Page 31 of Brutal
And my God… I want to obey. I want to see him again. More than I want my next breath of air. But if I go to him, I end up in his space again.
An unsettling awareness settles into me.
The driver says something I don’t hear.
I’m still looking at the screen. At Samson’s words.
I don’t respond to the text. Instead, I slip the phone back into my purse.
The driver opens the door for me, and I step out into the night.
I don’t just need answers.
I need access. Which means his space isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Next time you come to me.
Is he opening the door?
And will I be brave enough to step through?
7
SAMSON
Next time you come to me.
I look at the words on my screen for a moment before I hit send. Then I slide the phone back into my pocket.
The car carrying Delaney pulls away, but I still feel her in the space she leaves behind. Her hand in mine as I helped her up from the table. The catch in her breathing when I brushed the inside of her wrist.
Traffic hums past. Someone laughs half a block away. The city is alive around me, but my mind is still at that table with Delaney, on her tongue sliding over her lower lip as she tasted the wine, on the pulse at the base of her throat.
Why did she come to dinner? Why was she in the club the other night?
Not money. She’s not the type. She’s a freelancer, a writer and researcher.
So she was looking for answers.
I don’t know what she thinks I’ll give her.
I do know she wants it enough that she accepted a dinner invitation she probably should have refused. That makes her either brave or reckless. Most likely both.
I take out my phone again and send Nathaniel a message.
Club. Now.
Then I head for my car.
Ten minutes later, I arrive at the club and leave my car with the valet. I roll my ring once over my knuckle with my thumb. The metal is cool tonight.
I don’t remember the first time I became aware of its weight. Not really. It’s lived on my hand so long it feels like a part of me.
Inside, the music is low. No one listens to it. The lighting flatters everyone and reveals nothing.
Conversations dissolve the moment I pass. I’m used to it. I’m the enforcer—the Vexley that strikes fear.
Correction. The Vexley who strikes the most fear.
