Page 95 of Cruel Games

I hit the water with asplash,and if it weren’t for the alcohol in my veins, I’d have likely frozen to death in the water as I shivered and swam for the shore.

The Dread wasn’t that deep or dangerous at this time of year, not on this side of town, but the current could really kick your ass if you let it. I wasn’t in any shape to fight the damn pull, but if I let it carry me downstream, I’d likely end up dead. So I fought it, hoping I could get to the wall and grab onto something before I passed out.

Or froze to death.

Instead, I watched as Ivy came flying over the wall in a full dive, her hair flying behind her like a damn banner, her body barely disturbing the water as she hit it head-on. I watched in awe as she surfaced beside me, throwing her arm under mine as she dragged us both to shore, the swim looking deceptively easy for such a dainty person.

When we reached the wall, Dingo grabbed my arm and yanked me up and over, dumping me on the ground like a fish on the docks. Coyote retrieved Ivy, who seemed none the worse for wear aside from the fact that she resembled a drowned rat now.

I opened my mouth to thank her, but her next words stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Maybe next time, try to lose less dramatically. If anything’s taking you out in this life, it’ll be me.”

My jaw snapped shut in indignation. And I’d been about tothank herfor saving my life.How could she be standing here making jokes?—

“Fuck you, bitch.”

She shrugged as Coyote wrung her hair out, and Dingo draped a flannel shirt over her shoulders that he’d had wrapped around his waist. “Maybe later.”

My jaw hit the ground at her audacity. I had no words to describe how cocky, proud, and dominating she sounded with that single sentence. I wanted to wrap my hand around her throat and choke the life out of her. I wanted to shake her until some of that common sense rattled free. I wanted?—

—to misbehave until she put her hands on me again. To taunt her into a good, rough fucking. To have her step on me so I could thank her for the privilege.

What the ever-loving fuck was wrong with me?

THIRTY-SIX

IVY

“You can't be fuckingserious, bitch.”

Jackal eyed the collars in my hand withobvious distaste, his lip curled in a sneer as he planted his hands on his hips and dared me to try something with those gorgeous, dangerous, expressive as fuck eyes of his.

It’d been a few days since I kicked his ass down by the river after a drunken night of debauchery and fisticuffs. He’d agreed to my terms, my vague demands, and now, it was just like him to try and back out when the time came to pay up.

I cracked a smile of my own as I took a step closer and shook my hand. Hanging from each one was a charm—and since Jackal had a habit of sneaking around when it suited him, I wanted to know when that fucker so much as sneezed. His had been adorned with a pretty pink bell, an accompanying bow really tying off the whole look.

“Look, I even got them engraved with your new names!”

Dingo stepped forward and took one from my hand, his gaze turning from suspicious to indignation in the blink of an eye.

“Oh, this is too good.” Brown curls bounced around his head as he turned his attention back to me and pointed at the leather collar in his grip. “Who the fuck is ‘diva’ supposed to be?”

I shrugged, offering the other two like I didn't give a damn if they wore it right or not. “Hard to say. Maybe the other two names will give it away.”

Now I had Coyote's attention, as well, his barefoot ass padding his way across the room to join in on the intrigue. I watched his mouth form the words on each one, and without warning, he let out a howl of laughter—mixed in with an actual howl.

Just like the dog he was.

“This is mine,” he muttered, reaching out to take the one that had a little whip charm dangling from it. I'd gotten him a collar that matched his eyes because I couldn't get enough of their delightful shade.

Theother two watched in speechless awe as he offered the collar back to me with a shit-eating grin and lowered his head, obviously waiting for me to put it on him.

Either this man knew what it was to be a sub, or he was more of a dog than his name suggested.

Despite my annoyance, my hands shook as I collared my first new pet, the metallic clink of the latch making it official. When he looked back up at me, it was with a new fire in his eyes, one that unsettled me in ways I didn't like.

“On your knees, dog,” I growled, and though the fire behind those beautiful lashes didn't dim, he did as I commanded, his hands in his lap, head tossed back, the word Bitch stitched in cursive across the front.

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