Page 169 of The Beautiful Dead

It should have horrified me. But instead—Heat flooded my body. A slow, sated warmth curled through me like a secret. I smiled. Barely there. Almost nothing.

But he saw it.

Of course, he did.

My eyes were too heavy to lift, but I forced them open just enough to peek at him through my lashes. His beautiful face. Idrank him in. Tried to memorize him. Dark eyes were watching me, mouth unreadable—until I asked.

“What does it say?” Slurred. Mumbled. My lips barely moved.

“What does what say?” he murmured.

I scoffed. Weak. Playful. Utterly undone. “Whatever it is you’ve done to my back.”

His brow arched, a smirk curling one corner of his mouth.

“That thing you keep tracing with your finger…”

A hum. Low, rich. He moved his finger back to the top and started all over again. Tracing it. Etching it into me, over and over. The rhythm of it—hypnotic. It lulled me, pulled me under.

“Yesss, tha…” I barely got the word out before he chuckled.

A breathless, light laugh. I’d never heard before. It dragged me back from the edge of unconsciousness. My eyes fluttered open again, wider this time. Because—I wanted to see him.

All of him.

He was multifaceted, layered, endless. And for some unfathomable reason, he’d chosen me.

“My name.”

His words settled over me like a weight, like a chain around my throat. It echoed in my head. Over and over. Until I finally pieced it together.

He’d branded me.

With his name.

Carved it into my skin. I let my eyes fall closed. And whispered, “I hope it scars.”

A beat of silence passed between us where we just existed.

“If it doesn’t, I’ll do it again and again… until it does…”

CHAPTER 30

DOMINO

“One… two… I’m coming…for…”

His voice was soft, haunting.It slithered through the air like a whisper in the dark. Remi sounded like a fucking delinquent. He started doing this a few days ago, and it freaked me the fuck out.

At first, I thought he was watching horror movies—but no. He didn’t enjoy just sitting, being still. He preferred to be doing, creating, moving. And right now, he was doing exactly that.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Watching him.

His hand flew across the page, dark lines slashing the canvas. At first, the strokes looked meaningless. Something about them tickled a memory. Something I couldn’t quite place. It settled in my head like an itch. A mystery I had to unravel.

Just like that damn song stuck on repeat in my mind. If I could, I’d happily gouge my brain out with a hook.

The ding of the elevator cut through my thoughts. Ghost had finally decided to deliver what I had sent him to get hours ago. He strode into the penthouse, smirking as always, black box in his hands.

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