Page 27 of Rugger: The Huntress

“Lauren–” he called out to me.

“More towels?” I asked, nodding at the stack on the floor.

“On the linen shelf near the door.”

I didn’t need confirmation, but I accepted it, anyway. Oblivion was the key to a mature man’s heart when it came to women. It made him feel useful, purposeful, and necessary. It stroked his ego and made him feel like the leader society deemed man to be.

In my opinion, most were pussies and weren’t born to lead. They were born to follow. Women, on the other hand, were born leaders. A day in a woman’s shoes, and a man would crumble. Most of them, for sure.

“Be right back,” I assured him.

The cold air changed the temperature of the beads of water on my skin as soon as I stepped into the room. I wasn’t in a rush to return to the warmth of the bathroom. But, eventually, I did.

“Get in,” Eric commanded while waving me over.

My feet were planted. My right hand was extended. A towel rested on top of it.

“Put the bath towel on the rack right over there.”

Though his eyes followed the direction he was instructing me to go in, mine never left him. He pushed the glass door toward me, opening the shower after realizing I wouldn’t budge. He stepped back under the showerhead and beckoned me over once more.

“Laur–”

Pew.

The silencer on my Beretta was music to my ears. Finally, I released the breath I’d been holding.

His body fell to the ground as I removed the towel from over my hand.

There now.

The poignant scent coated the bathroom swiftly, making me turn my nose.

Fuck.

Pissed that my opportunity presented itself before I managed another round of pleasure, I sighed. But, there was little time for sulking. I made my way back to the master bedroom and redressed, one piece of clothing at a time.

With my lips pursed into a small circle, I began releasing the tune in my head. It was rather repetitive, but I loved it, nonetheless. The high-pitched sounds erupted in the silence.

I was born sick, but I love it.

Command me to be well.

A—

Amen.

Amen.

Amen.

Take me to church.

Notes of vanilla, bergamot, and florals consumed the smell of death. I kissed the 15ml tube of Riot fromHuffington Fragrance House, forever grateful for its services.

Fully dressed with my handbag in tow, I exited the suite. Down the hall and into the elevator, I went.

Offer me that deathless death.

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