Page 43 of Savage Kingdom

The men were dead, I was covered in blood, and the taste of Gideon’s deception was coated on my skin and the taste on my tongue.

He turned to me with a smirk on his face and a maniacal look in his eyes.

I gripped the blade in my hand.

“Who are you?” Gideon barked as he got closer to me.

The smell of death was heavy in the air. As always, it fascinated me—it made me feel elated, like no one could touch me.

“You betrayed me,” I spat.

“You just killed two men, Petal, and I see no remorse on your pretty face.” He kept taking steps toward me, forcing me to take one back. “I’d say you fucking enjoyed it too.”

He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right either. I didn’t enjoy killing for sport. I loved the way I felt when I served my justice. It wasn’t just in men but women too—those who committed unspeakable crimes against humanity. I felt powerful, taking the life of those who felt invincible. It was a high I’d learned to crave since I was a little girl.

“Yorovich’s whore wouldn’t know how to defend herself,” he said as he prowled toward me. “Yorovich’s whore wouldn’t know how to killoneman, never mind two.” He stood before me.

My breathing was heavy, and he was panting. His arm curled around my waist, bringing me to him. “You are not Yorovich’s pawn. You were his fucking queen, someone he couldn’t tame, so he chained you to cut off your wings.”

He was off base, but I humored him. I raised on one of my tiptoes since one of my heels had broken. “And what am I now?”

Gideon smiled. He looked down at me, and he licked his lips. “Now, you’re mine.”

My eyebrows rose in confusion before he kissed me. Lips brushing and teeth clanking. I was confused and still running on the high from killing.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you next,” I told him. With the blade still in my hand and blood on my neck, I raised my arm, ready to strike, when he grabbed my wrist midair. He took it from me and threw me against the bed.

He was there in an instant, his body hovering over mine, the scalpel in his hand as he brought it to my dress and cut it from the chest down to between my legs. Then he inserted two fingers almost violently.

My core clenched not because it felt intrusive but because I wanted more. I needed more, and that was a first.

“Your pussy is fucking soaked.” He groaned against my lips. He then pulled back and licked his lips. “Yeah, I’m going to keep you.”

I thrashed, trying to push him off me, but all it did was make his fingers go in deeper. I whimpered, and I hated myself for it.

“Are you a spy?” he mocked as he brought the fingers out and trailed the moisture between my breasts and down to my navel. “Does massacre turn you on as much as it does me?”

Fuck me,she looked beautiful, her porcelain skin covered in blood. The way she killed with no remorse was inspiring.

Now more than ever, I needed to know who she was. Why was she here, and what was her endgame. But all of that could wait after I had a taste of her. She looked up at me with so much hate, but her pussy kept getting wetter.

Lies could spill from her mouth as long as the truth was coated on my tongue.

“Do you hate it? The way I make you feel?”

Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes shone with lust, hate, and a bit of fear.

“You’d said when we slept together, I would be the one doing the fucking.”

She did have a point, and I was a man of my word. We also didn’t have much time before someone came back this way, but I wanted to make a statement, and for all I cared, the world could fuck off for five minutes.

Slowly, I put my body weight on her. My hands came to her wrists, holding them down beside her head.

“You’re right, Petal. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t keep to my word?” She let out a relieved breath. “Good thing we aren’t sleeping, and I’m not fucking you.”

By that, I meant my dick wouldn’t go in her.

I brought my hand down and pulled out one of my knives, and I put the handle in her core, gripping the blade with my palm. Her head thrashed back at the contact. I pulled it out only to shove it back in again.

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