His fingers glide gently over every arch, stroking along the curves. Only reluctantly, I can see, does his gaze break away from the soft black shimmer of the lacquer, but he doesn’t want to reach blindly for his tool. Every movement speaks of tenderness. He carefully dips the sponge into the water, his strong hands protected by gloves. No splashes stray onto his black clothes, so carefully he begins the washing.
Fascination and rage fight inside me. Maybe it’s not even anger. Jealousy? I contort my face in displeasure.
Fuck. I’m not really jealous of a motorcycle, am I?
Devin doesn’t particularly like me watching him take care of his bike, but I wanted to talk to him. About his current job. About how he’s working too slowly.
Instead, I’m sitting here, chomping down on a snack, almost choking on watching this white-haired devil cuddle his rideable.
Heat rises up inside me, teasing me, making my mouth go dry. I want him. Now.
But he wouldn’t want me, not the way I look right now. Of course, I could change, adapt, so he would fuck me after all. But even then, he wouldn’t look at me like that. Not touch me like that. I might get passion, but not that devotion, that tenderness.
I’m choking on the bone I just licked clean. Now that’s bullshit.
What do I care what exactly he feels, as long as he satisfies my needs every now and then.
I sit up a little differently so my erection isn’t throbbing anymore. Men’s bodies are treacherous.
When he’s done with his bike, I’ll take care of getting what I want.
To distract myself from my arousal, I finally address what I went to him for.
“What is it about this girl that you still haven’t killed her?”
A sideways glance from his dark eyes brushes me. Briefly, I see the monster flashing in them, an ancient instinct. The reason I, too, am sometimes wary around Devin.
“I have yet to get to know her better.” His voice is calm and low. He doesn’t seem fazed by my impatience.
“What for? Have some fun with her and get done with what’s due.” I shrug, though he’s not looking at me so he can’t see it.
“She undresses you with her looks as soon as she sees you. You could probably take her on your bike in front of everyone and she wouldn’t mind.”
Meanwhile, my food tastes good again, so I pluck another piece of meat from the package. A vertebrae emerges from underneath, its marrow will make an excellent dessert.
Devin continues to work conscientiously, however I can feel his inner tension very clearly. He doesn’t want to share his thoughts with me, but I know he’s thinking about whether it’s really necessary to consume Talia’s soul. Pleasurable it would be, energizing. Still, he hesitates.
“Not yet.” He falls quiet again, and we spend a while in silence.
I’m glad Devin can’t see my aura. Otherwise, he’d know I’m a little worried. If he doesn’t do his job and the Order finds out about it… Eventually someone will act, and if it’s not him, it will be someone from the Order.
In the end, Talia is dead, one way or another. And I don’t want Devin to come to any harm.
The black polish is applied, every speck of dust wiped away, metal and paint gleaming.
Devin seems a little more relaxed, as he always does when everything is clean.
I lick my fingers clean, wipe them with a cloth in addition. No blood on me, otherwise he won’t be convinced.
A little more relaxation, then maybe he’ll be more motivated to let go of this Talia. He doesn’t need her. And I can certainly help him see that.
While Devin is putting away all the utensils, I start to reshape myself. My help will be more convincing if I make it as comfortable as possible for him.
I smile confidently. Yes, this girl will soon be history. Then we can move on. Just the two of us. As it should be.