Page 14 of No Mercy In Red

I pulled it free, flipping it open, a worn-in crease split in the middle. The pages where the colourful strips lay were words marked with tiny highlights, underlining passages with little notes scribbled in the margins. The same for each book in the series. My eyes caught on a particular highlight in the bookDawn of The Cursed Queen.

‘She was mine and I’d do the unthinkable for her.’

The words were circled, a tiny heart drawn beside them. My stomach clenched.

‘I’d fall to my godsdamn knees right now to have just a taste of you.’

She had underlined that one twice. A slow grin tugged at my lips. I leaned back on my heels, staring at the book like it had just cracked her open for me, laid her bare in a way she didn’t even realise. She liked possessive, dangerous men. She wanted to be adored and consumed, and the way she swooned over Samkiel – the way he claimed Dianna as his own? Jesus fucking Christ. I clicked my phone open, pulling up amazon, ordering the entire series immediately. If Maxine Pochon wanted a manlike Samkiel, I would fucking become him, without you know… the ability to become an actual fucking God. I set the book back on the shelf, carefully placing it exactly where I found it, my heart pounded against my ribs as I moved through her space, drinking in every single detail. Her apartment was clean, minimal. No unnecessary clutter, nothing out of place. Except for me. I ran my fingers along her kitchen counter, my breath slow and even. My mind screamed at me to leave now while I still could, but my body had other plans. I wanted more, needed more. Her bathroom was small, cozy, clean. A towel hung neatly over the rack, the scent of vanilla and something soft and feminine lingering in the air. Then my gaze caught on the vanity, noticing the two identical lipstick tubes, both in that intoxicating colour. Deep red, the shade of blood.

The shade I had seen stained on her coffee cups, the same shade that stained the lips she used to smile, tease, to laugh, to wrap around that bastards cock – I took a deep breath.Not now. Before I could stop myself, I picked one up, twisting the cap off, watching the deep crimson colour slide up with the turn of my fingers. She painted her lips with this every day. A slow, wicked thought curled through my mind, and before I could think better of it, I slipped one of the tubes into my pocket. One for her. One for me. Something small, something she shouldn’t notice. I exited the bathroom, my gaze instantly snapping toward her bedroom door. I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t go in there. But I did, of course I fucking did. I had absolutely no self control apparently, not when it came to Maxine anyway. Her bed smelled like her, I laid back against the pillows, inhaling deeply, letting her scent wrap around me. My fingers clenched at the sheets, fisting them like I had a fucking right to be here. My cock was already aching, already painfully hard, but I needed more. My eyes shot to her dresser, I stood, pacing over to the drawers, slowly gliding the top one open, revealing neatly folded lingerie. Delicate lace, soft fabric. Panties. I plucked a pair from the stack – black, lace-trimmed, they were tiny, barely anything at all. My breathing turned heavy as I lifted them to my face, inhaling her. My cock throbbed against my jeans. Fuck. I laidback down against the bed, my fingers sliding down, pushing down my grey joggers just enough to free myself.

The thought of her being here, so fucking close, completely unaware that later on when she dives into her bed, I was here, stroking my cock on her sheets, buried in the scent of her, sent a violent thrill down my spine. I closed my eyes, picturing her on her knees in front of me, those perfect lips stained the deep shade of red as she wrapped them around my cock, leaving the lipstick smeared across the head. I imagined her riding me, nails digging into my chest, drawing little specks of blood, taking what she wanted, using me like nothing more than something to be conquered. My hips bucked up into my fist, my grip tightening as the pressure built, spiralling higher and higher until I was right on the edge. I imagined that basement, that chair, having her strap me down and ruin me. I panted loudly as I fucked my hand harder, faster, and then I came, all over the panties in my hand. A groan ripped from my throat, my body tensing, shaking, the release so fucking intense I nearly blacked out from it. I sucked in a ragged breath, my heart slamming against my ribs as I stared at the ruined fabric in my hands. A wicked, filthy satisfaction curled through my stomach. She would never know. I stuffed the panties into my pocket alongside the lipstick, a stolen piece of her to take home with me, and then I left, leaving another singular black rose behind on her step. I told myself exiting the building that I would never invade her space again, that I couldn’t keep doing this. My obsession was getting out of hand, dangerously out of hand. But truth be told, if I was being completely honest with myself, this was only the beginning. I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head since I had left her apartment, even more so than usual. The feel of her sheets beneath me, the scent of her still lingering on my clothes. The red lipstick in my pocket, alongside the panties I had stolen, still damp with my own release. Maxine Pochon was well and truly in my veins now; she had become my own source of heroin. And like an addict, I wanted more, so much more.

By the time the package arrived a day later, I had already memorised several of the annotations she had made in those books. I memorised which lines made her swoon, I knew what levels of possessiveness turned her on, I knew that she ached for the kind of devotion that was both terrifying and intoxicating. So, I read, and I devoured every word, flipping through the pages the way I imagined flipping through her thoughts. I traced the memorised highlights, whispering them under my breath, imagining the way she must have lingered on these very words.

‘She was mine and I’d do the unthinkable for her.’

The unthinkable for her, that part stuck with her, and it stuck with me. Because I would do the unthinkable for her. Fuck, I thought about killing a guy just for putting his hands on her, thought about breaking into her apartment there and then to remove his hands for the way he trailed them over her body. That’s why it was no longer enough to watch her from afar, I couldn’t let another man have the chance of touching what was mine. I needed her to see me. I didn’t want her to notice me right away – that would be too easy. No, I wanted to seep into her world slowly, burrowing under her skin the way she had burrowed deep under mine. I wanted her to think about the stranger who suddenly appeared in her life, the stranger that she could feel watching her.

So, I went to Melinda’s Café, after swinging by her apartment to leave another black rose on her doorstep. She came here daily, always ordering the same thing, always sitting in the same seat, always focused on her phone, or her laptop, her mind somewhere else. It was the perfect place to be subtle. I sat myself down, placing the book in my hand, reading the lines over and over again that I knew she loved, and patiently waited. The anticipation of waiting for her to walk through the door nearly killed me, and then, right on cue, she walked in. Dressed in all black, curves wrapped tight in a pair of black jeans that made her ass looking phenomenal, and worn leather jacket. Of course her lips were painted red – the same exact shade I had tucked away in my drawer. I kept myeyes trained on the book, only daring glances when I knew she was too distracted to see me staring. The first time, she didn’t notice me as her eyes swept the room. The second time, she glanced at me briefly, but it didn’t linger. But the third time, she hesitated, her eyes lingering on the book in recognition.

It was small, subtle, but I saw it.

Chapter 14

Max

The first time I saw him, I thought nothing of it.

Just another man at the café, reading a book, no different from the businessmen buried in their laptops, or the students lingering over overpriced lattes - other than being quite attractive. The second time, I paused. Something about him was… familiar. Not in a way that set off alarms, but a tickle in the back of my mind – a whisper telling me I’d seen him before. And that book, it was one of my favourite books of all time. By the third time, I knew he was watching me, whilst reading a book from a series I had just devoured and instantly added to my favourites pile. Either fate worked in mysterious ways, hand delivering me the man of my dreams that read smutty fantasy books, or something else was going on.

Work was the last place I wanted to be, but it was the only place that could give me what I needed, targets. The smell of stale coffee, the fluorescent lights, the sounds of ringing phones and clacking keyboards – it all kept me from drowning in my own thoughts. I filed another case, the first dismissal to hit my desk in a while. I ground my teeth, resisting the urge to rip the folder in half. Instead, I placed it neatly in the drawer of my desk to properly read through later, to see if this was another monster who was about to be at my mercy, another kill to quieten the guilt.

Lara’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“So, since you got laid on your birthday, you’re welcome by the way, I bet you’re dying to go out again and find another sexy man to pull you into your bed, now you’re officially out of your dry spell.”

I sighed, rubbing my fingers across my forehead, grabbing at the coffee she was wiggling in her hand at me. “Jesus, Lara.”

She grinned, taking a sip of her own coffee, “That’s a yes.”

I didn’t answer, not because I was embarrassed, but because it didn’t fucking matter. Casual sex was never a big thing to me, he was up and gone by the morning, and that was fine by me. I needed need a man lingering around, especially with what I did after word.

Lara leaned against my desk, “You should go out with me again this weekend.”

I snorted, “I don’t think I can handle another hangover that bad.”

“Who said anything about drinking? What if we just, I don’t know, danced, flirted, and let some sexy strangers put their hands all over us?”

I rolled my eyes, Lara was persistent, and I was starting to think she had a sex addiction. But before I could answer, I caught a hushed conversation coming from the break room.

“Jodie says her boyfriends on some top-secret case. Apparently, there’s a serial killer in town.”

My heart stopped.

“Really? I thought it was just some rumours.”

“No, it’s serious they’ve got, like, a whole team on it.”

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