Page 48 of Sinners’ Appetite

“Seriously? You won’t teach me how to cut firewood?” I tease after Dean grabs the ax from my hand.

“Not at night, little Miss. I’ll teach you tomorrow, if you really want to learn.”

I stand back and fold my arms over my chest with a hint of attitude. “I do want to learn.”

“I’ll make it happen…” he winks.

I watch him closely as he starts to chop the small portions of wood into even smaller pieces, his silhouette glowing from the fire dancing off his forearms and biceps.

“I’m gonna head to bed a little early, love.” Sammi comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around the front of me.

“Really? We were gonna roast some marshmallows…” I try to convince her, using the sweetest of tones.

“I have a headache. I’m gonna go see if I can sleep it off.”

“I think there’s some ibuprofen in my nightstand.”

“That might help. You two have fun…” She winks, setting off toward the cabins.

“Want a beer?” Dean asks, tossing a pile of wood into the fire then reaching into the cooler.

“I’ll politely decline. I hate beer. I only drink it when I’m drunk already.” I smile. “Thanks anyway, though.”

He opens his beer and takes a seat on the bench in front of the fire, tapping the spot beside him, motioning for me to come sit next to him.

“So, tell me a bit more about yourself. I feel like we skipped that part entirely. Malachi wants what he wants, when he wants it.” He chuckles, reaching for my hand.

The warmth of his skin against mine has my body tingling. His skin is much rougher than Malachi’s, probably due to working on cars and such.

“What do you want to know?” I flash him a friendly smile, my eyes locking with his.

“Hmm…” he begins to say. “What’s your favorite color?”

“It’s purple.”

“Favorite food?”

“Pizza…”

“Favorite flower?”

I hesitate for a moment.

I fucking hate flowers.

“I don’t really care for flowers,” I finally reply.

“I thought all women liked flowers?”

I let out a light snort. “That’s a common misconception. Not all of us do.”

“Good to know,” he continues. “Favorite movie?”

“The notebook.”

“Oh Jeez. I still haven’t had the displeasure of watching that one yet.”

I hold my hand to my chest and fake an offended expression. “Pardon me?!”

“I’m not one for sappy feel-good movies. I like a good action thriller. You know, blood, guts, sex… the whole shebang.”

“I watch those too. I’m all for the thrillers.”

“Cult classics too?”

“Fuck yeah. Children of the Corn is one of my favorites.”

He starts to laugh. “I still have nightmares about that one.”

For the next hour, we just sit and talk about ourselves. It was much needed, considering how fast our dynamic changed in such little time. It almost doesn’t seem real.

One could say that I fell for these men too hard, too fast, but—I disagree. I crossed paths with these two beautiful men for a reason.

“Should we put the fire out? Maybe have a bite to eat before you head off to bed?”

“Sure. I’m a little hungry, now that you mention it.”

For that dick.

I shake the thoughts out of my head and wait for Dean to pour the water bucket over the fire, stepping back a few feet so I don’t get blasted by the smoke. When it’s settled a little, he pours one more bucket of water over the coals and we head off to his cabin.

Once inside, I take a seat at the island, picking at the container of nuts he has in the center.

“What do you feel like eating? I could whip up some pancakes, if you’d like.”

“That seems like a lot of work at this time of night.”

“If that’s what you want, baby…I really don’t mind.”

Just as he reaches for the mix in the cupboard, his phone starts to ring. I can tell by the sound that it’s a video call.

Dean swipes his phone off the counter and unplugs it from the charger. “It’s Malachi,” he says, coming around the island to sit beside me.

A few seconds after Dean answers the call, the video finally loads clear and we both gasp at what we see on the screen.

“Someone would like to say something. Is Sammi still awake?” Malachi asks from somewhere in the background.

All we can see is Paul, tied to a chair with blood dripping down his leg and landing in a pool beneath him on the floor. He’s awake, but barely able to open his eyes due to the immense amount of swelling.

“S-she had a headache. She w-went to bed early,” I manage to breathe out, not sure how to feel about what I’m seeing.

I mean, I want the guy dead as much as everybody else, but I’m not sure that I really wanted to see the process.

“Oh? Should I get Jeremy to check in with her?”

“No, I’m sure she just needs to sleep it off.”

“Okay, well…I guess you could relay the message.” I see Malachi walk into frame, right behind Paul. “Go on, Paul. Say it.”

He opens his mouth, but doesn’t say a single word as he lifts his head slowly to look into the camera. Instead of remorse in his eyes, I see nothing but the pure fucking evil. Just looking at him brings tears to my eyes as my mind wanders back through the darkness he dragged Sammi and I through.

“You okay, babe?” Dean asks, lifting his thumb to my cheek to swipe the tears away.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, turning my head away from the phone to gather myself for a moment.

“Say it…” I hear Malachi repeat.

“I’m—so sorry…” Paul finally says.

To be honest—apologies never really mean that much to me. I feel as though most people don’t actually mean it when they say it. It’s usually forced and lacks sincerity. I’m rather disgusted by its overuse.

“There ya go, big guy. Was it really that fucking hard?” Malachi says.

I turn my head, hoping that Malachi has moved the camera away from Paul, but he hasn’t. In fact, the second I look at the video again, Malachi’s bringing a set of bolt cutters into view, opening them as he brings them closer to Paul’s groin.

“M-Malachi…what are you doing?” I ask, frightened by what I think I might see him do next.

He ignores me and passes the bolt cutters to Jeremy who’s standing just out of view. “Hold these while I cut his shorts open.”

Paul’s eyes grow wide and he starts to full blown panic, wiggling and screaming until Malachi rips a portion of his shirt off to stuff into his mouth.

“Sorry about the noise, baby girl,” he says, disappearing for a moment before showing back up with a pair of scissors in his hands. “Can you guess what’s coming next, Paul?” He threatens, leaning in close to Paul’s ear.

Malachi chuckles and circles around in front of Paul, blocking my view for long enough to cut the clothing off him.

“No punishment will ever be enough for the disgusting shit you’ve done, Paul, but mark my fucking words—I’ll shove your own cock down your throat so deep that your ancestors will fucking feel it.”

I then hear Jeremy off to the side, snickering to himself. “Oh no! Not Aunt Peggy!” he says, barely able to contain his laughter.

Malachi then bursts out laughing, which then makes Dean join. The only one not laughing is me.

I’m far too shocked to process any of this.

I know about Malachi’s dark past, but this… this is too much for me to handle right now.

“I’m gonna go take a shower. I don’t feel so good,” I say, unable to say another word to Malachi.

I’m not mad, I’m just—conflicted.

As I’m walking into the direction of the bathroom, I hear Malachi ask if I’m okay, to which Dean explains that maybe it was a bit much to video call us.

A bit much?

I should be taking pride in the fact that my man can handle taking the garbage out of society, but somehow, I can’t.

I just can’t.

Would he really dismember someone’s dick and make them choke on it?!

Why not just kill the man and get it over with?

Does he actually enjoy playing with his prey?