Page 17 of Meating Dalton

I need Natalia for the information about my parents, and I can torture the password from her. But I’d much rather her willing participation. Yes, for this game, I want her togiveit to me. If she tries to run, then she seals her fate as food. I don’t have all night chasing people down.

“Open those peepers, precious. I have a task for you. You pass, you live. You fail, you die. It’s simple.” Folding my arms, I wait for her to obey. They blink open slowly, traveling over the blood coating me. I might have chunks of Jason in my hair. Fucking limp dick Jason. Eyes widening, a thunderbolt strikes my brain.

“Do you want his dick? Because I can cut that right off for you,” I offer sincerely, smiling down at her. Whimpering, she shakes her head. How disappointing.

“Fine, be boring then. Are you ready for your task? Actually, let’s make it spicy. Three tasks, two strikes. Two strikes mean you fail so two out of three keeps you breathing longer. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

“Why?” she whimpers, tears still streaking down her face. She’s much prettier when she isn’t crying. Should I say that? I shake my head. Meat isn’t pretty. It’s to be eaten. Besides, I’ve already told her how radiant she looks. And I’m giving her a way out of being dumb prey to be hunted and killed. She should be more grateful. It might earn her some brownie points.

Brownies. I wonder if she knows how to bake them. What was I saying? Meat. Right, playmate or prey. Two Ps. Now I want pea soup. Dammit.

“Why am I offering you grace or why are you shackled to my work table? Either are great questions.” I cock my head, eyes landing on her corkscrew curls.

Maybe that’s why I find myself getting lost in pools of brown. I spent a week watching her sister and her want to be joker boyfriend come and go about their day. Whipped cream does not make cacao. Natalia was adopted, like me. Two beans in a pod. Like peas and pea soup. I’m getting hungry with all these food analogies.

“Why me?” Her full lip trembles, tears clinging to dark lashes. I bring a blood covered hand to her cheek, pressing into her soft skin. She flinches, sniffling and closing her eyes while my hand stains her skin. Brown’s my favorite color now.

I trail my hand from her cheek, down her sternum, admiring the sensible black bra contrasting her skin. Lower, swirling a finger in her belly button and lower still, leaving a bloody trail to her ankle. I have the insane urge to paint her red, my second favorite color.

“You’re a social worker, Ms. Bell. You worked a case some twenty-three years ago,” I say idly, walking to her other side to make a return trip with my hands. She flinches at every touch, goosebumps raising along her skin. Fascinating.

“A Morgan Daniels, a woman about the age I am now, was under conservatorship and pregnant with twins.” My hand stalls on her hip, rage flaring hot beneath my skin. I made Jacobson Black’s death too fucking quick. I’m craving a burger. What goes well with a medium rare burger? What was I saying? Oh, my mother.

“Her guardian, the dead prick.” I smile, wishing I’d kept his prick too. I could’ve fucked Jason with it. “Allowed her to only keep one of the children, forcing her to give the other up for adoption.” I waggle my eyebrows, my hand resuming its path to just below her left breast. “I think you know where this tale is going and what I’m after.”

Her head shakes and I can already hear the plea on her lips. That’s disappointing.

“Please, just let me go. I don’t have my work computer—” My laugh breaks off the usual bleating of the weak and dying. Disappointment curls tighter in my stomach. Why do I want her to be different?

Shaking my fingers at her, I stalk away, kneeling near Jason’s filleted corpse. It has a nicer ring than flayed. My hands wrap around Ms. Bell’s bag, reaching in for her laptop. I turn with a victorious grin, gesturing it to her.

“I’ve got this. So, yes, you can give me what I want. The question is,” my head tilts, eyes roaming up and down her barely clothed form. “Are you going to give it to me or will I have to cut it out of you? But we can save the fun for later. Let’s get back on task.”

My smile widens, incredibly pleased with myself. In my hands, rests the machine that can answer the unknown and I have a lovely catch tied down, sorrowful eyes dripping tears. A nice nut could finish the day off, but I need a new skull to fuck. My eyes flick to Jason, an idea spawning.

“What do you say, Natalia? Meat or play?” I turn back to her, cocking a brow.

She sniffles before nodding, asking, “What do you want me to do?” I crow victoriously, skipping to her, laying the laptop on a surgical trap and fishing a key from my pants.

“Ta-da.” I wave it at her before approaching her shackles, unlocking them one by one. She continues lying there, eyeing me warily. Now, that's the real test. Will she run? And what will I do when I catch my little cacao flower?

I should run to a florist and see if I can purchase one. A little reminder of our time together. Slowly, she sits up, swinging her legs to dangle off the slab.

“You will clean,” I declare, marching to stand in front of her. She flinches back. Scowling, I reach for her wrist, making a point. She lets me, avoiding my eyes. I pull on her wrist, forcing her to shift forward, chest brushing against mine. That’s better. No running, even within the confined space.

“Clean up this bloody mess to my satisfaction and you pass task one.” My head jerks to a corner of the lab. “There’s a vat of acid. Throw Jason in it. His meat looks unappealing.” Forcing my fingers to uncurl from her thin wrist, I step back, smile still in place.

Bowing dramatically, I plan my next move. I swipe up the laptop and walk to the door.

“I’ll be back, little flower. Have this place spot less or else.” I shoot her a wink over my shoulder before exiting, locking the door behind me.

I whistle on the way up the stairs from my playroom, tracing the city map in my head. Goldie needs a visit from papa bear.

* * *

NATALIA

He is fucking insane. I wish I knew that before I’d kissed him. Kneeling on my hands and knees, I run another pass of the sponge in my hand underneath the chair he killed Jason in. Bile twists my stomach and I avoid looking in the corner I dragged him into. Getting him into that acid is going to be a bitch.

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