A Lock Of Death by Beena Khan

12

PRESENT

We were on the move again for the past four hours.

Faint memories of last night hit me, but I couldn’t remember them too well. I glanced over at Dimitri who had one firm hand on the steering wheel and the other out the open window.

The cool, breezy air invaded our vehicle. I kept watching him, but he only stared straight ahead.

The stubble on his face was gone, leaving him clean-shaven once again. The shadows and edges on his beautifully carved face were still visible. I glanced lower at his bandaged hand.

I still remembered some of the things we spoke about last night, but I wasn’t sure if they were a dream or reality.

He didn’t talk much.

I kind of like it now.

He only spoke when necessary.

I like that too.

He thought before he spoke.

I triple like that.

He was completely intoxicating, and he had beguiled me in his spell, making him unforgettable.

I broke the ice between us and spoke.

“So, you’re a sociopath then?”

I bit my tongue.

That wasn’t how I should have started the conversation.

Dimitri glanced in my direction and my eyes met his again.

Blue.

Every time he looked at me like that, he became my Blue.

Those eyes were ocean-strong, swimming with the waves along the shore. Infinite hues of the sky played timelessly in them. The outer rings were almost teal as they fixed on me. I hadn’t realized they could set my soul on fire until I’d met him.

I’d seen blue eyes before, but I’d never been attractive to them… until him.

I wanted to know more about him.

Who was the real Dimitri Nikolaev?

His eyes returned to the road, and I missed his eyes on me.

“How did you realize you were one?” I asked, curiosity filling my mind.

His lip twitched, and I wanted him to smile.

“What do you think, Goldie?”

I was Goldie again. I liked that little nickname.

That confirmed my suspicions that last night hadn’t been a dream. He’d called me that too.

“Did you torture animals growing up?”

I didn’t have an education, and the day I was sold was the day I stopped attending school, but I watched enough television to know.

His eyes filled with amusement as he glanced at me. “Stop going by a textbook definition of a sociopath,” he chided.

I crossed my arms over my chest like a scolded toddler.

“Not everyone is the same. Sociopath is a label… Society doesn’t understand us, so they label those who have no will to conform to society’s expectations. Remorse is alien to me, and I’m free of entangling emotions that make one irrational.”

I wrinkled my nose. He was so clinical sometimes.

“People assume all sociopaths are serial killers,” he shook his head, “If you think from my perspective, I will never know pain, heartbreak, or guilt which makes me a very happy and stress-free man,” he finished.

I couldn’t resist smiling.

“Why do you always refuse to look away when you stare at me?” I blurted out.

I wanted to facepalm my face so hard.

His lip almost curled up again, and I desperately wanted him to see his smile for the first time. I aimed too high though because his expression turned stoic again.

His eyes stayed on me the entire time he drove on the highway. The ice water was so up my neck that sometimes I couldn’t see a way out and escape from him.

It was his predatory gaze again…

The one where he probably loved to dominate and thrill my silly heart, the one where he judged and assessed me for every little flaw and every dirty secret of mine, and like he wanted to completely consume me.

Not just sexually but physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Body, heart, mind, and soul.

It made him more intense, more complex, sexier, and I wish my heart would stop pounding. Regardless of his superficial charm that could seduce anyone, he was trouble. He didn’t even have to try to seduce anyone with tricks.

It made him so much more interesting than others.

All he had to be was himself.

The man had never even smiled or cracked even a joke in his life, yet I was drawn to him like a moth to a candle, like a junkie craving a rush. He gave me the biggest rush of it all.

I swallowed, and his gaze followed my bobbing throat before his face jerked up to meet mine again.

“I can maintain eye contact with anyone and fear nothing. I don’t get nervous.” He raised an eyebrow. “I think of it as God’s gift. A natural talent.”

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue at him. I thought he had cracked a joke, but I realized how dead serious he looked.

“Staring is creepy,” I mumbled under my breath.

He shook his head. “It depends on your intentions.”

“And what are your cruel intentions, Dimitri Nikolaev?”

He didn’t respond at all.

My breath hitched because he still gazed at me.

He hadn’t even averted his eyes.

He still drove on the highway.

This was dangerous…

So reckless… yet tempting.

My eyes fell on his soft lips.

I wanted him to avert his eyes, but I wanted his attention on me too. Conflict passed through me when I replied, “We’ll get into an accident.”

He continued to stare, and I broke off eye contact and observed the road. There weren’t any other cars in front of us. It was four in the morning.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to swallow. I stared straight ahead, even though I could feel his powerful gaze on me that penetrated every single one of my pores.

Blowing out a breath, I asked casually, “How come you have blue eyes? Pakhan has black eyes.”

“I get them from my father’s side. Zander gets them from our mother,” he replied.

Oh. That made sense. “It’s a shame you have such pretty eyes, but a heart made out of stone.”

My eyes widened and I bit my tongue.

Why had that slipped out of all things? I avoided looking at him and stared at my sparkly orange nails instead.

“Strange. I’ve been called heartless more often.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. That was true too.

Sometimes, he was a chameleon like everyone else, but then he was like no one at all.

I’d never met anyone like him before.

Sometimes, he was like an open book but other times he was so closed off.

Dimitri Nikolaev was no misunderstood villain.

He never needed to apologize for being cold-blooded because that’s who he was.

He had a secret advantage over everyone else.

My first thought wasn’t my first action. Most of the time it was my second thought because it was the right thing to do.

His first thought was always his action.

His muted response to burning down the building, almost shoving me off the balcony, and pulling that tracker out with his damn teeth may have been the result of his condition.

My hurt, my cries, and my pain, he could never understand.

He was a high-functioning sociopath.

He wasn’t the kind that kept it hidden.

He brought it to the surface.

Not resisting, I asked, “Why didn’t you just call the doctor to pull out the tracker?”

I avoided looking at him because he unraveled me.

“The less people know, the better,” he replied shortly.

I bit down on my lip. My skin flamed red when I asked my next question, “Why did you use your… teeth?”

He was quiet for a moment, and I was afraid he might not answer at all, but his voice came.

I liked it when he spoke to me instead of staying quiet and having thoughts of more mass murders.

“You tasted my blood. It was only fair I tasted yours.”

My pulse jumped to my throat.

Inhale. Exhale.

Breathe.

In. Out.

I crossed my legs over my thighs to stop the trembling in my core. It was so easy for him to dishevel me…

There was too much tension in the air, so I turned my face and focused on the window.

Exhaling, I changed the topic and glanced at him.

“What happened that made you...” I didn’t want to label him after what he’d said so I settled for, “this version of Dimitri?”

I almost was proud of my brilliance.

It was short-lived because he met my eyes again.

The blue in them had darkened.

I wasn’t ready for his response.

“The world needs monsters, so it creates them.”