Page 31 of Last Breath

The demons coo. They’re excited and demand their own satisfaction.

But we’d made a deal, struck on the day we met Joy. It may have been only days ago, but it was my choice. I’ll imagine it’s me, making her cry out for my tongue. I’ll consider it in my dreams, but I won’t break that vow.

As I feel the heat of my release pushing me to let go, I spill down Malachi’s throat. I see the moment that Joy bucks against the seat, her own release of pleasure taking her down, and I’ll keep the secret.

Demon’s be damned, I won’t break Malachi’s trust.

Rising off the ground, stained knees and a tight cock begging for release, Malachi smiles sweetly. “Better?” he asks.

“Much,” I say, kissing him before pulling my pants up.

Chapter 17

Joy

Maybe I was always meant to be this? Maybe all along my darkness was pining, anticipating, and awaiting its equal?

The song piping through the radio is haunting and dangerous, and it’s how I feel—dark. The crooning voice feeds my corrupted soul. It’s become dark in there ever since the loss of my Gran and the stupendous finality of Salem’s father.

Inside my broken-hearted body houses a sinister soul. When my grandmother died the walls crumbled, and the little caged monster was given free rein. I’d always felt different and cold, but I’d assumed it was Gran’s constant abuse that was the cause of that. Watching as Salem tore down his disgusting sperm donor and childhood boogieman, I relished the sight of blood and death. I’ve now seen more blood and death than a hundred episodes of a criminal investigation show.

With the window down on the Impala, I’m content to let the warm breeze stroke my face. This grand adventure has released the pent-up breath I’d been holding all my life.

The three of us winding around the Great Plains of America with no direction or intended course has been exactly what I needed.

No routine.

No obligations.

No beets.

Looking at the driver, taking in his features, all I see is the beauty that hides the devil within. Salem is calculated, intense, a genius with a blade and a psychopath. But in a good way. He has morals, a compass that leads to only those truly deserving of his blades, and I’m usually right beside him.

Our latest stop still paints flecks of ichor across my bare arms. Playing with a large splatter mark, I wet my finger and create designs across my white forearm, letting the shape of a heart appear. I’m not afraid of blood, death, or the likes. I see it as we’re the reapers. Civilized humanity won’t orcan’tgrow big enough balls to kill off the truly disgusting souls that have harmed others for too long.

Why house them in hotels—as that’s what prison is now. An asshole like Tress would have made friends and ruled the yard. We did humanity a favor. We did society a favor in eradicating someone such as him.

When I left my Gran’s house, I’d grabbed one bag. Tossing in essentials, a few family heirlooms, and a picture of my Gran when she was younger, more stable in mind and beautiful, I’d forgotten the need for a winter coat. Even a spring coat would’ve been better than the T-shirts, lone pair of jeans, and the single sweater that I thought was necessary.

The darkness in their souls and my own had found a kindred spark, but even they can’t keep me warm on cool nights.

“You’re sure you can go in alone?” Malachi’s worried. We’ve only been together a short time, and other than seeing Tress’s death, I haven’t given them a lot of reassurance that I’m sticking around. That at the opportune moment I won’t run like hell.

It’s now been a week since I’d left Gran’s and we’ve stayed in abandoned homes, small roadside near-empty hotels, or the car when nothing was close enough. We’ve spent every moment enjoying each other’s flesh, becoming synergistic.

“She’ll be just fine.” Running a pocketknife along the edges of his fingernails, Salem is bored with this interaction. “Stop worrying, Mal. She’ll come back.” Turning to me with a slight taunt in his gaze, he says, “Won’t you, Joy? You’ll be back before we know it.”

Popping the door for me, Salem leans forward. I’m too intrigued to see what’s next in our relationship and in our lives to leave now.

“I’ll be quick, I promise, Malachi. Just an in and out.” With the lack of warmth in the air, I want this over fast. I need that coat.

Making my way across the lot toward the tiny store on the end,Mrs. Mary’s Quite Contrary,Mal calls out, stopping me.

Blowing out a heavy breath, Mal stops in front of me with one of those enigmatic smiles I’m starting to love. “I’d feel a ton better if you’d take a gun with you. You know, to keep you safe.”

“I don’t need a gun to grab a coat, Mal.”

“Then at least,” placing a butterfly knife in my hand, “take my knife with you. Please.”

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