Page 11 of Blood (A Killer’s Love #4)
CHAPTER TEN
Kaleb
I leave the home invaders where they lay, blood seeping into my carpet and floors. That’s going to be a bitch to get out. I need to call the sheriff and report the break-in, but first, I have a couple of other things to take care of.
A slap sounds when I slam my blood-covered hand on the wall, dragging it downward leaving a desperate handprint behind.
At the top of the stairs, I kick over the side table holding a vase of flowers. It tumbles to the floor with a loud bang. Ceramic and water spill out.
I was defending the girls, Sheriff. I had no choice.
Chuckling, I add another handprint, this time reaching around to grab the edge of the wall at the top of the stairs, making it look as if I was rushing to get up here first.
That’ll do.
The first-floor landing is dark and quiet. I should probably get the girls together and ready for the police, but there’s one more thing to do.
At my bedroom door, I glance down. The front of my pants is tented, my cock harder than it’s ever been. I’m not waiting for the town’s subpar police department to do interviews before I take myself in hand.
My balls are fucking killing me.
Reaching up for the key, I hiss as the muscles on my back stretch. Who knew being body-slammed into the kitchen cabinet would hurt like a motherfucker.
I love it. Excitement and adrenaline continue to pump through my body. I push the door open, and anger joins them.
“Why the fuck are you not in the bathroom?” I hiss.
Samantha sits exactly where I left her, perched in the middle of my bed. A vision I would normally kill for. The thought only adds fuel to my fire. A vision I can’t fucking have.
Why not?
“Get out.”
My words seem to pull her out of her own thoughts.
“Oh my God. Whose blood is that?” She scurries to kneel, crawling across the bed to get closer to me, but I walk around the bottom of the frame, out of reach.
“Mostly theirs,” I say dryly, nodding toward the door. Sam drops down to sit, and my eyes follow, taking in all of her exposed skin. Tilting my head back, I pray for more self-control.
“For once in your fucking life, will you please do as you’re told? Go to your room.” Tearing my gaze away, I go to the en suite.
“Kaleb,” she calls tearily.
She’s worried, and I know that, but what very little control I usually have on myself is gone. I need her out of reach.
The sound of my name leaving her mouth, the fear and her pain cut through my resistance even more. I’m hanging by a fucking thread. I reach up and grip the doorframe. The pain in my back arouses me more.
She needs to leave before I snap.
“I’m going to take a piss. If you’re still here when I come out, I’m going to fuck you like a whore. Brutal and unforgiving. Your Kaleb isn’t coming out of this bathroom, Samantha.” Glancing over my shoulder, I meet her shocked blue gaze. “Don’t be here.”