Page 9 of Stone: The Precursor

Now standing next to Jace, I wonder who she is because the stirring in my dick demands my attention. I need to know. I inwardly sigh; most likely, she wouldn’t be able to handle what I need. Fucking for me is more than about sex. It involves control and things that scare most women, making it hard for me to fuck women outside the small circle of club cunt that are used to myproclivities. My fetishes are dangerous, involving my knives and ties. They can be deadly if not done right, and the young before me might take one look at my tools and run for the hills. It would be easier to take home one of the easy marks in the grotto frolicking, but I don’t want their plastic tonight. There’s nothing silicone or Botox-filled about this one. Jace’s voice interrupts my filthy train of thought. I turn to him, appreciating the designs on his arms. My designs. Since meeting him years ago, I’ve done all his ink.

“How is the facility going for your mother?”

“It’s good,” I answer, honestly. Thinking of my mother is always bittersweet. She’s in a better place now with Jace’s connections, rather than the shit hole place I found her in after I was released from prison for murder, well, man-slaughter as my lawyer reminded me. Another boon from Jace Park. It sounded better to him, but I don’t give a fuck what you call it. Did I murder the man I went to prison for? No. I took the fall because my club needed me to, and my friend needed me to.

The man whose life was taken deserved his fate for what they did to my sister and niece. If Onyx or I had our way, we would dig his rotting body back up and kill him again. So, no, I don’t care what you call it. Have I killed men? The marks on my chest and the bodies currently rotting on my property give testament to the blood on my hands.

Jace continues to grill the bloody meat, and I think about the raw flesh filling my slop bucket at my cabin.

“And the property? How’s the building going?”

I pull out a cigarette and light it, dragging in a lungful of my homegrown tobacco. “I’ll be done in a month.”And then it will be the perfect hunting ground.

“Still not going to tell me why you needed 80 acres of land?”

Through the smoke, I watch the man I have started to call a friend. As much as I like Jace Park, as much as I enjoy the easylightness between us, I can’t trust him with this. My life over the last four years can’t compare to his world. I have never shared with anyone, outside the handful of Lords, what I do when I’m not tattooing. Most people have no inkling of how I dispose of the filth roaming the earth. The only man who knows the true depths is the same man who helped me destroy my stepfather’s body at 17. “I like my space,” is the only answer I give him, the only answer Icangive him.

Jace’s eyes search mine, and I don’t blink. He’s not accepting my bullshit, just the way I knew he wouldn’t. He wants to push, stubborn fucker. It’s what makes him a great lawyer and even better businessman, but he has nothing on me when it comes to patience. He laughs, but I know a mocking laugh when I hear one.

“Space huh? Somehow I don’t think you need that much space. The cabin you’re building is no more than 4,000 square feet, and I should know, I made the blueprints. What are you hiding up there?”

The corpses of my enemies. He flips more burgers on the grill, and I smile. “I like the space to hunt.” I inhale another drag of my cigarette, thinking about the work I’ve done in the last month since purchasing my land. The time spent learning every nook and cranny, installing infrared tree cameras, sensors, and traps. My sister and niece’s memory demands it.

“Thought I told you to bring your swimsuit.”

“I don’t swim.” Unless it’s to retrieve a body or submerge one.

“You can’t or don’t?” He challenges.

“Won’t.”

He smirks, knowing me well. “When was the last time you had fun?”

Thinking about the two severed heads in my workshop, I return his smile and murmur, “Last night.”

“I’d think you were talking about fucking, but I know better.”

The memory of removing each one from the bodies of the animals that roamed my land was deeply satisfying, and much more enjoyable than unfulfilling vanilla sex with a woman. My needs are much too dark to pick up random pussy. Instantly, my mind conjures an image ofherriding my cock, gripping my bloody chest while I help her come. The fantasy is so potent that my hips jerk slightly, the movement uncontrolled.Unfuckingbelievable.I need to calm my mind. “Is that why you invited me? So I can have fun?”

“Yeah. You stay in the woods four days out of the week, and spend the rest of your hours tattooing. You’re going to turn into one of those mountain men. Stalking the woods, talking to trees.”

Jace Park has no idea. And honestly, I don’t know why I showed up. I should say thanks like I planned, and leave, but now I can’t.She’stoo much of a draw.

“When was the last time you had a conversation with anyone other than Riggs and Onyx?”

Last night. A replay of the conversation last night comes to mind.

“Where is he?”

“I swear I don’t know man. I just do the deliveries.”

“Yeah? Then that makes you just as complicit.”

After that, his cries of pain didn’t require a response. I enjoyed the sound of him gurgling on his own blood. It’s my favorite type of one-sided conversation.

“When do you let loose?” Jace questions, crosses his arms, his right arm showing a wide range of inked designs from his neck down to his wrist. It took months to tattoo everything he wanted. It was how we became closer.

“Let loose?” I laugh. The memory of me letting that beast inside me loose, chasing that fat bastard through the woods, andyanking on the chains while I dragged him screaming toward me, runs through my mind. I chuckle more at my own internal pun.