Page 217 of What We Become

Just like before.

Just like Brock.

“So now you know,” I say as I take one step back and look at what’s left of him, smiling at what I’ve done.

For a beat, no one moves.

Then Milo, of course, breaks the moment. “Ah, kitten. If we’re going full recreation, his dick is supposed to be on the ground at his feet.”

I look back to the body, and through the mess of his abdomen, I find his penis still hanging by a thread. I slice at it, and it drops to the sand with a wet plop.

Applause.

“Nobody kick it at me this time,” Eli says.

Grinning, I turn to face them, and they’re moving.

Micah gets to me first, careful of the bandages as he takes the knife from my hand. He sets it on the sand and pulls off his mask, dropping it beside the blade.

“You did it,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and warm. He cups my face, thumbs brushing under my eyes. He kisses me slow and careful, all tenderness wrapped around a violent sort of pride. “I’m so proud of what you’ve become, baby girl.”

He steps back, and Eli pulls off his mask. Then he’s there, one gloved hand on the back of my neck as he drags me into him and crashes his mouth over mine.

It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s Eli kissing me like he wants to swallow my wrath whole and worship it at the same time. My split lip burns, but I pull him closer. His breath is ragged through his nose, his body trembling with leftover rage and pain, but when he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.

“Fuck, little savage,” he says, voice shredded raw. “You were so fucking good.”

A shiver runs through me, violent and bright. I smile, or maybe I just bare my teeth. With blood all over me, I’m not sure there’s a difference anymore.

Milo shoves his mask onto his head and limps into the space beside Eli, pushing at his shoulder until Eli gives way with a muttered curse. Milo’s hands bracket my face, light-brown eyes shining.

“Kitten,” he says, and his voice cracks a little. “That was the hottest and most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen, and I need you to know I mean that with profound respect. Fifteen out of ten. The extra points are for the severed cock.”

I laugh, broken and breathless. He kisses me quick first, then again, softer, deeper.

“You did amazing,” he whispers against my lips. “Perfect revenge. No notes.”

Holden comes after him, slower, as if every step is pain but pain could never keep him away from me. Evening light catches the hard planes of his mask, the cold blue of his eyes behind it. When he stops in front of me, he shifts the mask up and just looks at me for a second, long enough that my pulse starts thudding in a different rhythm.

Then his hand comes up, gloved fingers tipping my chin.

“You know, the first time I saw you do that was when I knew,” he says, voice low and gruff.

“Knew what?” I ask, breathless.

“That you belonged. You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Still are.” He presses his mouth to mine, and for a second, the whole brutal beach goes soft at the edges.

His kiss is controlled where the others weren’t, but it still lands like possession. Like a claim. His thumb drags through the blood on my jaw before he steps back, eyes bright and strange but perfect.

“You were exquisite,” he says, moving his lips to my ear. “And I’m so fucking hard.” He grinds against me, and I gasp, just as turned on.

Knox is last.

He hangs back while the others orbit close, giving me their mouths and their praise and their dark, aching pride, and all the while I can feel him there like security at my back.

When I finally turn to him, he’s already watching me.

The skull mask makes him look inhuman—some executioner dragged straight from a nightmare—but he’s all Knox. All heat. All ruin. All that enormous, terrible tenderness he only ever lets me see when it’s too late to take it back.