Page 8 of Kings & Queen

It had the desired effect. His eyes grew wide as the position gave him a full view of my vagina. He mumbled something in Russian that I couldn’t quite make out, and I sat with my eyes down. My hair fell over one eye, and I trained my sight on his feet as he drew closer.

“Suck my dick, bitch.” He thrust it in my face, and I fought everything in me to not throw up again. I focused my attention on breathing.

You can do this, Kinsley. Do you want to live? If so, then don’t think, move. Survive any way you can.

I kneeled up so my mouth was level with his dick and took the tip of him into my mouth. He grabbed my head and shoved himself farther in, and I gagged from disgust. His eyes closed as I made a pass over him, and I reached for my blade. The one I had grabbed was slim, and the actual blade hid inside the key-shaped handle. When it was folded, it looked like an ordinary key, probably the main reason he didn’t take it.

I knew from my training with Owen where the femoral artery and corresponding attached ones were. Knowing I would need to hit it at the perfect angle and how deep I would need to go, I focused all of my senses on this moment. My goal was his death. The blade fit perfectly in my hand, and a surge of power ran through me. Pain needled at my scalp as he gripped my hair tighter with each brutal thrust into my mouth.

With him completely distracted, I made my move, releasing the lock with a quiet pop that I felt more than heard. The small blade was cold yet familiar. Ivan ensured I knew how to use a variety of styles. There was no time to think the moves through—it was pure instinct and sheer determination. Returning to the Mask’s form of hell wasn’t happening. I angled the blade low, right near the groin, where the artery ran beneath the skin, and plunged it in.

It was clumsy and a little shallow, but he grunted, jerking back with a snarl, more annoyed than anything. The second jab went deeper, and his eyes flared wide. He looked down, no doubt confused. The scent of copper was strong, and slick red spread down his leg. Something about that was so satisfying—it fueled me. Lightning fast, I tugged it out and then repeated the move several more times. Just the way Owen taught me so long ago.

On the last pass, I twisted right where it counted. He screamed, the sound ripping past his lips and echoing off the bathroom walls. He stumbled, legs collapsing under him, one hand scrabbling at the counter, the other pressing uselessly against the flood. His blood was everywhere. On the tile. On my hands. It covered me and was still warm.

But he was on borrowed time. Three minutes at most. And I became feral. As he writhed on the floor, I brought the knife down a few more times in a frenzy. My grip slipped on the slick handle, and the blade sliced through my palm, but I hardly felt the sting.

“You bastard, I will never go back,” I screamed.

The disgusting taste of him lingered on my tongue, and I spat to rid myself of it. It landed with a satisfying sound on his stomach. He lay there in shock, his blood gushing out of him as he lost consciousness.

For good measure, I embedded the small blade in his ugly dick. A guttural warrior cry ripped from my throat—something wild and unrecognizable, as if it had been buried in my bones all along, waiting for this moment to rise.

If someone else were with us, the scream would bring them, but I didn’t care at that point. I meant what I said: I would kill myself before I went back.

Naked and covered in his blood, I sobbed and then reached for my clothes. I yanked them on, not caring that they were soaked and stained red. In my haste, I slipped on the mess and landed hard on both my knees. I ran out of the bathroom, looking for my shoes, but couldn’t find them. Adrenaline fueled me as my heart pumped so hard and fast, I feared I would have a heart attack.

Dashing over to the door, I brushed my messy hair out of my eyes to see better, then grabbed the handle, but my hand slipped off. I screamed in frustration and fear as I tried it again. The mixture of my blood and his made gripping it hard, but my second try worked. No one had come running in to save him, so I was confident we were probably alone.

Inhaling deeply, I summoned the courage to swing the door open, my heart pounding. As the fresh air hit my skin, an instinctive need to survive had me hitting the ground running in a sprint. Above me, the sky was painted in shades of darkness, the moon itself hidden. Brooding storm clouds devoured the sky, and I ran, searching for light.

Chapter 5

Kinsley

Slipping Away

Every inhale scalded mythroat, burning my lungs. Each exhale caught on the edges of the sobs I fought back. I couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in my ears—only the ragged pull of breath and the frantic slap of my feet on the ground.

I had no idea where I was, but it was rural, with an unpaved road leading…somewhere. To safety, maybe? It seemed like a logical choice to stay on the current path, where someone might see me and help, yet every instinct screamed to dive into the forest.

In a moment of intuition, I chose to stay on the road, my feet pounding against the unforgiving gravel. Each step I took sent shockwaves of agony up my legs, the rocks cutting into my bare feet. Fear surged through my veins as I took a second to glance behind me to ensure no one was giving chasing.

Dense trees enveloped the cottage I had escaped, making any movement hard to see. I couldn’t dwell on it. There was no way I was stopping. My very freedom depended on my ability to keep moving. Cool air whipped against my bare skin, goose bumps forming on my arms and legs. Somewhere behind me, the rustle of leaves—or the cracking of twigs?—sent a jolt of fear through me, pushing me to run harder.

My breath came in ragged gasps. In the distance, a cluster of cottages lined the road. But with my next step, my foot caught on something, and I stumbled forward, crashing into the ground. Pain shot through my body as I scraped my hands and knees against the rough surface.

The darkness seemed to swallow me whole as I lay there disoriented and vulnerable. Crying out, I forced my trembling limbs upright. The stinging pain in my scrapped skin only reminded me I was alive.

As I ran, the shadows danced and the wind moved through the trees like whispers all around, taunting me almost. My mind was playing tricks on me, but I couldn’t give in to the fear.

My muscles ached with exhaustion, and I nearly fell again. The cottages were farther than I originally thought. Tears streamed down my face as I paused to catch my breath. Angrily, I wiped them away and tried to refocus. The fear of being caught again faded away as I realized I wasn’t in immediate danger anymore. No one was following me.

I took a tentative step and collapsed onto the road. I pulled my feet up and cried out. The gravel had bitten into the bottoms, and they were a bloody mess.

Ripping small pieces from the bottom of Ivan’s shirt, I covered the cuts as best as I could. I tried once more to stand and convince myself it was better. Each step I took screamed that I was a liar, but I pressed on, walking slower. Until another misstep had me hurtling down a muddy embankment I’d missed seeing in the dark.

I tumbled through the unknown, arms flailing as I fought to right myself. The impact as I landed sent a jolt of pain through my head when I hit something hard and unforgiving. Mud now clung to my body and clothes, along with the dried blood, mingling with the sweat and tears that streamed down my face. I lay there, stunned. The world spun around me, and despair settled in.