Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“I was lying there at the bottom of the stairs, dizzy, with broken legs, and I couldn’t go back and help anyone else. I only heard them screaming, until… they stopped, and the fucking bastards were just yelling at each other. All I could do was crawl away, hoping to hide. I heard them decide that they’d burn the house down to get rid of evidence. One of them asked about me, another said I’d just die in the fire if I wasn’t dead yet. But as they doused the house in gasoline and set it aflame, I managed to crawl out through the basement window. I barely remember anything after that, until I woke up in the hospital.”
My body cooks with fury. Every tendon, every muscle itches with the need to mete out violence, and as I swallow down the roar pushing at my throat, I focus on the dim gaze of my future partner. I know his pain, but my revenge was swift and brutal. He’s been living with this burden, with this injustice, and the fear of those bastards targeting him eventually, for way too long. He deserves not only a fresh start but the bloodiest revenge imaginable. And I will be the one to give that to him.
“I’m so damn sorry. Nobody deserves such horror. I give you my word that I will dispatch them all for you. With or without your participation. That’s your call.”
He reaches out to stroke my cheek with his gentle fingers. “I want to be there. I want them to know who brings them death.” His eyes contain so much cold rage it gives me a thrill. I found him beautiful when I secretly watched him work at the hunting goods store, but he’s magnificent now, with raw emotion shining through like a beacon calling to me.
I want to tell him that, but it’s not the right moment, not just after he’s told me about the most traumatic event of his life. So instead, I pull his hand to my lips and kiss it, locking my eyes with his.
“We’ll do it however you want. And… do you have any wishes for Ted’s head?” I ask, nodding toward the fridge.
He stalls, glancing in that direction. “Can I… hurt it? I mean, I know he’s dead, but can I… stab it in the eye? I want to see more. I wasn’t ready when you first presented him.” He licks his lips as if he’s hungry for violence as dessert.
I growl and put my hand on his chest without thinking. He blinks, unsure of my reaction, but isn’t pulling away.
Oh, we truly are meant to be. “Yes. He’s yours. You can stab him, we can turn his skin into a lampshade, or anything you want.”
He smiles at me and leans in for a kiss. “You’re really something else. Cooks well, kills people, amazing dick, what else could I want in a boyfriend?”
Delight warms my heart even though I know he’s trying to manipulate me a bit, play my own game, because he still doesn’t trust me. It’s understandable. In fact, I might have done the same, if our circumstances had been reversed, but I still like hearing him call me his.
It’s the perfect beginning. The kind of story we would have told our grandchildren in the future, if we could have children in the first place.
But I digress.
“We should do it outside. Less mess to clean up,” I say and finish my meal.
He’s the first to get up, with the eagerness of a kid on Christmas morning. His bare feet flop against the wood in quick steps, but then he puts on my coat without asking, and dons a pair of slippers with reindeer antlers that the owners left for their guests.
In this ridiculous get up, he heads to the fridge and pulls the trash bag with the head out of the meat drawer.
Rowan turns to me. “Can you grab the knife?”
He looks so damn hot holding that head and weighing it in his hands. I can already see he’ll make an excellent, fearless apprentice for me. Full of hope, I nod and hurry to the kitchen, eager to select an array of tools for him to enjoy. And if he stains my coat with old blood? Well, even if I end up having to burn it, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for my boy.
Chapter 15
Rowan
I’m still daydreaming about the moment I stabbed a kitchen knife into Ted Ashafi’s eye. The head made a strange squelchy sound, and something slimy came out of his ear. How would a fresh body feel in comparison?
Saint was with me every step of the way, wrapped in a blanket, and didn’t even demand his coat back. I’m starting to believe that even if his interest in me is misguided, since I’m definitely not the kind of person he takes me for, his weakness for me is real. He might be a dangerous man, but my presence is fulfilling his needs.