Page 9

C ove stands in front of me.

It takes all the willpower not to laugh at the mask he has on. The butterflies and hearts are drawn with a neon marker in a raging shade of red. Yet, even with that color, his eyes manage to stand out. That hazel shade invites me, pulls me in, and makes it impossible to look away.

It’s only when he moves his hand and brushes a bit of blood off my chin that I’m snapped out of my trance. My eyes land on the dead body beside me, and my body visibly recoils in disgust. Yuck. I really did a number on him, didn’t I?

I wipe the dagger on the grass, coating it with blood, then put it back in my boot and rise to my feet. It’s pretty obvious why Cove calls me little bunny, because in order to properly look at him at this close proximity, I have to lift my head up. How I haven’t strained it yet is beyond me.

“I can explain,’’ I laugh nervously. I don’t see his face, but I can see his eyes flash with anger and something else I can’t quite explain. It’s deep, dangerous, and enough to make my entire body chill. I swallow thickly, still looking in his eyes, trying to find the best way to leave this situation without being scolded.

“You can explain,’’ he says, voice low and slow. “Then, go ahead. Explain what the fuck was going through your head when you decided to find the location and sneak in. Better yet, explain why the fuck you are acting as a prey, and why the fuck did you mutilate this one beyond recognition? I’m waiting. Fucking explain yourself, bunny.’’

My mouth is open agape, and I blink a couple of times. For a while, I think that I’ve completely lost it and that my mind is playing tricks on me. But the longer I stand in front of him, the longer he waits for an answer from me; I realize that this is a reality.

“Wow,’’ I breathe out. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak that much at once.’’

Cove’s eyes narrow at me, and I immediately take a small step back. He may be a very quiet man; however, his temper? Out of this world. It doesn’t take a lot to set him off, and once he’s been set off, there’s nothing that can calm him down. A nervous laugh slips from me, and I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.

This is what I get for not thinking before speaking. One of these days, it’ll be the end of me.

“I’m sorry!” I apologize quickly, raising my hands up in surrender. I keep walking backward, and he keeps walking toward me until my back hits the tree behind me. The same tree where Martin held me by the throat less than an hour ago. But this is different.

Cove presses his body against mine, and even over the thick hoodie, I can feel the hardness of his chest and stomach. He’s trying to intimidate me by giving me no way out, but it’s having the opposite effect on me. It’s getting me horny, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to resist the urge to pounce on him.

“You should be careful with your words, little bunny,’’ he murmurs, slowly lifting his mask. The mask sits on the top of his head, one of his hands right next to my cheek while the other one rests on my hip. He’s caging me in, trying to do some mental dominance.

It’s working, alright.

I’d let this man dominate and violate me in the worst ways possible. Then I’d likely beg for more.

Cove’s staring into my eyes, and my breath gets caught in my throat. He leans closer, his face a mere inch away from mine, and I’m dying from anticipation of what he’ll do. He’s so close, and that’s not good for my heart. Everything that I’m trying to suppress is slowly resurfacing, and once it’s fully out there, there’s not a chance I’ll be able to suppress it again.

He continues speaking, his hot breath tickling my ear. “I’m not sure how much more of your provocations I can take without retaliating.’’

The words are nothing but a perilous promise. The depth and the hidden warning are enough to wreak havoc in my wretched soul, and somehow, it seems to be putting it back together — well, what’s left of it. My bottom lip quivers, and I’m not sure if it’s slight fear or arousal, or both.

“Then why don’t you retaliate?” My question is a mere whisper, coming out as a desperate plea.

His hand slips under my hoodie, his hand firmly on my waist. The contrast of his warm hand against my cold skin causes something to twitch in the pit of my stomach. He brushes his thumb against the sensitive flesh, clearly enjoying the effect he has on me. He rubs circles, eliciting a wave of goosebumps to tug all over my skin.

The touch itself is subtle, gentle, and careful. The intensity with which he’s looking at me is anything but. His eyes have always been pretty, but now? They’re ethereal. I can see myself in those gorgeous hazel eyes; I can drown myself in them. It’s a magnetic pull, and I’m not strong enough to resist.

My eyes land on his lips.

They part ever so slightly. It’s captivating, inviting. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m slowly inching closer. My entire mind is screaming to just close the distance between us, to kiss him, and to forget about everything else.

His warm breath tickles my nose, and as I flicker my eyes to meet his, I’m mesmerized. It’s not just in my head. Cove’s eyes are filled with desire, lust, and everything in between. His body has gone rigid, and he’s trying to fight the temptation.

I’m a temptation he will never be able to resist.

Just when I’m finally going to give in to my darkest, most twisted desires and do what I’ve been wanting to do for years, a snapping of a nearby branch makes me freeze. Cove, on the other hand, immediately puts the mask back on his face and withdraws his gun, his back turned to me.

I’m beyond pissed that the moment was broken. I’m even more pissed that I completely forgot where we are. With a deep breath, while trying to shake off the nasty and sinful thoughts that are running through my head, I whip out a gun.

Judging by the footsteps, it’s easily five or six people. A knife won’t do, because at the moment, I’m assuming they’re all holding guns or something that has bullets. I peek my head over Cove’s shoulder, standing on my toes and still barely managing to look past him, but that’s when I spot it.

A lazy smirk tugs on the corner of my lips.

Two people are hiding in the bushes, but the bushes aren’t as thick, so I can see the white of their shirts. The other three are approaching from the left and right and in front of Cove. I slowly make sure my gun is ready to go, straightening my back.

The feeling of when I killed Martin returned, intensified by a million. So many prey, so many options, and so many ways to hunt them down. Cove’s shoulders tense, as if he can read my mind. He doesn’t have the luxury of turning to look at me, because a moment of taking his eyes off the prey means death.

He takes a step back, pressing against me, to which I scoff.

“You’re not keeping me caged here, Cove,’’ I say, trying to wiggle my way out of it.

“There are five of them,’’ he pauses momentarily. “And I suspect more are coming. Stay put.’’

“Staying put is like waving a big flag that says, ‘Hey, I’m here! Shoot me!’’’ I scoff, “Not happening. Move.’’

Reluctantly, he takes a step forward, and I can finally breathe properly again. I swallow, pushing a fallen strand of my hair behind my ear, crack my back, and take a step next to him. Now it’s time for me to focus, and I try my best to shut out the thoughts of Cove.

Or how it would feel to be squished between his thick thighs.

“Can I take the ones hiding in the bush?” I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper. My eyes don’t move from the said bush, carefully watching them for any sudden movement. It’s pitch dark, though I can differentiate between the two. It’s a man and a woman. Perfect.

“Yes,’’ Cove whispers back. “Don’t you dare die — or worse, get hurt. Arlo will hang me by the balls.’’

A loud laugh slips from me, and I can see the prey flinching. Without responding, I make a run toward the bush. Cove immediately covers for me, aiming for his prey. Just like in a boxing ring, he likes to toy with them. He’ll likely shoot them just enough to wound them and disarm them. Then the real fun begins.

I speed up, my feet feeling lighter than ever. The heavy boots no longer present a problem. Maybe they’re too numb for me to feel the ache, or maybe the adrenaline pumping in my veins is too high to notice anything else.

I’m halfway through running when the prey takes off. The woman’s number is eight; the man’s number is four. They dart into two different directions, and I sigh. Mentally, I take a note of the man’s number and start chasing after the woman.

In the distance, I hear guns go off, Blair’s screams of pure bliss, and Arlo’s manic laughter. They’re definitely having a good time, and my heart flutters at the thought. This is what Kortlek is all about. Releasing our inner demons until they’re satisfied. Until our hands are so coated with blood that we can no longer see the flesh beneath.

Until every single one of these bastards has met the death they deserve.

It’s never a quick death; no, that’s too easy. The torture, the begging, and the screams of pure agony — that’s why we do this. Until the prey are begging and wailing — just like their victims did. And we’ll never grant them the mercy of an easy way out.

In some ways, many people would group us together, calling us monsters.

I prefer the term villains. We’ll become the villains of the monsters' nightmares, haunting them into the afterlife. The last thing they see will be our faces, painted in their pathetic blood. And their last thoughts will be that no one is coming to save them.

Completely at our mercy.

The woman hides behind a tree. My feet come to a halt, and then I sneak up behind the tree. I peek around, and she’s crouching down, holding a knife in one hand, while having the other hand pressed firmly against her mouth.

From the darkness, I can see her eyes shining with tears. It warms my heart. This is so fucking adorable, it almost makes me want to go easy on her. Almost, of course. That won’t happen just because she sheds a tear or two.

She’s petrified. She doesn’t notice me looking at her, looming over her figure. She hiccups twice, then squeezes her eyes shut. I notice the way her throat moves up and down when she swallows thickly, and a smile forms on my face.

In a world filled with these kinds of people, I don’t mind being portrayed as the bad one. I never claimed to be a saint, and if Heaven exists, its doors have closed for me a long time ago. For now, I’ll enjoy the path that leads me to Hell.

I move forward, my boots creaking under my feet, a branch snapping.

Her eyes fly open, looking at me with a terrified expression. A wicked smirk tugs on the corner of my lips as I step forward.

“Found you, mousie.’’