“Jesus Christ, Stef.”
The resignation in his voice doesn’t move me. “I want her car tracked. Her apartment bugged, video feed. All of it.” He hums on the other end, and I know he’s already searching. Checking into it.
“Video and audio is going to be hard. Her address is listed as a duplex on the Upper East Side, New York City. Two million dollar price tag. Probably crawling with security.”
“Don’t care. Get it done.”
I listen as he clacks away at what I know is a million-dollar computer setup, housed in a secret location even I’m not privy to. I don’t want to know what he does on the side. Riggs has as many secrets as I do. I could get Ansel, Cade, or Linc, or Easton, to check on her, but I trust Riggs to do it thoroughly. It’s bad enough that I have to ask him. I don’t want him to be the first to look her up. I want knowledge, the discovery of who she is, all to myself.
“She has a year-long lease with a man named Reed Spencer.” Riggs’s voice stalls my thoughts.
I log the name, wanting to know who he is to her. Jace had never mentioned his sister’s romantic relationships, but now it matters. It matters a great fucking deal to me who this Reed Spencer is. “Find out who he is. Her license plate is FVT 0678.”
“How the fuck do you know that?” He growls, still typing.
“Blue Beetle 2000 model.” I know because, after I left, I checked every car and easily figured out hers. The cute blue car suited her personality, and when I disabled the lock mechanism, a skill I had learned early in the Legion Lords, I opened the dashboard and found her registration. Camryn Emilia Park.
“Give me 48 hours.”
“No. Tonight.” I end the call and sit, waiting in the darkness.
Sucking the smoke from my cheroot, I settle my weight on my bike, waiting, secretly hoping. I stare at the lights of Jace’s lakeside mansion. My cock is hard knowing she’s there, maybe still wearing that white bikini. Perhaps she’s asleep, safe and sound in her bed. I close my eyes, imagining sneaking into her room without her knowing. Listening to the sounds of her relaxed breathing. In my mind, I step closer to her bed, pull her sheet down, revealing her body. I’d want her naked, her soft, unmarred, unbroken skin revealed to my gaze. I see myself leaning close and smelling her perfumed skin. Maybe she’s showered after the pool, washing away the sunscreen and chlorine. Her skin would be perfumed. Floral. Like what I smelled as a subtle under-layer on her skin.
Then, every so gently, I’d trail my blade down between her chest. Her eyes open, and she stares at me in fear. Just a small incision, one tiny opening. Then those green eyes would refract, turning emerald with desire as I cleaned up her wound, tasting her skin and the warmth of her blood.
I pull out my knife and smile at the silvery glint in the moonlight. Testing its familiar weight, I caress it in my palm. When it cuts my skin, I release a moan, closing my fist over the blade, letting the steel cut deep, opening the injury more. When I open my palm and remove the knife, a knife wound drips blood. Licking my palm, I swallow the thick liquid, imagining that it’s Camryn Park’s blood I’m tasting, drinking.
When the twilight of a small blue car drives by, I smile, anticipation filling me. There she is. I start up my bike, shutting off my headlights as I pull out from the shoulder and follow her.
Escalation
First eyes stared, and the air was filled with mystery. The senses grew acute; there was certain chemistry. Slowly they opened up, and things were progressive. Quickly things began to transform; they became obsessive. They went wild, they went restless, and they were desperate.
-Sandeep Bhattarai
Chapter 7
August
“Sweetness, you’re soaked. This tight cunt is greedy for me, isn’t it, wife?”
“Yes, husband, my cunny is dripping for you. Fill me up with your cream.”
Violet pushes her fingers into her cunt and moans loudly.
“Yes, my love, fuck your cunny. Make her wetter. Slide your fingers between those thick lips.”
Violet digs her fingers into her pussy.
“That’s it, wife. Do you want my cock?”
“Yes, my lord. Fill me to the brim.”
The tap on my shoulder makes me jerk, and I pull out my earbuds, staring at the person who just disturbed me while listening to my latest audiobook. Dru recommended it, and now I can’t get enough of the filthy Count and his new wife.
Looking up from my painting, I smile at my friend, fellow artist Borimir, also known as Barry. I booked studio time with him today, and every time I do, his bright green hair makes me smile. He changes it every two weeks without fail. He was oneof the first people I met who encouraged me to pursue my art. He is Russian-American, and his family is also very traditional. He confessed that his parents were pushing him to pursue law school until he stood up for himself and told them he was going to follow his dreams of being an artist. He also recently told them he was bisexual, and he seems more at peace with himself than ever.
“That audio book must be good.”
