Page 41 of The Hunted
Her nails dug into his arms. He hoped she was drawing blood and marking him. The little murmurs she made in the back of his throat only made the gnawing sensation grow in his stomach. He moved his hand to cup the side of her neck, pulling her closer into him. He wanted to consume her—needed too. The longer he kissed her, the longer he had the feel of her pressed into him, the more the sensation in his stomach grew.
Hunger, he realized.
This was a different type of hunger he was feeling. Hunger for the woman who tasted like paradise and sin. He could get drunk off her taste, and that was a problem.
This feeling was no less addicting to the one that urged him to kill.
Fuck me, I can never let her go.
ChapterSeventeen
Ineed to get out of here.
The Reaper was feeling antsy and impatient. The need to see if Santino left them a body to discover made it impossible to sit still. They were trying to find an excuse to leave even though they knew they couldn’t. Accounting for one’s whereabouts were just as important as the rules to the game. If they got caught before it was time, it would rip the fun right out from under them.
Breathe.
The Reaper knew tonight was just as important. The need to blend in with the world around them allowed them to get the information they sought. They would have preferred to hide out at home, but there were benefits to parading around like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. No one ever paid attention till it was too late.
“I told you what he makes us do. Why aren’t you listening?” The adults around them never took them seriously. No matter who spoke up, it never went anywhere because they were just children, and children were meant to be seen not heard.
“This one always had an active imagination. All the other foster parents said as well.” He chuckled. “We try to encourage imagination, but given the things they have seen, it’s hard to curb the darker parts.” He gripped both their shoulders and all but shoved them deeper into the fair. “Go with Uncle Carl and play on the carousel.”
The Reaper shook the memory from their mind. That day had turned out particularly bad for them and had been the catalyst to how their life had turned out. It was the basis for the games they played and the lives they took. They were free, but the feeling of being trapped never fully went away. They could still feel the phantom bites of the chains around their wrists and the bite of a whip that kissed their barely preteen skin.
The past couldn’t physically touch them anymore, but it never stayed buried. It had fueled their need to become the hunter when they only ever knew being hunted. The Reaper couldn’t wait for the time to come when Santino Alvarez figured it all out. When he shed his mask and became just like the Reaper.
“It’s me and you, always. It won’t be so bad if we pretend it’s just me and you. I promise.’
Too bad those promises were never kept.
Silva hummed in her throat as Santino kissed her senseless. He was everywhere—surrounding her, engulfing her—and she did nothing but let him sweep her up. He kissed her like a man who had been left out in the desert and she was his source of life. He was starved and she was his sustenance. Yet he still held her tentatively, even while he kissed her like he was trying to crawl inside of her and fill her body with him as her only source.
He was such a contradiction.
One she found tempting.
He seemed to want her as evidenced by the hard length firmly placed against her lower body that made her squirm to get closer to him. And yet, his hands were gentle but firm against her hip and neck. She could tell he was still holding himself back and she didn’t understand why.
Her mind instantly wandered to what he would be like behind closed doors. What he’d be like if there was nothing in the way but their clothes.
Would he be insatiable?
Would he be rough or still gentle with his touch?
She bit his lower lip, and the growl that tumbled out of him accompanied by the way his grip on her neck tightened made her whimper and melt into him. Her pulse was erratic, and she was seconds away from climbing him and wrapping her legs around his waist. She could feel the slickness slipping out of her and coating her underwear. It was as much of a shock as her need for this man.
Why do you affect me the way you do?
The sound of a car horn blaring had Santino rigid against her before he nipped at her lips and pulled back. They were both breathing heavy as if they had just finished working out. Silva tugged at the collar of her shirt. She was hot all of a sudden, and the cool breeze did nothing to offer comfort.
“That’s three times,” Santino’s voice was rough. He tightened his grip on her neck with just the right amount of pressure. It was a potent cocktail for her system, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning out loud.
You can be as rough as you want to.
The feeling of his warm calloused hands against her skin made her want to grab his other hand and put it somewhere else—anywhere else on her body. She wanted him to touch her, to tease her, and to do something other than hold her. She shifted on her feet; the ache was becoming unbearable.
“Don’t do that, princess. Don’t look at me like that.” There was a low growl wrapped around each word that she felt deep in her low stomach.
