Page 143 of Sinister Legacy
I untangle myself from Madison’s arms, fed up with their verbal sparring. “Leave me alone, both of you.”
Neither of them says a word as I step over the sea of photographs, sidle past King, and leave the room.
No sooner have I exited the kitchen and slammed the door shut than a knife is pressed to my cheek. The sharp tip digs into my skin, and my hands fly up in a surrendering gesture. I peer to my side, careful not to cut myself on the knife.
Cocked to the side, the devil’s mask glares back at me. “Don’t you love a good surprise, Keira? I sure as fuck do.”
My stomach plummets. Just when I thought this nightmare was over, it kicks back into gear, and we careen down a hill. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. How much more shit my battered heart and mind can handle.
“Make a single noise, and I’ll gut you in front of your friends, understood?”
I nod, squeezing my eyes shut. “I understand.”
“Good girl. Now walk.”
King continues glaring at me from across the sea of photographs, and I let my smile unfurl on my lips. His eyes narrow in response, seeing right through me.
“You know what I’m fucking capable of,” he says darkly. “And the lengths I’ll go to in order to protect what’s mine. Threaten to steal it, and I’ll bury you six feet under.”
“You truly are a sociopath.”
“Plaster whatever fucking title you want on me—sociopath, psychopath—it doesn’t matter. The result is still the same. If you step in my path, I’ll end you.”
“You think she’ll take you back after this?” I motion to the floor, sniggering. “Oh, King, stop fooling yourself.”
His filthy, loosely tied Doc Martens crunch the photographs when he walks up to me. With his tattooed hands in his pockets, he tilts his head toward his shoulder and studies my face with a small smirk. “You really don’t know what you’re up against. The sheer fucking depths of Keira’s darkness. She could hate me for the next century, but she’ll let me chase her into the dark night if it drives away her own shadows. You see, she loves the respite I offer her, and she’ll seek it in destruction, chaos, and pain. The only place where a true predator can find their damnation is beneath a much bigger and fiercer predator.”
I let my gaze slide down his body; the breadth of his shoulders, the visible, tanned skin beneath his torn T-shirt, his leather belt and destroyed jeans, the thick bulge at his crotch, then back up. “You think you’re the biggest predator in these woods?”
His eyebrow lifts, and the left side of his mouth quirks.
“You don’t need muscle or strength to be at the top of the food chain.” I dig my finger into my temple. “Even the seemingly weak can become the ruler of the jungle if they use this.”
He huffs a condescending chuckle through his straight nose, his small smirk striking a match inside me.
King thinks he’s all that.
King thinks he’s so fucking special because he’s good-looking, rich, and harbors an unhealthy amount of big dick energy. I’m not all that into boys, but even I can scent it in the air.
It fucking reeks.
I want to reach for a knife in the wooden block beside us and cut his damn face, if only to ruin his masculine perfection.
Before the thought can form fully, his hand shoots out, and he grips me in a chokehold. With his face so close to mine that we’re breathing each other’s air, he snarls, “There’s only one king in this jungle, sweetheart, and that’s me.Ifuck the queen. Not you. Not Liam. No one else but me. You had a taste, but that’s all you’ll ever get, and I suggest you shut that pretty little mouth and stay away from my girl unless you want to join Liam in his cold grave.” He shoves me away, then walks out.
“Asshole,” I mutter, reaching for a knife in the block and sliding it out. The black plastic handle is solid in my hand. I smile, making a slashing motion in the air. King is fucking dead.
Stepping over the photographs, I take chase, exiting the kitchen. King is tall, over six foot three in height, and with enough muscle beneath his leather jacket to easily carve himself a spot on the football team if he so wishes. The only thing I’ll carve tonight is his fucking dick from his groin. Let’s see how well he can pleasure Keira without it. I bet he has never used his fucking brain to seduce a woman in his life.
No, a man like King has relied solely on his masculinity. But it takes a lot fucking more than pure testosterone to seduce a woman. It takes skill, patience, and mind games.
You don’t seduce a woman through her pussy. You seduce her through her brain. If you play the game well, you can get even the straightest of girls to lift their skirts.
I learned that early on.
King comes to an abrupt halt outside the living room, and I raise my knife, ready to stab him in the back, when my gaze slides past him to the wooden banister on the second floor. Keira sits atop it with a fucking noose tied around her neck and a sharp knife pressed to her creamy throat. Behind her, the killer leers at us from beneath the metallic devil’s mask.
“What the hell?” King whispers under his breath, entering the room. I follow, staring up at Keira, who is visibly shaking.
