Page 14 of Darkest Kiss

And keeping her safe is my reason for breathing.

She's the first door on the right, so I take a moment, getting my bearings. I can't hear footsteps, so maybe her middle-aged neighbor isn't home yet. I check my watch and realize that I've come at a bad time. Work is just letting out for most people. If I don't move quickly, someone that lives here will see me skulking around Noemi's door. I've been watching Noemi for months without being noticed.

I'm sure as hell not starting now.

Pressing my ear to Noemi's door, I listen closely. Nothing. Not a bit of movement.

You're so close. You can touch her. Taste her. Finally fucking be a man and tell her you exist, then fuck her brains out.

Beast is full of brilliant ideas. Scare her off, more like.

I turn the key in the lock slowly, oh so slowly, my heart galloping in my chest. I've only been into her apartment a handful of times. Just to make sure she's safe, that she has everything she needs.

And a few times in the middle of the night, to reassure myself that she's still as innocent and beautiful as I remember. I find my hand trembling as I push her door open as stealthily as possible.

I love sneaking around, being the unseen protector. It excites me.

The second I step in and close the door, I'm enveloped in her scent. Sweet citrus with a sharp floral note underneath. I take deep breaths, filling my lungs greedily as I look around her small space. A small kitchen on the right with chipped mugs in the drying rack and a small bowl of fruit on a drab Formica countertop. Directly in front of me is her living room. Several secondhand bookshelves sit with the lumpy floral couch and burnished floor lamp. Along one wall, I see photos.

There's no need to touch them or look at them. I took pictures and researched the people in them the first time I came here.

Noemi's petite frame, long dark hair, beautiful chestnut eyes, and heart-shaped face in nearly every photo. I can see her mom and dad in some older photos when Noemi was younger, as well as more recent photos taken with her city councilman uncle and his wife. As much as I would like to stay and stare all day, I've got business.

A reason to be here.

I turn toward the remaining two doors. One stands ajar, showing a peek of her darkened bathroom. I silently move to press the door open, checking. But there's nothing amiss here.

Find her. Take her home. Keep her forever, where she can be safe. Where you can have her anytime.

Ignoring Beast, I move to the second door. Her bedroom. My pulse pounds; I need her to be in her room.

But I'm not sure I'm ready for her reaction to me checking on her. It's unlikely to be good.

Pushing the tremor in my hands out of my head, I reach for the doorknob and turn it so slowly that Beast is screaming DO IT! DO IT! TAKE HER!

When I finally swing the door open, I find her little twin bed empty, its floral bedspread neatly made. The only other furniture is a bedside table and a straight-backed chair, over which she has draped a few items of clothing.

Squatting down, I check beneath her bed, but find nothing but a little dust. So too is the closet empty. I check quickly for missing clothes, but there's only one empty hanger in her barren closet. There's an inexpensive suitcase in the closet.

She didn't go on a trip.

Whirling, I walk out and check the fridge. There's a partially emptied carton of week-old milk, strawberries that have gone moldy, a plastic deli container of turkey breast that's growing something.

She didn't leave in a hurry. But she also has food rotting in her fridge. She probably hasn't been back here.

After a quick search for her purse or cell phone, I'm having trouble tamping down Beast, who is yelling at me to find her, find her now.

I walk back into her bedroom and allow myself to sink onto her bed. It's tiny and the mattress is old as fuck, but it smells like Noemi. I lie down, burying my face in her pillow, drowning in her sweet scent.

Beast wants me to wait in her closet until she comes home. He has a whole plan for it. But I tell him no. That’s too far over the line and chances are that she could find me skulking in her apartment.

It's difficult to string thoughts together when I'm here, surrounded by her things. I want to peel back the cover and rub myself on her sheets. My cock is aching and hard; the urge to free myself from my pants and come on every surface is choking me.

But I don't let myself do that.

Finding a pink scrunchie that smells like her glorious hair, I tuck it in my pocket as I make a phone call.

It rings exactly one time before Ransom picks up. "Rian?"