Page 71 of Lost to Thievery
Head up, Princess. Don’t look at the wheel.
I picked up a pebble from the street, letting it arch high over them, before it crashed onto the metal trashcans in the alley.
Ava turned, looking for the source of the sound, then got distracted by the sign of the bookstore.
That’s it.
She turned back to the man, patting him on the shoulder while he looked a little dazed. Maybe because of the fall, maybe because of her beauty. She finally turned into the ally, the little bell on the door chiming as she stepped inside.
I retrieved Ava’s knife, before crossing the street again, sitting patiently on the curb, waiting on her for four hours. When she finally stepped out, it was already dark. She blinked up at the sky as if it surprised her, then blushed a deep red as she realised the owner of the store had stayed open three hours past closing time for her.
She was the most beautiful thing this world could ever produce when her cheeks flushed. I’d never been able to keep my hands off her when she blushed, determined to keep it there. Even now, seeing it from across the street, my cock twitched in my pants.
I kept behind her as she made her way back to Becket’s apartment. I hated that she lived with him while in the city. But it was safer than a hotel. Becket wasn’t too bad a shot, when the dimwit actually carried his gun with him. And at least she was sleeping in her own room. For how long, I didn’t know. I didn’t want to think about it.
But it was something I had to face, to accept. Soon she wouldn’t bemyAva anymore. She would be Becket’s. And even though it made me want to scream till my vocal cords ripped apart, it was inevitable.
I’d been watching her with him. She loved him. She may not yet admit it to herself, but it was more than just friendship. They always stood too close, touching too easily. She was comfortable with him, in a way that she never was with me. And it tore me to shreds.
I didn’t want to be around when that day came. I would lose my fucking mind if I had to see him kiss, touch or fuck my princess. I would surely die. How could I continue breathing when I knew another man was lovingly tracing the contours of her perfect face, mapping the freckles over her nose and tasting heaven inside her mouth?
That was the real reason I had shot the dog in Florence. Not just because he’d dragged her back into danger like I’d told myself and Hunt’s father. No. It was the way they had walked arm in arm through the streets the previous night. How he’d made her laugh and how she’d rested her head against his shoulder like he was her safe place. And in that moment, I wanted to cut that shoulder right off his body. His dick too. His hands too, so he could never touch her again. Oh, I wanted to cut him in ribbons and feed him to the street rats. I still did.
Breathe, Grayson. Breathe, asshole.My hands started to shake again.
I had to accept it. In some ways, he was better for her. Her life wouldn’t be in danger with him. And he could love her in a good way, a wholesome way. Not like the toxic, obsessive, crippling, soul-shattering love I had for her. I was no expert in the matter, but this kind of love would consume us both. Becket’s love wasn’t blazing and burning with screaming desire. No, he would love her like a warm fireplace in the heart of winter, where she could rest easy.
So I let him live. I let him breathe, so he could love my baby right.
Ava turned the corner, and the breeze lifted her hair. She turned her face up, revelling in the feel of it. I swore the moonlight casted a halo around her head. Ava was beautiful in daylight, but she was breathtaking when the moon’s light touched her.
I’d first noticed it when I’d snuck into her room and watched her sleep in the cabin. The moonlight had streamed into the window, like it was just as hungry to touch her, like I had been. And I swore she glowed when it did. It was in quiet, mesmerising moments like that, that had me questioning everything I’d learned about the damn rock that orbited the earth. With Ava in the room, I could see magic.
My chest squeezed. I missed watching her under the moon. It was those memories I played over and over again to fall asleep to. The ones I cherished the most—when it was just me and her and the moon.
Ava stopped at a pitiful potted plant hooked on the railing of someone’s front doorsteps. She emptied her water bottle in it and took off some of the dead leaves weighing it down. “I’ll be back to come check up on you. And bring you some fertiliser,” she cooed to the plant, before walking on.
God, she was precious. My little witch. The odd and peculiar woman who made me believe in magic.
Huh! Imagine that. Grayson Varon believing in magic.But I did. How could I not after spending so much time with her? Everything about the little witch was magical. Right out of the fairytales my mother used to read to us.
And sometimes she was my princess too. Making me want to give up my wicked ways and pledge my life to her. Protect her and take care of her and give her everything her radiant soul could ever want.
And in the quiet moments, where it was just the two of us, where she gave me her very being while I loved her body, shewas just mine. My girl. My baby. The beginning and the end of my world. My reason for existing. The only one I had ever let in deep enough to the point where her absence was destroying me, slowly but surely.
I swallowed down the longing stirring in my gut. No, she wasn’t my baby anymore. She was Becket’s nightingale now. Whispering in his ear my sins and letting him take care of her. Letting him take my place.
And I had no right to be jealous of that. The loss of her came at my own hand and I had to find a way to deal with it.
She continued her walk at a leisurely pace, in no hurry at all. It was quite odd how at ease she was, considering she was walking alone in the city after dark. But not once had she glanced over her shoulder, not once did she cross the street when a figure approached from ahead.
Why was she so relaxed? After everything she’d been through.
Strange little thing.
My heart swelled at the thought that maybe, subconsciously, she recognised that there was a guardian devil watching over her. That inner knowing of hers I could never quite understand. Like the way her body broke out in goosebumps when I’d been close enough to touch her. Or how she’d known I was there, before she could see or hear me, in the art installation in Florence. Her gut instincts had never been wrong. And she never needed to fear anything as long as I was with her.
A movement caught my eye in the alley near Becket’s apartment as Ava rounded the last corner. I stopped in the shadows, waiting. A small glint from the moonlight reflecting off something metal. Like a knife, or a gun.
