Page 45 of Wicked Little Nightmare

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," she purred, pressing a kiss to my chest. "A nice, secluded spot where no one can hear the screams."

"Exactly." I pulled her closer, breathing in her scent. "No one's ever gonna hurt you again, baby. I'll kill anyone who tries."

She giggled, the sound both sweet and chilling. "Oh, I know baby. I get wet dreams thinking about you gutting dear ole ‘dad’. But you know I am more than capable of gutting my own fish."

"Oh, I am fully fucking aware, babe. Doesn't mean I won't enjoy ripping apart anyone who looks at you wrong. You can’t be the only one having any fun."

We laid there in comfortable silence, limbs tangled together. The world outside our dingy apartment ceased to exist. Except for the random screeching coming from the bathroom.Damn Skeeter ruining my moment.

I gazed at Lakey, her wild hair splayed across the pillow and felt that familiar surge of possessiveness. Fuck, I loved her. God, did I ever. She was mine. All mine. Every damn inch of her 5’1, down to the darkness that invaded her every pour.

"You know what, sweetheart?" I drawled, running my hand down her side. "I think we need to celebrate our little escape today."

Her eyes lit up with that dangerous glint I loved. "Mmm, I love celebrations."

I smirked, already feeling the adrenaline pumping. "How about we go say hi to Skeets, and see what we can carve out of him?"

Lakey's laugh was pure sin. "God, you really know how to sweet talk a girl, don't you?"

"Only the best for my homicidal honey," I teased, leaning in to nip at her neck.

She arched into me, nails raking down my back. "Mmm, keep talking like that and we might not make it out of this bed."

I moved faster than she anticipated, pinning her hands above her head with one hand, the other wrapping around her neck and squeezing. "Maybe that's the plan, baby. Got all day to playbefore we paint the town red. I don’t think we’ve slept for like almost 36 hours. After playing with the Rat Bastard, let’s nap, yeah?"

She grunted in response, probably already thinking of how to get information from the man trapped in our bathroom.

As I captured her lips in a bruising kiss, I knew one thing for certain - this twisted, beautiful chaos with Lakey was all I ever wanted. And I'd burn down all the fucking nunneries to keep it.

Eighteen: Lakey

Ijolted awake to the sound of a cat being strangled.No, wait. That was just Cam singing. My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the sunlight streaming through the blinds.Holy shit, did we fall asleep and were out the entire day?Honestly, it made sense given how much we did yesterday. As the fog of sleep lifted, I realized two things: one, it was my birthday, and two, Cam was attempting to serenade me with what I think was supposed to be "Happy Birthday."

"Jesus Christ, are you trying to wake the dead?" I groaned, burying my face in the pillow to muffle my laughter.

Cam's off-key warbling cut off abruptly. "Good morning, sunshine," he sang. "Ready for your birthday surprise?"

I peeked out from behind the pillow, taking in his devilish grin. "If the surprise is you shutting up, I'll take it."

He clutched his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me, darling. And after I slaved away all morning..."

The smell hit me then - bacon, coffee, and something sweet. My stomach growled traitorously. Curiosity piqued, I swung my legs out of bed, padding towards the kitchen.

"Holy shit," I breathed, taking in the chaotic scene before me. Every surface was covered in flour, eggshells littered the counter, and what looked like pancake batter dripped steadily onto the floor. In the center of it all stood Cam, his hair dusted white, proudly holding a plate of slightly burnt toast.

"Ta-da!" he exclaimed, gesturing grandly at the mess. "Breakfast fit for a queen."

I bit my lip, torn between amusement and exasperation. Only Cam could make a disaster zone look charming. "You do realize we have a prisoner chained up in the bathroom, right?" I asked, eyeing a precariously balanced tower of pans. "What if he smells this and goes feral? What then, sir?"

Cam's grin turned predatory. "Oh, I made sure our guest had breakfast. I burned some toast in my first run through. Wouldn't want him to starve to death, would we?"

I couldn't help but smile at his twisted thoughtfulness. As I surveyed the carnage that used to be our kitchen, a warmth bloomed in my chest. It was utterly ridiculous, completely impractical, and so perfectly us. Most women would be pissed, wanting more… feeling they deserved more. But not me. Cam’s version of love was certainly not everyone’s cup of tea but seeing him like this bit at my heart. Domestic God for the woman he loves.What’s not to appreciate?

"Well," I said, snatching a piece of bacon from a nearby plate, "I suppose we'd better eat before it gets cold. Wouldn't want all your hard work to go to waste."

Cam's dark eyes roamed over me before he shook his head, trying to concentrate on what I said. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The day's just getting started."

I sauntered over to the table, dodging eggshells and flour handprints. The spread was a chaotic masterpiece - burnt toast, runny eggs, and what I hoped was just very crispy bacon. I picked up a fork, poking at something vaguely pancake shaped.

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