Page 16 of War Games

The shadow disappears, fading into the night like a ghost, leaving me questioning if I imagined the whole thing. My heart doesn’t dare stop racing. There’s no way I could have imagined that. And for whatever reason, Reaper just allowed me to escape with my life.

He’s playing with me. Getting a kick out of the way I fear him, and there’s no denying just how easily he senses that fear. He feeds on it the same way that I do, and just like that, I have a full understanding of his game plan.

He’s going to wait me out. He’s going to let the rest of us battle it out as he stands back enjoying the show, watching as the rest of us crumble under his scrutiny, and just when we think we might have a fighting chance, he’ll end those of us left like the incompetent killers we are.

A chill sails down my spine, and I realize that no matter how hard I try, how much I fight, how much research and weapons I have to defend myself against this beast, I will never win. It’s not possible.

And with that thought, I simply turn on my heel and escape out the back of the warehouse, the same way I came in, knowing that whatever happens here in this sleepy town, my life as I once knew it is well and truly over.

6

REAPER

The fuck is wrong with me? I had the perfect opportunity to take Siren out of the competition, and all I could do was stand there like a fucking idiot while she took The Boston Maneater’s life. Well, to be honest, his own incompetence is what resulted in the loss of his life, Siren was just there to help the process along. Yet, what little of her skills I was able to witness was enough to prove that she’s in a league of her own.

Mostly.

I don’t know what it is about her, but she intrigues me, and I don’t think I’m ready to end her life just yet. There was a beauty about her kill which I don’t often see. It was captivating and calm. So often kills are messy and done without precision, and despite The Boston Maneater’s rage as he raced toward her, she kept her cool and handled herself with grace, and she did so without leaving a shred of her DNA behind. Not even a single fingerprint. And she looked fucking gorgeous while she was at it.

I’ve seen plenty of women playing the assassin part and dressing up in leather for Halloween. I usually find it appalling.But with Siren, knowing she could back up the look with real skills only increased my intrigue.

I want to see her again. I want to know how she reacts in different situations, and I want to know how to break her. I don’t believe I’ll toy with her though. There’s no need. It would be disrespectful toward her skills, a slap in the face almost. Siren is better than that.She deserves better than that.

It’s not often another contract killer finds themselves deserving of my respect, but Siren somehow has it. Though there’s no denying she fears me. I could smell it in the air the second she realized I was there, and while I tend to get off on the fear others hold for me, it was different with her. I didn’t like it. I don’t want her to fear me, though she should because when it comes down to it, I will have no choice but to end her life, and I can guarantee that I will enjoy every last second of it.

She’s going to make me work for it, going to put me through my paces, and I can’t fucking wait. My cock hardens at just the thought of the fun we’re going to share, and as I drive out of the industrial area, tailing Siren from a distance, I reach for the front of my pants. Freeing my cock, I grasp it with one hand as the other holds on to the steering wheel, following every turn that Siren takes.

My fist works up and down my cock, gliding over my velvety skin and roaming over my tip as I picture all the fun I’ll have with Siren. She’s fucking beautiful. Drop dead gorgeous. And playing with her is going to be the most fun I’ve ever had. But more than that, I want to hear how she screams, how she feels when I spread those creamy thighs and fuck her tight little cunt. I bet she’s fucking wild between the sheets, but I don’t doubt for one second that she’s the type to take control. Only with me, she won’t. She’ll have no choice but to give it up for me, to submit to me, because no matter the situation, I will never relinquish control.

I want to taste her, make her lose control, and only when she’s about to explode, I want to bend her over and claim her ass. Fuck. It’ll be magical. Maybe I should hold out on ending her life. The two of us could use these next twenty-nine days to our advantage, spending every last minute fucking like wild animals as the rest of the contenders take each other out.

My hips jolt at the thought, and I clench my jaw as pleasure pulses through my veins.

“Fuck.”

My fingers stretch down, cupping my balls and giving them just a moment of relief before curling around my length once again. It’s too much. Too good, but with her . . . it’ll be incredible. I picture the warmth that will come when I sink into her, the way her cunt would squeeze me as my eyes instantly roll. I clench myself tighter, desperate for a release.

My fist works faster as I quickly push myself to the edge, mindlessly taking another corner as Siren leads me on a wild goose chase, wanting to play it smart. She’s taking every precaution after seeing me tonight, not wanting to lead me right back to her temporary home, but she will fail.

My hips push up as I fuck my hand, precum pooling at my tip as my desperation becomes too much. I need to sink into her.

It’s too much. This isn’t what I came here for. I can’t afford to be distracted by this woman, and yet, I can’t bring myself to drive away. I need this like I’ve never needed anything else, and I feel the exact moment I become obsessed with the idea of making her lose control, the idea of tasting her as she comes on my tongue.

This woman will belong to me.

The thought of how the next twenty-nine days will play out launches me over the edge, and as my tight fist works me up and down, my balls tighten with desperation, pushing me until I can’t possibly hold on a second longer. My release comesshooting out of me, hot spurts of cum pooling into my palm as I groan with satisfaction.

I suck in a breath through my clenched jaw, riding out my release while knowing that nothing will compare to how it will be with Siren. How our bodies will fit together. How a light sheen of sweat will coat her skin as she works me to completion. How she’ll cater to every last desire I have. I knew these games were going to be interesting, but I never could have anticipated this.

As I drive through the streets of Blue Springs, watching Siren’s tail lights disappear around a corner, I reach for a napkin in my center console to clean myself up. I can’t say I anticipated this either. Madly jerking off while stalking a woman back to her home wasn’t on my bingo card for War Games, and yet here we are.

I follow Siren for another hour, grinning to myself as she takes every detour imaginable to make sure no one is following her. She’s smart. She knows I wouldn’t have just left the warehouse without tailing her, but when she pulls into the Blue Springs holiday resort, it becomes clear that she thinks she lost me. Her ignorance is almost endearing.

Bringing my car to a stop in an old bakery parking lot, almost a block away from the entrance of the resort, I abandon my car and go on foot. I reach the back fence of the resort in no time and launch myself over to the other side, dropping down into the manicured grass.

I have to give it to Siren, she’s chosen a nice location to spend the duration of the War Games. No one would have guessed a holiday resort. I can’t fault her, if she wants to spend the next twenty-nine days lounging by the heated pool with bar service and relaxing in the sun, then who am I to judge? Most of the other contenders I was able to sniff out last night are staying in hourly hotels or squatting in abandoned homes, apart from The Boston Maneater, who clearly favored sleeping in old rundownwarehouses. Though I’m sure as the games go on and the contenders begin to get desperate, their hotel rooms and homes will be traded out for something a little less . . . obvious. They’ll have to get creative if they plan on hiding from me.

Making my way through the resort, I search every villa until I stumble upon her dented Range Rover parked on a curb. The car is beautiful, satin wrapped, all the extras, but after following her for hours, it’s no secret why it looks like it’s been through hell. She can’t drive. At all.

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