Searching the room, I find my things neatly piled onto a chair. I slide my pants on, followed by my shirt. Then when I go to leave, curiosity gets the better of me. While he snores away, I sneak into his closet where his clothes are all neatly hung, but in the corner are photos.
Of me.
Some are from that night at Keir’s house, some even more recent. All from times when I was with him.
How did I never notice him taking photos of me?
But the weird part is that next to each photo is a painting, exactly the same as the photo.
“I like to paint you.”
I jump at the sound of his voice and spin around to find him in the doorway, still naked. His hard muscles covered in all that inked skin making me swallow, hard.
“You paint?” I question. “Me?”
“I used to paint when I was a kid, but I haven’t for years.”
I look back at the paintings and they are amazing, so lifelike.
“How is that possible? They’re so good.” I look back at him. “A little creepy, though.”
“You are incredibly inspirational,” he mutters, stepping into the small space until he’s standing next to me. He opens a cabinet and I glance inside, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
Pictures of other women line the cupboard.
“Did you paint them as well?” I ask.
He picks up the first one and shows it to me. “This one liked to be choked until she passed out and demanded that I keep fucking her, so when she woke, she came.”
I stare at him, not knowing what else to do because I certainly have nothing to say.
“I killed her.” He shrugs, like it wasn’t a big deal.
He pulls out another. “This one…she was quiet, shy to begin with. Until she got in the bedroom. Then her freak flag flew.” He pauses, dropping it. “I killed her too.” He looks at me now.
“Why?” I ask on a breath, feeling heat rising into my chest at his admissions. Why would he do that?
“I like to watch the life leave their eyes while I fuck them, and I didn’t like the way they smelled anymore.”
“What did they smell like?”
“Betrayal,” he remarks in a voice that sends shivers over me, and my brows quickly squish together. My end looking a lot closer than I was anticipating.
“Do you plan to add me to your collection?” I nod to the cabinet. There are multiple photos of some of the women, but others just have one.
“No,” he answers simply. “Now, how about some food?” He turns around without another word, walks out, and leaves me in his closet, with too much to think about.
“If you really want to find the good stuff, open the cupboard on the top in the wardrobe.” He chuckles, and I turn, looking up to the only one with a handle, and I reach for it. My hand pauses, wondering if this is a good idea or an incredibly stupid one.
Biting my inner cheek, I do it anyway. Inside, I find a box. Pulling it down and opening it, there are whips, handcuffs, dildos, and other devices I could never name, as well as photos of naked women, dead. Quickly putting it back, I hurry out to find him at the kitchen counter, making coffee.
“I need to go home,” I tell him.
“I’ll drive you. Or you can just stay?” he asks.
“No, I need to go home. Now.” I should be running out the door after what I just saw and what he told me. Yet, my feet remain plastered to the floor. Why?
Is what Sailor said true? That it takes someone different to be able to want to be with someone like him? Am I different or just a little fucked-up? I’m not even sure anymore. And those photos, that’s not normal, this is not normal.
“Thanks for the, um…sex.” I offer him a wave and make my way to the front door. I step out onto the porch and find him right behind me, still naked. I look around and see people walking about, but he has not a care in the world.
“Take these.” He throws something at me, and I just manage to catch it. It’s the keys to his car. “You remember how to drive, right? From the last time you stole it from me?”
I nod, speechless.
“Good. Because I plan to go back to bed. And if you won’t join me—”
“I won’t,” I cut him off, going to hand him the keys. I don’t want anything of his.
“I’ll be seeing you, mio per sempre.” He goes back inside, shutting the door behind him. I walk to his car, which is still parked out front, and climb inside.
My hands rub the steering wheel and I like the way the leather feels.
Glancing at the house, I see no sign of him as I leave.