Page 64 of The Monster of Hotel No. 7
What I see doesn’t make sense at first.
Blonde hair draped over closed eyes, pink lips parted, green-painted nails curved into my shirt.
My shirt.
I glance down the length of the girl lying on me and see my bare hand over her back, on that smooth patch of skin between the hem of her top and the waistband of her black denim skirt.
Karia.
It all rushes back to me at once and I blink several times, ignoring the way I am exposed—no hoodie, no gloves—and trying instead tothinkthrough precisely where I am.
In a parking garage.
Medici Mall.
There are tendrils of thin light seeping into the backseat of the van, my head is jammed against one window, my knees in a position they shouldn’t be, feet on the floorboard because my entire body doesn’t fit in this backseat.
And Karia Ven is sleeping on me and right now, she looks like an angel.
This is not my life.
I have never woken up with anyone before.
My heart races, body heating, and despite the fact I have shed my hoodie—I see it there, crumpled alongside stale fries on the floorboard, my gloves dropped on top in a semi-neat pile—I am sweating now.
Karia is breathing softly, eyes closed, long lashes splayed over top the curve of her cheekbones.
She is perched on top of me, both hands pressed into my chest, her body so warm in every place it touches mine.
My mouth is dry, I desperately wish I could brush what’s left of my teeth before she wakes, and I want to cover myself prior to that, too, but… I am captivated withstaringat her. The way her hair is threaded with gold and paler blonde, how it waves down her back, so long. The perfect pink color of her lips, plush and soft, the pale red I can see of her tongue in her mouth, the slope of her nose, how her skin is tanned, and she has the faintest freckles along her face to go with it.
Her heart, pressed to mine, but her pulse is so much softer and slower.
I wonder how long I could stay here.
I know it is forever.
I don’t remember stripping off my armor in the night, and I almost feelbetrayedthat my body would complete such an action when I have these dead nail beds and this terrible haircut and scars along my hands and words written under my throat I am lucky she didn’t see when I was shirtless inside the penthouse suite; so many things I want to keep hidden from her.
But…maybe there is a small corner of my brain which trusts her.
She fought for me. She fled with me. Even now, she is sleeping peacefully on top of me in the back of a van we don’t own. We are risking our lives simply by being here, and she is content… And,cuddlingwith me.
Yes. I would stay here forever.
But when a car door thuds softly shut somewhere nearby and I realize we have to move soon,I know we can’t stay. And I know I may never get a moment like this again. Maybe deeper than that, though, I know I need to get her off me, climb up to the front row. She is not safe with all the desires I have inside my head, the things I have twisted in my brain these long years getting hurt and hurting for her.
She is not safe, with me.
Chapter25
Karia
“Why did you move to the front of the van? You could’ve been seen.” I smooth down the lapels of my black trench coat, palm gliding over the matte silver buttons. My heels click on the sidewalk beneath the towering buildings of Alexandria and I’m grateful my new shoes are Jimmy Choo. More comfortable than most, even if Sullen did roll his eyes when I got them. He didn’t stop me, though.
And now, he doesn’t answer me. He said about the same inside the mall. I woke up alone in the backseat of our hideaway and assumed he bolted, but he was slouched down in the front passenger seat. We entered the mall as soon as it opened, took a bathroom break, bought clothes for a disguise—he opted for a deep emerald-green hoodie and gray pants instead of his usual black, and he refused to buy different shoes—then slipped out the west wing exit of the store. We have been walking ever since.
“You have to speak to me. We need to eat, we need a place to hide, and we need to talk.” I mutter the words quietly as we dodge in and out of the Alexandrian morning commute—pedestrians on the sidewalk and cars at the crosswalks. I glance at him behind my Dior cat-eye shades and find his hood up, gaze ahead, and attention definitely not on me.
