Page 19 of Unholy Masks

“Sometimes, I wear it, and I orgasm faster.”

He groaned, as if it was physically painful for him to hear me say that.

“When I remove it, it’ll be all covered in my juices, but it still smells like you. It does.”

He hooked a finger into the waistband and tugged me closer.

“I can’t, not after last night,” I whispered. “Last night was too much. Even for me.”

“Then why the fuck would you wear this?” He groaned.

“I just saw it in the closet, and it brought back memories.”

“And you decided this morning is going to be the morning you pushed me over the edge, didn’t you? You know what, love? I think you enjoy torturing me.”

“Maybe, but Ryden, you don’t need me to do anything to push you over the edge. You are always right fucking there,” I said with a smile as he pulled me closer to him, burying his nose in my neck, taking a deep breath as if he wanted to take all of my scent in.

“True. You just exist, and I become undone,” he whispered, his breath tickling my warm skin. “God, I love you.”

“I know,” I said as he pulled away. And knowing that, never once doubting it, was the greatest gift he had ever given me. My life had never been easy, and I had never trusted anyone enough to let them in. But trusting him came as naturally as breathing.

We sat down with our coffees, like we had been doing this all our lives. I loved sharing the smallest of moments with him.

Perhaps someday, I would say yes to more.

I took a sip of coffee with a sigh, wondering why I still hadn’t gotten a call from Detective Rosario. There were two bodies waiting for me.

Too many deaths, too much blood, and sometimes the pang in my chest felt like guilt, for living while they died.

“What are you thinking right now?” Ryden asked, his voice tender, pushing a plate of grilled sausage and toast in front of me.

“About everything. I feel out of control, Ryden, and I hate it.”

“Eat and then think,” he said. “You need the strength to chase him.”

“Are you not going to work?”

He shook his head. “I told you. I’m going to stick to you. Like fucking glue.”

“I don’t think I’m the one in danger. It’s everyone else. You, Irene, Enzo. Anyone who ever remotely mattered to me.” The words felt thick and bitter. “He wants to take out everyone in my life until all that’s left is him. Until my life was tethered only to him by blood, lies, and secrets.”

I had felt it the moment I’d seen the Strangler’s handiwork in Millicent’s storage space—the way he’d recreated Victor’s crime scene down to the smallest detail. It wasn’t only a threat; no, it was a twisted promise.

Ryden set his coffee down. “He’s going to fail then. You won’t lose me. Never.”

“It’s his sick way of saying I belong to him, that no one else matters. He's trying to sequester me, make me feel alone. With each death, he’s trying to push me away from the people I know, I trust… the people who mattered, who loved me, whom I loved, love. He took Kat first, because for a long, long time she was all I had, and he hated it.” I looked at Ryden, my heart breaking. “He wants to kill you, Ryden.”

“I’m not that easy to kill.” Ryden’s jaw clenched as he pulled the chair around until he was next to me.

“He doesn’t just want me, Ryden,” I said. “He wants me to feel small, helpless—like I have nowhere else to turn. He wants me to believe that he’s the only one left for me. Everything he has been doing for years, it was for this. This is the end. I feel it. I’m worried he might succeed. He knows how to get inside my head, how to twist things until…”

“You’re not helpless. You’ll never be.”

“I don’t know. Every time I think I have something, he proves I have nothing.”

He squeezed my hand. “You’re the woman who made me chase my own tail, Yara. You saved your friends; you punished those who deserved the punishment.”

“I’m scared because I suddenly feel like I’d never find him before it’s too late. He’s always a hundred steps ahead, Ryden.”