He was consumed by thoughts of her.


11. Unaware

"You live here?"

John looked up at his house — a white two story with blue shutters — then glanced at Eden. Even in the glow of the streetlamp above, he could tell she was afraid. Afraid and completely unaware of the danger that she was in.

"Yes," he answered. He started up the steps to the door. "Are you coming?"



Eden dragged her finger along the spines of the books that lined the shelf. John had entered the living room, carrying two glasses of wine. He handed her one and leaned against the wall next to her. Taking in the way she moved, spoke, and looked at him with those fucking eyes, he had to stop the image of repeatedly slamming her face into the floor.

Shaking his head, he allowed a small smile to slip onto his face.

"I've read too many law books," she told him, sipping her wine. "I need to get back into fiction."

"I have a lot of murder mystery novels," John said. "How do you like those?"

Eden waved her hand dismissively. "I've seen too much of the real life stuff. All the murder cases that come across my desk are startling. People are fucking sick."

A muscle in John's jaw twitched.

"I agree," he replied, "but I also think those types of people may be misunderstood. Taking another life has to be very...liberating."

Eden stared at him.

"Don't look so scared." He smirked. "Now if you're done in here, I'd like to show you the rest of my home."

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