Page 121 of Babalon

To feel how soft her skin looks peppered in red.

Lord have mercy on my soul, the unadulterated thoughts that pulse through my still fractured skull at the thought of sliding my body against hers.

“Someone shut this guy up.”

“Yes, Sir,” one of his men reply.

Oh my, when she whimpers and pouts from being woken up, everything tightens in me, a million small shivers convulsing through my body while the officer approaches and sands close by. I can feel my heart racing, ready to leap out of my mouth at the sound of her.

“That’s it, little Nadia. Come back to me.”

“Shut up, inmate,” my watch dog snaps.

There it is again, her cries.

“Come on, Nadia. Let them know what happened.”

“I said shut the fuck up!”

He grabs me by the underside of my arm and hauls me up to my feet; the slick slide of blood under my boots making it a little bit of a challenge to maintain my balance but I eventually get it.

Those cries, the way she’s getting louder. The slight bit of anger that is accompanying them—only makes me want to goad her more.

“Give it to me, Nadia!” I shout in return.

When she screams, my knees buckles.

She’s exquisite.

“Get him out of here!”

“Scream louder, Nadia! Tell the whole world what you’ve done. Let everyone know that you killed him!” I yell out, the oaf who has a hold of me pulls me along with him until we pass through the door’s threshold and it slams shut.

“Let’s try this again,” the detective states calmly. He’s as cool and collected as I am, which says a lot about his character. He looks so pressed and proper. Every stitch of clothing exactly where it needs to be, not a single hair out of place. We are complete opposites as I’m the chaos that sits here twitching before him with my hands shackled to the metal table.

I feel like we are in a standoff, it’s the wild west again, and whoever moves first triggers the duel, and there can only be a single victor. When he arrived, I didn’t see a gun on him but that doesn’t mean anything. He may have something else on him that could be accessible, and besides my shackled hands, I have nothing to retaliate with.

“Lucien.”

He speaks clearly, and I remain silent. After a long beat, he sighs, knowing what I want.

“She’s fine. She is still out of sorts at the hospital, but she will be okay. You probably saved her life.”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” I reply swiftly, grimacing.

“Odd thing to say when you’re the one who stabbed her attacker nineteen… no, twenty-two times.”

Silence again.

He won’t trap me into admitting anything. Same old song and dance.

“Listen, you have to give me something.”

“I apologize Detective…” I stall waiting for him to supply his name once more.

“Whitlock.”

“Detective Whitlock, there is this thing called the constitution, and if you would remember, the fifth amendment gives me the right to silence. You cannot force or coerce me into testimony or self-incrimination. Therefore, if you would, stop fucking asking!” I shout.

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