Page 50 of The Beautiful Dead

I moaned as he licked and sucked at my bloody sweat slicked skin. Marking me where anyone could see with his mouth and his teeth. “Yes,” I hissed.

“Your body is my favorite playground.” His hand ran across my trembling skin, down my chest to my abs. Fingertips teasing along my softening length before they wrapped around my cum drenched hand. He brought it up to his lips and sucked my fingers clean, the vibrations of his moan traveling through every fiber of my being.

We stayed like that for a long moment—his arms locked around me, his chest flush against my back. Tangled and trembling, we were wrapped in the heat of sweat and blood, bound by something dark, something unbreakable.

It felt a lot like love, but I knew that was an illusion. This was something infinitely more powerful. It was primal, dangerous. It didn’t just consume—it possessed.

And on my tongue, it tasted like obsession.

Once we’d got our breathing back under control, he turned my face toward him, his lips brushing over mine in a slow, filthy kiss.

“Perfect,” he whispered. “You’re fucking perfect.”

CHAPTER 11

REMI

“You have reached—”Brielle’s voicemail clicked in instantly.

I hung up and hurled my phone across the table, watching as it skidded across the laminate surface. My pulse pounded against my skull, frustration clawing at my ribs like an animal desperate to be freed. Thank fuck Denny’s was quiet this time of day, or I’d have heads turning. Even tucked away in this shadowed corner, people still watched—eyes lingering too long, curiosity pricking at the edges of their interest.

“That bitch.”

My jaw clenched as I ground my molars together, muscles in my neck twitching with restraint. My fingers tapped a restless rhythm against the table, my mind circling the same maddening thought. Three weeks in Marlow Heights, and I still hadn’t seen my mom.

The first time I called, Brielle claimed they were short-staffed and said I couldn’t visit. Then it was, “She’s taken a turn for the worse,”and I was met with silence when I asked what that meant. Now, even calls from my new number were funneled straight to voicemail.

Something wasn’t right.

“Hey, kid.”

I lifted my gaze, narrowing my eyes as Arti slid into the booth across from me, setting down two mugs of coffee. The scent of burnt beans curled into the air between us.

“Uh, sure.”

Arti pushed one toward me before wrapping his hands around his own, a sheepish expression tugging at his weathered face.

“I’m sorry you haven’t been able to see your mom.”

The mention of her name sent my pulse skittering. A million questions crowded the tip of my tongue, fighting for dominance.

She and I had never had the perfect relationship. For most of my life, she was absent, barely a shadow in my periphery. Then the first stroke hit, and the roles reversed—suddenly, I was the caregiver, the one making sure she ate, took her meds, and stayed alive. I tried.Fuck,I tried. But the last stroke had gutted what little strength she had left, and I was forced to let go. Forced to trust Brielle. That trust, even as thin as it was, was rapidly unraveling.

“Is she okay?” I forced out, my throat tight.

Arti hesitated. “She’s stable, but… things don’t look good.”

The words landed like a lead weight in my chest. I didn’t need him to elaborate. Her prognosis had been bleak from the start. But now, she was slipping faster than expected, and I wasn’t even allowed to see her.

“What happened?” My voice iced over, my gaze locking onto his like a blade pressing to a throat.

Arti flinched. His grip on his mug tightened, his knuckles paling. “These things happen sometimes….” He shook his head, lips pressing together like he was holding something back. “Just—she doesn’t have long, kid. I hadn’t heard from you in a few days, so I thought I’d check in. Doll hadn’t seen you either, but as luck would have it, you were here.”

“So it seems.”

He nodded, glancing down at his coffee like it held answers. “Brielle and Brock are heading out of town for a few days. A conference or something. As acting manager of the home, I can get you in to see your mom if?—”

“That’s great.” I cut him off. I didn’t need to hear anything else. Opportunity had knocked, and I was already reaching for the door handle.

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