Page 9 of His Innocent Muse

God damnit, Ghost.

I wrench my gaze back to the road. “I’ll have some things delivered. Do you have a favorite color?”

No. No, I will not look again. Even though I can feel her staring at me, her goodness dancing along my skin.

“Green,” she whispers. “Dark green. T-thank you.”

I laugh through my nose. This feels like a setup. What are the chances her favorite color is the same as mine?

Murder must be behind this somehow. Mayhem isn’t enterprising enough to pull this off.

“But that’s too mu—”

“Shoe size?”

“Eight.” Another whisper that sends a chill down my back and a twitch to my cock.

I hate that this meek thing is already under my skin. I should be stronger than this.

The Family may be smaller now that our parents are dead, but we are no less powerful, thanks to me. My brain. My resolve. We’ve cemented our stake in pounds of flesh, in blackmail, in tributes, in cold, untraceable cash run through my gallery of depravity. I’ve witnessed countless acts of violence, rape, torture, and beyond. But not once, not a single goddamn time, has anything made my heart twist like seeing scared little Lucinda Parker dragged out of that trunk. Not even when I found out my sub was drowned, along with Mom and Dad.

I hated myself, certainly. It was my fault she’d joined this life in the first place. I closed that side of myself off, protected it, and did my duty to the family.

And here Lucy is, slamming into every locked door I have.

Not because of the sleazy clothes, or her body. It’s her damn eyes. That despite being through literal hell, hope shines out of her like a beacon. And the way her mouth pouts ever so slightly when—

“Are you in s-school?” I shift on the seat, clearing my throat as I shake my head. One stop-light to go. Then I can shove her upstairs and stay the hell away. Eustice can handle ordering the clothes.

“No. I graduated early. I was…” The light changes, but I wasn’t paying attention and have to hit the brakes hard. She sucks in a sharp breath and goddamn the world, I look, because it honestly sounds like she’s been shot.

“Sorry, sorry!” Her hand is over her mouth, knees pressed together at what looks to be a painful angle, other arm around her waist. She’s shaking. I quickly reach for the temperature control, but her trembling hand lands on my wrist, and now I’m the one who feels like I’ve been shot.

I can’t move, my arm suspended in animation to keep hers steady.

“I’m o-kay, not cold, sorry. I mean! Ugh. I think I might have gotten hurt. In the trunk.” She trails off again and twists her torso with a wince. Still. Holding. My. Wrist.

“Hurt?”

“Mmhmm.”

I’m staring as she mashes places on her back, and spot the bruise half a second before she hits it. “Ow!”

I take a long, slow breath and stare at the roof. She could have internal injuries. And if so, that piece of shit Chuck is still leaving a mark on her. I’ll have Eustice look at her. I didn’t hire a retired army medic for nothing.

After I’m well, well out of range.

“Is it bad?”

Please, light. Change quickly for once in your godforsaken exist—it flashes green and I take off, whipping into my private spot in a matter of seconds. I hop out and slam the door, lacing my fingers on top of my head as I glare at the sky.

It’s karma. Has to be. It’s finally catching up to me. Kill enough people and the universe will give you a charge too brilliant for you to sink your teeth into, but one that makes your blood boil, even though you thought you were dead inside.

A girl named Lucy.

Her door closes softly, and I’m at her side, supporting her elbow as she walks. I lead her to the door, key my code, and have us inside before the security light clicks on.

It’s quiet. Dark, too, save for angular yellowed beams shining through the windows from the lamps outside.

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