Page 27 of His Last Will

I didn’t think she would take to it as well as this, though. I thought she might stab someone once and get the ick. Possibly not even consider what I suggested because of her morals and whatnot. Not that Ari ever said anything before when Brodie, Anthony, or I took someone out.

Some people struggle with taking a life. But no, she just went for it and I’m sure a psychologist would have a lot to analyze here but I never once trusted those bastards.

But watching Ari destroy this man… Hell. I don’t think I have ever been more turned on by a woman in my life. Knife in hand, stabbing someone out of anger. For the first time in four months, there is no grief marring her face. There is…I wouldn’t say happiness, but almost, relief pouring off her.

She might very well be my kryptonite right at this moment.

“Ari, Venom⁠—”

But she doesn’t stop. My voice seems to fuel her, and her stabs become even more erratic, just stabbing with no real purpose. The man is clearly dead now, but continually maiming a corpse seems to still be working for her.

I place my hand on her arm to get her attention. She finally stops and looks over at me.

I try to hide my smile when I say, “Venom, I can get you another one.” She could take out four or five people in their boxes tonight and I would just sit back and watch. Might touch myself a little but I doubt she would mind.

Instead of regret or shock, there is a feral gleam in her eyes like she is enjoying herself. Blood splatter covers her face and I have the sudden urge to see her bathe in it. She is calling to me in the most primal way. Blood, murder, knives. My innate beast wants her beyond reason.

So I lean over and brush my lips over hers.

And. She. Moans.

The blood rushes so quickly to my cock that I feel almost lightheaded.

Dropping the knife, she grasps my head, running her bloody fingers through the strands of my hair, and pulls me forward, claiming more of my mouth.

She tastes like my destruction. I shouldn’t be okay with this. There is no reason for this kiss. No one is watching. We aren’t putting on a show for anyone. It is just us and the bloodied corpse beneath her.

Damn it all to hell.

I groan into her mouth, wanting more. Wanting anything she’ll give me. I know I told her when I proposed that it should have been our first kiss. But I lied. This right here, right now should have been our first kiss. Anger, lust, and relief fueled by bloodshed.

Truthfully, I never thought we would get here because I am not Brodie. With his death, he took part of her with him. A vital part I thought might be destroyed. But maybe it just lay dormant until someone let it out to play. Or maybe this has nothing to do with her feelings toward Brodie. Maybe she has the capacity to care about someone other than my brother.

Releasing her lips, I use my tongue and lick the blood off her cheeks. Blood, sweat, and even the salty taste of her tears assault my senses.

I use one hand to cup her face. “Ari…” I savor her name on my tongue.

My hand grazes her inner thigh, coming up to caress the outer layer of her panties. Soft and damp to the touch.

And I detonate.

Because my girl has not only embraced the finer aspects of torture but has gotten off on the murder of a useless man.

And maybe she was meant to be mine all along.

Ripping her panties from her body, I throw them to the ground and run my hand over her wet slit, wanting to be covered in her, while I tongue her neck and make my way to her breasts.

She whines underneath me, squirming as she begs for more. This beautiful destruction, who was always forbidden, is now mine. My fiancée. An absolute reaper’s dream.

When my finger slides inside of her, I caress her and can’t help but let myself loose—let her glimpse the real me—when I whisper, “Did you ever get this wet for my brother?”

She tears herself from me.

“Brodie...” As if realizing Brodie isn’t the one currently stroking her wet cunt. She pushes me—hard. “Get away from me.”

Dammit.

Ari jumps off the table and runs through the morgue to the door. Running from me. Running from the rush of feelings brought on by our kiss.