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I must be a glutton for punishment because why else would I subject myself to this shit. I should turn and leave. Maybe go sleep in a holding cell at the station? I’ll lock myself in so I don’t do something I’ll regret.

One last look, I tell myself, then I’ll go.

That’s all it takes to witness how devious my little siren actually is.

Mallory’s fingers move up and down over the back of this man’s neck, slowly, methodically, as he laps at her cleavage like a drooling fool. She moans way too fucking loud, and it grabs all of my attention. Her fake as fuck panting breaths and mewling whines cover the metallic sound of the switchblade popping out of the hilt in her hand. My cock fires to life just as quickly as I watch her slam the blade into the back of his neck. Right where she was rubbing her fucking fingers.

The man staggers back, gasping like a fish searching for air out of water. He drops at Mallory’s feet like a sack of potatoes with a sickening thud. Slowly, she crouches down, rolling him onto his back. “Sorry, Dylan, the knife has to stay in for now so you don’t bleed out,” she coos.

How is he still alive?

Silently, I move closer. Watching the man’s eyes flutter, darting around in panic.

“How’s it feel to be trapped? Helpless? At the mercy of someone with nothing but bad intentions?” she softly asks.

He gurgles in response, unable to form words.

“Shhh… I took away your voice, severed the nerve that controls your breathing, but not your ability to feel pain. You’re just a warm piece of meat ready to be carved up. Maybe you should’ve kept your hands to yourself.”

Fuck, she’s brilliant and twisted. I palm my rigid cock over my jeans, trying to relieve some of the pressure so I don’t cum in my fucking jeans like an idiot.

Mal pulls a bright yellow utility knife from her pants pocket, sliding the blade up and locking it into place. She removes my sweater, tossing it to the side, leaving her in a skimpy black tank top that barely contains her tits. Quickly, she slices through the man’s cotton shirt, flipping the sides open and exposing his chest.

This is it.

Anticipation slithers around me as I wait with bated breath for her to let her deepest darkness unfurl unknowingly before me. I do feel like I’m imposing on some intimate moment though…like this is a part of my woman I shouldn’t witness without her consent. But as she moves with a fluid grace, slicing into the man’s skin, those morals evaporate almost instantaneously.

All I want to do is bend her over and dominate the most lethal woman in the country. Having her submit to no one but me is something I need more than my next breath. She can hold onto his ribcage for support as I fuck her with a brutality unlike anything she’s witnessed from me thus far.

A choked sound of pain ruptures from the man’s throat, pulling me from the fantasy noosed around me. He sputters a breath around the blood in his mouth, splattering Mallory in a beautiful speckling of red acrossher mask and chest. Fuck, I want to smear that warm wetness over her naked tits as she rides me.

Unbuttoning my jeans, I slip my hand beneath the fabric, palming my cock. Maybe if I cum now, I can fuck her for an eternity next to the corpse of the first kill I get to witness, even if it’s unknown to my little siren. My thumb sweeps over the crown of my cock, rubbing over my piercing as the sight of her pulling apart her victim’s skin almost brings me to my knees.

Unfortunately, I’m too enamoured with the vision of her before me, sinking her fingers into the steaming chest cavity of her latest victim, to hear the approaching threat until it’s too late.

“What the fuck,” a twig of a man whispers to my right.

Mal freezes, realizing she’s been snuck up on.

My mind launches into action, righting my pants as I assess the situation.

Lucky for me, this man is too gobsmacked by the blood-covered siren in front of him to hear me sneaking up behind him.

Chapter Sixty-nine

Mallory

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“D-Dylan?” the Officer Johnson look-alike questions, voice wobbling.

“Dylan’s unable to come to the phone right now,” I joke, masking the immense amount of fear coursing through my veins. Turning to look at him, I say, “Can I take a message?”

Faster than I can register, a solid black form swamps the man’s back, hands wrapping around his jaw and shoulder. Strong arms wrench his head in one direction, and his body in another.

Snapping his fucking neck.

A smile pulls at my lips as the man drops to a lifeless heap on the forest floor. Behind him, Ghost stands tall and imposing, chest heaving, pants straining.