AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Fuck, he shouldn’t be so good at this. “This is where you stab me or something,” I mutter into my pillow. “Or, like I said, villain monologue at me about round two of the Camp Crestview Massacre.”
His sigh seems…frustrated. It makes my scalp prickle as he leans over to brush a kiss against my shoulder, before nipping punishingly at my throat hard enough to draw a soft yelp from me. “Not going to kill anyone unless you want me to,” Kayde murmurs softly, just after the next roll of thunder outside.
“Why?” It’s definitely the wrong thing to ask, and I make a face against my pillow at my inability to keep my damn mouth shut. “No, forget i?—”
“Because I don’t want to.” I can feel his shrug as he situates himself on my hips once more, and it’s so hard to think about anything other than how close he is to, well, everywhere I want him.
It’s been a week and three days since I’ve fucked Kayde, and normally I wouldn’t even give a damn or be counting the days, weeks, or months since I’d last had sex. But somehow, Kayde’s gotten me addicted to him. And I have yet to find the cure for him, though I’d like to keep him in the dark about that for as long as humanly possible.
“I don’t need to,” Kayde admits, after a few beats of silence broken only by the rain. “Where’s the fun in killing kids who can’t fight back when it’s much more of a challenge to make you love me? By the end of the week, I want to see it on your face. I want to know that while you might not feel the same things for me I do for you, that you know you’re stuck with me and you’re thrilled about it.”
My stomach twists, and I turn my head just enough to look at him over my shoulder. “Is that all it is this week?” I find myself asking; my mouth betraying my thoughts. “A challenge before you leave again?”
Kayde hesitates, his palms freezing on my skin. But as he searches my eyes, he leans down enough to brush a ghost of a kiss against my lips. “Summer, the challenge is the icing on the cake. And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that you’re stuck with me forever.”
“Says you.” I twine my ankles, knees coming off the bed just to thump back down sullenly. “Pretty sure you can’t stop me from dating someone who isn’t you.”
“Pretty sure I could kill anyone you try to date,” Kayde replies quickly, his voice too sweet.
“That’s…not funny.” My stomach twists again, coldness tingling up my spine. “You shouldn’t make jokes like that, Kayde. Even if they’re not true.”
“Who says they aren’t true, Summer?” He stops with another sigh, and taps my shoulder to get my attention once more. “I was going to kill a camp full of kids because I was bored,” he reminds me, a grin curling on his lips. “What in the world makes you think I wouldn’t kill any man who laid his hands on what’s mine?”
“I’m…” I lick my lips, half at a loss for words. “I’m not a possession, you know.”
“Of course you’re not. But you’re still mine, Summer.” His fingers dig deliciously into my shoulders and he leans over me to press harder against my tense muscles. “All mine, for the rest of your life. I don’t really believe in an afterlife, by the way. But if there is one, you’re mine there as well.”
“What if we go to separate places in the afterlife?” I ask, scoffing a low laugh. “Last I checked, heaven isn’t for murderers.”
“Then I’ll just have to drag you down to hell with me.”
A shiver shoots straight down my spine to the space between my thighs that I’m trying to ignore, and I know there’s no way Kayde doesn’t feel the way my thighs clench under his weight.
“Oh yeah?” he purrs, confirming my worries. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to stop being so perfect for me eventually, you know. Or don’t. I don’t mind drowning deeper in you.”
“You’re being dumb.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say, and I shift under him as much as I can while his palms massage into my back. “You’ll get bored of me.”
“I would’ve already.”
“You’ll find someone who likes murder.”
“I’m not a fan of competition.”
“Yes, you are—” I stop myself mid sentence, but the damage is done. Kayde’s hand pauses on my back, and he walks his fingers up my spine expectantly.
“Go on.” There’s a warning in his voice. Somehow, I worry that he knows what I’m going to say before I can even get it out of my mouth.
“Do I have to?”
“You’re the one who started it.” He strokes his fingers down my spine, then walks them back up again. He doesn’t massage my muscles like he’d been doing, but he does seem content to repeat that strange, tickling motion over and over again. “So finish it.”
I hate it when he sounds like that. I hate the subtle threat, the promise, and the arrogance in his tone that he seems to be able to turn on at will. My fingers flex in the pillow and I shift to look at him again, eyeing as much of his face as I can see in the dim light of the night stand. “Can I turn over first?”
His smile curls into something just a touch crueler, and one of his hands buries itself in my hair, obviously holding me in place. “Nah, I don’t think so,” he tells me, after a moment of theatrical contemplation. “You can stay right where you are and finish what you were going to say.”
I know I could lie to him. Not that he’d believe me, since that’s one of his stupid super powers. But I could try, or try to distract him.
Or I could if he’d let me move. But it dawns on me that maybe it’s all part of his plan. If he keeps me here—uncomfortable and squirming and unable to do something that might pull his attention from the words I’d stupidly spoken—then I really do have no choice but to tell him.
