Page 113 of Sinister Legacy
“King,” I whisper, reaching in front of me for his big body. I want him to drape himself over me. To whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
His weight presses me down in the snow, and his soft, moist lips curve into a smile against my ear. “King is here, baby. King is gonna make you feel so fucking good. Where’s Liam?”
I try to kiss him, but he moves out of reach and curls his fingers around my throat. His unbuckled belt, cool against my tingling skin, rubs the inside of my naked thigh.
“I’ll kiss you when you tell me where Liam is, baby.”
I’m confused. Why is he asking me this? We killed him together. Cold fingers sink inside me, making me moan shamelessly loud.
“Tell me you’re recording this, Miles?”
“Of course. Every second. If she refuses to speak, we’ll post it to every porn site in the country.”
“King, please,” I whimper. I’m so cold. So, so cold.
“Does it feel good, Keira?” The voice is wrong. It’s taunting, cruel, and vicious.
“So good,” I slur, despite the blaring alarm somewhere at the fringes of my consciousness.
“Why don’t we go and find Liam, baby?”
I try to kiss him again. This time, he lets me. His cold tongue tangles with mine, and he grunts into my mouth.
But something isn’t right.
His taste is wrong.
Gone is the peppermint.
Replaced by tobacco and deception.
He wrenches away. “Enough with the lies, whore.”
I laugh again, and he releases an angry, fed-up growl before scooping up a handful of snow and forcing it into my mouth. He flattens his palm over my lips and nose, leering down at me while I convulse, drowning in the melting snow that clogs my throat. “Where’s Liam?”
“She can’t speak with snow in her mouth,” chuckles Miles, his red sneakers disturbing the snow near my head. “Let’s just kill her. She’s useless.”
“I’m gonna destroy her cunt first. Liam got to fuck it for long enough. Never let any of us have a taste. I want to see what the fuss is all about.” His fingers slide out from inside me, and he shifts onto his knees, shoving his unbuckled jeans down.
I roll over on my side and retch, expelling the snow and whatever food I’ve had.
“Fuck.” He jumps back to his feet. A sneaker connects with my shoulder, forcing me onto my back. Grabbing my arm, he drags me away from the pool of vomit before covering me with his body again.
“King?” I ask.
He looks strange. Not dark like I have come to expect. His hair color is wrong. His clothes are, too.
And his scent…
There’s a sickening, gurgling sound behind me, followed by a heavy thud. The weight on top of me disappears, and I lie there with my legs splayed and my pussy on full display, vaguely aware of the cold nip in the air and the melted snow between my ass cheeks.
A shadow falls over my shivering body, and a red mask with a sinister smile bends over me. I whimper as the bloody knife in their hand glides over my wet cheek, smearing it crimson red.
The drug is not making me feel so good now. The lightness inside me is quickly morphing into terror.
Something is placed over my face—a mask, I realize.
A distorted voice rings out in my ear. “Let’s play a little game I like to call Revenge.”
