Page 36 of Brutal Prince

“You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” I hissed at the unwanted visitor.

“I know, but this is killing me,” Prim grizzled and I laughed when I realized I’d stated that aloud. The present and the past merged into one.

Tightening my grip on the wine bottle, I held it above her head. Just as the awful footage of Cattus ended, I slammed the bottle across Prim’s pretty skull.

Manically, I kept beating her while I drilled into her, and enjoyed that immensely.

I ejaculated inside her dead body and stepped back to examine the piece of abstract art.

Feeling completely overwhelmed by the astonishing beauty I’d created, my legs gave way and I collapsed onto the floor. Half laughing half crying.

It was a magnificent sight. A glorious wonderland of claret gracing bare olive skin. I took a mental picture to remember this moment forever.

It wasn’t enough.

In my maddened state, I stopped listening to logic and clambered to my feet to seize my phone. Slipping on her blood on the wooden floor, I used her body to stop me from falling and left a bloody handprint. Even better.

Unwisely I took several pictures at different angles, telling myself that I’d delete them after a few days of reliving the memory. I knew it was stupid, but I failed to stop myself.

Once I came down from the high, I began the arduous job of cleaning and disposing of the body.

EIGHTEEN

Gretta

“I’m sorry about room twenty three,” Ollie said a moment after I sat down at the table. He’d chosen a nice restaurant, one with white table cloths with perfectly ironed creases and menus not laminated in plastic.

“That’s okay,” I said. “It was a good reminder that nothing is what it seems. That we’re all working undercover.” My eyes gravitated to my phone, expecting a message from Dom.

“Yeah, but I kinda want to get to know you as more than friends and uncover agents.” He half laughed when he stated ‘undercover agents’ because that’s exactly what we’re not. We’re just students trying to end all the violence by going into the deep end.

“Okay,” I answered, trying to raise enthusiasm. For this date. For my life.

“So, um,” he started, “I’m not sure how to put this…Vanderbilt…the client from room 23 wants us back.”

“Oh?” This was news to me.

“You and me. Together.”

“In bed?”

“Yeah,” he dropped his dark eyes down shyly and I remembered why I liked him. He’s not like the other jocks in the Vault, he’s sweet and gentle. A big quietly spoken guy who volunteered to protect me. “I figured maybe we could…” the waiter came over to take your orders.

I ordered fish of the day, crumbed, with a garden salad. They worded it like they’ve got a veggie garden out the back and an ocean across the road. I double-checked that the fish was actually caught from the ocean and not from Lake Superior. The thought of eating something that feasted on human flesh, specifically Adam Sweeney flesh, turned my appetite. Ollie order grilled steak and chunky fries.

“You were saying?” I encouraged.

“Yeah, so, this client sounds influential and probably mega wealthy-”

“Like your family is?”

“We’re not that weal- anyway. Maybe we could bamboozle him to find out his identity.”

“Wouldn’t that blow our cover?”

“What if we did in an accidental sort of way?”

“Like accidently bumping into him while you’re railing me and rip off his mask?” I was joking, but the dirty little smirk told me everything. Even sweet guys like him constantly think of sex and when is the next time he’s going to get some.

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