Page 80 of Savage Desires

She laughs. "He likes my pussy too much to kill me."

I shake my head. "I said what I said."

Hera shrugs. "I'm hungry… and bored."

She jumps up off the bed and leaves the room, probably going to the kitchen to see what there is to eat.

"She's… interesting," Willow says.

"She's a menace but is the best at what she does. We better get cleaned up before she remembers she can't cook and comes back in here," I say.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WILLOW

Even though we’re in a hurry Kisten still insists on washing my hair simply because I enjoy it. It makes my heart so full it aches at how sweet that is. He’s this hardened badass to the rest of the world but is so gentle and caring with me. I wrap my hair in a towel for now since Kisten is a little concerned that Hera might burn down his kitchen just to spite him for not having Poptarts.

“I’ll brush it later, love.”

I don’t fight the smile on my face even though it’s probably goofy in a lovesick kind of way. I can’t help it. After our confessions last night, I’m feeling all gooey inside. I never thought I’d find happiness again in my life. Less than a week ago I was prepared to die, and now here I am in love with an amazing man who is protective yet is encouraging me to fight back.

Hera is sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter twirling a knife in her hand. “I want pancakes and crispy bacon.”

“I’m not a short order cook,” Kisten says.

Hera turns her head slowly our direction. “I’m your guest and it’s rude not to feed your guests,” she says, then her hand flicks out and the knife flies across the kitchen and hits the cabinet with a thwonk. The cabinet that now has five knifes sticking out of it all in a perfect line.

“What the fuck, Hera!”

“I got bored.”

Kisten stomps into the kitchen stopping in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest. “Out of my kitchen or no pancakes and bacon for you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Nice dick, bad attitude. Such a shame.”

Kisten’s head falls back, and he mutters something about it being fucking hopeless. Hera jumps off the counter and heads my way. She looks like a predator that’s caught the scent of her prey and is ready to pounce.

“I’ll help make the pancakes,” I say quickly.

Hera grabs my arm, linking it with hers before I can walk past. “Nah, lover boy over there has it handled. I want to learn more about the present I got him.”

Kisten doesn’t seem overly concerned with this obviously unhinged woman dragging me away so I don’t argue. Hera plops on the couch backwards then lays down so her head is hanging off the edge nearly touching the ground and her feet are in the air. I’ve never seen anyone but a child sit that way.

“So Willow, tell me, how was life as a sex slave?”

My mouth drops open in shock. What the hell? Who asks shit like that? This chick really is freaking insane. I have no idea how to even put it into words and don’t even know if I want to answer her, but she doesn’t seem to be the type to let things go.

“Awful.” I don’t elaborate and I add enough bitchiness into my tone that I hope she realizes that’s not something I want to discuss.

“Hmm… Who’s the most famous person that bought you?”

Again, my mouth drops open. I want to say fuck off, but maybe if I tell this crazy lady that kills for a living, she’ll visit him in his bed at night. I imagine her taking one of those knives and slicing his dick off. Maybe she could choke him to death with it… Lord knows that’s my favorite way to mentally kill every man that touched me.

“Politian or celebrity?” I ask to clarify.

She rolls over, sitting upright, then leans into my face with a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Both, my darling.”

Her calling me ‘my darling’ is unsettling. Hopefully it means she likes me and not that she’s planning on dissecting me.

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