Page 16 of Falling for a Killer

“You’re right,” I snap. “It took three years for Ryan to admit what a jackass he was, and here you are admitting it on day one. How dare I try to protect my heart when you, the killer on the run keeping me prisoner, is so clearly deserving of it? You’re right. We should fuck daily, three or four times. When has sex ever made anything more complicated?”

My tone has him standing straighter like I slapped him, but I can tell he’s far from done. “Whatever, I’m an asshole then. Would you rather I pretend I’m Prince Charming to your face like Ryan did? And by the way, you’re an asshole too. I just happen to like it.” He takes three steps toward the bathroom before spinning back around. “This isn’t about fucking anymore, Josephine. Who says I want to fuck you again, anyway?”

My jaw goes slack, but it humbles me quickly. “If you didn’t want more, why argue with me in the first place? Why not just go along with it when I said we shouldn’t do it again?”

“Because I did want to,” he admits. “Funny how things can change so quickly, huh? Now I’ll protect my heart just like you seeing as I’m the only one that falls in love here.”

At least he finally gets it. “Perfect. Maybe as friends, one day you’ll trust me enough to let me go. That’s the only way this ends well for me. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It is what it is,friend.”

The tone of his voice makes me nervous. It Isn’t cold, but it’s sarcastic enough to let me know I might’ve made a huge mistake here. But what’s right? Getting tangled up when the power imbalance is skewed this severely? Gambling with my life for a few orgasms? I shouldn’t have fucked him in the first place, I know that. But I did. I let his almost inhumanly handsome face distract me from who he is, what he is.

And now I may never be free.

Eight:

“Dirty” Laundry

Killian

It’s been a week since I’ve touched her. A week since that dumbass argument that didn’t need to happen, especially so soon, but I have to admit I get her hesitation.

After what I’ve done, I honestly don’t know if I’ll even make it another year on this earth. Normally I’d say that’s dramatic, but I feel like people who have assassinated a politician have a shorter life span, regardless of how righteous they believe the crime was.

The cops would kill me just to silence me.

I guess I was just too ready to hold onto something good for as long as I could, and that sex was really motherfucking good.

I expected an embarrassing talk about my condition after, one where I tell her the story of how I even got diagnosed and how girls tend to run away from me and my buckets of cum. But instead I honestly got something worse. I got rejected... and not for my cum.

That she seemed to enjoy.

I really need to stop thinking about it.

She’s been cordial the whole time, cooking for us both like she did that first day, but even still I feel further apart from her than I did the day I met her.

Or maybe I’m just dumb. I don’t know, but when she sits down across from me after breakfast and gives me that ‘we have to talk look’ I find myself tensing.

“What’s up?”

“We have enough food for dinner tonight and tomorrow night, but that’s it. We’ll be out of meat and fresh produce bySunday. We can survive off of canned beans and MRE’s for a while I guess, but I thought you should know.”

Well fuck.

I knew this day would come, I just didn’t know it would come so soon or that things would be this damn awkward. It feels like what I imagine it feels like to live with an ex... except you’ve never dated... and you’re holding her hostage.

So maybe that’s worse.

“What do you propose we do?”

Her lips purse, but her tone remains almost suspiciously light. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, actually. You can go if you think you won’t be spotted. They don’t know your name yet and all they’re showing is your eyes, so chances are good you can make it in and out of a small town grocery store without issues. I can give you my card.”

The thought makes my heart beat a little faster and anxiety creep its way along my skin.

Yeah, they probably won’t recognize me, but I’m tall enough to catch some attention, and if someone looks at me too closely in this small ass town... yet if I let her go alone, I could potentially ruin everything anyway. No. She gave me her word, and although a week is nothing in the grand scheme of things, we have to learn to trust each other eventually. “What if we both go?”

“We could,” she agrees. “It would be easier than making you a list.”

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