Page 32 of The Silent Night Stalker
“This confirms my belief that the Da Costas killed Enrique,” I say. “I’m not sure which one or if they hired someone. Antonio probably didn’t do it, since he loves blood and cutting. A bullet to the brain, execution style, isn’t his thing. Maybe it was Carmen’s dad, Diego. I can see him taking this sort of thing into his own hands.”
“Okay. Then they need to die,” he says.
I glance back at the letters and pile them back up neatly. “They clearly loved each other. I wonder how she feels about Enrique’s death or if she even knows.”
“S-so, this was a good gift?”
I smirk at him and nod. “Yeah, Little Bird. The best gift. Thank you.”
I twist my body on the couch and lean forward, pressing my nose into his neck. Constantine stiffens, and his breath hitches. “I know you hate the holidays, but how about a little gift in return? Not something fake or disgusting. Something pleasing. Something to make you heat up and your heart beat faster in the best of ways.
“Y-yes. I’d really love a gift like that.” His voice is soft and trembles slightly. Fuck, I love how he reacts to me. Like, he just melts with need as soon as I get near him.
“Would you like to suck on my thumb again, Little Bird?”
“Yes,” he whispers.
“How about my cock?”
A whimper escapes him, and he quickly nods.
“You said I can do anything to you?”
He’s already answered this question, but I need his clear consent, especially since he’s so new to this.
“Anything but beat me,” he reminds me.
“Anything,” I echo. “I like that ‘anything’ part. And I don’t want to hurt you.”
I should rush to my phone and call Alfonzo with the news, but Constantine is calling to my basest needs. And honestly, it’s been a while since I had a good fuck. Well, no fucking him tonight. He’s not ready for that. But it doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.
“I’ll do anything to make you happy,” he rasps.
That vow is definitely enticing. I imagine having someone who worships the ground I walk on. I have no idea why Constantine is clinging to me, other than that I understand him. I guess that’s my answer right there. If no one ever did, I could see how addictive it would be. To not be invisible.
“Another ‘anything.’ You sure are in a giving mood for someone who hates Christmas.”
“Christmas Eve.”
I smile crookedly. “I stand corrected.”
My hand dips underneath the hem of his sweater and T-shirt. His skin is hot on my palm, and his breathing grows rapidly, panting on my face. My fingers travel up his stomach with surprisingly tight abs, but then I stop when I feel a round scar. I swallow the sudden growing lump, but my throat is tight and dry. His scar brings back a horrible memory. I have a similar scar on the back of my shoulder from when one of my foster fathers put out his cigar on my back. I’d only been nine at the time.
I move up over smooth skin until I come across another one, and then another.
My molars grind against each other, and my jaw tightens. “How many?” My fucking voice comes out raspy. I’m angry on behalf of Constantine, who had once been a boy so abused that he turned into the very thing that hurt him. But had he? He’s not malicious.
Constantine shoves my hand out from underneath his clothes and scoots away on the couch. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Then why did you push me away? Why are you backing away?”
“I-I don’t want you repulsed by me.”
“Psh… Repulsed? I’m fucking angryforyou. I’m angry about what that bastard did to you.”
His blue eyes are so round, a common look for him, and they glisten with moisture. “I knew you’d understand me.”
I quickly yank off my hoodie and T-shirt and turn my back to him. Then I reach over my shoulder to point at the nickel-sized scar.
