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It hurt to even think about it.
“I can say that because he’s a fighter. He’s met us every step of the way, through our darkness. He knows who we are and he still hasn’t run. He chose my bed to hide away in. Aeron, he needs us just as much as we need him. I would say that expels our demons and keeps them at bay but that isn’t true. He helps us accept them. Now, we’re going to take a shower, get cleaned up, and eat before we go check on Killian. He doesn’t need to see us like this.”
I frowned. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning up-”
“Sent one of my guys to do that and I’ll come around the back end to make sure it’s done. You needed me more.”
A chuckle slipped out. Slash had shown up a few minutes ago, wiggling those bags at me. He was cackling and mumbling to himself before announcing that he had called Samael to clean up the scene. I knew that Samael would show up sooner rather than later. When Slash started giggling like that, it was never a good time.
“Shower and then Killian,” I stated.
“Shower and then eat and then Killian.”
I didn’t like that order. I didn’t need to eat. I tried twisting around but Samael’s fingers were still pinching my chin. He stepped impossibly closer as his cock thickened against my ass.
“You will eat, Aeron. When you deny yourself, you can’t focus. I would fuck you into submission but you don’t deserve it.” Samael’s lips dipped to my shoulder, his tongue running along the side of my neck before reaching my ear. “Get to it.”
Begrudgingly, I stripped out of my pants and boxers before turning on the shower and adjusting the dials. When the water was right, I stepped inside and closed the shower door, the glass obscuring my view of Samael. “Why are you still in here?”
“To make sure you complete your task.”
I swallowed carefully, my entire body tensing up. I really had been out of it, hadn’t I? Samael didn’t dole out tasks to the two of us often but when he did, it was for two reasons—that we were out of control and that he felt out of control. I should have known that the dark expression on his face wasn’t just because of us losing ourselves to our demons.
I gave Samael a pert nod and grabbed the soap, intent on finishing this task in time for the next one. We needed to be there for Killian, which meant that I needed my head screwed on straight.
Licking the blood that the raw lungs secreted onto my counter from Slash’s impromptu kill was anything but.
SAMAEL
Pissed off didn’t even begin to explain the emotions swirling around in my chest. Three days ago, we transported a nearly catatonic Killian and his cat back to my place as the realization of what we were truly getting ourselves into began to sink in. It wasn’t just that we were dealing with things we couldn’t understand, demons that we couldn’t see or effectively fight. It was everything altogether—Chief Matthews demanding an update for both the case and his son’s safety, the unknown killer taunting us, and now some fucker at The Revival who knew of our existence—all thanks to Jenny.
It didn’t help that the news had attributed Slash’s kill to this new unknown due to how brutal it was. The styles weren’t even remotely close between Slash’s usual, Jenny’s murder, and then David’s—and yet, the people of Primrose would rather believe that one or two individuals were running rampant rather than their city was slowly turning mad.
Instead of dealing with all of that shit like a goddamn adult, I unleashed my anger like I always did.
With a little bit of violence.
Cleaning up Slash’s mess would have helped but Aeron had needed me more.
I threw another punch into the man’s jugular, the force sending him sprawling across the rough concrete. He mumbled something about sparing him because he had someone at home, but I was way past the point of reasoning with him. This was the third fucker Brent had led down to the basement today, citing an infraction to our code. I was pretty sure Brent was just sacrificing useless shits at this point, but I wasn’t going to question it. I needed the outlet.
Kill first. Ask questions later. Or just kill. Forget the questions.
The man scrambled to his feet, blood, tears, and sweat running down his face, his clothes torn – fear etched into his expression. Just the way I fucking liked it. The terror I inflicted was the best part of this job, the way that men fell to their knees, pleading for their lives until their throats became hoarse from their screams. I never showed them any mercy, save for Killian. He was the one and only person I had ever spared my heavy hand.
The nightmare of Killian’s ashen face slipped into my head, and I threw another punch at the man’s temple, enjoying the way he crumpled to the floor. Killian hadn’t spoken all weekend; the lost look in his eyes was something I actively tried to ignore by splattering traitors on my basement floor instead. Violence was always my go-to when I needed a reprieve from moments in my life I couldn’t yet wrap my head around. The cleanup would be horrendous, but at this point, I didn’t care.
The part that bugged me the most wasn’t Killian’s state when he arrived at my house; it was every moment following. Killian should have been a broken-up and twisted emotional mess of a human, but instead, I found the kid constantly attached to my side. He kept mumbling that I was safe, and I didn’t know how to tell him just how awful of a man I truly was.
I wasn’t safe. I was a nightmare. I killed people, and I loved it. I craved the adrenaline that came with unchecked violence and strangled screams. Slash was terrifying with a knife but I used my bare hands, loving the splatter of someone’s life across my flesh. And yet, Killian had been curled up against my side when I had woken up rather than in the room I had set up for him.
Multiple cold showers were needed to rectify the situation.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want the kid. Fuck, I did. But I fucking knew better. He needed to have his head screwed on straight, and I wasn’t sure he even knew which head he had on.
I growled at the man cowering before me, throwing another punch at his gut, relishing the way he bent over and sank to his knees, blood spurting from his mouth as he gagged on his own tongue. A few more well-placed jabs and he would be nothing more than a sack of shit. I contemplated just taking out my gun and ending the charade, then yelling at Brent for more fresh meat.
That is until the basement door opened. I froze, waiting for the frantic footsteps of another warm body. A 2 for 1? Brent was really killing it today. I needed to give him a raise.
