Page 28 of That Sik Luv

I stare at him in disbelief. That evil smirk of his pulls at his lips before he slowly loosens his grip, dropping his hand from my jaw. He pushes off the door, turning to make his way up the stairs.

At the moment, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing. I just let a strange masked man who I viciously attacked in my kitchen touch me in places I’ve never been touched.

The part I despise most is how badly I find myself craving it again.

I turn my head to the side, seeing my reflection in the entryway mirror. My face is flushed and covered in that man’s blood. I don’t recognize this girl. She’s morphing before me into something entirely unknown. Something I told myself I’d never become.

My eyes pull away from my reflection when I hear him descending the stairs. He jogs down them lightly, crunching over the broken glass of the now shattered art, and stepping over the broken frame. I adjust myself to the corner of the entryway as he approaches, cowering away from him. There’s a cigarette behind his ear as his hand holds out the folded-up blade I was threatening him with in the kitchen. The one I cut him with. I don’t even know how he got it or where it came from.

I slowly take it from him, cautious as he stares dangerously at me while his tongue trails along his lower lip, almost savoring my taste that’s branded to him now. He takes the cigarette from behind his ear, placing it between his lips. With his tongue, he makes the sign of the cross with the cigarette, a mocking twinkle in his gaze.

Then, like nothing happened, he twists the knob to the front door and pushes past me, vanishing into the night, allowing the door to slam shut as he disappears yet again.

Chapter fifteen

A Slut For Saint

Littlebylittle,she’ssinking into me.

Curiosity is a double-edged sword. To an idiot, it can seem like a beautiful thing. To an intelligent individual, a dangerous temptation. It has the ability to make you question your thoughts, your decisions. Exploring the unknown has someone of her intelligence calculating her choices, her mind fighting her body in a deadly game of tug-of-war. There’s no denying what that curvaceous body is telling me. It’s practically begging for that sweet release, pleading with me to give her the voice she’s always needed. The reason to let go.

Briony Strait will break for me.

But only after I break the system that wants her gone.

“Ah, yes, Aero. Send him in,” I hear my boss, Alastor Abbott, talking to his assistant as I barge into the office. “Aero.”

His bushy brows raise when I push past the voluptuous woman, tossing a small blue and white cooler onto his desk atop his mess of papers. He gazes nervously at the blood-stained cooler; the smears running across the white plastic top and handle. He slowly brings his focus up to me.

“What’s this?” he asks as his dick-sucking assistant slowly backs out of the room.

“He chose not to cooperate.”

Alastor’s eyes crinkle with concern as he stares at the cooler. He knows the price of not cooperating. Limbs and digits in place of commas.

“Well.” He clicks his tongue, letting out a nervous sigh. “That’s that I guess.”

“He also wanted you to know that Clive McGregor isn’t withdrawing from the election.” I state casually, walking towards his office bar and grabbing myself the bottle of whiskey from the glass counter.

I pop it open, pouring myself a glass. Taking a drink with one hand, I hold the bottle by the neck with the other.

“That fucker,” he murmurs, rolling his hand into a fist on his desk. “Where are you at with the girl? I need Cal’s support now more than ever.”

The girl. I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, gritting my teeth as I try my hardest not to grab this man by the back of the neck and break his face into the wood of his desk.

“If his dumbass son would stop trying to prove himself to his father, I’d have had it done already,” I lie.

If I wanted her dead, she’d have been rotting six feet under as we speak. It’s as simple as that.

“Not good enough. Krista!” he calls out the door for his assistant. My eyes narrow as I hear the footsteps coming down the hall. She pops her head inside the door. “Yes, Mr. Abbott?” “Krista, get Cal Westwood on the phone for me, would ya?”

I take the empty glass in my hand and chuck it at the wall next to Krista’s head. The glass shatters behind her as she screams out, cowering into herself.

“Aero!” Alastor scolds.

I turn, storming back towards him and making my way around his desk. I grip his neck, lifting him from his chair to throw his weight against the wall. He stumbles backwards, falling against it as picture frames fall from their hooks, crashing to the floor. I squeeze my fingers tightly, cutting off his air supply.

“You best not get involved in my business, Al,” I growl, my tone cracked. “Things can get real messy when too manyhandsare involved.”