Page 12 of Yours to Break

It wasn’t like us to kill outside of contracts, especially for others. Hudson and I had agreed that we wanted Oliver the first time we saw him; that is, we wanted him as a toy to share. Just thinking about wrecking him, tasting his no-doubt delicious tears, made my cock throb in need.

But why had we killed for him? Why had we gone out of our way to find the stupid culprits and bleed them? That wasn’t something we’d typically do for a toy.

I mean, we hadn’t even fucked him yet.

He was starting to get under my skin.

It bothered me.

It made no sense.

We hadn’t fucked him, not even close, and still, there was something about him.

I kept waiting for this… thisthingto fade. Only, it wasn’t fading. It was getting worse. I caught myself wanting to know what he had eaten, what he did when he was alone in that tiny apartment of his, what he thought about when he woke up in the mornings. It was fucking weird, and I didn’t understand it.

I couldn’t understand what was the difference betweenhimand the probably hundreds of boys we’d fucked. Hudson and I didn’t care about anyone but ourselves.

I told myself it was novelty. That was all.

He was new, shiny, and unspoiled by vices. Maybe that’s why we wanted to protect him—like a clean canvas we hadn’t ruined yet. But that didn’t explain why I wanted to hear his laugh again. Why, when he flinched, something in me tightened—not with excitement, but something closer to anger. Anger at who or what had startled him.

This wasn’t me—us.

We took what we wanted and left nothing behind but bleeding wounds, broken hearts, or sore bodies. And yet here I was, thinking about the way he smelled and the shape of his mouth when he was concentrating. What the hell was happening to me?

Hudson hadn’t said anything. But I knew he felt it too. I saw it in the way he looked at the boy—too long, too quietly, too fucking intensely. We hadn’t talked about it, because we didn’t have words for this kind of sickness. Not when it wasn’t about sex, not when it wasn’t about blood. Whatever this was, it was worse.

Because it wasn’t fading, it wasrooting. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pull it out or feed it. I wasn’t sure I had a choice.

* * *

Oliver looked so serene while he worked. I particularly enjoyed it when his little pink tongue peeked out from his lips when he focused on a task.

Hudson and I had taken turns switching between us to watch him each day. The bookstore across the street from his antique shop had a fantastic view into it.

Of course, we would frequently wander into his store for a chat. He’d greet us with a sour face each and every time. It was frustrating that he was playing so hard to get. Why was he so wary of us?

I started noticing the little things. The way he obviously preferred baggy clothes to something tight and sexy like you’d find over on the campus. He never quite sat still, constantly shifting, like he almost didn’t trust the ground beneath him. I’d catch myself watching him too long, picturing him sleeping in my bed, wearing my clothes, eating my food, and living in my house.

The boy didn’t even know. He had no idea what he was doing to us—either that or he was purposely pretending to be oblivious.He’d flit about his store, looking so soft, and I’d feel this punch of want so pure it made my teeth ache.

We’d killed for him—not that he knew.

But I kept thinking about that—how necessary it had felt. Like he was already ours, and anything or anyone that bothered him was a threat that had to be erased. It deeply puzzled me, but mostly it just made me feel high. Like I’d finally tasted something tangible after a lifetime of chewing on ash.

“Do you not like our visits, pup?” I mused, leaning against the large wooden pillar next to the check-out counter.

Oliver grumbled, “No.”

“Why not?”

He shot a glare in my direction as he continued working at the counter. “You’re annoying, creepy, and you keep calling mepupin front of my customers. It’s weird, and I wish you’d go bother someone else.”

I considered his complaints. “You’re not flattered by our attention?” Greyson said his prey loved attention.

He scoffed, “No, no, I’m not. Are you really that fucking full of yourselves? Just walk over onto the university campus and I’m sure you’d find hundreds of people who’d actually appreciate your attention.”

“Hm… What about a hookup?” Oliver’s head whipped up, frantically scanning the store to see if anyone had heard me. There wasn’t anyone; it was just us.

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