“You are going to do it, aren’t you?” I demand.
Costa touches my arm. “I am.”
“What? No, no. Sam should. I want Sam to do it.” There’s growing panic now that I’m in the moment.
“You’ll trip harder if I do it because I tripped you first. That’s the theory we’re going on.”
Shit, he’s probably right.I swallow hard. “Then, use a knife. That’s how you did it last time.”
Costa nods. “Don’t forget. It’s going to feel good. I know you’re freaked, but remember that. Neck again?”
Sam jumps in. “I don’t think that’s necessary, do you? It’s a little more grotesque than we need.”
“Fair enough.” Costa shrugs. “I like a good neck slice but whatever. Up to you guys.”
“How about you ease up on the crassness?” Sam is controlling his irritation.
“Let’s do it now,” I say calmly. “Sitting around and thinking about it won’t help me. Let’s do it now.”
“You want me to do you, too, Sammy?”
It’s with good hesitation, but Sam shakes his head. “I got this.”
Although he just said no to Costa, I can tell he was tempted to let Costa knife him. Sam throws another log on the fire and turns off the lights.
Sam guides me to the couch and stretches out so that he’s leaning against the arm with one foot on the floor. He pats the seat in front of him. “Sit.”
But I can’t move from my spot.
“Sit. Lean back against me. I’ll hold you.”
Now a spark is in his eyes, a charge from what we’re about to do, and it passes to me. The thought of the blood—and that fuzzy, euphoric state I’m going to have—lures me to lie down between his legs and rest my back on his chest. He runs a hand through my hair and kisses my cheek. He’s already sounding drugged because he knows even better than I do what’s coming.
This is death-tripping foreplay.
Costa takes a knife from the mantel and pulls it from the sheath. When he kneels on the floor between my legs, I put my hand on top of Sam’s, and he moves our touch over my waist.
“You first, Sam?” Costa asks.
Wordlessly, Sam takes the knife. “Don’t look, Stell. I don’t want you to see.”
Instinctively, I turn to watch, but Costa puts a hand on the side of my head. “He said, don’t look. Just focus on me, and let Sam do what he needs to do. Breathe, breathe…in and out.”
Under me, I feel Sam’s body arch as he pushes the knife into his side.
“Sam…” Even in my lust for this moment, I can’t help my worry.
“Sam is fine.” Costa’s deep blue eyes haven’t left me. “He’s more than fine. Keep looking at me. There you go. Good.”
Sam’s body shifts again as he moves the knife, and his arm tightens around me when he grunts. “Inhale,” he tells me.
So, I do. The smell of blood is intoxicating. Fumes invade my throat and lungs, and for a moment, I can barely keep my eyes open as the rush hits me.
“She’s good, Sammy. Don’t worry.” Costa’s arm moves in. “I’m going to take the knife, okay?”
“Yes.” Sam’s breath practically burns my skin.
Costa’s hand is still on my face when he leans in to Sam, and he turns me to the side so that I can watch now. As his mouth touches Sam’s, he starts to glide the knife out. Costa runs his tongue over Sam’s lips, and I inhale again, torn between watching their kiss and watching the knife being pulled from Sam’s body.
