Page 15 of My Hunger, Your Soul

Ivan looks at me over his shoulder, a smirk tilting at the side of his mouth. Cocky bastard.

“I’ll be there waiting, Ty.”

And with the final word, the dick walks out of my office, and I’m pretty sure I can hear him whistling. How I will get through the next few months is a mystery. I might have to consider alcohol.

11

IVAN

Leaving Tyler’s office, I can’t help but chuckle to myself. I love the confusion my behavior brings out in him. He’s a thread that I want to keep pulling until it unravels into a knotted mess. Then I can pick him apart, piece by piece. Stepping outside into the freezing cold, my phone blares, and I answer it straight away, ready for the bitching.

“Where the fuck are you? We’re ready to go in,” Jules shouts down the phone. He really needs to chill out.

“I’m on my way over to you now. Had to stop somewhere first.”

“Lev and D will kill you if we screw this up because you’re fucking around, Ivan.”

“I ain’t fucking around, and you need to watch your tone, Jules. I said I’d be there, and I will.”

I end the call before he has a chance to respond. It only takes me a ten minute cab ride to reach the property where the Carlos traitors are hanging out. I spot Simon and Jules just down the road from the property in their large blacked out truck. Subtle.

The back door of the vehicle swings open, and I jump inside next to Simon. The warmth of the car envelops me after being in the cold, the tension eases in my muscles, a soothing sensation transitioning from discomfort to relief as my skin warms.

“Where were you?” Simon asks from beside me.

“Keeping an eye on our architect.”

Jules groans from the front seat and turns to face me.

“What did you do to him?” Jules asks, his eyebrow raised in question.

“Nothing. Just talked.”

“Okay. So what do you plan on doing to him?” Si asks.

“Everything my mind can think of,” I say as I rub my chin, thoughts running through my mind of how beautiful Tyler would look bound and at my mercy.

“That sounds like a horror show,” Jules says, and I laugh.

“Depends on what you define as horror.”

“Poor guy. Maybe I should warn the poor fucker,” Simon says, and I spin to face him.

“You stay away from him, and no fucking gossiping to D. I won’t react well to anyone meddling.” Simon raises his hands in defeat.

“Nothing to do with me. As long as it doesn’t come back on us, I don’t give a fuck,” Simon says.

“Just try not to hurt him until after he’s finished the project,” Jules says.

“I can’t make any promises. Now, where is my bag?”

“In the trunk,” Jules says.

“What do you keep in that thing?” Simon asks.

“My babies.”

“He means his fucked up torture devices,” Jules says.

---