Page 13 of Begging for Mercy
Chapter 5
Reaper
The cigarettein my hand goes out, the orange sparks at its tip fading to gray. I keep relighting it, thinking that I’ll be able to focus better with a few more puffs. Instead, I’ve burned through half a pack and have hardly taken any hits. I toss the butt onto the mausoleum rooftop and sigh, dragging my fingers through my hair. I didn’t get any sleep today, and neither did Zane. Halloween always fucks with his sleep schedule, making him irritable as fuck and terrible to be around.
I left the house as soon as the sun went down. After a successful hunting season, I’d normally find a busty brunette to wile away the hours with, but I’ve got a one-track mind that’s playing on a loop.
Mercy wants to have sex with Zane.
At least, that’s herwin condition, he says. As if she would come up with that on her own. No matter how much I’ve pestered him about the rest of their conversation, he stays mute, refusing to fess up.
He did something. Said something. I know it.
But forcing myself into Mercy’s life so soon after seeing her—nearly twelve hours ago—breaks other boundaries we’ve set for the hunt. We’re supposed to lead them in slowly at first, onlyramping up in the final stages. With Mercy, I want to start on full speed and burn right through her.
Hence the cigarettes. My mind keeps spiraling on everything Ishouldn’tdo, which consequently, is everything Iwantto do.
Voices carry across the cemetery. It’s not uncommon for people to be here in early November with Día de los Muertos around the corner, but I recognize these voices.Bothof them. I perk up immediately, craning my neck to check all of the nearby entrances. One. Two. Three..
There.
Siren is walking hand-in-hand with a frat boy I’ve never had the pleasure of seducing, but I’ve seen him around. He’s a junior, I think, but he’s been in the frat since his first year enrolled. I don’t pay much attention to the politics of Greek life, but I’ve seen enough to know when someone is there on daddy’s dime instead of their own volition. This guy—football star, pretty smile, business major—never seems like he wants to be here.
I’m not sure if he wants to beanywhere.
But he looks pretty goddamn content holding Mercy’s hand.
A tear of tension rips through my shoulders, and I roll them back to ease the strain. I haven’t laid public claim on her, but I will. Soon, but not yet. Let him hold her hand for now, but within a month or two, I’ll make sure she—and the entire student body—knows who owns her.
Because when Zane and I choose a target, we claimeverything.Mind, body, soul.Life.I take a deep breath and try not to let impatience get the best of me. Zane says that it’s one of my many faults—as if there are that many—that I get too attached too quickly. He could serve to get more attached than he does.
I pull my phone from my pocket and take a picture of the two of them holding hands, capturing a coy smile from our girl. I frown at the screen as soon as I see it, disliking how she’s smilingfor another man. At least it isn’t reciprocal; he looks like he’s got a stick up his ass. Wound up tight. Looking over his shoulder, about to jump out of his skin?—
A slow smirk curves on my lips. Did my little siren tell a friend about our deal? Is she trying to protect herself from me?
I wonder what Zane would make of that.
My phone vibrates moments later, just as Mercy and Pretty Boy cut across a row of graves towards the section we visited last night. “Yo,” I answer, still smiling. Zane isn’t nearly as amused as I am.
“She has a boyfriend?” His voice clips at the end of each word. I can picture him glaring at his phone.
“I don’t think so,” I answer honestly, staring at them from a distance. “It looks like they’re dragging each other around. Almost like they’re fighting.”
“Lovers fight.”
“Hm.” What would Zane know about that? “Still, he doesn’t look happy to be here, but she’s all too eager to visit Alejandro again.”
Paying her respects to the dead? She should have brought flowers.
“What are they doing there?”
Like I know. Rolling my eyes, I switch the phone to my other ear. “Want me to walk over and ask them?”
Zane falls silent. “You shouldn’t.”
…but he wants me to.
Grinning, I jump off the mausoleum rooftop and stumble a few steps into the grass. “Say less,” I tease, chuckling. “Want me to put you on speaker?”
