Page 4 of Seth
In the middle of the foyer, where the moon cast a circle of light over the concrete floor, something moved. He stilled; his heart halted too.
His vision sharpened as he gawked at the rounded human back. Naked, ripped shoulders flexed as the man rose from his knees. His back straightened as every prominent vertebra snapped in place, creating a perfect line of a well-defined spine. Despite the pale skin, the man’s stringy arms were black from the elbows down as if coated in something. The same dark smudges of what Gustavo assumed was dark paint marred his back, all horizontal strokes as if someone had hugged the man with dirty hands and left finger traces. And there was something else, paler in color. Definite lines, geometrically correct, stretched down the spine, some to the sides.
A tattoo?
The man turned, and Gustavo’s heart skipped a beat. Lean and tall, the stranger stood half-naked, covered in…Is itblood?
Gaze dropping to the sprawled plastic wrap beneath the man’s feet, Gustavo made out the form of another person. A man lay there, not moving, not trying to cover his nudity. Pale arms and legs spread, too still.
The chill of alertness raised tiny, sharp hairs at Gustavo’s nape as adrenaline rippled through his veins. The longer he looked at the second person, the more the splotch on his chest resembled a gaping wound.
A murder. And such a bloody one too.
Metal glinted in the man’s hand, dragging Gustavo’s attention away from the victim and up to the knife. Short and wide, the blade was designed for hunting, not combat.
Gustavo raised a brow. He stood a half-head taller, was broader in shoulders, and had around ten kilos of mass to his advantage. To attack someone like him with a knife like this, the murderer would either have a lot of confidence or be very desperate.
Not worried, Gustavo waited.
With a hunting-tight prowl, the murderer cut the distance to fifteen feet, raised his head. Splashes of blood and shadows still drowned half of his face in the darkness, but at that instant, Gustavo knew he would recognize this face anytime, anywhere.
Intelligent and sharp, the eyes of a hawk consumed Gustavo’s attention. It was impossible to distinguish their color, but in the shadows of the night, they looked black. Every separate part of the man’s face was acute, chiseled as if made of marble, still, all together, the pieces created a harmonic image. Even the slightly neurotic air didn’t spoil his attractiveness. Gustavo had already seen the same haunting expression on aristocratic offspring. Spoiled kids wore it like war scars left by their first contact with brutal reality.
The full lips cracked into a smile, turning the curious expression into a devilish grin. Muscles rippled under his skin, knots of cord. The man took another step, ready to attack. Powerful and deadly, he resembled a wild animal.
Goosebumps ran down Gustavo’s arms. A familiar feeling prickled his fingertips, reminding him of his old hobby of taming wild horses. Right now, he would have given anything to have a lasso in his hands.
Such a beautiful beast.He stared into the man’s eyes, seeing no fear, no panic. Being caught in the middle of a murder, the man didn’t lose his composure. His eyes gleamed with determination, not alarm.
The man halted.
What happened?Gustavo had done nothing to spook him, and there were still around ten feet between them.
The rustle behind him and the blazing gaze of the dark eyes thrown over his shoulder provided the answer. Gustavo winced with disappointment, realizing his people must have come looking for him. He didn’t want the moment to end. He didn’t want to be interrupted.
Only a few feet more, and he could peer into those haunting eyes, see their color.
Come on,he begged silently, fearing that if he moved, the man would disappear.
The murderer tilted his head; his eyes shimmered with mischief when he stretched out his other hand. Covered in blood, his fist unclenched, revealing a black knot.
Gustavo’s mouth dried up as he recognized a human heart bleeding in the murderer’s palm.
A touch of beauty in the grotesque, gory night.
A simple gesture that could have meant nothing to the beast meant everything to Gustavo. Like a lightning strike, it went down his core. Gustavo had never been cruel, and despite killing many people, human lives still mattered to him. Yet, that was the most horrifying yet fascinating thing he had ever seen. It made him wonder if the heart was still warm.
Unable to blink or swallow, he inched forward as if Death itself entranced him, offering its heart. Just a few steps and he would be able to touch the heart, the bloody fingers. The man slowly nodded his approval.
“Patrón1?” The voice of his bodyguard, coming from behind, shattered the sacred moment. Gustavo cursed; rage bubbled in his throat, inflamed his blood. He spun on his heel wanting to shoot the intruder, but the moon hid behind the clouds again depriving him of vision.
He turned back to grab the man’s hand, but only the empty site sprawled in front of him.
“Fuck it!” He kicked a stone that lay by his foot. It rolled over the floor, creating a rollicking echo. “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the car? Don’t fucking move!”
Gaze darting over the countless dark openings, he couldn’t believe the beast was gone. “Where did he go?”
“Who, Patrón? I didn’t see anyone.” Perplexed, Rafael shrugged. A few more men, freezing stock still, loomed behind his back.
