Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
The three of us sit in silence, unsure of what to say or how to act, when a sulfurous odor suddenly assaults my nose.
Immediately, I turn to Cyrus. “Did you burn my hair?”
“No,” he replies, trying to prevent the corner of his lips from turning into a smile.
“Are you gaslighting me?” I demand.
“I would never burn your hair, Az.” Cyrus leans into me and whispers seductively, “You’re one of the few people I’d only burn if you asked me.”
I laugh. “That is a bald-faced lie because I can smell it.”
I pull my hair over my shoulder and inhale, needing confirmation, before glaring at Cyrus. “You know I can smell it, right?”
“Consider it my version of a love bite. And we both know how much you love those love bites,” Cyrus says as he wags his eyebrows.
It never fails to amaze me how attractive this man is, even with all the vicious scars covering half his face and the deep ridges burned into his skin. I know Cyrus has issues with them, covering what he can with blackout tattoos, but they’re beautiful in their imperfections.
To many, Cyrus might be The Boogieman, but all I see is a sly smile and green eyes that remind me of freshly cut grass on a warm summer day. I love their beauty, but I’ve always loved things that cause others to turn away—my little menagerie of beautiful boys the world was too scared to love.
Cyrus winks as he hands me a black box neatly wrapped with a red ribbon before pulling a joint from his pocket and lighting it. Taking a few tokes, he stares out at the lush forest. He remains quiet, as if pondering something too complicated or painful to utter aloud.
“What’s this for?” I ask, pulling him from his thoughts.
His cheeky smile returns. “Thought we’d have a little going away party.”
I quickly rip off the bow and open the box, gawking at the contents. Nestled in black tissue are black panties and a bra. But this isn’t just any lingerie. “The 9 Alarm Defender Briefs and sports bra?”
Cyrus exhales the smoke. “I like what I like, but I like your lady parts a little more, and I want to make sure they’re protected.”
I belt out a laugh before placing the box beside me.
“Whoa, are you turning your nose up at my thoughtful gift?” Cyrus demands, his bottom lip jutting with a pout. He yanks up the hem of his shirt, exposing his muscular chest, peppered with massive scarification and blackout tattoos like those covering his face. On the other side, my name is carved into the smooth, sun-kissed skin in jarring, jagged letters. “I think it’s pretty shitty of you to allow me to partake in your crazy kink when you keep denying mine!”
I’m not sure when my fascination with knives started, but somewhere along the way, it consumed me. So much so that I began training with anything made of steel with a sharp pointed tip: swords, carving knives, boning knives, boot knives, skinning knives, universal knives, and gutting knives. My love for them also bled into a kind of depravity, increasing my appetite for sexual activities that included risk play. I became consumed with marking my lovers and tethering them to me in blood.
I glance at Zeke for backup, but he simply smiles, pulling up his shirt to display my name on his chest. “The only one who can’t demand anything of you is Lev.”
I huff. “It’s not fair when it’s two against one.”
Zeke nuzzles his nose against my pulse point before growling in my ear, “Don’t pretend you don’t like it when we tag team you.”
I’m suddenly hot, my skin burning. I have no idea why that happens. I wish I had a smart answer for lewd comments or flirting, but I’ve never been that girl. Which, in all honesty, makes no sense since I’m never at a loss for words. Yet every time my best friend takes our friendship to a sexual level, I stammer and fall apart.
“What’s the matter, Princess? Cat got your tongue?” Zeke teases, nipping my ear and grazing his teeth along my delicate lobe. “I think you’d prefer it if I had your tongue instead.”
I jump off the back steps, needing to put some distance between me and the heady scent of Ezekiel's cologne.
“Ah, come on, Hellcat.” Cyrus smirks. “We’ve got all this space. I’d think you’d want to make use of it.”
I frown at him, irritated by his mocking laughter.
Zeke gets up from the steps and stalks toward me. His body is lean and hard in all the right places. He brings the smoke to his lips, taking another drag, and I think about all the dirty things he’s done to me with many cigarettes over the years.
I step backward. “What are you doing, Zeke?”