Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
She crumbles, falling forward onto the long, thin blade, plunging it so deep into her that its sharp tip lurches out of her back, piercing right through her spinal cord, and all I can hope is that she doesn’t suffer long.
No other words come from her, and I can only guess what she was trying to say. Tell my family that I love them. Tell my husband, wife, boyfriend, or girlfriend that I’m sorry. Tell my brother that I always thought he was a self-righteous asshole. It’s always the same. In those final moments before death, people find clarity and realize what truly matters in the world.
Letting out a sigh, I make a mental note of the people I need to visit following the games, assuming I actually make it out of here alive. After double-checking that Raven is actually gone, I pull her body to the edge of the bridge pillars and hide her in the bushes. Someone will find her eventually.
With storms due to roll in this afternoon, I don’t bother washing Raven’s blood off the sidewalk. Instead, I look through her pockets until my fingers curl around her identification.
“Thank you,” I tell her, adding it to my little collection while confidence rumbles through my chest, knowing damn well that I’m in the lead. No one else in these games has even come close.
I believe Reaper has three—Graves, Crimson Rain, and Slasher. Texan Reaper has one—Sharkbait. And this one right here brings my grand total to eight—Stone, Grim, Blade, Boston Maneater, 343, Midnight Killer, Eagle, and now Raven.
There’s no denying it, I’m on fire. Though to be fair, I still consider 343 to belong to Reaper, seeing as though he was the one to make the kill, and at some point, he’s going to return for that. But the math is still on my side, and even if Reaper were to take my life and claim possession of all these kills, I think it’s only fair that I be awarded some kind of participation trophy. After all, I’ve put a lot of effort into these games. Nobody has made quite as many kills as I have.
Content that I’ve done everything that needs to be done here, I get on my merry way, sheathing the blades back into position as I put one foot in front of the other. Then after clearing the bridge, I pull out my phone and bring up Mila’s number.
“Where was I?” I ask as she accepts the call.
“You were just about to tell me how thick his cock was.”
Well, shit. Yes, I was.
17
REAPER
My fist pulses manically, working up and down my cock as I clench my jaw, desperate for a release. This shit is getting ridiculous. Every time I watch Siren make a kill, it’s as though I lose control of my fucking dick and nothing can bring me relief except for actually sinking into her sweet little cunt.
It’s barely been twenty-four hours since I had her at the lake, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about. I’m supposed to have more control than this. I’m supposed to be better, but one taste fucking destroyed me. If I had walked into her kitchen and fucked her right there without a damn word, I would have been fine, but she just had to go and cuff me to that damn fridge and make a game out of it. And fuck, it was the best game I’ve ever played.
Siren is refreshing.
I’ve never been able to sit down with someone and discuss my work, never been able to be shamelessly myself without being judged, ridiculed, or called a fucking monster, and I suspect she’s in the same boat. The lives we live aren’t compatible with the picket-fence lifestyle, only with Siren . . . it might be.
I wouldn’t have to hide with her, wouldn’t have to pretend to be something I’m not, and . . . fuck. Why am I even thinking about this? Come the end of the month, I’m going to have no choice but to end her life, and while I’ll do what I can to make it as quick and pain free as possible, it’ll fucking gut me, but I won’t have to suffer for long because the moment I end her life, I’ll drop to my knees in front of Shadow and have her take mine.
It’s a real fucking Romeo and Juliet tragedy.
Just my fucking luck. The second I find a woman that I might actually be compatible with, and I have to fucking kill her. But then, what if I don’t? What if there was a way for the three of us to escape this unscathed? Shadow could claim the win, and Siren and I could . . . no. I can’t even go there. We’ll be hunted for the rest of our lives, and that’s not a life worth living. Besides, Siren and I prefer to hunt. A life on the run simply wouldn’t do.