Page 19 of Reaper's Hunt

“I might’ve gotten him a little present in the basement.” Ronan stands, shoving his mug farther onto the table. “I’m not stupid.”

My eyebrows shoot up, a grin tugging at my lips despite the mess of Selene and the Reaper. “Well, in that case,” I say, pushing off the counter, “I’ll be telling Harley I’ll be a little late. I’m not missing one of Malik’s sessions.”

“See, you’re making my point for me. You don’t care about these investigations.”

I shake my head, my grin widening, but there’s a hard edge to it. “Oh, I care. But they won’t be any deader in an hour or two.”

Dante

Ihavemanyfavoritemoments, but this is a special one. This is one where Malik constructs art, similar to the way Selene does. Maybe I have a thing for artists? I’m not sure. Regardless, I find myself leaning against the damp concrete wall in the basement, the air thick with the stench of blood, piss, and fear. The single light bulb is slowly swinging overhead, casting jagged shadows across the scene unfolding before me—Malik circling a guy on his knees, hands strung up in chains bolted to the ceiling.

The little fucker’s screaming, his voice hoarse as he insists he doesn’t know anything, that we’ve got the wrong man. Blood dribbles from shallow cuts on his chest and arms, red rivulets mixing with sweat, pooling on the filthy floor. The smell’s rancid, sharp, but it’s nothing compared to the thrill of watching Malik work. For a moment, I wonder if Ronan fucked up and brought back the wrong guy. He’s never made a mistake before, but there’s a first time for everything. The same way that Selene is slowly losing her edge.

I glance over at Ronan, observing him as he leans against his own section of the wall, eyes locked on the scene. He’s as enraptured as I am, his usual smirk gone, replaced by a hunger that mirrors mine. No mistake, then; the guy Malik is currently playing with is just another soul caught in our web.

Turning my attention back to Malik, my cock twitches at the thought of them together, Malik and Selene tearing a man apart, blood and screams and raw, unholy beauty. It’d be heaven on earth, a depraved masterpiece. I drop a hand to the bulge in my pants, massaging slowly, the pressure building as the guy cries out again. Malik has drawn his knife across the man’s shoulder, a shallow cut just enough to bloom red, and the guy’s tears mix with snot, his face a mess of panic and pain. “Only cowards get to live,” Malik purrs.

The guy’s head jerks up, eyes wide with terror. “What do you mean?” he chokes out, his voice trembling, chains rattling as he pulls uselessly against them.

Malik tilts his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes, a grin splitting across his face. “You tell us what we need to know, and we set you free,” he says, the lie so smooth it’s almost believable, his knife glinting under the bulb’s flicker.

“I don’t know anything!” the guy screams again. “I’ve got a wife and kids,please!”

A wild, unhinged sound escapes Malik as he drops to his knees in front of the man, before dragging the tip of his knife down the guy’s chest, drawing a thin line of blood until he stops just above the man’s dick. The guy lets out a raw, animalistic sound, his body jerking backward as piss leaks down his leg, adding to the stench in our basement.

Malik’s grin only widens, his eyes blazing with desire. “Oh, the cock’s such a precious bargaining piece, isn’t it?” he mocks, his knife hovering over the guy’s fragile piece of equipment. “Now, let’s try this again. You’ve got a bounty on your head that my dear friend Wolf over there,” he nods at Ronan, “should absolutely turn you in for. Yet, you might also have information about why you were in the fucking area. Not a lot of hired killers hang out in Ashthorne.”

Whatever was eating at Malik last night, whatever had him fucking me into the mattress with a desperation that left my ass sore and my chest bruised, seems to have taken a backseat to this. The guy is his canvas, his blood the paint, and Malik’s painting a fucking masterpiece. My hand moves faster, stroking through my jeans, my cock thickening in my palm at the sight of him. I glance at Ronan again, and he’s hard too, his pants straining, and I wonder what his fantasy is in this moment or if the taste of blood is what gets him going.

Either way, we all get off on this shit and I’m not sure there will ever be an easy way to end this lifestyle. I’m not entirely sure I’d want to.

The guy’s sobbing now, his voice barely a whisper. “Fine, I’ll talk. Just promise me I go free after this.”

Malik hums his response, his knife still pressed to the guy’s skin. “Yeah, I promise.” His voice is soft, almost tender, but I know that tone. It’s a lie and the guy’s too desperate to see it.

I shift against the wall and pull my hand from my cock before I explode in my pants like a goddamn teenager, just as the guy starts to talk.

“I was hired for one last job before I could retire,” he pushes out, desperation filling his words. “It’s not really a thing in our business, leaving and all, but they said this last job, no pay, would cover everything. So I took it. I’ve got a family now. I need something less dangerous. But the bitch is so fucking slippery, like she knew I was watching her.”

Malik leans forward, still on his knees in front of the guy. I push off the wall and step up. “You got hired to kill someone as a way to get out?” I ask, skeptical because I’ve heard of deals like that from my days running dirty jobs, before I went legit. Well,mostlylegit. It’s a trap, always, a way to tie up loose ends by burying the hired gun. They get a sweet deal, think they’re scot-free, and then the public finds them dead somewhere. The man lets out a pained grunt before speaking again.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous. Stands out too, with that long silver hair.”

Malik lets out a feral growl, his body immediately tensing.Well, shit.“You’re after my sparrow?” he snarls, his eyes flashing with a sudden rage.

The guy’s eyes widen, confusion twisting his bloodied face. “Who the fuck is Sparrow?” he chokes out, chains rattling as he jerks.

I sigh, dragging a hand down my face, realizing this is about to go south really fucking quick. Selene is Malik’s newest obsession and this idiot just admitted to hunting her. Before I can get a word out, Malik’s knife plunges into the guy’s chest, the blade sinking deep into the cavity of his flesh. He slowly twists the blade deeper, eliciting a guttural groan from the man, blood bubbling at his lips. “Sparrow is mine!” Malik screams, before dragging the knife upward, sheer force splitting skin and muscle, blood spraying across his face, his chest, and the floor.

My cock hardens even further at the sight of Malik soaked in blood, lost in his crazed obsession. Ronan shifts beside me, his eyes still locked on the carnage, intrigued. “I’m gonna guess that somehow our resident crazy found Selene?” he says, a hint of amusement cutting through the tension.

“Yeah,” I mutter, my eyes on Malik, who’s hacking away now, the guy long past screaming, just a twitching, bleeding mess. “Apparently, he’s been watching her.” I catch myself before saying more, before admitting Selene’s the Reaper, that Malik’s been trailing her kills. That’s a secret I’ll keep locked tight until it finds its way to the surface.

Ronan just shakes his head, growling at the speck of blood that makes it onto his shoe. “Good thing that bounty’s dead or alive. No idea how I’m gonna explain the meat sack that’s left, but I will say this morning’s already been entertaining.”

The laughter that follows is something between a twisted cackle and downright evil as Malik turns toward us, his grin wild, blood dripping from his teeth, his face a mask of red. “Look at my masterpiece!” he says, his voice bright, almost childlike, gesturing at the corpse like it’s a painting.

I smirk as I step closer. “It’s gorgeous, babe. Let’s get you a full fucking shower.”

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