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I hated this man because he was filth and rot, but…so was I. And there wasn’t enough room for both of us.
I cleared my throat as the cold, dank stone snuffed out sunlight. “Charles.”
He sucked in a breath and turned to face me. His nose wrinkled at my sorry state. “You don’t give up, do you? Look, go back and have a hot shower. There’ll be plenty of other games.” He reached out and patted my shoulder. “Go on. Have a beer and just, guhh—”
His voice cut off as my hand lashed out and wrapped around his throat.
Every hideous part of me sprang out with fangs.
I couldn’t stop it.
I had no control over the diabolical savagery within me.
He ate people…
Sick.
Vile.
Dead.
Slamming his well-padded spine against the wet rock, I wrapped both hands around his throat.
He tried to speak.
He scratched at my wrists.
He drew blood as he thrashed.
But I just kept squeezing.
The more he struggled, the worse I became.
He turned suicidal in my hold.
Kicking, groaning, flailing.
His weight almost threw me off balance as I kicked away my slippery shoes and planted bare feet on slimy stone.
But I didn’t let go.
I didn’t speak or look away as his eyes bugged wide, his mouth gasped like a dying trout, and his soft body went slack in my hold.
I killed him slowly, personally. I watched his lifeforce sputtering, ending…
I’d killed Daxton in a fugue of fury. I hadn’t been aware when I’d stolen his life.
This was different.
This was cold, ruthless, merciless.
With a soft grunt, he slithered down the cave wall, collapsing between my spread legs.
I went with him, crouching over him, never loosening my grip.
Another roaring.
Another pebble dancing shake.
