Page 12 of Savage Stalkers
“You didn’t fuck her because you wanted her. You did it because you knew I did! Fuck, you’re that pathetic.”
I don’t respond, as he needs to get this off his chest. He rapid-fires insults at me.
“Without control, you’re nothing. You’re not in charge of me. Take away the rules and you’ve got nothing. You think we owe you something because you act like the big man. We don’t owe you shit!” Silas draws his arm back for another swing.
In one fluid motion, I catch his wrist and twist just enough to control without causing too much pain, using his momentum to bring him down. “That’s enough,” I command. “On your knees. Now.” The fight goes out of Silas instantly, relief washing over him as he complies.
“It’s not that IthinkI am in charge. No, Silas, I fucking know it. If I weren’t, you and Zay would lose control and act recklessly. You think I’m an asshole? Fine, I’ll show you an asshole. Now open your fucking mouth so you can learn what your little bitch tastes like on my cock.”
I unzip my pants and pull my dick out, the control I have making me hard. Silas’s mouth opens—to fire more venom at me—and I shove my length down his throat, watching his eyes water as I spear my fingers into his hair.
“You think I’m pathetic,” I grit as I thrust. “That I only wanted to fuck her first. We have each other’s backs no matter what. We always fucking have.”
I watch the tears spilling from his eyes. Fuck, he is beautiful. “You really think I wanted to take the first time away from you? You really think so little of me? I did you a fucking favor by making sure this is what she wants. If it were you and it wasn’t what she wanted, I would have risked losing you to yourself, and I would have fucking killed her if she hurt you.”
His eyes widen at my words, and I pull back to let him catch his breath.
“I care about you and Zay more than anything else in this world. If she wants more, I will have your back every step of the way. But never question me and my motives again or I will remove the problem. Understood?”
Silas nods and opens his mouth, and I smirk as I wrap my hand around the base of my cock. I fucking thrive on control and looking after what belongs to me. The picture of him on his knees at my command, his lips swollen and tears drying on his cheeks, has me coming. His lips greedily suck everything from me.
I hold out my hand, and once he takes it, I pull him to his feet and into my chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“So am I. Why don’t you clean up and bring your laptop to bed. You have a message to give to the girl. See if she wants more.”
After Silas leaves my room, I have a quick shower and get into bed. I grab my phone and pull up the surveillance of Skye’s room to find her lying on her bed, a huge smile on her face. My grip tightens on the phone. I set it down on the nightstand, then quickly pick it up again, staring at the screen like it might change what I’m seeing.
She’s smiling. Actually fucking smiling.
Most women who get a taste of what I’m capable of don’t stick around. They claim they want it rough, but after one night they’re blocking my number and crossing the street when they see me coming. It’s why what I have with Zay and Silas works. There are no complaints, no drama, no running away. But this girl is different. Her hazel eyes stared right back at me in that alley without fear, and it’s exactly the reaction that will make Silas lose himself completely.
Silas walks back into the room, so I close my screen and place my phone back on the bedside table. He climbs into the bed beside me with his laptop, opening the lid. I watch as he flicks through the screens. First the gym, where he finds Zay, his knuckles colliding with the bag. I make a mental note to ask what happened when he gets back. Silas then switches to Skye—who is asleep now—and I find myself leaning closer to thescreen. She hasn’t showered, simply passed out with my cum still inside her.
This wasn’t about me wanting her first; it was about making sure Silas knows who and what he’s dealing with. And watching her reaction tells me everything I need to know. How dangerous this situation could get. They’re going to feed off each other, and that terrifies me more than I want to admit.
Chapter Six
Skye
My eyes flutter open as a light breeze brushes against my face. I blink, still half asleep, and sit up abruptly. My bedroom window is wide open, the white curtains pulled aside. But I know I didn’t open that window.
A chill runs down my spine—I always keep my windows locked at night. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet touching the hardwood floor. That’s when I see it—a folded paper sits on my bedside table, propped against my alarm clock. My hand trembles as I reach for it and unfold it.
You looked so perfect lying here. Almost too perfect to touch… almost.
A laugh bubbles from my chest. I fold the note and put it back, then I move to my bedroom window. I frantically scan the tree line across the street, and the empty sidewalk below. Can they see me right now?
I step closer and my pulse quickens at the knowledge that someone was in here. I check the corners of my room, behind the dresser, near the closet door. This is what I signed up for. Fear that makes my skin feel alive, the rush of doing something Mom would lock me in my room and throw away the key for if she knew.
I catch my reflection in my mirror and freeze. The girl staring back has sleep-mussed hair and yesterday’s mascara smudged beneath her eyes, but she’s... smiling. Not the polite, practiced smile I have perfected for family dinners and professors, but one that is real.
My fingers find the pearl necklace at my throat. It’s Mom’s graduation gift, and one I never take off, even though I know I should. I unfasten it, letting it pool in my palm. It is weighed down with the years of “yes ma’am” and “of course, Mother” and “I’ll be home by ten.” I drop the pearls into my jewelry box and snap it shut.
College was supposed to be my chance to figure out who I am without Mom’s voice in my head, yet somehow, she has reached me even here.
I have a shift at Brews before class today, and I need to drag my ass into the shower. I passed out hard last night and forgot, though some part of me liked howhewas inside me.
Needing to clear my head, I move across the room and grab my coffee-stained work uniform from the chair, with a name tag that reads “Skye” in block letters. In contrast, a Chanel blazer Harrison bought me for my birthday hangs in my closet, the tags still attached.
