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I could just picture them inside—the way they had looked dressed in blood, Carnage over them with the dripping knife and the smile across his face—and then I shook my head, chasing away the memories. The imagination. I hadn't seen them...I had stayed outside.
I had just wanted to go camping with my father.
"He takes his time selecting and stalking his prey," I said. "So he might be reluctant to deviate from his usual M.O. After all, it's kept him free so far."
"But you think you can be a big enough lure to draw him out." Pax paced around the dining room, looking as if he would like to pummel someone.
"Yes," I said simply.
The voices of the Demon and Carnage arguing still rang in my memory.
Over me.
"The girl messed up my kill..."
"You'll have to forgive my little Demon."
I shook my head. I had tried to save those people. That was why Carnage still despised me, why he would have killed me then if the Demon hadn't protected me.
I had gotten ahead of them, running to the farmhouse.
It had been a nice old grandmother type who opened the door. I had been desperate, wild and afraid for them. She had let me in and tried to understand my wild babbling. But there were no phone lines out there on the mountain, no cell reception. Even when she was convinced they were in danger, there was no way to get help.
"Carnage will make an exception for me," I said. "He hates me."
"But you're so lovable," Cain drawled. He seemed to feel better after reminding me that he owned me. I couldn't hate him for it.
After all, I owned him first.
"You psychos happen to be the only ones who think so."
"The world is stupid." Remington shrugged.
"But we have to find him first," Pax said. "We're not doing this unless we can be sure we have a trap for Carnage. What if we lose you to him?"
"We'll be ahead of him," I promised.
"Give me a little longer, and I'll know where he is," Remington said. "At first glance, it looked as if there was no pattern to his attacks. But everything has a pattern. I've already got a program running to help us figure him out."
Pax groaned. "I thought we were just going to kill people, but you're going to bring this back to math."
Remington grinned. "Everything comes back to math."
It felt like there was no way I'd sleep that night. We had nowhere to go yet, and the clock was ticking down on my mother's life. As the guys wound down for the night, they glanced over at me, clearly needing me to be in the midst of a hot guy cuddle puddle in order for them to sleep.
I pretended not to notice, puttering around in the bathroom. I’d found a lot of beauty products in the bathroom vanity; I was trying out what it would be like to be one of those women with their lives together and a seventeen-step nightly regimen. I dangled a purple, freesia-scented mask between my fingers and debated which of the guys I could convince to play with me.
Then Cain came in.
“What is it?” I held the mask up toward his face, though I’d definitely vote Cainleast likely to let me paint his nails.
His hands wrapped around my hips and he backed me up until he had trapped me up against the wall. "I think I need to leave my mark on you. In case we have to identify your body."
I scoffed. "You smooth talker."
But despite my teasing, my body responded to Cain the way it always did. His hand slid into my hair, winding it around his fingers so he could pull my head back. His lips were rough and punishing and perfect against my lips, my throat. I wrapped my leg around his lean waist, tilting my body back as his lips plundered mine.
He nipped my throat, his teeth stinging, and I let out a gasp as he began to suck a bruise. Cain was unforgiving and rough and took every bit of my attention.
