CONTAINS CONTENT:
Brief, strong language and strong sexual content.
Five o’clock hit, and many of the others had already finished their time in the training room. Marielle went to Vincent, who bore all of the signs of exhaustion: red eyes, sweaty face, stiff jaw. He probably needed food. Austin looked far worse, but he was busy chatting up Han.
Vincent held her for a moment, and then pulled her back. “Take five, everyone,” he said to the room, and they all meandered away to get some food or call it a night.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m going out with Han tonight.”
Vincent glanced at Han, saw Austin, and looked back at Marielle. “And Austin,” he noted.
She shrugged dismissively. “I don’t know.”
Vincent nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “I have to stay here for some time, then I’ll go back to your place and wait for you.” She nodded. “Have fun,” he said genuinely, running his fingers through her hair and tugging her against him for a long, sensual kiss. She put her hands on his chest, at first trying to push back, but then melting against him. She popped her left eye open—yes, Austin was watching. He looked away. She wrapped her arms around Vincent and held him.
There was a line of people waiting to be brought into the next training round. Vincent motioned to them. “Switching sides,” he said, and they pushed away from the wall and went to him.
After Marielle said goodbye, she passed Han and Austin. “Go home and get some sleep first?” she suggested dismissively. Even though the comment had been directed at Austin, she didn’t look at him prompting him and Han to exchange glances.
She made her way back to her car and drove home, where she ate and fed Felix. Then she sank into an extra-hot bath surrounded by candles and darkness. She watched the little flames cast pretty, golden shadows on the wall and washed her hair.
Han texted her. “Nine?”
“Sure,” she replied.
Han texted back to meet them at a specific address, and Marielle enjoyed the bath until it turned tepid. She fixed her hair in a high ponytail and got dressed, adding some strappy heels and big silver hoop earrings. A few sprays of rose-scented perfume later, she was ready to go.
At the correct time, she called a cab and got out at the appropriate stop. She’d never been there before, but the sign over the door said “The Lab” in bright-pink neon. It was one of those posh places where people used lots of vape, showed tons of skin, and had crazy illuminated tattoos in the neon lights. A good chunk of the clientele was half her age. The inside was bathed in an overwhelming mixture of hot pinks and blues, and throbbing bass and electronica music filled the air.
When she spotted Han and Austin, Marielle was a little relieved to see that Tala was with them. Since they hadn’t seen her yet, she hung back for a moment. Tala was leaning over the small round table between them, and apparently, she’d just said something funny because Han was in stitches and Austin—beautiful Austin—was grinning and taking a sip of something. She could see his hand shaking from where she stood. This told her he’d gone without his fix even longer than he’d promised her.
The dance floor was full tonight. A throng of sweaty bodies bounced in the middle of the club, and she could smell the alcohol, sweat, and vape fumes all mixing together with the layers of cigarette smoke and clouds from a fog machine. Lights swirled and flickered, casting strobes and shadows left and right.
Austin was looking at her. She wasn’t sure when he’d noticed her, but he was staring at her the way a drowning man looks at a life preserver. He got up and strolled over. He wore a red suit with a red shirt and black tie. Red, the color of love, of passion, of the heart. Red… the color of danger… stoplights… blood… She was already blushing.
When he reached her, they gazed at one another as she breathed in that frozen-forest scent she adored. That eyeliner was back, and she was certain it was because he knew it drove her wild. It made his eyes—already deep and consuming—even more intimate and emotive as they searched her face.
–How is it that you get more beautiful every time I see you?
Marielle looked down, biting her bottom lip as she tried to hide a smile. It was most definitely not working. He gestured for her to join them. She nodded and went with him, but stopped for a moment at the bar to ask for an old fashioned. Austin paid for it before she had the chance to do it herself. She could see him shaking again, so she discreetly slipped her hand into his as they walked back to the table and gave it a squeeze before letting go.
Tala was in a two-piece electric-blue top and miniskirt, and Han was in a black pencil skirt and a sky-blue tube top. A small pendant hung between her breasts, and she’d done her makeup a little. There was no doubt that Marielle had overdone herself a bit, but she didn’t mind if they didn’t.
“Oh, man,” Han said playfully, taking Marielle’s hand and twirling her under her arm. “You… are… hot. Can I take you home?”
Marielle’s cheeks grew redder. That statement’s not going to be good for Austin’s nerves, she thought. Sure enough, out of the corner of her eye, she could see his knee bouncing under the table.
She set her drink down and pulled back, taking Han’s hands. “What about you?” she asked, trying to take the attention off herself. “You look downright Scarlett,” she teased. Downright Scarlett was an inside joke between the two of them, referring to Scarlett O’Hara, of course.
“‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,’” Han quipped, and the girls giggled.
“And you look great,” Marielle said to Tala, who was standing across the table from her between Austin and Han.
“Thanks!” she said loudly over the thumping music.
“You do look amazing,” Austin broke in, his eyes fixed on Marielle.
“You told me,” she replied coyly.
He looked at her curiously as if he didn’t understand. “When?”
Now she was trying to remember. She put her straw in her mouth and sipped, and Austin watched her lips like they were the only thing on his mind.
–Down, boy.
He smirked. -What about that later we talked about earlier? I’m not exactly done with you.
She rolled her eyes and took another sip, then put her drink down. The four of them had a brief conversation, with Austin staying mostly quiet and listening to the three women while they blathered. Apparently, Han was convinced that Tala needed to ask Mateo out.
About ten minutes in, Austin reached over and took Marielle’s cherry from her drink. She gave him a look that said he could have it. He ate it, and proceeded to tie the cherry stem in his mouth. She could not… look… away… He pulled it out and set it on the table: a perfect knot. He was good at making it look casual.
“Impressive,” she said.
He gave her a salacious smirk, but she glanced away. She felt distant, wanting to be home with Vincent instead of being mixed up in… whatever this was. The words “Sodom and Gomorrah” crossed her mind as she surveyed all the half-naked girls with their glow paint and sparkling tattoos.
“Let’s dance!” Han cried, grabbing Marielle’s hand and dragging her to the floor.
For a moment, Marielle thought of Sabine, and how an evening like this had ended with them both meeting Morgan many years ago. Morgan had been interested in Sabine, but Marielle had dated him first because Sabine had always been closed off emotionally.
That night, all three of them had left the club with Sabine as drunk as the homeless guy on the corner. Morgan and Marielle had gotten her into the car together, where she’d curled up into a ball on the backseat, and Morgan had driven them home. Admittedly, going home with someone neither of them knew hadn’t been smart, and Marielle had always taken extra precautions after that. Luckily, Morgan had turned out to be a dream of a guy: kind, strong-willed, sharp as a tack, and refreshingly forward in many instances.
After they’d gotten Sabine upstairs and into bed, Marielle and Morgan had sat on her couch and talked for several hours. Before Morgan finally left, he lingered in the doorway, reaching up and grabbing the doorframe so that his body was leaning in toward Marielle.
“You know, it’s funny… how you can start a night one way and have it end up another,” he commented.
She nodded, not really sure where that was going. Then to her surprise, he leaned in and kissed her deeply. When he pulled back, still holding the top of the doorframe, she was a little dizzy and shocked, her cheeks filling with color.
“Good night, Marielle,” he whispered. Then he smiled at her knowingly, whirled, and skipped down the stairs, whistling the whole way.
The passion of that night had led her to be in a relationship with Morgan for just over four months before they had both decided that even though they loved one another, it simply wasn’t what either of them wanted. They had parted amicably, and he had admitted his love for Sabine. Everyone had known it was coming, and Marielle had actually been elated at the news.What would tonight be like? What was she doing here? Han and Tala were with her, jumping and swaying to the loud music. They were surrounded by strangers banging and rubbing up against them. Things felt like they were in slow motion. Hands were slipping and moving up bodies in the crowd. At one point, she thought someone’s hand was moving down hers. Marielle knew she could lose herself in this crowd, and she almost did. She didn’t care—she just wanted to be free from everyone and everything that was trapping her and making her feel stuck and confused. She wanted to forget about Vincent’s lies, and whatever all of that meant.
Another hand slipped down her side, and she turned to see a man she didn’t recognize standing too close for comfort. Where had Han and Tala gone? She glanced around and spotted them a few people away. Han was grinding against some guy.
The man looming over Marielle was big, with curly hair and dark eyes. She smiled in a “thanks, but no thanks” way and turned, trying to give him the cue to leave. Instead, he pressed against her back and forced her against him, his hands on her hips.
A moment later, they were shoved apart, and she whirled to see Austin standing between them, glaring at the man, blue eyes full of a terrifying rage Marielle had never seen in him before. Even though the other man was taller, Austin’s eyes screamed that he could kill at that very moment and have no bad dreams afterward.
There was a pause as the curly-haired man sized Austin up, clearly trying to decide if the fight was worth it. Then he backed off, hands raised as he melted back into the sea of bodies like liquid.
Straightening up, Austin cleared his expression and turned back to Marielle. Their eyes met and locked. “Stay out of trouble,” he growled. She could hardly hear him over the music.
“I’m just trying to have fun,” she snapped back.
He brought a brown bottle up to his mouth and tipped it back. She hadn’t even realized that he’d had a beer in his hand during the whole encounter. His eyes were still locked with hers.
–Why aren’t you dancing?
-I don’t dance.
She took a single step toward him and opened her hand. He looked at her, questioning her actions. Licking her lips, she gestured as if reminding him that they had danced just last night. He didn’t need the reminder.
Austin exhaled and walked back to the table. This was going to look stupid, but at the moment, he didn’t care. He set the beer down and came back to her, taking her hand and pulling her against him. He began to gently rock and sway with her, and in the middle of the swirling and pulsing lights, the heavy EDM, and the bodies pressed against them from all sides, they slow danced. The clear memory of his voice and the piano music from the previous night overpowered the sights and sounds of the club, and for a moment, everything else melted away and they were the only two people in the room.
Both of them took in a deep breath and slowly released it.
“I can’t work you out,” Marielle whispered.
–You’re not supposed to. You’re supposed to just shut your thoughts up and fall in love with me.
-I’m not in love with you.
Austin stopped, staring down at her. “False.”
The EDM blared back into their ears and minds; the lights swirled and pulsed again. They were no longer the only two people in the room, and they both realized it.
He let her go and wandered back to the table. She watched him for a minute, then joined Han and Tala. They introduced her to the two men they’d met, and the group danced for a while without Austin.
Half an hour later, Marielle realized she couldn’t dance anymore. Her body glistened with sweat under the lights as she walked back to the table where Austin was watching her.
“Ugh, it’s so hot!” she cried over the music, fanning herself with her hand. Mid-September was always the worst.
At this, Austin dipped his hand into the water glass on the table, came up behind her, and stroked his fingertips up the left side of her neck to her cheek before she had time to protest. Then he breathed onto that spot, his icy breath cooling her down instantly. Every hair on her body stood up straight, and she drew air in through her teeth, her eyes fluttering closed.
For a moment, she lost sense of what was happening, enjoying the feeling while his fingertips stayed lightly on her neck, his body far too close to hers. Then she stepped away, turning to face him. “Hey,” she admonished.
The look in his eyes was too serious; she knew what his game was. “Make you shiver?” he asked under his breath with a little smirk. Then he sipped his beer as his eyes roamed briefly down her body.
He was far too attractive right now, and the drink she’d had not forty minutes ago was making her heady. Little, damp wisps of hair had fallen over his radiant blue eyes, and she’d never seen such an intense look of desire in her entire life. The red suit and black tie weren’t helping him look ugly, either. She was going to start making decisions she’d never be able to take back. His expectant gaze was fixed on her face. Scratch that, she wasn’t going to start making bad decisions… she was going to drown.
“It’s after sundown,” he said.
–Oh no. It was… and she was the one who’d set up these rules.
Time to call it.
Marielle glanced around the club. Where was Han? She couldn’t spot her in the crowd or at any of the tables. As she started to leave, Austin smiled to himself and set his bottle aside on a random table. He followed her out, reaching for her forearm but not catching it.
“Wait up, I’m with you.” Then he added gently, “Why are you running away?”
She was at least four steps ahead of him. “You know why,” she threw over her shoulder.
“Why don’t you just go with it?”
“You know the answer to that, too.” She was going to kill Han for this—it had definitely been planned.
Not two seconds later, she got a text from Han confirming this theory. It said, “Went for drinks with Ryan and Cale. Tala’s with me, we’re safe. Don’t wait up, honey.” Han also sent three winking emojis and another text with a picture of a license plate and the two men posing with Tala.
Marielle groaned. “You two planned this.”
“Well, don’t be mad. It’s not my fault your friends know you better than you do.” His speech sounded slurred.
She pushed out the backdoor and into the alley. About fifteen yards down was the street, where she could hail a cab. “We’re both tipsy. We need to get home.”
“Should be my place, Vincent’s probably at yours,” he joked.
“Separately,” she hissed, continuing to walk.
“Oh, come on,” he growled in frustration. She could hear his need in every breath.
“I’m not doing this with you,” she insisted.
“Why?” His voice sounded so young.
She jerked to a stop near a dumpster overflowing with trash. The air was rancid with a thousand different kinds of waste. His hand was shaking, and she glanced at it briefly. He looked like a tweaker coming down and anxious for more.
“Are you ever going to stop being a fourteen-year-old in a forty-year-old’s body?” she demanded.
“Whoa, whoa. Firstly, I’m thirty-two,” he chuckled, breathing hard as he stopped before her. “And nextly”—he lifted a finger—“n-no.”
She looked him over, then glanced around them, realizing how disgusting this location was. “My God, Austin… You’d do this right here, wouldn’t you? With the trash and the smell and…” She shook her head sadly. “This is a problem.”
Suddenly her resolve turned to compassion. He was breaking down; she could see more of him shaking now, and every so often he sniffed as if his nose was going to leak cocaine, even though she knew he hadn’t used.
He took an unsteady step toward her. “It’s not a problem if you want it,” he pressed.
“Not like this.”
He flicked an interested brow at her. “Then how?”
She shook her head. “You need to see a doctor. This is—this is eating you alive.”
His cheeks grew red, and his eyebrows drew in. “You’re not going to save me, Marielle. I know who I am.”
Her cheeks started to burn, too. “Right now? You’re a drunken sex addict, desperate for his fix.”
Austin was actually trembling. “Yeah, you’re right. I need it. I need it so badly right now that my head is swimming.” He moved away from her and put his fingertips to the side of his temples, rubbing.
“Your head is swimming because you… are… drunk,” she said as if speaking to a small child.
“Why am I—?” He trailed off and caught himself. “Why am I having this conversation with you?” He staggered a bit and leaned over his knees. “It’s a dumb conversation an-anyways, Marielle. It’s not like you actually want me or something.”
For some reason, that struck a chord within her that was all anger. “Oh, fuck you,” she hissed, recognizing his attempt at manipulation.
Austin lifted a hand. “Nope…” He stood straight and grinned at her sarcastically. “No, you’ve made it very clear that’s not where you’re at.”
She crossed her arms and steeled herself. “You know I might have been, if you were actually interested in more than my body.”
A pregnant pause as he met her eyes, his expression sobering. “I am.”
“Then why not try to be in a relationship with me? Why not make that commitment?” He waved a dismissive hand in the air. “You don’t want long term? You don’t go home and want to be with me?” she asked with a shrug. “You want to live this way.”
“No.” He bent his knees slightly. “I told you what I’m about, what I want. You love Vincent, whatever… Fine, case closed.” He opened his fingers in front of her face. “I have a hand.”
She would have found this statement funny, if not wildly inappropriate, had it not been for the fact that he was deadly serious when he said it. “You are so drunk right now,” she said, trying not to allow her eyes to well with tears.
Austin staggered away from her. “Yeah? No shit, Sherlock. Please, keep reading me and tell me what else is going on up in here.” He mimed putting a gun to his temple. “Can you tell me? Huh? Because I’m just going to be honest right now, I-I want to know!”
“You’re drunk, and you’re acting crazy.” She tried to push past him to hail a cab. He grabbed her forearm and jerked her back to the wall. She smacked against it with her spine.
“Don’t you walk away from me,” he snarled, heaving for a moment as adrenaline left both of them. She tilted her head up at him, her eyes blazing with genuine disgust.
He gently released her arm, noting the red mark he’d left there. Shame enveloped him, churning his core. That wasn’t him; he didn’t behave that way with women. He lifted his hands to apologize. He hadn’t meant any of that.
I’m sorry, he mouthed, his eyes repentant.
Uncertain, she looked away from him, wanting to run, wanting to stay and see this through.
“Tell me what you see,” he said through clenched teeth, blocking her way and staring her down like a snake ready to strike. If she wasn’t careful, he’d try to kiss her. “What do you see?” he asked more quietly, his blue eyes full of sadness.
-Please read me. Please know me.
“You’re a little boy, Austin Rancor. Whatever happened fucked you up in the head real good.” Chuckling silently, he shook his head and turned around, hands on his hips. “Was there abuse? Was it sexual, huh?” He stared at the sky for a moment. “What did mommy do, Austin?” she taunted.
“You’re pissin’ me off, Marielle,” he growled.
“Yeah? Whatever, fight me, bro,” she muttered half playfully, half serious.
“No,” he breathed. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly as if preparing. “No abuse,” he whispered, looking down.
And that was when it happened. It struck her all at once, like someone coming from the shadows and slamming her in the back of the head with a rock. He was lying… and she had briefly believed him.
Her eyes widened in horror. “You’re lying,” she breathed, realization setting in. She stumbled forward and shoved him in the back, disregarding all concern about an actual fight. She’d take him if he tried right now. He tripped, shocked, but caught himself before he hit the pavement. “You’re lying! You’ve figured out how to lie to me!”
And somehow in that moment, because she had the true baseline for his lies, a flood of others came to her as well. “You’ve been playing me for a fool this whole time!” He was still regaining his balance, and she shoved him again. “You’re a liar!” she screamed, rage broiling in her veins. “You don’t want commitment because you’re scared, right?”
For a moment, he stood still, beaten down by her words. “You’re scared!” she repeated. “You told your wife the truth, and she left you. She didn’t even try to work things out—she just left.” The venom filling those words made his chest hurt. “So why do it again, right? What’s the point of being one with someone if you can’t tell them the worst thing about you, or the hardest, or the most intimate?”
Another bolt of lightning struck Marielle, and her eyes grew terrified. “God, you’re lying to me right now!” She shouted the last two words, and they echoed in the confined space.
“Oh yeah, how am I doing that?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“I don’t know, but I can see it now. I can see it all over you. You’re a walking fabrication.” She angrily wiped tears off of her face. “You tell me blunt and shocking truths so you can get away with murder, don’t you? That’s your method! I can’t believe I didn’t figure you out earlier!” Clenching her fists, she took a single step toward him, no longer afraid of what he might do to her. “Who are you?”
Austin whirled around, eyes blazing with a fury she’d never seen in him before. “I would be very careful how you approach this with me, Marielle. It’s not wise to push things that you know nothing about.”
“Okay, so explain them to me,” she replied through her teeth as she stood her ground, refusing to give him any territory.
He stepped even closer, inches from her face, both of them panting again. He glanced down at her lips, and for a brief moment the rage between them felt as though it might turn to passion.
Austin shook his head before licking his own lips and chuckling to himself, then turned away. He raised a hand in mid-turn and pushed air away from him as if to say it wasn’t worth it. “I thought we didn’t lie to each other, Austin,” she said more quietly, the statement so full of sadness and betrayal that it was the next thing that made his heart hurt.
He paused, then spun around, hands in his pockets as he stared her down. Again, she gave him no quarter. “Fuck it,” he stated. “I’m in espionage.” He waited a moment for that to sink in. “My mission? Chamber. He’s been my life for the last five years, Marielle. My assignment is trying to understand who he is, why he is, and what he’s doing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You… you’ve been following Chamber?”
“Yeah, Marielle, for the last five years,” he repeated, speaking a little more slowly to give her time to process.
A beat. “Why?”
“It’s what I was told to do. That’s how we work. I don’t ask a lot of questions. I take notes, I follow, I watch, I disguise myself, I sit in coffee shops, I pick up discarded evidence, I take more notes, I report back to the higher-ups. Then I go home and pray they don’t wipe my brain or kill me for making a wrong move somewhere.”
True. She drummed her bottom lip. “Why Chamber?”
“Chamber is an assassin, Marielle, a high profile one. We don’t even know if Vincent is his real name—we don’t even know if he’s really French. Sure, he seems like he is, but he can disappear off the map quicker than anyone I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been doing this… uh…” He screwed his eyes up for a moment as if thinking. “Thirteen years next July.” He took in a deep pull of air, and profound silence passed between the two of them. “They want to know how to use his nanotech. How he got it into his skin, how it reacts to him and him alone, how he coded it, and so on.”
“So you’re—you’re not a profiler?”
“No, I’m a profiler, too. I’m one of the smartest guys in my division as far as how quickly I pick things up and learn new skills, but I was a profiler first.”
“But you’ve been following Chamber and not Vincent, right? Not—not my…”
“Your Vincent? They’re the same person, Marielle. That’s why I’m at Valorant. I’m there for Vincent,” he said as if explaining something complex to a five-year-old. Her heart pounded as she processed everything he’d said. “There’s just one problem.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
Austin smiled a little, then wiped the expression off his face. “I understand him too much,” he said softly, then paused. “Somewhere along the way of making him my entire life… I started to empathize with him—and I was supposed to, but not like this. And Vincent? I understand him even better,” he explained distantly. “I have a problem on my hands. I no longer want this job, this mission, or…” He swallowed.
“You’re supposed to kill him,” she realized out loud.
Austin pinched the end of his nose, then dropped his fingers and sucked in a breath at the same time, making an odd sniffing sound. “If certain things happen.”
“Like what?” she whispered, her eyes darting one way, then the other.
“I can’t tell you everything. I am in total violation right now as it is—they’ll kill me if anyone finds out I said a word of this to you,” he growled. “But I don’t want to kill him, Marielle. I like him too much. And by the way, he knows all of this. He knows who I am and why I’m here. We talked… weeks ago, now.” She stared into nothing, recalling the dream she’d had about Vincent and Austin trying to kill one another. “You see, here’s the problem: the government—who owns me, by the way—wants me to kill him because he’s an assassin… and so am I.”
A pregnant pause followed Austin’s whispered confession. Marielle trembled as he continued, “I’m an assassin who lost his wife, who was an only child, who also has the middle name Michael, albeit the Italian version, whose father died when I was young, whose mother was a prostitute, who likes fancy cars and fancy cuisine and women, and plays a classical instrument… Do you see where I’m going with this?”
She swallowed hard, realization coming over her face like the sun coming up. “You’re the same person,” she breathed shakily.
“Yeah.” He raised an open hand toward the night sky and flicked his eyes upward, the alcohol still pumping through him. “I mean, not literally, but… yeah…” A long pause. “I care about you so much, and… there’s no way in hell I can do what they’re asking me to do, so… I forfeit all of it. I’m with you.”
He shrugged a single shoulder, closed his eyes, and bobbed his head a few times. “Now, I just need you to go to bed with me,” he added, and he couldn’t contain the chuckle that would have made the joke serious. She finally smiled and punched him lightly in the forearm. He leaned in over her, arm on the wall behind her.
“I’m in a tight spot,” he said with a heavy sigh, “but I’m going to stay here until further notice. I’m not going to kill Vincent. Or Chamber. I’m not supposed to unless I catch him doing something very specific anyway. But I can’t do that to you, and now, it seems in our best interest to make sure that both of them survive.” He lifted a curled finger and collected a tear from the corner of her left eye. She hadn’t even realized it was there. “Somehow, I’ll work it out.”
“Y-you thought that Vincent was Chamber… That’s why you’re here.”
“Mm-hmmm,” he hummed gently, rubbing the tear between his finger and thumb.
“You threw the game,” she said quietly, referring to their personal training match weeks ago.
His eyes beamed. “Oh, I way threw the game.”
She shuddered, the memory of their first twenty-five questions blazing in her mind. Are you more dangerous than you’re letting on?
Oh, yeah.
She swallowed. “Bargs,” she murmured. His eyes widened at her as if asking how she knew this. “Joe Henry Bargs…” She shook her head. “I-I had to escape Hazal. I crossed the balconies and got into your room. You forgot to lock the sliding door.”
He nodded. “I guess it worked out, then. What did you see?”
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought about it until just now. “Uh… A pistol, ID card, some folders—I didn’t open them. A magazine.” He sighed and looked away for a moment, obviously disappointed she’d seen that. “So, are you Austin Michael Rancor, or are you Joe Henry Bargs?”
“I’m Austin Michael Rancor,” he replied. “Joe Henry Bargs is my—”
“Your 007 name?” she teased.
He smirked adoringly at her for that joke and nodded. For a moment, they were locked in a stare, trying to read one another. For a moment, neither had any thoughts in their head. Then…
“You smell so nice.”
Smiling at her, he collected one last tear. -I know. I told you that your favorite smell was me, remember?
“It was the first thing I recognized in your room,” she said.
No other thoughts came. He shifted back from her, cinched his tie, and began to walk away. Then he stopped to look at the night sky.
Marielle stood in stunned silence for a moment. “Austin?” Her voice caused him to turn. “How many people have you killed?” Her eyes refocused and fixed on him. “Do you know?”
He gave her a sad smirk. “Like… a lot.” Then he continued to walk away.
Her eyes filled with tears as she put a hand over her mouth. About ten feet away, he staggered, and she rushed to his side, catching him before he fell. He groaned, a total wreck.
“Get me home,” he said, trying to cover a gag.
She helped him to the street, and a cab pulled over to pick them up. They sat in the back on opposite sides of the cab, watching the neon lights, drunks, prostitutes, and party people pass by.
“Austin?”
He stroked the bridge of his nose. “Whatever,” he growled.
She paused, unsure of why he had responded that way. All she could work out was that he was so drunk he was partly delirious. “You said you were with the waiter yesterday?”
“Yup.”
Marielle bit her bottom lip. How far should she push him on this? “And before that?” she asked.
“The day before.”
She pinched her eyes shut, daring to ask. “Who?”
“I picked up a prostitute.”
There was silence for a moment as she processed this. “You and Han?”
“Just friends. She wanted me to come here with her to give you something to think about,” he explained.
True. They had barely even acknowledged one another all night, and Han had left without him. Of course, she had planned this. Marielle was going to kill her.
Briefly, she wondered how much of the conversation the driver was listening to and if she cared at all. She imagined that all taxi cab drivers were secretly spies for the government and avoided asking Austin about his “second life” during the rest of the drive, even though she knew this train of thought was probably ludicrous.
“Why don’t you mess with anyone else at work?” she finally asked.
He scoffed like she was a moron. “You know why.”
She rolled her eyes to the street, then took in a deep breath and let it out. The next bit came out in such a soft whisper that she wasn’t sure if she was praying he wouldn’t hear, or hoping he heard every syllable. “Are you doing all of this because you can’t have me?”
He stared into nothing, the look on his face indicating that he’d rather do anything in the entire universe than answer that question. “Yeah,” he whispered, and he turned toward the window, tucking his knees in on the tattered seat, which made him look like a small boy trying to find a corner to hide in. Her heart ached for him.
Several long minutes of silence and despair later, the cab pulled up to Austin’s house. She came around the side and helped him out; he was wobbling so much that he practically threw the money at the driver, and Marielle had to pick it up and hand it to her before she drove away.
Then Marielle helped him past the driveway where his car was parked, up the steps, and through the front door. As she took in the house for a second time, she noted how just much truth he’d told her in the alley. The home was furnished like he hadn’t lived here long… because he hadn’t. It was too neat, too precise.
She helped stagger him to his bedroom. They stopped at the bathroom first, and she held him over the toilet. “Are you going to throw up?” she asked tenderly.
“I wouldn’t profane something so beautiful,” he groaned, and she wasn’t sure if he was sardonically referring to the toilet, or if he was trying to say something like “I’m not going to do that in front of you.”
“Okay.” She stood and left long enough for him to use it, wash his hands, and sway back out, briefly leaning on the doorframe as he hard-blinked a few times. His bedroom was dark, but the light from the hall was still on, and she doubted his eyes were adjusting well.
Then he began removing his tie. She helped him with his jacket and shirt. He had a thin, white tank top underneath it all, but the moment they’d gotten his button-up off, he discarded the wife beater too. Marielle led him to the bed, helped take his shoes off, and eased him onto his back with a moan. She had to glance away. He was all lean muscle; it was attractive.
“You’re right,” he sighed, “I haven’t been this drunk in a while.”
He laid the back of his wrist across his forehead, and her gaze was drawn to markings on his right arm. It took her a moment for her eyes to make them out in the dark. The entire thing was white, and the more she looked at it as her eyes adjusted in the dim light, the bigger it became. It wasn’t just markings but an entire tattoo of a snake twirling up his right arm from wrist to shoulder like a ribbon on a pole. In this lighting, the white scales glowed, shimmering like bubbles.
She marveled at it for a moment. The kids had all been getting illuminated tattoos for about the past ten years now. She’d even seen some at the club tonight. She wondered when he’d gotten this one and what the significance of it might be. He’d hidden this well for several weeks now with long sleeves, maybe even a little makeup. She also realized that the white coloring against his fair skin would have made it difficult to spot at first glance.
Snake… she thought, looking him over. His eyes were big pools of reflective blue, innocent and charming. Yup. He was a snake, all right.
For just a moment, she tried to recall any research and symbolism for snakes. A few months ago, she’d taken a profiling class about the imagery and symbolism used in prison and military tattoos around the world. The word “parseltongue” crossed her mind. She shook her head. In Russian prisons, snakes had a specific meaning. But Austin wasn’t Russian, and she was certain he’d never been in prison. In gangs, it often meant antiauthoritarianism. She couldn’t remember what it meant in the military, but that made a heck of a lot more sense with his “second life.” In government? She wasn’t sure; something about the revolutionary war.
It wasn’t red or black, and it wasn’t one of the more common snakes that appeared in tattoos, like a cobra, coral, or king snake. She bit her lip, looking it over. What a strange thing to find on him.
A white snake.
Presently, all she could think of was “tempter,” Lucifer. The snake wrapping itself around the tree in the Garden of Eden to seduce Eve into eating the fruit. Perfect. That’s exactly what she felt like. A serpent he was, and a ridiculously handsome one. He knew it too, damn him. She could read it in his eyes, which she looked away from as she nodded once. “Good night,” she said, and turned to leave.
He grabbed her wrist with that snake arm, keeping her. “No, stay,” he groaned, and he sounded like a little boy. Her heart sped up a little. He was drunk, but boy, was he ever gorgeous, and his pleading wasn’t doing her resolve any favors. He knew this. She knew that he knew this.
She couldn’t stop an abashed smirk. “You’re just trying to seduce me,” she sighed, her cheeks filling with color.
“Yeah, I am,” he said bluntly. “But I might also have to get up or something, and then I might stumble and break my head.” She smiled at his playfulness. “Don’t you care about that?” The pout was in his tone, not his expression.
She chuckled silently. “You’re going to be fine,” she said, taking another step away. The room was stuffy and hot, and she knew what would happen if she didn’t leave. “Go to sleep, Austin.”
He tugged her gently back down to the mattress again, and this time she sat willingly, albeit with a small, annoyed sigh. “No, stay,” he begged, and it was even more full of desire than the first time. “Please?” He sat up, and he was far steadier than he should have been, even as she felt like she was losing herself. “Please,” he begged more softly, and he was getting closer, using her wrist and arm like a fishing pole to reel her in.
He pulled her to him, his forehead now pressed against hers, and just like in the club, she was frozen for a moment, feeling every part of his skin against hers. She knew that in this silence, he could hear her heart pounding, and considering how he was holding her, he could also feel it. It was so quiet that all either of them could hear was their deepening breaths. He smelled like alcohol, but she didn’t care; the bitter scent carried a sweetness with it that worked its way into her mouth even though he hadn’t kissed her, allowing her to taste him in some way.
Their noses brushed, and he let out a small, obvious sound as his fingertips ran up her right arm and slipped under the strap of her dress. Then he began inching it down, at the same time running his fingers along her bare shoulder and down her arm as the strap slipped farther, his thumb grazing her perfect collarbone.
Feeling dizzy, Marielle took in jerky breaths. “Austin,” she peeped, feeling the need to protest, but knowing she didn’t mean it in this moment.
“Shhhh,” he breathed shakily.
She knew that if she didn’t stop this soon, she wouldn’t be able to. Still, she made an attempt to fight as she put her hands up between them, keenly aware that when her fingers touched his bare chest, his breathing hitched a bit. This added to her paralysis as intense, delicious, yearning sensations filled her.
His mouth went to the place he’d just uncovered, his lips lingering over her collarbone with another soft, “Please…”
She could feel his hair and hear the soft breaths that signaled his need. His warm lips brushed her collarbone, and he gently nipped her, tugging at her skin with his teeth. His breath became icy, chilling her body and making her rigid against him. He pressed more tightly against her.
–I’ll keep you warm.
His breath electrified her skin, somehow cooling her down and heating her up at the same time. As it had happened in his office that day, every hair on her body stood up and her breasts responded, causing her to shiver and suck in air quickly. It felt wonderful in the heat.
He gave her a gentle kiss on the shoulder, followed by another small bite, and she knew those bites were going to stick in her mind for eternity. She heard Liam’s voice in her mind… the word “devour.”
“I need you,” he whispered, and she knew his next move would be to uncover his handiwork by taking her dress down a little more and exposing her. Any moment now, he was also going to try to coax her to phase into him. She could feel it based on how hard he was pressing against her. If he lost control, he could easily crush her if she refused.
“Austin…” The word barely came out. In fact, she was aware that because of how it came out, it sounded more like desire than “no.” She had no words, so she needed to use her body. She pushed herself backward a little.
He advanced, his strong arms fighting her now, sensing that she wanted him, too. She wriggled back a little more, and then began the real fight as her hands pressed into his chest, telling him not to come any closer.
“Marielle, please, just a little,” he pleaded. She pushed him harder, but he held her even more tightly. He spoke a little louder. “Please, I won’t even—”
A moment of clarity pierced her mind, and she shoved them violently apart. Seeing his wide-eyed expression, she gave him a good, hard slap across the right side of his face.
Austin blinked twice in shock, quickly sobering. He gasped and let out a ragged, confused breath, his expression like that of a kicked puppy.
She raised her hand and struck him again, this time much harder. His head jerked to the side, his hair flying, and he came back with his thumb testing his jaw. His eyes were saucers.
“Okay, I get it,” he growled through clenched teeth, his skin on fire where she’d struck him.
At this, she slapped him a final time, as hard as she could without actually punching him. “No… you… don’t!” she cried, hot tears stinging her eyes. She stood clean away from the bed. “You’re disgusting!” Marielle turned and stalked out of the room, feeling the betrayal and violation as she tugged her dress strap back up.
Those words… the same words Erin had used on him, and in the same exact tone, made him want to tear his skin off. He dashed after her. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, okay? Please, don’t hate me?” He sounded like a child, his voice full of genuine remorse.
“Yeah, ha ha! You conned me into your bed. You’re not even that drunk.” Her voice was full of tears. “Good for you. Go carve another notch on your bedpost, you snake.”
He briefly looked down at his right arm, as though he’d forgotten that the tattoo even existed. “No, Marielle, this isn’t me! Marielle, please,” he begged. She was always a step ahead of him as he tried to reach her.
“Fool on me. I actually cared about you,” she hissed under her breath.
His chest hurt at that. “Oh, God, please no…” Genuine horror gripped his words.
She ignored him the whole way out the door and to the street, where she called for another cab. He stood in the doorway of his house, pleading for her forgiveness.
“Sleep it off, Austin,” she spat. “Or take a cold shower, then sleep it off.”
Despite their mutual embarrassment, he stayed in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her to be sure she was safe. She was aware of it, even though she was currently filing Austin Rancor under “jerk, manipulator, and pervert” in her mind.
Several minutes passed, and neither of them said anything. Austin stayed still, watching her, and she stood facing the street, terrified of going home and terrified of turning back to him in case he charmed her into his arms again. She couldn’t let him know how difficult this was for her, how a few simple words would probably get her right back into that house. She twitched, fighting between “Don’t say anything to me, Austin” and “Please try and get me to come back. I want you the same way you want me.”
She rode off in the cab, not looking at him once. The moment she was away from his house, she felt like she could breathe again. Her mind went to the night they’d had dinner and his twenty-five questions for her.
“What was the hardest no that you’ve ever had to say?” Austin’s voice in her head.
That.
That was the most difficult no she’d ever had to say in her life.
Don’t go back… He doesn’t want you; he wants your body. You don’t love him, and you will never love him like that. He just wants to own you. And you like Vincent. Don’t go back… Don’t go back…
Bouncing her knee, she bit her bottom lip hard, the blood still rushing, the numbing tingle from Austin’s mouth still dancing around her shoulder and collarbone. Don’t go back.
“I don’t mean to butt in,” said a voice from the front. Oh… Apparently, she’d said some of that out loud. “But do you love him?” The driver thumbed over his right shoulder, and a pair of blue eyes that reflected years of experience met hers in the rearview.
Yes, she thought.
“I mean, like… Are you in love with him?”
Marielle looked out the window, watching the shadows as they traveled by. “No.” That felt like a lie.
A brief pause. “Then don’t go back.”
Marielle nodded, deciding to take the man’s advice even though her mental war still raged.
When she came through the door of her apartment, she was shocked when Vincent immediately enveloped her and pressed her against the closed door. He kissed her, his mouth pressing in hard, his tongue parting her lips, searching, exploring.
She felt dizzy all over again.
He pulled away, and she looked up at him, confused. “Whatever Austin did, it doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, then added, “You didn’t sleep with him.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know?”
“I only taste you.” His eyes scanned her face, which was still flushed. “And you’re frustrated,” he replied with a knowing look.
She closed her eyes for a moment. He was so right. He cocked his head at her, giving her a mock testy expression. She smiled and looked down. “Oui.”
And with that, he scooped her small frame up in his arms and took her to her bedroom. Soon, all that mattered was her and Vincent. Clever boy… He knew how to keep her mind on track.
***
Austin rolled one way and winced, clenching his teeth. Then he rolled the other way as the dream bit at him, causing pain… He growled and clutched the pillow, mumbling unintelligible words. Then he begged, “No… no… stop… please…” His own ear-piercing screams blended together in his head with a metallic whirring sound until they sounded like a clogged disposal fighting to break down bone.
A calming male voice whispered in his head, deep, soothing, tender… decidedly French. “It’s okay, brother. It will end… I promise… It will end.”
Austin opened his eyes with a start and looked around, his heart rate out of control, his breath coming in gulps.
He sat up and looked at the empty spot in his bed. She could have been there with him now, but she wasn’t. He’d failed. He’d been so close, and he’d failed.
Would have, should have, could have, huh, Austin? Nice going. She’ll never trust you again.
While he brushed his teeth, he avoided the mirror. Too hard right now, too painful. He had no idea how he was going to go to work, how he was going to face her… or him. He knew they were all going to have it out today at some point.
He spat out his toothpaste and turned the shower on, then checked how long he had before he needed to be at work. Then he set his watch down on the sink as he turned to get into the shower.
Austin paused. Wait… What time was it? He looked again. 6:15.
He did the math quickly in his head. “Over twenty-four hours,” he whispered to himself in an odd sort of awe. He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at his reflection. “Can you go thirty, Austin?” His gaze flicked back to the watch. “I’m going to,” he growled, determined, and he put the watch back down and went under the hot water.