Body of the Crime (Blackest Gold Series Book 2)

by R. Scarlett

“We could always pick a few times a week, right? To work with your schedule and mine?” She stepped back only to hit a coffee table with her calf, knocking over an oriental vase that Tensley caught with lightning speed before it could shatter.

  “Shit, sorry,” she muttered, peering through her hair at him.

  Tensley was studying her like a complicated math problem. “I think I’d like to focus more on what happened last night,” he said curtly.

  Molly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm herself before her powers acted up. Dammit. “It was—”

  “You haven’t been sleeping, Molly.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement she couldn’t attempt to deny. “You were scared last night.”

  “Tensley,” she said shakily.

  “You were screaming so loud and thrashing violently, like someone was after you and you—”

  “Because he’s everywhere!” Her voice echoed against the walls and then a painful silence filled the room. She couldn’t look at him, look at his pity, his shame. Instead, she bowed her head and rubbed her temples. “I know he’s dead, I saw the body, but he’s still in my head. He’s in my dreams and I don’t want to face him. Not again. Not ever.”

  Tensley shifted and his hands smoothed across her jaw up to her hairline and lifted her eyes.

  She saw understanding there, not the pity she originally thought she’d find in them. She had misjudged him completely; she saw his need to comfort her, to protect her, to hold her deeply rooted in his eyes, and it warmed her heart. Her fears didn’t go away, but he made her feel like she didn’t have to take them all on alone anymore. Like he would be there for her. Like he’d help her through it.

  “You were traumatized by what happened. You need to give yourself time to heal, but not alone. Do you understand that?” His thumbs brushed the apples of her cheeks and held her tenderly, so carefully, but with such power, such possessiveness she melted into him even more, gripping his thick wrists. “Talk to me. Tell me. Don’t do this alone, ciccia.”

  She couldn’t breathe, not after he spoke those words, not after he was so close and all she wanted to do was collapse into his arms. She didn’t want to depend on him though, not like she had with Cree, but she understood she could use some help, so she simply nodded against his warm palm. His scent surrounded her like a cloak, heady like a shot of morphine that made her happily drugged on him.

  His thumb continued to stroke her cheeks, but soon his stare lowered to her parted lips; they ached for him. His look was pure hunger—she could tell he wanted to taste her just as badly as she wanted him to claim her.

  She breathed lightly out, her heart pounding as she leaned forward, her lips ghosting his—

  A blaring noise sent them jumping apart, and Tensley dislodged the culprit from his suit pocket with a mumbled curse. “What?” he snapped into the phone, his dark eyes going even more shadowy once he heard whatever was being said on the other end.

  After a moment, Tensley ran a hand down his face and his dark eyes met hers. There was a warning there—don’t move. Then he vanished into his office, closing the door loudly behind him.

  Molly surveyed his neat apartment, trying to decide how to pass the time.

  A knock at the door stalled her. She went out into the hallway and stared at it, unsure of whether or not she should answer.

  Another bang made her jump.

  Someone seems rather impatient…

  Molly tiptoed to the door and very carefully peered through the peephole.

  Tensley was immediately by her side. “Step back,” he commanded, tone devoid of any of the kindness it’d held only minutes before.

  Tensley swung it open to reveal a stocky, yellow-haired man in the hall.

  Tensley glowered at the stranger. “Pearce? What the fuck are you doing here?”

  The man named Pearce didn’t answer, instead brushing past them both to stroll into the apartment like he owned the place.

  “I heard you were living here. Fuckin’ fantastic pad, mate.” His piercing blue eyes landed on Molly and took in every curve so painfully slowly that chills ran down her arms. “This yours?” he asked, pointing at her.

  Molly folded her arms and glared at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me—”

  “Yes. She is mine,” Tensley interrupted. Molly whipped around to face Tensley, mouth open in indignation.

  Again, Pearce took his time examining her. “An enviable toy, my friend,” he finally said before disappearing into the kitchen and loudly rummaging through Tensley’s cupboards.

  “Fucking shit,” Tensley mumbled, striding past Molly to follow after Pearce. “Why are you here?”

  Molly watched from the archway as Pearce chowed on the leftover Indian food, intermittently pouring himself shots from a bottle of expensive-looking whiskey. He was built like a house, tall and muscular, with a thick blond mane. He had faded pink scars along his cheek and a thick, untamed beard—one currently drenched in yellow curry sauce.

  Pearce threw back another shot with aplomb before wiping his mouth on his sleeve and smiling at Tensley. “I just got back from traveling in Europe. Thought I’d come see my best friend,” he said.

  Best friend? Considering the way Tensley was standing, Pearce and her fiancé had very different ideas about what warranted such a status.

  “I thought I could stay here for a few weeks,” Pearce continued, pounding his chest and emitting a loud belch. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “I do mind, actually,” Tensley said, snatching the whiskey bottle from Pearce’s thick-fingered grasp. “Doesn’t your family still live here? Go stay with them.”

  “They’re out of town and I don’t have a key,” Pearce responded, noticing the view through Tensley’s floor-to-ceiling windows. “Shit! That’s insane!” He bounded over to the living room and pressed his face against the glass, staring down at Central Park.

  Tensley sidled up to Molly. “You should go,” he said quietly, still intently watching Pearce.

  She was about to protest, but he continued.

  “Don’t argue with me,” he said harshly. “Please.”

  “Fine,” Molly agreed, unhappily walking toward the door.

  “Leaving so soon?” Pearce called after her in a singsong voice, following them into the hall.

  She stopped at the door and forced a smile. “Yeah, goodnight.”

  Pearce leaned his head against the wall, watching Molly like a child fascinated by a new toy. “So you’re the human everyone’s talking about, right?”

  Molly’s mouth fell open and she looked to Tensley for help.

  “I bet Evie doesn’t like that,” Pearce said, laughing loudly. Tensley’s forehead creased, but everything else in his expression stayed neutral and controlled.

  “Who’s Evie?” Molly asked, a pit welling in her gut.

  “Come on Molly, time to go—”

  “Evelyn Rose. She’s Tensley’s woman—at least, she was. Black hair, tall, fuckable lips—real hot, if you ask me. I’m sure Tensley agrees.”

  “The woman from the party…” Molly said slowly, Pearce’s words confirming her suspicions. “The one who said she ‘knew’ your scent.” She grew pale, all the warmth leaving her body. Her insides ached and twisted and she looked over at the man who caused it.

  Pearce hummed, unaware of the awkward tension building. “I’ll bet she does. How long were you two together?”

  Tensley snarled. “Shut the fuck up, Pearce.”

  “Five years, right? Crazy. You two were fucking like rabbits, going at it day and night. Any time, anywhere. God, she was a temptress, wasn’t she? When did you two break up?”

  Molly’s heart pounded. “Tensley?”

  He didn’t give her a second glance, instead yanking Pearce by the arm and forcing him back into the kitchen. “Goodnight, Molly,” Tensley called over his shoulder.

  He hadn’t denied it—the fact that they still might have something going on.

  Molly rushed out of the apartment and to the
elevator before he could see her eyes welling up…before he could hear her heart shatter.

  TENSLEY SHOULDERED THROUGH the thick, sultry air of Bacio Divino, ignoring the curious glances from other demons as he went straight for the bar. He hadn’t been inside the demon club built underneath Scorpios’ townhouse for months, the nightlife too much of a hassle with his position and impending engagement.

  Women dressed in black lingerie entertained both men and women on the club’s many red sofas and lounge chairs, reaching for Tensley and Pearce as they passed by.

  “Mr. Knight, let me feed you,” a brunette cooed.

  Tensley growled deeply and pried the woman’s hands off his jacket, his expression enough to send her scurrying to someone else. He took a seat at the bar and the bartender noticed him right away, rushing over immediately to pour his usual drink: top-shelf whiskey, neat.

  He picked up the glass and tipped a vial of belladonna from his pocket into the golden liquid. It knocked humans out for hours, but only caused a mellow buzz in strong demons.

  He took a large gulp and felt that wonderful, fuzzy warmth shoot up his fingertips to his prickling scalp.

  “Give me a dose,” Pearce said, a glint in his light eyes as he lifted his own glass toward Tensley.

  Tensley licked his lips, debating. Pearce was unpredictable without the influence of drugs, and he wasn’t in the mood to start breaking up fights. “I’m out,” he lied, shaking the bottle before tucking it back in his jacket.

  Pearce groaned and downed his drink in one swig. “Another!” he said, snapping his fingers at the nearest bartender.

  Tensley undid his suit jacket button and leaned back. “So what brings you back to New York City?”

  “Your father, actually. Called and said he needed help with a hunter problem, didn’t want to be in the same situation as Boston or Italy.”

  Tensley paused. So he had to fight for a small search team to find Lex and Gabel but his father got to make calls to anyone he damn well pleased?

  True, Pearce Saint was known in the High Court as the best demon tracker for the hunters around, because he was ruthless as fuck and found a sadistic pleasure in it. Tensley was still irked by the double standard, though.

  “No one wants to be in the same situation as Boston,” Tensley replied. “There’s a fucking snake in their division, secretly working with the hunters to lace belladonna with something called rose thorn.”

  “Rose thorn? Sounds intriguing,” Pearce said, interest shining brightly in his eyes.

  “Yeah, but you don’t want to dip your toe in that one, Pearce. The hunters are using it for a reason; it literally freezes a demon’s bloodstream and we fucking die within hours. It’s the hunters’ new favorite poison,” Tensley answered, rubbing his temples and hoping that whoever had kidnapped Lex and Gabel didn’t have that shit. “So what’ve you been doing? Traveling?”

  Pearce laughed. “Something like that.”

  It was in these rare moments when Pearce became serious and quiet that Tensley didn’t mind him so much. Their parents were close, and the two of them had been inseparable growing up—but that didn’t mean Tensley didn’t want to knee the jerk in the balls most of the time.

  “Have you fucked her yet?” Pearce asked.

  Tensley stiffened, running his thumb along the condensation of his glass and willing himself not to smash it.

  “Yes.” He took another gulp of the bitter, drug-filled whiskey and hoped the bastard across from him would buy the lie.

  “Well, she did a poor job of sucking you off today since you’re grumpy as fuck.”

  Tensley glowered at Pearce. “Fuck off.”

  Pearce chuckled and sat back, hands up. “That ass though. Damn. Do you take her from behind—”

  Tensley slammed the glass on the oak counter so hard a crack crawled up the side. “I’m this close to shoving your head through a window. She’s my fiancée. Show some respect.”

  “Fiancée? I heard people gossiping about it, but I didn’t think you’d stoop so low.” Pearce’s head cocked to the side, his expression one of disgust. “She’s a human, Tensley.”

  Tensley turned to face his childhood ‘friend’, brows lowered. “If you have something to say, fucking say it.”

  Pearce scratched his five o’clock shadow with a finger. “Just seems odd, especially with Ares waging war against Scorpios over territory. I’d think your father would be careful not to appear weak. Does her family bring value to Scorpios or something?”

  Tensley huffed out a bitter laugh. “Something like that. Trust me, we won’t have to worry about being weak.” Not with Molly. “Ares is drowning in hunter attacks; they’re desperate for some real protection at this point.”

  “Those fuckers were stirring shit up in Italy, too, and your father said a few Scorpios guys are missing?”

  Tensley stared at his empty glass. “Yeah. Gabel’s one of them.”

  Pearce dragged a hand over his face. “Fuck, really?” Tensley again nodded. “Remember when he stole Ms. Wilson’s panties and tied them to the flagpole in tenth grade? Priceless.” The smile faltered. “Poor fucker.”

  Yes, Gabel had often acted wild in their final years at a boarding school in Rhode Island—anything to take the attention off Tensley when bullying talk of his family’s various weaknesses arose.

  In recent years, Gabel had become distracted running the Twentieth Battalion for Scorpios, but their comradery was still very much intact; Gabel was a brother to him, in a true sense of the word. He was Scorpios as much as Tensley was. It ran in their blood and made them family, made them brothers. If he didn’t find his longtime friend alive, Tensley would never forgive himself. As much as he hated to admit it, Pearce was probably one of the best individuals to make that happen.

  Tensley gave Pearce a long look. “You can crash at my place for a few days, but stay away from Molly.”

  “Fine, fine. You claimed her, no need to cut my balls off.”

  Tensley bristled but straightened. He wanted to claim her, mark her as his—especially when she smiled softly at him, one dimple visible, or when her hips swayed as she walked. He wasn’t sure if she was purposefully testing his limits, but if she so much as grazed his thigh, all boundaries of his patience were nearly ruined.

  What had happened earlier at his penthouse couldn’t happen again, even if his demon side was running out of patience. A beast could only go so long without devouring the prey it craved.

  He’d ruin her, slowly, so slowly, that she’d be addicted to him.

  But fuck, he didn’t deserve her. Some human who could give her everything should be hers first, not something so monstrous, so fucking cruel and tainted as him, the heartless demon.

  Sooner or later, he’d have to wrap his mind around the idea of Molly with another man. A lover. The word tasted like death in his mouth, but if it was what she needed, he had to give it to her. A man who could worship her, comfort her, and—

  The glass he was holding shattered in his hand.

  “Jesus, man,” Pearce said, blue eyes peering over his own drink.

  Tensley shook his palm out, the loose shards hitting the counter as he stood. “Stay as long as you want; I’m heading back.” He half turned, then stopped. “And don’t bring any women back. I get up early.”

  Pearce smiled wickedly. “Demon’s honor.”

  Tensley sneered as he walked away, flexing his hands as the cuts healed to perfection in seconds.

  Demon’s honor—a saying, a mockery they’d chanted back in school. It was ironic because a demon had no honor, and they prided themselves on it. Tensley thought back to the demon historian Sir Edmund’s final words, which they were required to memorize in school: Take what you want—as long as you’re alive, it’s yours.

  How badly he wanted to take what was his—an alluring daemon with luscious blonde curls and pouty lips—but he held himself back for her sake.

  The whiskey still sat heavy on his tongue, but he wanted something sweet
er, something purely his. He wanted to drink himself into a coma by gulping down Molly’s deliciously sweet essence, only to wake up from the dead the next day to feast like a starved beast on her body, do it all over again, over and over.

  Oh, how he’d ruin her if he could…

  THE WALK HOME was brisk. Molly normally would’ve enjoyed the lack of humidity, the refreshing coolness of the breeze, yet chills of foreboding ran down Molly’s arms like tiny pinpricks. Heavy green leaves shaded the walk above her on the sidewalk, rustling gently, but Molly felt no peace beneath their protective canopy.

  What was going on with Tensley? What were they? Every time she thought perhaps he’d decided to forgive her, to let her back in, his walls would suddenly appear again.

  And if Pearce’s words were right, it might be because of unfinished business with Evelyn Rose.

  Molly fanned her fingers through her hair and glared at the empty street to her right—one she instantly knew she wasn’t alone on.

  She cursed to herself, rolling her eyes at their not-so-subtle footsteps. Weeks of hunting through the night had honed her abilities tenfold, and she could now smell the taco-breath of one of the demon hunters ‘sneaking’ up on her from more than ten feet away.

  The air shifted at the back of her neck and Molly spun, gripping one of her attacker’s arms.

  “Ow!” she screamed when he flung his head forward unexpectedly, hitting her straight in the nose so that she saw black dots and stumbled. The pain rang through her temples, throbbing as she regained focus.

  He twisted to try to get the upper hand, but she only grew more vicious.

  She slammed her entire weight into him, sending them both flying into a brick wall nearby. “You guys don’t learn, do you? Tell Cree that if he wants me, he can come get me himself!”

  The demon hunter began to thrash, yelping when Molly jerked his arm in a direction it was not meant to go. “You fucking bitch!”

  Molly tasted metal; her nose was bleeding all over the place. “Where is he?” she demanded. “Tell me where Cree is!”

  “I don’t know!”

  She stomped on his foot and he cried out.