Page 83 of Cold-Blooded Creatures
You never,nevergave someone leverage over you. What brought you comfort, joy, what you valued, craved, what you sought, dreamed of, what kept you alive and moving forward. A lesson I’d learned the hard way.
Gedeon started scratching my scalp, and I buried my face in his chest to contain whatever sounds were about to drift from my lips. His fingers were pure heaven. Or hell. I’d once read that sinful souls fell to the latter one. But they felt so good; I’d follow them to the ends of the world if they vowed to never cease their caresses.
“Is that why she had to stop six times before I could come at Vice?” Zion asked.
Gedeon smirked, and Zion groaned in exasperation. I couldn’t lie to myself; seeing him go through it was hilarious, and a giggle escaped me.
They zeroed in on me.
I shook myself off, remembering the reason I’d come to Gedeon’s study earlier. “As I said before, I have conditions.” Walking to the other side of the table, I kicked the bleeding figure on the ground. The echoes of his cry bolstered my resolve. “I won’t run. I won’t move to another compound. But I have four conditions.” I held up my fist and uncurled my forefinger. “One, you free my friend from the city. Doesn’t matter who, I say the name and you get them out. Two, I want the tattoo. You wantme to stay, you give me your trust. Three, I want to know all the plans. I won’t sit on the sidelines. Four, the Head of Ilasall is mine. I want the final blow.”
“Are you sure you want the tattoo?” Gedeon asked. “Once it’s on you, there is no coming back from it. You will be ours. If you run, we will find you wherever you end up and drag you back.”
“My body hasn’t belonged to me for years. It’s simply another commodity to get what I want. So, yes, fine, you can take it, I don’t care. Do whatever you want to it.” I drove my foot into the ribs of that loathsome guard and savored his whine. His journey was about to end. “It’s the only thing you can claim from me.” I’d survived Ilasall long enough to know that my mind was mine, and no one could take it unless I chose to give it to them. And the almost two weeks I’d spent at their compound had not yet convinced me into offering up my mind to them.
Gedeon’s eyebrows drew together, but he nodded jerkily, as if he was uncertain. “I will take your terms, then.”
Zion nudged my gift with his boot. “Would you like to kill him, or should I?”
The abomination’s eyes widened, and his chest convulsed. He seemed to be choking on his vomit. I’d rather he choked on his useless dick but, unfortunately, it was already gone.
I crouched down and pulled the scarf gagging him. “Any last words?”
“You have no idea what’s waiting for you. Choke on my spit, you bitch.” Bloody saliva flew out of his mouth.
I recoiled to avoid his bodily fluids from landing on me. Zion leaped to my side, and I raised a hand to stop him. “No. He’s mine,” I declared and stuffed the scarf back into the man’s mouth.
I called for the calmness the gods in the stars carried some nights, and invited the chill from the damp walls to spread inside me.
“My knife.” I extended my hand. Footsteps sounded behind me, and Gedeon placed the weapon in my open palm.
I paused. I’d never done this before.
Murder.
But it shouldn’t be too complicated.I stab, he bleeds, he dies.One, two, three. Easy.
Raising the knife over my head, I sunk it into the guard’s abdomen to the hilt. He jerked, and deep crimson trickled down from where my knife was embedded in his stomach. As I yanked it out, blood spurted out of the wound and mixed with Zion’s cum marring his half-flayed flesh.
A rush of power charged the air around me.
More. I needed more.
After piercing the other side of his core, I drew the knife out without waiting. Red was a deeper shade this time, and it swirled so enchantingly, so comforting, so inviting. I stabbed his chest, and then right where his heart was supposed to be, but I hit a bone, probably a rib, so I tried again, and again, and again until I succeeded. My muscles ached, they ached so badly flames blazed inside them, so I went back to his stomach, puncturing any unmarked patch of his flesh I could find.
Blood, so much blood, hot and sticky, coating me up to my elbows, pooling under my knees, but not enough, not enough, not enough,not enough?—
A clang rang out near me.
Searching for the source of the harsh sound, I spotted my knife on the cement floor a foot away from me. Those twelve inches separating my weapon and I seemed a million miles long. I hugged myself, rocking on my knees, unwilling to embark on a journey that great.
“He’s gone.” Gedeon rested a hand on my shoulder. “He’s dead.”
He couldn’t be. I had to tear that abomination apart until his face was unrecognizable, until he was erased from my memory, until not a single drop of blood could carry oxygen to his brain.
“You did it, little death. You killed him.”
Gedeon’s confirmation popped the bubble, and my laughter burst out, unrestrained, wild and free. He was dead. Dead, dead,dead. Such a wonderful word. Dead, so utterly dead. My stomach hurt and tears spilled down my cheeks, them hurting from the stretch as I laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
