Page 32

CHAPTER 32

REDLEY

Goddammit, he’s right.

“What does Bobby have to do with whatever you and I keep doing? If you saw that he kissed me, you saw that I turned him down.” Yeah, I’m changing the subject, but it’s a valid question all the same.

“What you and I keep doing is called flirting, maybe even courting.” He sifts through options, and I’m annoyed as much as I’m flattered. “And I know you turned him down. That's why he’s on his knees in front of me instead of you.”

I picture myself in that very position, and heat travels down my spine. Such a shame Bobby has to pay for this when that sounds so appealing.

“Leave Bobby out of this, and I’ll get on my knees for you willingly,” I say, not sure I’m offering for his sake or my own.

“That is very fucking tempting, actually, but I already told you no one gets to touch you and live.” His words soothe something deep inside, like an old lullaby hummed just right.

“Come on, Wolf, it was one damn kiss. He doesn’t deserve to die for that.”

Bobby starts to wail at the mention of his own murder, and I can’t say I blame him, but I do wish he would shut up.

“Was I imagining it when he offered to pay one damn bill for access to your pussy earlier?” he asks.

Rather than answer, a strangled sound leaves my throat. How dare he? “You’re still following me?”

“Why would I stop one of my favorite hobbies, Red? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“One of your favorite hobbies is watching me?” My outrage and flattery mix a little too well.

“And it’s a good thing too, or I wouldn’t have seen this pathetic excuse of a man kissing what belongs to me,” he grits through his teeth.

“What exactly do you believe belongs to you? Because I don’t belong to anyone,” I speak very slowly, making sure he gets it through his thick skull.

He turns his head, and the light is enough to see his smile. “Who do you think about all day, every day, Redley? Who have you spent the past four years trying to forget about, chasing, pursuing? Who did you try to kill already and fail?”

“You’re wrong,” I say, but I’m fighting a losing battle, and he knows it.

“If you don’t belong to me, you better pull that trigger right now because it’s the only way I’m going to let you go, but I better warn you. If there is hell, I’ll find you there too.”

I— can’t do it.

“You think I’m yours, and I should burn in hell for you? You have a lot of goddamn nerve,” I say.

“I think when you’re soulmates, your souls end up together, and there’s no way I’m going to heaven. I’m sorry, baby, I’ve killed too many decent people for that.”

My cheeks warm, and there’s this stupid, lonely part of me that’s truly flattered by what he’s saying, and then the other part that’s sick and terrified.

I’ve been alone too long, unloved for spans of time that have made me practically feral. I shouldn’t be susceptible to him, but hasn’t that been the problem since I was nearly sixteen? I let him stay, and I let him sleep in my bed. I still haven’t put my finger on the trigger, and I know if I don’t, he’ll keep forcing me into whatever he wants.

“You are not my soulmate,” I say, but even I’m not so sure of it right at the moment, with my virginity belonging to him and my stomach filling with butterflies. Have I thought of anything but him these past four years?

No.

“I’m not?” he asks, bending over and grabbing Bobby by the collar to lift him off the ground.

He stumbles but manages to get his feet beneath him. “Is this your soulmate, then? This disloyal motherfucker who put his grimy lips all over you with his wife waiting for him at home?” His voice drops so low it reminds me of the night in my room after Granny beat me.

His rage was similar then, palpable, and that was about someone touching me too. I can’t let myself be flattered by this. Bobby shakes and stares at me, his eyes begging for help.

“Wolf, just put him down. He’s got a wife, and we don’t need to make her a widow.”

“I would be making her a widow, not we,” he corrects.

“You know as well as I do that I’m partially responsible for everything you do since I don’t have the balls to kill you.”

“And why don’t you have the balls to kill me?” He smiles wickedly.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, Muffin, whatever you say,” he agrees, but I can tell from his tone I’m not going to like the results of my actions.

I don’t see what’s in his hand, but the wet schluck as the blade digs into Bobby’s side is unmistakable. He screams into the fabric, and I know once again I’m going to have someone at my door asking about the sounds people heard coming from my property, but this time, it definitely won’t be Bobby showing up to ask.

I scream too, but only for a second before I get control of myself. Wolf’s arm swings again and again, the wet cutting sound repeats as Bobby’s screams and gurgles grow fainter. He smiles as he kills him, wraps an arm around his body to better feel the violence he’s committing. I’m sick, fascinated, unable to turn away. What the hell happened to him to make killing normal, to make him enjoy it?

Is some sick part of me enjoying this too? At least enough not to look away.

He liked what he did to my granny. I’m sure of that now as I watch him, much more so than I was when he told me himself. He nauseates me, but it also makes me desperate to understand. To poke around and ask questions until I turn over the right rock and find the answer to what makes this man Wolf. There are still so many unanswered questions for me. Hell, this one truth, that he’s human, opened up an entire lifetime of misconceptions, and I’m still not sure how to fix that, but I want to know what makes him tick.

Is he killing Bobby right now because he likes the feeling of blood on his hands or because some part of him really cares for me? Is he actually angry that he touched me?

And why the hell am I so desperate for this insane, murderous bastard to have some real feeling and softness for me?

Bobby is dead, and Wolf seems to have tired of stabbing him.

Wolf stares at me as he drops Bobby’s body to the ground, and the knife goes too. I’m glad, at least, that he doesn’t seem to be planning to use that on me, but I don’t like the way he’s approaching me either.

He comes into the headlights of the truck, and the view of him is fully revealed. He’s gorgeous, massive, and covered in the lifeblood that just poured out of Bobby.

The stains are nearly black in the harsh light, and he looks more like a devil than he ever has. He stands in front of me and waits only half a second before slapping the shotgun off my shoulder with one bloodied hand and wrapping the other around my jaw. I just manage to hang onto the gun, though it’s not much of a deterrent when I can barely grip it.

He forcefully tips my chin up so I have to face him. His features are filled with such an intense excitement it turns me on, and next, my stomach turns. I don’t want him, but tell that to the faint tingling in my pussy that reminds me my body hasn’t forgotten all the delicious things he can make me feel.

“You’re mine, Redley. Now, how many people are going to have to die before you accept it?”