Page 103 of The Devil We Crave
And I’m more thanfinewith that.
Ilikethat this is devoid of anything “romantic”, because that’s not what this is, nor why I’ve shown up.
I’m here because of a deranged need inside me that craves this sort of darkness. I’m here to meet Achilles specifically because I know he can andwillgive me what I need.
I’m not here because I’m in love with him. I’m here because I know he’ll scare me, hunt me, hurt me, and thenfuck me.
No "being taken to bed". No "lovemaking".
Tonight is a night for letting the darkness and the danger strip away any pretense and reduce us to our basic animal nature.
Love.
Sex.
They’re two different boxes, and I’ve already filled one of them.
I refuse to think the words “and now I’m here to get theotherbox filled” because it’s just a little too crude and on the nose.
But itiswhy I’m here.
Except, so far, he's not.
Saying his name out loud feels a little too much like a horror movie cliché, which isn’t something I need given what already happened tonight.
A fisherman docking late at the harbor found a body by the pier: a male in his thirties, his eyes cut out, his throat slashed, and a heart carved into his bare chest.
There are no witnesses. No suspects. No idea who he was.
Jane Doe now has a boyfriend at the morgue namedJohnDoe.
I talked to my parents briefly about twenty minutes ago, right after I frantically wiped the lipstick message off my mirror as I was getting changed to come here.
I told them everything was fine, I was safe, and no, Ididn’tneed Dad to send some of “his guys” up here, nor did I need to go stay with his friend Laz in town.
I’m fine. I love you both. I’m totally okay.
I’m totally okay except for the fact that I’mhere.
In the dark.
Waiting to be hunted.
Praying I haven’t wildly misjudged this whole situation. Orhim, for that matter.
I mean, maybe I have.
Thereisa darkness to Achilles. His golden boy mask has slipped enough in my presence that I’ve seen the monster lurking beneath it.
The real Achilles Drakos.
And he isn’t pretending to be a guy from MaskTok. He’s not roleplaying.
I don’t even know if I’ve seenallof the real him, or have the remotest idea what he’s capable of. In fact, one particularly blood-chilling thought I had on the way here was wondering whereAchilleswas earlier tonight.
Was he down by the docks in Hawthorne Hollow, cutting a man’s throat, carving out his eyeballs, and etching a fuckingheartinto his chest?
Let’s hope not.
