Page 89 of Cruel Pleasures
“But Tristan came at me with a pocket knife. So I did what I had to do. I wrestled it away from him and turned it back on him. I drove that knife deep into him. I’ll never forget the surprise in his eyes. The shocked silence that fell over the group as they watched on. Something came over me. I knew I had to finish the job. I shoved him and he tripped right off the cliff.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
“It was at least a fifty foot drop. His body’s probably still out there somewhere deep in those woods. The school passed off his death as a missing person’s case.” He tosses the next limb he’s hacked off—Timothee’s other arm—into the deep basin of the stainless steel sink and then moves onto his feet. “We never spoke of it again. Until Kaden pulled me aside in secret and showed me the correct way to go about eliminating someone.”
Archer goes into detail about how he’d been taught how to make incisions and what tools were ideal to use.
“He was smarter than us all,” he says. “He planned on becoming a doctor. He already knew all the ins and outs of the human body. Even at that age. But I was a quick learner too.”
I ease back, still sick beyond words as Archer finishes on the limbs. He cuts Timothee open right down the center of his chest. The skin flaps aside and I have to turn away from the unobstructed view of his insides.
The layer of fat looks like a lime gelatin of some sort and his intestines, which Archer digs out of him, resemble linked sausages.
The mess gets everywhere. Hot, sticky blood gets on me even as I step away.
“I can’t do this,” I mumble. I yank off the apron and rush toward the entryway that leads back up the secret passage.
“Imani—”
“This is too much! Stay away from me!”
Archer’s reflexes outpace my own. As I hurry for the entryway, his long stride cuts me off. His hand clenches shut on my arm to rope me toward him. I don’t accept my fate so easily, slapping at whatever part of him I can.
But trying to fight Archer Hurst is like battling the devil himself.
There’s no slap, no shove I can give that’ll damage him. No resistance that’ll fend him off.
That doesn’t mean I still don’t try.
Archer pushes me up against the operating table. My hands are slammed down onto the cool metal surface, his covering mine. He’s so close, I can feel his body heat. I can feel every ragged breath that exits his lungs.
I can damn sure feel his temper encircling us. An invisible but palpable presence.
“Stop fucking being ungrateful,” he growls into my ear. “I did this for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to kill for me!”
“But it turns you on just the same, doesn’t it, minx? It makes you so fucking wet knowing what I’ve done just for you.”
I yelp as he shoves his hand between my thighs and finds my clit through my panties. I buck against him to only be restrained against the table. I’m practically half bent over it, the edges poking into my stomach. His fingers work furiously through the cotton fabric of my panties. He rubs away as moisture gathers and wets the fabric.
“Mmmm, that’s what I like to feel,” he taunts, nipping at my ear. “Soaked panties. I bet that cunt is nice and slick. Fucking gushing juices.”
“Archer!” I yell desperately.
I’m caught between panic, outrage, and arousal. I’m twisting in his clenched hold and clawing nails against the metal operating table.
Blood seeps across the surface from the dismemberment that just took place. Archer hadn’t even had a chance to clean up yet.
I release a strangled mewl that sounds ferocious and animalistic as I become desperate.
“Yes, minx,” he says, rubbing my clit. “You’re so close, aren’t you? Should I let you come?”
Heart racing and pussy tingling, I scrabble for the first thing within reach—a small utility knife that I seize.
I manage to spin around in his hold and swipe at him.
It’s a warning more than anything.
