Perfect Villain (Dark Lies Duet 1)

Christian’s gaze flicks over his shoulder to Taj and then back down to me. There is a maddening look in his baby blues, a raw rage waiting to be unleashed.

“Look, I’m okay, Christian. Thank you for keeping me company... but I think you should leave.”

I half expect him to growl or tell me no, but he gives me one last piercing look before nodding his head. He steps away, and with every step he takes back, I feel a little more lost.

Taj takes his absence as an opportunity and slides into the spot beside me. He wraps his arm around me and holds me against his side possessively. He’s never made such a daring move, but I assume he feels threatened by Christian.

“Yeah, I think it’s time you leave,” Taj instigates, and I shush him.

Christian is less than five feet away, but I can see the darkness and rage swimming just beneath the surface. As mysterious and beautiful of a man he is, something is incredibly dangerous about him, and I’m both afraid and intrigued.

Thankfully, he doesn’t respond to Taj’s stupid comment and turns and walks out of the bar without saying a single word. A part of me wishes he’d said goodbye, but from the look on his face I know goodbye would’ve involved fists, blood, and the police.

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in and notice Taj is staring at me.

“You okay?” I ask, even though he should be the one asking me if I’m okay.

“I’m fine. I’m wondering if you’re okay? That’s the second time I’ve seen that guy with you at the bar. Is something going on?”

“You cannot possibly be serious right now, can you?” I’m flabbergasted.

Realizing he’s made a mistake, he retracts his statement. “Look, I’m sorry. Things have been tense, and I don’t like the way he stood between us, like he thought I was going to hurt you or something. The guy doesn’t even know you.”

That’s the thing… I don’t have the heart to tell him that a man who barely knows me sees more of me than the man I’ve been with for the past two years.

7

CHRISTIAN

The neighborhood is dead. Or as dead as it can be for a college town on a Saturday night. It’s perfect, really. While the rest of the town is out enjoying themselves, dancing, partying, or doing whatever makes their miserable existence worth living, I’m here, blending into the shadows and staying clear of any passing headlights.

It’s wet out tonight, the sound of tires over the concrete serving as my soundtrack. I briskly cross the street, being careful to keep my head down, and when I’m sure no one is watching, I hop the fence to Siân’s yard, making my way around the back of the house for safe measures. In all the surveying I’ve done, I’ve learned that the people on this block are entirely too trustworthy. No cameras, not even those new doorbell ones that most people rave about.

I guess when you live in a close-knit community where everyone knows everyone, one doesn’t need to fear for their safety. People look out for each other, and if I was a normal person with normal feelings, I’d say how nice that must be. But I live in a world where white picket fences don’t exist, and the monsters under the bed are real. And those monsters look a lot like me, and we don’t hide.

The back of the house is a drastic difference from the front. It’s unkempt, grass and weeds sitting high off the ground. The few stairs leading to the enclosed patio are worn, and the boards are lifting. When I attempt to open the door, I soon realize that it’s stuck, and it takes a hard pull before it finally budges. Cobwebs and the smell of rotten wood tell the tale of just how unattended it is.

Thinking about Siân staying here in a place that lacks the appropriate upkeep angers me. Where we’re from, she’s royalty, and a queen should never lay her head somewhere like this. But when you’ve been on the run for as long as she has, you make do. It’s smarter that way when you think about it. If you want to go unnoticed, then you hide in plain sight. You take residence in a place that looks to be inhabited by an old hermit.

I insert the copy of the key I had made into the lock and listen for it to click. It’s pure luck that the key works back here, and considering how neglected this area is, I know it’ll also fit the front door. Most people are smart enough to use different locks. It’s dark when I enter through their kitchen, and to my surprise, there is a cat. It’s parked near the foyer that leads into the dining area, with its back perched as it hisses at me.