Page 32 of Can't Stop
Rayna
The old lady pushes a ring into Dalton’s face as I toss my shirt to the floor and throw myself into his arms. She nearly topples over as he hugs me to his chest, so I reach out to steady her—and get a better look at that ring.
“It was a gift from my late husband,” she says. She holds the glistening clump of diamonds toward me. One round stone sits in the center, surrounded by a halo of smaller stones. The band is scuffed from age, and the metal’s shine has worn away, but that almost makes it more special. More . . . me. It’s something Dalton and I could never afford, not even if we decided to settle down and be normal.
It’s something beautiful and perfect.
It’s something I don’t deserve.
My smile fades as I push the ring back toward the old woman. “It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept that. We’re the reason your stables caught fire, and it wouldn’t be right.”
Never mind that we’re also about to kill her son and daughter-in-law.
She grins and pushes back. “You’re finally setting my grandson free. That more than makes up for it. As long as I have Mr. Fox?” She pats the animal’s head and sighs. “I think the stables will be okay without me. You just make sure you take good care of your squirrel, hmm? He’s special.”
She gives me a wink, then eases the ring into my hand. With that, she clutches the fox to her chest, gives the room one last look, and disappears through the doorway, gripping Samuel’s arm for stability as they hobble into the hall. The door clicks shut behind them, and then there were four.
“So?” Dalton says.
I open my palm and look down at the ring. “I mean . . . she really seemed like she wanted me to have it, so it’s okay, right?”
“No, not the ring, bones. Will you marry me? I’m dying, here.” He looks up at me, with all the hope in the world shining in his eyes.
Does he not know? Is he so unaware that there is only one answer to that question?
“Yes,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you. Now slide this ring onto my finger so we can celebrate!”
The ring eases over my finger, and it’s a near perfect fit. It’s a touch loose, but I’m dehydrated and starving to death after saving my boyfriend’s life. Well, fiancé now. Once we’re back on the road, eating and drinking as usual, I’ll fluff up a little and it will fit just fine.
I look at the ring and smile.
A loud knock comes from the foot of the bed, and I finally remember our single remaining audience member. I rise from Dalton’s lap and step around the bed. The mother lies on her side, still attached to the chair by her ankles. Her wrists are nearly free, and the remaining eyelid speculum fell off when she crashed to the floor. She still can’t close that left eye, though. The tattered skin already looks dead and useless.
Dalton steps around me and rights the chair, then ties her wrists a little tighter. She screams something around a gap in the pillowcase, but we still can’t understand her.
“Have you heard of the Halloween Harvesters, lady? Do you know who we are and what we do?” Dalton motions for me to join him in front of the woman. His arm glides around my bare waist, and he dips his face toward my breast, taking my left nipple into his mouth with a groan. When he breaks suction, he gives the tightened peak a little nip, and I moan. “We get off on this shit. The torture. The blood. But we especially enjoy it when our victims deserve it. You destroyed your family because of your obsession with grief, and now we’re here to destroy you.”
The woman begins nodding and crying, and my stomach sinks. She almost looks relieved. Dalton steps forward and yanks the pillowcase from her mouth.
“Yes,” she says, but it’s more croaked than spoken. “Send me to be with my son. If he’s truly gone, I want to be where he is.”
My shoulders droop. “Well, fuck. That takes all the fun out of it.”
“No it doesn’t.” Dalton shakes his head and smirks down at the woman before stuffing the pillowcase into her mouth again. He places his hands on her shoulders and looks right into the eye she can’t close. “Think about it, bones. If there is a god, would he allow this creature to recline in paradise after what she’s done? No, I don’t think he would. I think he’d probably stick her in a place where she would forever be separated from the child she refuses to let go of. She’ll be locked in a pit where she can’t even rely on delusions to comfort her.”
The woman’s eyes widen as that possibility confronts her. The panic is sweet, beautiful, and immediate. Gone is her reconciliation with death. Now she thrashes against the restraints and strains until the veins bulge from her neck.
Much better.
“I think we’re ready to begin now,” I say to Dalton.
He melts my insides with a devilish grin as he unfastens his belt. “Way ahead of you.”
We both finish stripping down to our skin. What we’re about to do is going to get messy, and our wardrobes are already so limited. We set our things off to the side so that they won’t get bloody, and then we return to the bed.
Dalton holds the knife toward me. “He should be first so that she’s forced to watch. A kindness for him, but hell for her. If she even has a feeling bone in her body.”
He wants me to take the quick kill so that he can have the torture, which is fine by me. I don’t take issue with the murder part, but I’m more interested in the body parts afterward. Our symbiotic relationship is pretty great.
