Page 158 of Rugger: The Huntress

“You will have your chance and you will send a clear message. For now, we rest and we wait. Your feelings are too invested at the moment.”

“I know,” I conceded, “I know.”

“Your food, Rugger. Eat.”

My appetite was weak, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave the table until I dug into my dishes. Teddy wouldn’t allow it. I started with the easiest to consume, mac and cheese.

SEVENTEEN

Six months later…

The fresh breeze was exactly what my body craved. Six months behind sealed shutters as I regained my strength, sense of self, and independence had caused me to develop a vitamin D deficiency I was desperate to replenish.

I lifted the wide-mouthed glass to my mouth and sipped the martini. Every muscle in my face relaxed.

Nostalgic.

“Ummm–”

With the glass still in my hand, I unfolded the blueprint of Anderson Industries. The operation was a front for the malice work being done by a group of childhood friends who all had two things in common –their thirst for money and blood.

Unfortunately for them all, I shared their thirst and since my lover had met his demise, mine had grown tremendously. Not even the martini in my hand or the gallon of water I consumed daily could quench it.

Blood. Their blood was my only source of relief. And, before the year’s end, it would fill my cup until it overflowed.

With a smile tugging at my lips at the mere idea of putting my newest tools to use, I scanned the large print-out with my index finger. I took another sip of my drink as I rested my back against the chair, trying to determine my point of entry or if entry was necessary.

I want them to see my face.

To hear my voice.

To witness the pain they’ve caused.

Entry was no longer an option. It was a requirement. I ran my hand through my hair as I closed my eyes and tilted my head backward. The weather was perfect. The small breeze was greatly appreciated.

My nostrils widened at the familiar scent of citrus, woods, and musk. Grief was a whirlwind. If it wasn’t Sonnie’s touch I felt, then it was his scent I smelled. Every day, he sent reminders that he was still with me.

The flesh was a simple concept, but I couldn’t quite explain how dominant his presence was spiritually, emotionally, and mentally without sounding like I’d lost my fucking mind. So, for my sake, I didn’t try to explain. I simply embraced every encounter. Every day.

Large hands collapsed around my exposed neck. My brows wrinkled on my forehead. Unlike the others, this time felt a bit more promising. A bit more real. A bit more favorable.

Fluffy lips pressed against mine. I tightened my lids, praying away the optimism that crept up my body, because it didn’t matter how real things might’ve felt. Sonnie was gone. His body was spread across Clarke. And, two months ago, we’d buried what was left of him beside my father.

Snap. Snap.

“Good evening, Gazelle.”

Snap. Snap.

Warmth parted my lips. A tongue explored the inside of my mouth, not pulling away until more words were spoken.

“My, how I’ve missed you.”

Snap. Snap.

I couldn’t escape his hold. I couldn’t rid myself of his touch. I couldn’t lower his voice in my head.

Snap. Snap.

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