Page 29 of The Beautiful Dead

I liked being me, even if it meant being an outsider. Even if it meant carving out my place in the shadows. Somehow, this man—whose name I still didn’t know—had reached into the darkest part of me, a place no one had ever touched. Not family. Not friends. No one.

He had.

He’d shown me kindness beyond reason and violence beyond measure. He had let me see death, raw, brutal, and beautiful. And now, his presence set me on fire in a way no one else ever had.

I felt him before I heard him. The doors in this place didn’t creak, and the thick carpet swallowed every trace of sound, but I knew he was there.

His voice came low, rough enough to scrape deliciously along my skin. “I brought you some clean clothes.”

A ripple of goosebumps broke across my body. “Thank you.”

He set the neatly folded pile on the bed beside me, but his gaze didn’t follow. It stayed on me. I could feel it like a touch, watching the beads of water slide from my hair, down my chest, trailing over the towel knotted at my waist.

I cleared my throat. His eyes snapped up, locking onto mine. “I have my own clothes, you know.”

His lips twitched, almost like he found that amusing. “I’m aware. But considering where you’ve been staying, I thought you’d prefer something that didn’t need to be incinerated.”

Cool. Detached. Like he was simply stating a fact. But his eyes… His eyes told a different story. Something burned deep in the dark green depths—a quiet possessiveness, a hunger that hadn’t been there before.

“Have you eaten?” he asked. But before I could answer, he was already continuing. “I was going to order takeout anyway. What do you want?”

My stomach betrayed me, the low growl filling the silence. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a decent meal. The fifty bucks I’d had in my pocket hadn’t gone far after Brielle threw me out, and the shelter barely had enough funding to keep the lights on. Finding a job had been impossible, though Doll said she might have a spot for me soon, once one of her waitresses left to have a baby.

But for now? I was starving.

His voice pulled me back. “Pick anything.”

I hesitated, turning the thought over in my mind. Mom and I hadn’t been able to afford takeout in years, not since her first stroke. If he was offering, I’d take it. Just this once. “Thai sounds good.”

He nodded, already turning for the door, his hand brushing the handle when I blurted, “I feel like I should introduce myself to my, um…”

Rescuer?

Kidnapper?

I still couldn’t decide.

“I’m Remi.”

Something flickered across his face—a flash of amusement, something knowing. “I know.”

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with the weight of his words. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he knew my name. Not when he’d already known where I was staying. Not when he’d moved my things without my consent.

I exhaled, staring at the pile of clothes.

They smelled like him—smoke, leather, something dark and expensive. The fabric was softer than anything I owned. The black t-shirt clung to my damp skin, molding to my frame, the cotton worn-in but high quality. The black sweatpants sat low on my hips, too big, but the drawstring kept them in place.

The weight of the fabric was unfamiliar, luxurious in a way that felt foreign on my skin. I caught my reflection in the floor-length mirror near the bed and stopped in my tracks. For once, I didn’t look completely out of place, no matter how I felt about my current arrangement.

I looked like I belonged to him. The thought shouldn’t have sent a thrill down my spine. But it did. My fingers ran through my damp hair, pushing it back before I stepped out of the bedroom.

The apartment was nothing like I expected, and yet it fit what I knew of him perfectly. It was dark and elegant. Sleek lines, black and gray everything—the furniture, the walls, the expensive rugs underfoot. It was minimalist but not cold, like a place curated with intent rather than just thrown together. The glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a sprawling view of the city far below, a glittering expanse of lights that seemed a world away from the one I’d been living in.

He sat at the kitchen island, one foot propped on the bottom rung of the stool, scrolling through his phone like he hadn’t just turned my entire existence upside down.

His presence filled the space effortlessly, like he owned it—which he obviously did. But it was more, like he owned everything. This was his castle, and beyond the glass walls was his kingdom.

He looked up as I entered, his proprietary gaze flicking over me, lingering just long enough to make my breath catch. Something dangerous and satisfied curled at the corner of hislips. He liked what he saw, like this was exactly how he’d envisioned me.

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