Page 50 of Stranger Danger

“Don’t you get tired of like… strangling everyone?”

“Shut. Up.”

Irritation builds in my throat until I swear I have heartburn. I cross the space quickly and grab the back of his hoodie.

His eyes look even greener when he glares at me.

“I want a turn,” I hiss.

“We’re not doing this right fucking now.” He rips out of my grasp. “You want him to wake up because he’s dying of smoke inhalation? Think, bunny.”

I glance down to make sure he’s not already awake—the dude’s completely out cold. A bottle of vodka is half empty on the nightstand, next to aspirin and a glass of water that’s not going to do him any good.

“Fire’s pretty though.” I pick up the alcohol. “Ready-made molotov cocktail in less than two seconds.”

Beckett groans, shaking his head. He’s still shaking his head when he looks away from me and turns his attention to the dude beneath him.

Then the shaking stops.

“Fire is pretty,” he mumbles after another minute.

Progress!

Part of me wants to start clapping and jumping up and down, but I’m ninety percent sure he’d slap the shit out of me—I’m five percent sure I might enjoy it. Maybe. Never went down that road before.

That’s a fun idea for another time.

For now, I’ll think of Beckett like my baby. Tiny bites of new food every so often to get him used to the interesting life. I’ll cry if I have to sit on the sidelines while he strangles everyone, but I’ll also cry if he doesn’t want to go with me next time.

“What if we light him on fire after you kill him?” I ask.

He sighs. “I don’t hate the idea.”

My chest is so tight that my heart feels like it's about to burst.

Yeah.

Yeah, this could really work between us in the long run. Not just the murder-y parts, or the sex-y parts—the whole kit and caboodle.