Page 25 of Bears Not Included

But no. Death has to come to me silently, un-fucking-provoked, and be goddamned conclusive if it wants to stand a chance against me.

That’s all happening inside my head because I’m also fucking arrogant enough to never voice or show my weakness to civilians, and anyone outside of Callen Andrews and Mason Blackstone is considered a civilian.

I used to live off the fear I created, the tremor my name ignites, and the power at my feet, but it’s the same fucking thing over and over. More power. More money. More death.

Like now.

Livia Daniels.

Twenty-three years old. Her father is a shifty lawyer. Her mother fell off a balcony at their home when she was thirteen.

And now she’ll have to die.

There was never a time when all three of our phones went off at the same time, but it happened, and it happened while we were with that piece of vermin, Kirill Yenin.

There is only one reason our phones would go off at the same time.

An intruder.

And now she’s in our lair. Trapped and at our mercy, until we decide her fate.

From the control room in the basement of our house, filled with monitors covering every inch of the cottage, it took us about ten minutes to learn everything there is to know about the dark-haired girl trespassing on our property.

Livia Daniels doesn’t know this yet, but she’s dead based on who she is and who she is connected to.

But there is something about her that brings out the hunter in us and makes us want to play with our prey for a little while before we end her life and throw her body away.

Or keep her.

We’re pushing for a confession we don’t need. It’s blatantly obvious that we’re stalling. We could've just made her eat the ricin and carried on with our lives.

But there is just something about her...

It happens slowly, as I watch the girl on camera. My cock twitched the first time I laid my gaze on her with fear rampant in her dark brown gaze as she tried to figure out what was happening, while her lips quivered uncontrollably.

I can see the way her mind is working now and how she’s analyzing the situation, and it doesn’t matter what computations she comes up with; she knows she’s reached the end of her existence.

Her fear is the sweetest thing I’ve seen all my life. That thought jolts the fucking breath out of me. She made me feel something.

Callen and Mason beside me are thinking the same thing. We’re wired the same way. She’s affecting us the same way.

She trembles as she removes her clothes. Her hair is tied up, and the rest of her dark chocolate tresses hang down her back. The oversized track pants and hoodie she wore hid her body well enough.

My gaze travels over her soft curves. Her skin is smooth, glossy, and fragile. I could so easily break her. Her body, that is. Her mind will take a little longer because she’s oddly defiant as she faces death.

She hates that we made her take off her clothes for us. She hates us. It makes Callen and Mason chuckle a bit. But not me. I don’t even give her a half-grin.

My eyes drop to her nipples. Perfect little studs in handfuls of cushiony, soft flesh. Her waist is tiny, and the flare of her hips makes my blood heat.

The candy-camouflaged drug she just ate would make a person with a prostate and a dick feel as if their dick was going to fall off if they didn’t stick it into a hole and fuck it until their dick does fall off. The sheer panic and adrenaline alone will be enough to kill them. For her, it’s non-fatal and works differently.

Watching her writhe in that tight, hot body of hers and seeing the soft gleam of perspiration coat her skin as her breasts swell is sublime. But fuck, that tiny wet pearl drop on her nipple makes me lick my lip unconsciously.

She doesn’t understand what’s about to happen to her. But when she has to squeeze her breasts to fill Mason’s bowl with her milk—and we can see everything since there’s even a camera camouflaged into the table—it’s clear what she’s capable of. If she were given the chance and a weapon, she’d gladly take us out. She has that kind of strength about herself. She also wants to survive.

Seeing her rub her pretty clit on Callen’s chair bewitched us. Callen, who controlled the vibrations of the chair with a remote, played her perfectly. He knew when to turn it up or lower the oscillations, so she would press herself harder against the wood. Fuck.

Now she’s in my bed, only one hand is cuffed while we decide what to do with her.

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