Page 49 of Unbalanced

The process usually calms the darkness in me, but today it does nothing. There is only one thing I want, one thing I crave, and the pretty florist will not get away from me that easily.

The worst thing she has ever done is pique my interest.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ALDEN

The absolute best part of being me is that I know dirt on everyone who is anyone in this city. Knowledge is power and extremely useful.

My leather glove creaks ever so slightly as I squeeze the building’s master key tight. Emily doesn’t know it yet, but as of yesterday, I’m her new landlord.

The lights in her apartment went off over an hour ago, but I want to make sure she is sound asleep before venturing inside. Standing in the shadows, I scan the area for any movement, but nothing stirs.

This part of the city is quiet. The brightly lit main street deters most unsavory elements. But it’s in the dark alleys where I roam when I hunt.

This is what I assume the world will be like in an apocalypse. Dark and shrouded, with windows tightly closed, drapes drawn, and plants on small balconies in need of water. I can picture garbage bags piled beside dumpsters and stinking under a hot summer sun, while feral cats roam the streets. Small vermin and insects will be the silent watchers of a world that has become nothing more than bones and broken things we once thought important.

Keeping close to the wall, I move around to the door Emily used the other day. It unlocks easily enough, but I’m once more reminded of a horror movie complete with a flickering yellow light. This is one of the first fucking things I’ll fix.

I refuse to tempt fate with that elevator again, so I head for the stairwell. When I open the door, I pull the knife from the sheath on my back. There is zero lighting. This place needs to meet a wrecking ball. Emily living here…hell no. I need to work on that. But the only way I’ll get her to move is to open a whole new shop, and I doubt she’ll allow me to do that. At least, not yet.

Using the flashlight on my phone, I walk up the stairs to the second floor. The hall is empty, at least from what I can see, but who the fuck knows, with only two dull lights casting far too many shadows.

Keeping the knife out of sight but ready, I step out of the stairwell and creep my way to number three. The fucking lock sticks for me as it did for Emily, and I add it to the ever-growing list of shit that needs to be fixed. When it finally gives, I let myself into the sweet-smelling apartment.

Inside, all the lights are off except for a faint glow in the kitchen from the range hood. I bypass the coat hook by the door and check the handle for the shop stairwell. The damn thing is unlocked. I flip the lock and close it again. This woman is asking for trouble.

I pull the skull mask from my pocket and slip it on before I head to Emily’s room. Each step is a test to see what will creak, like a hall of landmines. Her bedroom door is conveniently half open. I give it a gentle push and suck in a deep breath as I stare at the woman lying on the bed.

Emily is sprawled on her back, the sheet and comforter flung off her body. The moonlight from the window shines in on her, making it appear like she’s wearing a halo. There is nothing holy about my thoughts.

Like a siren’s call, she is impossible to resist. This is dangerous, far riskier than I’ve ever attempted, but there is no keeping me away despite all I have to lose if she wakes.

The nightshirt Emily wears is buttoned up the front, and the top handful have popped open exposing one breast with a very hard nipple just begging to be sucked. The bottom is bunched around her waist, revealing her lack of underwear.

My cock is once more pressing against the fly of my jeans. I’ve been half-hard since she raced out of my office the other day. I can’t look away, frozen in place while Emily mumbles something incoherent and spreads her legs wider like a fucking invitation.

Fuck.

My hand tightens on the knife until my entire arm shakes. Adrenaline races through my veins, my heart pounds so hard it’s all I can hear, and my body thrums with a need foreign to me but completely exhilarating.

Then, I spot the sleeping pills on her nightstand.

“Emily,” I say, loud enough to elicit a response.

Nothing.

Her breath stays even, and she doesn’t twitch. I trace the tip of the knife down her arm, and smile beneath the mask as goosebumps rise and chase the blade.

“Hello, my Little Liability,” I say, voice raspy.

“Alden,” she breathes out so softly that I barely hear it.

My body burns in response to my name falling from her lips.

Is she awake?

Emily moans, then her hand slip down dangerously close to dipping between her thighs.