Page 78 of The Beautiful Dead

I reached out, my knuckles just barely brushing his cheek. He didn’t stir. I liked him like this—soft, unaware, completely mine. The weight of the world couldn’t touch him here. No one could.

His lips parted on a quiet exhale, and my eyes traced the curve of his mouth. So delicate. So fucking deceptive. No one would guess what he was capable of—how sharp he could be, how beautifully cruel. But I knew. I had molded him with my own hands, guided him deeper into the darkness, and wrapped him in it like a second skin.

And he let me.

Remi stirred before his eyes opened. I watched the shift; his breathing changed first, the slow stretch of his limbs beneath the sheets, the way his fingers flexed like they were still searching for something even in sleep. Then his gaze landed on me.

I sat beside him, my elbow resting on my knee, watching. Waiting.

“Creep,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep.

A smirk curled at the corner of my mouth. “Good morning to you, too.”

He stretched, his back arching slightly, sheets slipping lower, revealing more of his pale skin that I had mapped with my teeth and hands. My fingers itched to touch, to claim, but I had something else for him first.

I reached into my pocket, feeling the smooth bone between my fingers before pulling it free. The small pendant gleamed faintly in the low light. A sliver of something primal, somethingmine, stirred inside me.

“Sit up,” I ordered.

He blinked at me, still groggy, but when I dangled the leather cord in front of him, his gaze sharpened. He pushed himself up against the headboard, tilting his head as he studied it.

“What is it?”

I leaned in, lifting the cord over his head, letting the pendant settle into the hollow of his throat. Bone against skin. It belonged there.

“It’s for you.”

His fingers ghosted over it, his brows drawing together slightly. “What kind of bone is this?”

I smiled, slow and dark. “Does it matter?”

Something flickered in his gaze—hesitation, curiosity. Then, understanding. The smirk that followed sent a pulse of heat through me.He gets it. He gets me.

“One of your kills?”

Not this time.

“Yours,” I murmured.

His fingers curled around it, testing the weight, the meaning. He didn’t ask for details. He didn’t need to. The look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what this was. Not a gift. Not a token.

A mark.

I reached out, dragging my thumb along the edge of his jaw, tilting his chin up. His pulse beat steadily beneath my touch, a rhythm I had memorized. He swallowed.

“Looks good on you.”

His lips parted slightly, breath feathering against my wrist. My fingers tightened beneath his jaw, just enough to feel the way his muscles tensed before relaxing.Submission. Trust.

He wasn’t afraid. He should be.

“Say thank you,” I murmured.

His smirk widened, eyes glinting. “Thank you,Domino.”

The way he said my name sent a thrill down my spine. I leaned in just enough to let our foreheads brush and let him feel the heat rolling off me.

“Good boy.”

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