Page 49 of Obliterated
An indignant sputter leaves his mouth, and I can’t help but curl up the corners of my mouth as they get shackled.
Good fucking riddance.
The charge is not big enough for a ticket to the Pit, so they’ll be out soon enough, but Joyeus is nowhere to be seen. Our sources say she’s still up north, but once she’s back she’ll drag her pets free again. For now, though, these fuckwits are off the streets and, most importantly, nowhere near Kieran. He can breathe for a bit.
Ican breathe for a bit.
That itch still crawls under my skin, though. Biting, demanding, unsatisfied. The Pit fight already feels too long ago, while in reality I still carry the marks of my fun little torture session on my body. A full-blown, honest, bloody reminder thatsome councilmembers are as bad an infection on this island as the red rain.
And I’ll make them pay in flesh.
Some day.
Today? I’m focusing on the anal fistula with a goatee.
I take my seat at the bar, throw my legs out, cross my ankles, and enjoy the show as the group is pushed toward the exit amid a lot of protest.
In a moment of what I assume is sheer despair, Goatee turns back, looks me dead in the eye, raises his voice over the rowdy crowd and says, “You’re queued for the Pit the second I’m free! Joyeus will see to it. And while you rot in a cell, I’ll have his ass with no Immune to guard him.”
Before I know it, my boots hit the ground again, taking me in his direction. I haven’t even started to think about what I’m going to do to him, letting my primal instincts run this little shindig, letting my monster come out to play.
The bloodlust shatters for nothing more than a touch: a soft breeze on my skin, warm and cold at once. I know those fingers, know where the calluses sit. They’ve been on my skin too many times, still never enough.
Those ocean eyes find me, ground me, try to shove the monster back under its lid.
He looks at me, but I don’t see him. I only see the lust of those motherfucker’s eyes, only hear his vile comments ringing in my ears.
Blood. Ineedfucking blood.Hisblood. I want to strangle the life out of him, watch it drain from those fugly little eyes, witness the exact moment whatever’s left of his rotten soul leaves the poor excuse of a shell.
I know Kieran fucking sees it. The bloodlust. The rage. The godsdamned beast staring back at him.
Fuck if I don’t feel like a cursed one, fuck if my control isn’t slipping. The very thing I taunted that bastard with is coiling back up in me, loud and hungry.
Demons swirl under my skin, that itch clawing its way back: a need so blunt it tastes like metal, an itch that won’t shut up until it’s fed.
I rub my eyes,hard,and when I open them, Kieran is on my vacant bar stool. Goatee and his gang are gone from the bar, and Tass is before me, her slanted eyes furrowed, the stud in her nose glistening in the bar light.
She can see it. She always sees it.
“I need to go,” I push out of my clenched teeth.
She doesn’t argue, just nods. She knows when I have to leave, when I’ve hit the wall, when the itch gets too strong. When the only thing left is to get out before I tear the place apart. Before I tearsomeoneapart.
Before I kill. Slay. Maim. Rip. Break. Whatever it takes to burn the fire out.
“Off-grid?” she asks.
“Off-grid,” I confirm, voice flat, clipped. My gaze drifts anyway, traitorous, to that golden boy who stole… something. The last piece of my heart? My godsdamned sanity? Who the fuck knows? All I know is I can still taste the blood in my mouth from not finishing what I started.
“Don’t worry,” Tass murmurs, low enough he can’t hear. “I’ll look after him.” Her gaze flicks to Sami, slouched next to Kieran at the bar. “We’lllook after him. I don’t think Sami’s leaving our side anytime soon.”
“Roe could always pull him off our detail,” I mutter, though the words taste like ash.
Tass’s lips press tight. She doesn’t have to say it, we both know why Roe saddled him with us. To see if we mesh. To see if he can keep up.
Can keep up withme.
Can keep me in check when Tass…
