how cold Lazarus sounded. He didn’t know how to make Lazarus understand.

“Who killed Rico?”

At least Lazarus’ curiosity kept him from completely shutting down. “I did. He stepped out of line all because he thought with his dick and let the CIA get the drop on him. His pride killed him.”

“You did that?”

Even though Lazarus’ voice remained cold, he sounded disbelieving. At least they were talking. Noir would take it. “I don’t send people to do my dirty work. If I want someone dead, then I should be man enough to handle it.”

“You knew I was hunting you. Was all this…” Lazarus didn’t finish. It was like he couldn’t say the words. Noir got it. He imagined this entire relationship looked like a way to shut him down. Noir would suspect the same in his shoes.

His life was something he had never been able to explain. Noir knew he had to try now, or he would lose Lazarus. “Imagine from the first day you’re born, there’s nothing out of your reach. In fact, you don’t even have to ask. Your every desire is anticipated. One day, you suddenly realize you’re nothing. There’s nothing. Life is totally meaningless. Pointless. I think that was the rock bottom my father waited for me to hit. He wanted me to do everything a million times until I hated it. That’s when he struck. How would I like to be the iron fist of our country in the U.S.? No risk. I have immunity here. No one would even suspect me. I could syphon an endless supply of money from this country into ours while keeping as much as I liked. He offered me power I would never have back home, considering my place in the line of succession. Back home, I would always be a useless prince.Here, I could be a king. My hands no less dirty than running a kingdom. How could I say no? I couldn’t suffocate another day.”

Noir swallowed because that wasn’t where the story ended. “Except, eventually, I realized I was still nothing. The only time I didn’t feel crushed beneath the weight of… I don’t even know how to describe it. No one seeing me. Being just the subject of a headline. I don’t exist unless I’m working on my books.” Noir held Lazarus’ stare. “And when I’m with you. You see me. I’m real to you.”

“Imagine if you hadn’t lied to me.”

Noir’s eyes fell closed at Lazarus’ words. He stood. Noir fully intended to immediately release Lazarus and face the music. Instead, he straddled Lazarus’ lap. He couldn’t stop himself. Noir held Lazarus’ face between his hands. He touched his lips to Lazarus’ mouth. Noir half expected Lazarus to bite him or head butt him. He didn’t. Lazarus opened for him, kissing him back. It was sweet. Their kiss felt like goodbye. Noir pulled away and pressed his forehead against Lazarus’s. He squeezed his eyes shut, absorbing a final moment. Sharing a final breath. “I know it doesn’t matter now, but I love you.” Noir stood and headed for the stairs. He didn’t look back. “I’ll send Ajax to set you free. I’m sorry you were inconvenienced.” Noir didn’t know if he meant tonight or for the entirety of their relationship. Probably both. He would go back to being invisible. Noir was toxic. This was best for everyone.

Chapter Seven

If Noir thought lifewas empty before Lazarus, it was nothing compared to after he walked out. Sometimes, Noir would turn sideways while drawing, expecting his feet to land on Lazarus’ lap. The heartbreak would hit all over again from just a moment of forgetfulness. Other times, the anger would try to creep in. Noir hadn’t shunned Lazarus for his line of work. Each time those moments came, Noir had to remind himself Lazarus had never hidden himself. From night one, he had been completely honest, letting Noir choose to stay. Hell, maybe Lazarus saw drugs as worse than murder. Then again, he had killed people too. He was no prize. Not really.

Such a short few months shouldn’t have affected him the way they had, but when a person had never experienced real love, it was addictive. It was impossible to not become a sponge, soaking up everything life had withheld. Each day that passed,Noir felt himself losing more of the warmth Lazarus had brought into his life. Soon, he would be completely cold again.

“You have a visitor, Your Highness.”

Noir glanced over his shoulder.

Heath stood in the doorway. He was all smiles. “Are you seriously still sitting in your robe at two in the afternoon?”

Noir didn’t experience an ounce of guilt. He had no reason to dress. “I have nowhere to be.”

Heath crossed the room and claimed the spot beside him on the loveseat. Lazarus’ spot. “I truly expected to find your man relaxing at your feet.”

“I’m not sure you can call him my man, since I haven’t heard from him in three weeks.”

Heath stretched his legs out, settling in like he lived there. “Did you self-destruct?”

That was a fair question. Maybe—in a way—he had. “It’s possible. I can’t tell any longer.”

Heath slapped Noir’s knee and squeezed. “Get dressed. We’re going to the country club. We can get some drinks and socialize. Get out of your fucking robe, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t good for your mental health.”

Noir bit back a groan. “I hate the club. Everyone stares at me like I’m part of a menagerie—like I’m not a real person. Now that’s not good for my mental health.”

Heath met his stare. He looked more serious than Noir had ever seen. “No one is real.”

Noir held his breath. It was the first time he heard anyone in his circle admit to feeling like him.

A sad smile touched Heath’s lips. “That’s the big secret. We’re all just putting on a show together, dancing to a silent tune. The only thing you can do is put on the best goddamn act anyone has ever seen. Win the mother fucking best actor of the year award. But whatever you do, don’t disappear into your head. You’re not beating the game. You’re just losing your soul. Go get dressed. If you don’t want to go to the country club, we’ll find a nightclub and get lost in a crowd. But you’re not staying here and drowning.”

Noir swallowed. He genuinely didn’t want to go anywhere, but Heath was right. Noir felt himself slipping away to a place of no return. So he had lost the only person who truly knew him to his core. There had never been much of a chance Noir could hang on to him. Lazarus had given him five beautiful months. Noir would treasure the memories, but it was time to accept his role. Noir had been born to be nothing but a symbol—untouchable. Only a face. He knew his place. It was time for Noir to accept he was cursed to be alone. That was how it would always be.

Air ruffled Lazarus’ hair. He rode through the streets, trying not to think or feel. His home in Arizona still waited for him. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t returned yet. His work was done here. There was no mystery to solve or grand villain to slay. Lazarus should go home, polish his weapons, and await his next job. There was always someone who needed killing. This wasn’t his town. He had no idea why he stayed.

His phone buzzed. Lazarus slowed. No one knew his number unless he gave it to them. His phone was encrypted and didn’t exist on paper. There was no trail to follow to find it. An incoming text likely meant a new target. Lazarus pulled into the first empty parking lot he came to. With his feet braced, keeping the bike balanced, Lazarus took his phone from his pocket and checked his message. It was a blocked number. He opened it and an image appeared on the screen. Noir lounged against a bar next to a young, and objectively sexy guy. The man was probably the same age as Noir. Noir wore his typical bored royal expression. The guy next to him, talking close to Noir’s ear, was all smiles. The dude looked like a player. Lazarus didn’t see him, though. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Noir. His eyes looked dead. The light had left him. Lazarus dropped his gaze to the text attached to the image.

Blocked number:Come get your man before someone else does.

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