Page 64 of Dark Little Game

He relaxes.

He kisses me back, letting his tongue slide along mine.

Hedeepensthe kiss, opening for me in a way that feels so good I could come from it, all over again. He’s a fucking good kisser, it turns out, and I’m tired of caring that I’m kissing another guy, because I love this way too damn much.

Rayne still hates me. Probably always will.

But it’s clear that this feels exactly as good to him as it does to me.

I slowly pull away, sucking his lower lip a little as I leave.

“You just can’t get enough, can you?” he says, with a slight rasp in his voice.

“Go clean yourself up,” I tell him. “Or maybe you should go downstairs covered in my cum. Your choice, king.”

13

Rayne

Sometimes when you finally discover something that you’ve been looking for, it feels like finding treasure.

Other times, you wish you could retrace your steps.

Go back in time.

Reverse everything that got you to this point, because finding out the truth is even worse than being kept in the dark.

My fingers hover over the mouse and keyboard as I sit at the library computer, the glow of the screen illuminating my face.

Notorious Thornwick Crime Family Busted in Latest London Crackdown.

The headline is simple.

But what I’m looking at—the picture underneath—is making me panic more than any of the shit that’s happened to me in the last few weeks.

In the photo, three of the well-known members of London’s biggest crime family, including Renn Thornwick and Maxwell Thornwick, are standing at the edge of a bar.

But behind them is a particular head of white-blond hair.

A very particular one.

Hunter Knox, sitting at the bar behind them, looking off somewhere out of frame.

It’s clear that Hunter had no idea they were taking the picture, and something tells me that if hehadknown, he never would have allowed himself to be photographed.

All afternoon, I’ve been on a hunt in the lower PC lab in the library. Searching for dirt on Hunter didn’t seem like a good thing to do on my own laptop, so I came down to the dusty, dark lab two floors underground, a place where nobody seemed to go unless they desperately needed to print something out for a project.

I’d been alone in here for an hour before I came across this particular article.

Hunter wasn’t named anywhere in it, but one of the guys from the crime family, Renn, happened to be on Hunter’s friends list on an old social media account he started up when he first moved to England.

The afternoon had consisted of a lot of searches that turned upnothing.

But Renn Thornwick left one comment on Hunter’s profile, two years ago, that happened to catch my eye.

The comment only said one word.

“Tonight.”