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Carter smiles behind her, enjoying the violence echoing in my voice.
“You did what you thought was right.” I rise to my full six-three, wiping my hands on my jacket. “And I get it. I really do. Problem is, you could’ve gotten yourself hurt. Killed, even.”
Amara cowers into Carter’s embrace at the underlying threat. He nuzzles her hair while slowly loosening his grip on our little prey.
My cock aches for release. My hands demand I cause damage.
Brain begging for chaos.
Carter tosses over to me one of the wipes he reserves for Cyclone. I tear the package open, cleaning my hands and the area around my mouth. The rest of Christopher’s blood stays on my face, drying as I prowl toward Amara and Carter.
“What are you doing?” Her chin quivers, and she raises her arms to shield herself.
“You’ve been bad.” I shrug off my jacket. My shirt too.
Carter follows my lead, backing off to remove his jacket and shirt. “Very, very bad, pet.”
“I—uh—I haven’t.” The way her voice trembles has me harder than ever.
The desire to taste every inch of both her and Carter is overwhelming.
My hand finds the side of his neck, locking on it, while my tongue runs across the length of his neck. His fingers close on my wrist, and he moans when I suck on his skin. Marking him. Claiming what’s mine.
In my periphery, I notice Amara’s backing off. I break away from Carter, turning my attention to the woman we’re about to hunt.
“You invited these assholes here.” I gesture to the dead bodies we’ve just stepped over.
Wide, brown eyes dart between Carter and me. “Technically, just one asshole.”
“You hear that?” Carter twists his head to me. His psycho grin stretches his lips, one of his black eyebrows quirks up. “She’s talking back.”
“Begging us to hurt her.”
“No, I’m not.” Amara takes another hesitant step back.
She’s glued to the wall, sliding across it toward the executive room’s bedroom. She doesn’t fear us. But the act she puts on makes it look like she does. Her fear—even if fake—rouses sinister needs in me.
Chase. Hunt. Feed.
“Yes.” Carter moves to my side, his shoulder pressing to mine. “You are.”
“No, no.” She presses her hands to the wall, sliding another step to the open door. “Please, go away. Don’t hurt me.”
“That’s not begonias.” My fists clench and unclench at my sides.
“No,” she mouths.
“Get her.” My order is quiet. Barely a whisper.
Carter doesn’t need it to be louder. We eradicate the short distance between us and her while she’s screaming her head off.
“No!” Her eyes widen, her shriek sounding so real.
Hell, maybe we do scare her.
What a beautiful emotion to evoke in someone. In our someone.
“You’re in trouble, pet.” Carter stalks toward her, slamming his hands on either side of her head. Caging her in.
