124: I Miss You, Kitten
SERA
Killian sat obediently in the chair, eyeing the electric razor in my hand with a slight frown creasing his brows. His stubble was darker than usual, shadowing his jaw. I spread shaving cream across his skin, trying not to smile. I was enjoying this a little too much, I guess. It’s a rare opportunity for me to help him shave.
"Chin up," I said, tilting it gently with my fingers.
He gave me that look. The one that clearly implied that he didn't trust me with a razor near his jugular.
"Oh, come on," I teased, the foam-dipped blade carefully poised. "If I wanted you dead, love, I wouldn't be wasting shaving cream on the job."
His lips twitched, a spark of amusement breaking through. "That's reassuring."
"Relax. I'd make it quick. You wouldn't even see it coming."
"Mm." He rasped, his voice low and teasing. "That sounds like a threat, Angel."
I arched a brow. "You live for the danger, don’t you?”
That earned me the faintest huff of laughter, and for a moment the weight in his blue eyes eased.
Gently, he placed his hand on my waist and pulled me closer between his legs. I couldn’t help but smile, running my fingers through his curls. It was much longer lately, curling on top of his shoulders. Matteo’s funeral was happening in a week. I knew my husband was still shrouded in grief. He’d even awoken in the middle of the night sick with a migraine. I wished I could take his pain away. But what could I do?
The razor slid down the line of his jaw, slow and steady. His eyes were fixed on me the entire time.
I rinsed the blade, casually saying, "By the way, I got a text last night."
Killian hummed, his eyes closing briefly as I dragged the blade under his chin. "From whom?"
"Guess."
"You know I don't guess."
"That's because you'd lose." I leaned in, my lips curving wickedly. "It was Vincent."
His eyes snapped open, fixing on mine. His jaw tightened under my fingers. "He's dead."
"Mm. Is he, though?" I drawled, rinsing the blade again. "Because last I checked, his body went missing. And if there's one thing Vincent is good at…other than being the world's most obnoxious bastard, it's faking death. He's done it before."
Killian's hand suddenly came up, curling around my wrist. “Angel."
"What? I'm being realistic."
His gaze softened, mischief flickering through the grief that was etched deep in his eyes. "You're being impossible."
I smirked. "Impossible is why you married me."
He shook his head, his eyes crinkling faintly. "If he's alive, I'll deal with it."
"No, love." I tapped his cheek with the flat of the blade. "We'll deal with it. This time, we don't leave loose ends."
He gave me a strange look then, exhaustion, grief, and mischief slipping through the cracks. I was convinced that he was most likely to lose his shit if anything else went wrong. And that’s why…for his sake, I wouldn’t let it happen. Ever. It was the only way I could protect my husband.
....
"Hold still," I muttered, gently peeling the old bandage away from his temple. The skin beneath was angry and raw, a brutal reminder of how close I'd come to losing him.
Killian didn't even flinch. He was half-distracted, the phone propped against the pillow by his side on speaker. Ethan's baritone voice filled the room.
"No sightings. Nothing in the city, not even whispers. If Vincent were alive, someone would've heard something by now."
Killian's mouth curved wryly. "Or he's better at hiding than you are at looking."
Ethan sighed. "I'm thorough, Killian. He's gone."
"Mm." Killian's eyes shot up to mine as I dabbed antiseptic across the wound. He winced but didn't pull away. But then, his gaze softened, the mischief faint but still there, curling in the corners of his mouth. "Sera doesn’t think so.”
I smirked, smoothing the fresh gauze into place. "That's because I'm always right."
Before Killian could retort, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I frowned, reaching for it with my free hand. The screen lit up.
I narrowed my gaze at it. The text read:
‘I miss you, Kitten.
Can I see you one last time?
I swear I'll be good.’
I pursed my lips, staring at the text in utter disbelief. Vincent’s desperation was literally oozing out of the damn texts. How pathetic.
Killian's gaze sharpened the instant he noticed the look on my face. "What is it?"
I snapped the phone to my chest, forcing out a tight smile. "Nothing."
"Don't lie to me, Sera." His voice dropped by an octave, soft but laced with tension.
I pressed my lips together, uneasy. Slowly, I turned the phone so he could see.
The slight curve at the corner of his lips vanished. His eyes darkened and went cold in an instant.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he smiled again, this time slowly.
"Swear he'll be good?" Killian murmured, absently brushing his thumb across my knuckles. "Darling, when was he ever?"
Despite the ice in my veins, I huffed a laugh. "Never."
His grip on my hand tightened slightly. But when he lifted his gaze, that softness for me was gone. What looked back at me was a dangerous desire. A bloodthirsty desire. Well, shit.
"Ethan," Killian said, his voice carrying through the room, "Vincent's alive."
Ethan cursed quietly on the other end.
"And if he’s alive. Black Scorpion must have helped. So do me a favor, Ethan." Killian added.
"Already on it," Ethan replied without hesitation. "If he sent that text, he left a trail. I'll have our people scrub the grids and check for burner lines."
Killian leaned back against the pillows, his eyes never leaving me as I stood frozen with the phone still in my hand. He reached up, curling his fingers in a silent demand. I gave it to him.
He studied the message for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, that wicked smile crept back.
"Ethan, I don't want him scrubbed. I want him found.”
There was a pause. "...found alive?"
Killian's eyes glittered, darkly amused. "Alive enough."
That’s my man.
"Don't chase him off too fast," Killian went on. "Men like Vincent are cockroaches. If you corner them, they scatter. Let him think he's winning for now. Let him crawl out of whatever hole he's hiding in."
Ethan grunted. "And when he does?"
Killian's smile widened, cold and beautiful. "I'll crush him."
The line went quiet for a second, then Ethan sighed. "As you wish, boss."
The line went dead, and Killian pulled me down into his lap. I chuckled, attempting to pull away.
“I’m heavy. Hubby, you need to rest,” I said, and he kissed me on the lips.
“The only thing I need is right here in my arms,” he whispered, and I beamed, resting my head on his chest.
“How are you feeling now? How’s your head?” I asked, and he hummed.
“All better. I have the greatest medicine I could ever wish for,” he told me, and I grinned.
“I love you, Killian,” I whispered. “I’m so glad I’m yours.”
He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead.
“You are my world.”
Just then, Killian’s phone rang out, and he answered the call, his mother’s voice reaching my ears. She sounded like she’d been crying for hours.
“Can you come over, Killian? I just need someone to talk to,” she said.
Killian and I exchanged glances. I couldn’t help but be worried about her. She’d gone through a lot.
…
I stepped out of the bathroom, my towel slipping off my body as I padded across the room. I was heavily pregnant and still managed to look like a goddess. Although at this point, I was less Aphrodite and more an exhausted, waddling fertility statue.
I stretched lightly, then stopped in front of the mirror, one hand sliding down to my stomach. My belly was so round it felt like I’d swallowed the moon whole.
"Not long now," I murmured, tracing the curve of it. "By midnight, you'll be nine months. Just hang in there, you two. And hey…perfect timing for Mommy and Daddy's anniversary. Romantic, right?"
I nearly flinched at the buzz of my phone on the nightstand. Something about Vincent and his stupid random text messages was beginning to freak me out.
Killian was probably the one who’d just texted, though. Maybe he wanted to tell me that his mother had finally cried herself to sleep.
I picked the phone up.
And nearly dropped the damn thing.
The text was:
“How’s the twins doing?”
Before my heart could climb into my throat, there was another ping.
This time it was a face. It was a terribly scarred face with a crooked smile barely lighting it up.
Vincent.
I blinked twice in disbelief. I wanted to believe that my hormones were playing tricks on me.
But this was proof that the bastard I had tortured nearly to death wasn’t busy rotting in a shallow grave somewhere.
But nope. There he was. Smiling.