Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Blood pools around the end of my knife as I apply just enough pressure. How that must feel, to be cut right there…
His groan is throaty and desperate, so I press the blade in. “I can take it as slow as I want. Name. Now.” Baring straight teeth, saliva sprays from his mouth as the veins in his neck swell.
“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” I direct the blade down even farther until his skin splits open, exposing the chalk of flesh beneath. This is child’s play. Painful, sure. Kill you? Naw.
Of course, unless you get a nasty infection, then well…
The more time that passes, the more impatient I get. Usually Vaden handles this, since he’s the more patient one out of us, but not tonight. I need to get as much as I can out of him, and then kill him before Halen is anywhere near breathing Perdita’s air.
Don’t know why the fuck I give a fuck, but I do. I always will. It’s not about the why. It’s about the since when.
Truthfully, that extends to all the girls.
My hand pauses as I stop. He knows I’m going to kill him anyway, so he’d rather go down without talking.
Two hours pass.
Three hours.
Four.
Sunlight splits through the windows behind us when I finally toss the knife toward Katsia. He ain’t gonna talk, and now he’s unconscious with blood dribbling from his mouth.
My fingertip slips beneath the outer layer of skin, pulling it away like you would pork skin.
He doesn’t move.
“Did you kill him?” Katsia calls from the bath.
“No. He’ll stay alive for a while like this, while simultaneously wishing he would just die. This is drying him out. Make him think about who the fuck he’s working with and whether or not it’s worth dying for.”
I stammer backward, turning just in time to catch Katsia sliding up to the edge of the tub while massaging one of the Lost Boy’s heads.
Her legs part as she swoops up a glass of champagne. She must have popped one open sometime between my focusing on the piece of shit in front of me and fighting fatigue.
Blood streaks through my hair after running my hand through it for the hundredth time tonight. Fuck I’m tired. The throbbing of my muscles is one thing, but the burn of my eyes is another. I can barely keep them open, and the more I sit here with nothing to do, the more I replay the party from last night. She fucked me in more ways than one, and now I don’t know what the fuck that’s going to mean going forward. I’d always known she was too important to start anything with. Shit, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something between us before either of us even knew the other existed. Which was exactly when we were in our mothers’ wombs.
Or maybe it’s just an obsession.
Katsia’s sipping from her flute as the Lost Boy moves closer, until his face is between her legs. “I need it, War. I hate that I need it, but I need—" Her breath catches when he takes her, and the ache in my muscles eases as my head rests against the wall.
Unshed tears glisten over her eyes but she keeps them on mine. It’d usually be me there. She and I had an interchangeable situation. We both gave as much as we got—and we knew what the other needed.
She’d yield, allowing me to do as I please.
And I’d fuck the nightmares out of her.
I know what she’s doing now. The way her chest rises and falls and her eyes remain on mine.
She wants it to be me. It never will be again.
The Lost Boy’s tongue slips over the opening of her pussy. “War… keep hurting him. Please.”
I know what she needs, and I’m well experienced to be the person to give her the release she craves, but I can’t be the one doing it anymore. It’s not even about Halen, or whatever bullshit we’ve unconsciously started, but the thought of touching, or so much as putting my dick inside anyone’s tight gap that isn’t hers, just seems—pointless.
Boring.
Games and torment aside, I only have interest in her. I don’t need to tell her that. She knows. She’s seen how I am with her and how I am with others.
Except last night happened and she probably thinks I put her in the same category. Which are thoughts that I would have fucked out of her, right after reminding her that not a single fucking girl walking this earth has ever been publicly claimed by me in the way she was last night. But I didn’t need to claim her more than she thought she needed to claim me, because there’s never been a moment in her life where she wasn’t mine. And fuck. There’s never been a time in my life where I wasn’t hers.