Page 21 of Begging for Mercy
My heartbeat increases its tempo, and I find myself at a loss for words. No one has ever asked me to sing for them before… and no one has everlooked at melike this before. Kane’s touch is gentle, but his gaze is piercing, slipping into my heart like a dagger.
“Okay.”
The corner of Kane’s lips curves upwards. “Yeah?” He caresses my jawline. “That makes me so happy, Mercy.Sohappy.” Still smiling, he lets me go and returns his focus to his painting, suddenly invested in completing the piece.
I stare dumbly at him for a few minutes before I slowly turn my body back towards my easel. I pick up my dropped paintbrush and clean the entire set before continuing my work, unable to focus with the jagged black scar tearing through the figure. But I don’t paint over the mistake; I leave it where it sits, knowing that I can work around it and salvage what’s left.
With Kane, I have a feeling that I’ll be doing a lot of improvising to save what pieces of myself I can. Because if it’s that easy for me to give something up the moment he asks, I’m in deep, deep trouble.
Chapter 9
Reaper
Mercy said yes.
If seeing her in class today wasn’t enough of a rush, witnessing the way she melts in my hands is enough to make me downrightgiddy. Once class is finally over, she meanders around the room at a leisurely pace, going so far as to clean the sink so that she doesn’t have to confront the fact that she agreed to something I want.
Without a single word of protest.
My cheeks hurt from the smile I’ve been wearing for the past two hours. My god, I never come to these classes, and now I know why. True art can’t be dictated by some old fuddy-duddy telling us tofeel the weight of the brushandsee the curve of her waist like the waves of the ocean. Art has to be felt in the marrow of your bones—it’s bringing raw experience to life for others to see. It’s like if telepathy were real and we could read each other’s minds. That level of intimacy is exactly what I try to embody in my paintings. I want whoever looks at my work to know the agony I felt as I plunged a knife into Alejandro’s heart—to feel the rush of chasing him through a moonlit meadow—to taste the love pouring from his veins.
I haven’t sold his paintings yet, so I hope to show them to Mercy before our time is up. To let her know that even in death, I’ll capture her beauty with the utmost reverence. There’s a method to my madness; it’s why Zane has stuck around as long as he has. I don’t kill out of boredom. I help people feel the full range of emotions that the human soul has to offer.
Someday soon, I’ll ensure that Mercy not only understands it, but that she experiences that euphoria with me.
When there’s nothing else she can distract herself with, Mercy slings her crossbody bag over her shoulder and finally glances at me. I’m practically bouncing on the balls of my feet, eager to get out of here. “Have you eaten?”
The tiniest twitch on her lips makes me wonder if I asked the wrong thing.
“No,” she answers honestly, “but I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll have something delivered.” Taking her hand, I eagerly pull her out of the studio. It’s only a few blocks from the Fine Arts building to the cemetery, and I want to relive the moment I first heard her voice. It won’t be accurate on account of the blazing sun outside, but it’ll be close enough… I think. And if not, we’ll just have to come back after dark. Once we’re outside, I slow my step and walk hand in hand with her down the sidewalk. Heads turn our direction, the students within the frats no doubt recognizing me from my late-night rendezvous, and a few even take pictures.
Mercy tries to pull her hand free, but I don’t let her.
“Reaper,” she hisses, forgetting to use my real name as she digs her nails into the back of my hand. “Let me go. People are staring!” She must not be used to the attention, because she blushes like a virgin, her pale skin turning the brightest shade of red.
I stop to stare at the flush trailing down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her dress, some kind ofruffled, layered ensemble with a thick belt strapped around her waist. It leaves her thighs bare from her knees up, but she chose high boots with a zillion criss-crossed laces. There’s no way I’m ever getting those off without a knife.
Pinpricks of pain from her death grip help me refocus on the whole woman rather than her parts.
“Stop looking at me,” she snaps, clutching onto my hand even harder. “Or I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Taking a breath, I lift our joined hands so that she can see the damage. Her nails have broken through the skin, creating crimson crescents where she’s drawn blood. “I’m not the one with my claws out. Relax, Mercy. I’m not going to do anything to you today. At least let me look.” I give her an appreciative once-over. “I like what I see. Is that a crime?”
She relaxes her death grip and has the decency to appear concerned. But when it comes to the apology, I’m not sure if she means it. “Shit, I’m sorry?”
“It’s okay.” I squeeze her hand to reassure her. “I can handle a little blood. But you should get used to this.” I brush her hair off of her shoulder, enjoying the warmth of her neck. “Because I’m not going to stop touching you, Siren.” I keep us moving, tugging Mercy along while completely aware of the whispers in the courtyard and not caring in the slightest. People usually talk about my dick game, so I’ve been told, and this will give them something even juicier to gossip about.
Reaper has a girlfriend.
Mercy might not see it that way, but over the next few months, she’ll come around. They always do. Go on a few dates, make them feel special, learn what makes them tick. I usually let them show me pieces of their world, but this time, I want to show Mercy parts of mine… and learn where the two intersect.
It doesn’t take long for Mercy to recognize the path we’re on. Color me impressed; not many students take this detour. Thepathway is covered in moss on account of the shade from the canopy of trees overhead, so it blends into nature particularly well. The grounds staff doesn’t keep up with this spot since students aren’t supposed to come here—but the fact that Mercy simultaneously perks upandwilts makes me smile. “Don’t worry,” I tell her, “I promise that I’ll be on my best behavior today.”
She purses her lips like she doesn’t believe me, and that’s fair.
I wouldn’t believe me, either, but it’s not my fault. Sometimes even the smallest moments are worth living to the fullest.
