Page 226 of Outlaws of Tulsa

Over and over and over.

There’s a ringing in my ears that deafens me to anything but that sound. I stab Corsetti until he’s unrecognizable. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but he hasn’t been breathing for a while.

Still, I could go all night.

When I go to carve his eyeballs out, a hand grips my shoulder that’s soaked with blood.

“That’s enough, Dragon,” Cove murmurs, his sweet voice cutting through the ringing in my ears. “Katana is going to take care of the body.”

I blink a few times to chase away the daze. Max’s skin is cool to the touch, which means I’ve been at this a while. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by exhaustion.

“Come on,” Cove grunts, tugging on my arm. “Shower at the clubhouse. Prez’s ol’ lady will shit bricks if you go into the big house dripping Max meat all over the place.”

Hadley would murder me.

Well, she’d try.

And then I’d tell her to back the fuck off.

Prez would step in and all hell would break loose.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Not looking to get my ass kicked tonight.”

Cove lets out a bark of a laugh. “Seriously? You actually think anyone would try to whip your psycho ass?”

I don’t register his words, just admire the way he says them. How his lips pout when he speaks but then curl into a smirk that makes me desperate to devour. My body thrums with the urge to strip him and fuck him and own him.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Cove says, shaking his head, “don’t. I’m not interested in whatever your crazy head is cooking up right now.”

My grin is wide and vicious.

“It’s not like I’ll give you a choice, Baby Prospect.” I swipe my palm over my face, trying to smear off some of the blood. “We both know I’ll get what I want.”

Something flashes in his blue eyes, but it’s not fear. It’s something else entirely. Interest. Intrigue. Lust. I see it and I’m starved for it.

Before I can latch onto it, he storms out of the slaughterhouse ahead of me. I stalk after him, scenting his tantalizing masculinity somehow through the metallic blood smell.

He barely makes it across the yard before I grab his arm, twisting him around to face me. His blue eyes widen fractionally when he sees my ravenous expression. A tiny mewl escapes him as I seize his jaw in my bloody grip. Succulent pink lips part, just aching to be tasted.

“I don’t understand it, but I need it,” I whisper over his lips. “You need it too.”

“Awfully sure of yourself.”

“I see the way you look at me.”

He scoffs. “You’re covered in blood and giving me the ‘fuck-me’ eyes that are frankly kind of terrifying. That’s how I look at you—”

His words die as my lips attack his. I eat them right out of his mouth, instead replacing them with my tongue and teeth and needy growls. He lets me own him with a hungry, claiming kiss.

“S-Shower,” he croaks out, “and then…”

He doesn’t have to say any more.

And then he’s mine.

All fucking mine.

Cove

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