Page 23 of Bloody Seven

"Corbin, I'm not kidding."

If she is really who she's claiming to be, she might be the most adorable serial killer out there. I chuckle to myself, deciding to keep that thought in my head because I highly doubt she would want to be called adorable right now.

"Okay, so you kill people. Why would you tell me that? Why confess now if you promised to kill seven? Aren't you worried I might call the cops and have you arrested before you can fulfill your promise?"

"You're not going to call the cops." She seems sure of herself, and I watch with annoyance as a smug grin crosses her face.

"You're sure of that?"

She pushes off the loveseat and crosses the room before slipping onto my lap, straddling me. Her fingers reach out to play with the collar of my shirt as she runs a finger along my jawline before tapping my chin.

"You won't call the cops because you like being a good boy for me." She leans in to whisper in my ear as my cock hardens underher. "Good boys don't call the cops, bagel boy. Good boys do as they're told and then beg for more."

I groan, her words going straight to my dick as she runs her nose along my neck. My hands grip her waist, holding her in place while I try to keep myself under control. With her sitting on me like this, all I can think about is her riding my cock until she screams my name.

There are too many things for us to talk about. We can’t just fall back into the comfort of intimacy. We need to finish this conversation first. She’s right about one thing. I would never call the cops on her because I don't give a fuck that she kills people. My moral compass isn't exactly in a place to judge others, and I kind of like that she's a little broken like me. Maybe our two broken halves will make us whole together.

"I'm not going to call the cops on you, Poppy."

She tries to slide off of me, but I hold her firmly in place. She leans in to press a chaste kiss to my lips, and a thought crosses my mind. She said lust was supposed to be easy before she ran off last year. Why didn't she kill me?

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"I couldn't. You're a good guy. There was no reason for me to kill you." She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment before she looks at me and places her palm against my cheek. "The only other time I've felt a pull this strong toward another person was with Drew. I couldn't kill you because I wanted you, fuck, I still want you, and it scares the shit out of me. That's why I ran off last year. I couldn't face the fact that I ended up captivated by someone I was supposed to kill. It made me feel weak."

"You're not weak, cupid."

"Aren’t I?" She purses her lips. "It doesn't matter. Also, I was serious when I said you lied to me at your sandwich shop. You told me you weren't married, but I did my research, and you were."

This time, I let her slide off my lap. I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to tell her about Rebecca, but I didn't want her to judge me for it. It's not something I'm proud of.

"Her name was Rebecca," I start.

"I know what her name was, and I know that she died. I saw the news article talking about the car accident. What really happened?"

"The Collection happened." I crumple into the chair as my shoulders slouch over. "They wanted her money, so they made sure they got it."

"They killed her?" She raises a brow.

"I never loved Rebecca. I married her because she was assigned to me. It was my duty to The Collection to secure her fortune for their favor. Going against them is a death sentence, as you unfortunately had to learn the hard way when Drew tried to flee to be with you."

I pause, looking over at her tear-filled eyes, and resist the urge to comfort her. That can wait until everything is out on the table and she decides whether or not she wants to risk being with me.

"Rebecca started asking too many questions. It was my fault. She saw my phone and read through a strand of messages from the higher-ups because I fucked up. They were telling me I needed to secure an heir with her to ensure her fortune wouldn't escape their grasp from a technicality if I couldn’t continue to pretend to love her. When she saw the messages, she lost her shit."

I run my hand through my hair, filled with nothing but shame. Rebecca's death has haunted me for years, and this is the first time I've talked about it with anyone. Even when Trent asked, I shut that shit down. It's bringing back harsh memories that cut fucking deep.

"I told her not to, but she used the phone and messaged them, saying I would never secure a child with her and that she wasdivorcing me. She told them nobody would get a penny of her family’s fortune, so they retaliated."

"They killed her over money," Poppy breathes out, with disgust.

"We lived here together, and she tried to run out of the apartment, but I stopped her. I begged her to let me explain things and told her that if she was willing to keep up the ruse, I would find a way to keep us safe. As long as they thought they were going to get what they wanted, we would have been okay. Just because I wasn't in love with her doesn't mean I didn't care for her. I'm not a monster."

"That's a lot to ask of someone, Corbin. She thought you loved her; of course she would want to get away," Poppy tries to reassure me.

I reach over my head to pull my shirt off and gesture toward my scars. "These are from her. When I wouldn't let her leave, she grabbed a knife from the kitchen and stabbed me. She was in a full-blown panic, screaming about how I was a terrible person. When the first cut didn't take me down, she cut me again and again until she felt safe enough to flee. She didn’t even realize I would have never hurt her.”

Thinking back on everything, I realize it’s kind of a full-circle moment. I had a knife pulled on me by two different women here. Apparently, I have a type, and it’s women who are prone to stabbing.

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