Page 39 of His Last Will

I take my thumb and mix our orgasms together and then bring my finger to my mouth and suck. All three of us together taste like carnal sin. My cock twitches at the thought.

Only a little more time, my delicious prey. It's almost time for me to drag you back into the dark.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

ARI

Rage saturates every cell of my body as I drive. Rage at him. Rage at myself. How could I let him do that there? In Brodie’s final resting place. A place where I believe his soul lingers. Somewhere that belongs to him.

Truthfully, I am not even sure he would be mad that it happened. Brodie’s own will gave me to Aiden. I would have to assume that he knew we would eventually have sex. But Aiden taking me there? Unacceptable.

In a blind rage, I reach my destination. The weekend means there is only a skeleton crew here and allows me to sneak past security with Tony’s pass in my pocket that I swiped the other day when he was off gossiping to Anthony. Let me reiterate, useless.

Footsteps echo as I walk to the end of the hall and push the door open. The slam of the door startles me as silence engulfs me. Finally, an outlet for. All. This. Rage. His morgue. The shiny, sterile, silver box he would probably call his home if he could. Let's see how he feels about someone else in his space.

I know Aiden will find me eventually. But this is for sure not the first place he will look, so I have some time alone to do what I want. Striding to one of the drawers closest to Aiden’s kill rack, I pick at random: 3467. The door slides open and a black bag greets me. Right. The body bags. Unnecessary, if you ask me. These people are tied up, most gagged, and locked in a confined box. Body bags for aesthetic, I guess. Maybe I’ll ask him about it when he gets here.

Pulling the zipper down, I am greeted with the face of a middle-aged man. His greasy red hair and rancid odor suggest he has been here for a bit. His body is marked with recent cuts, but some have healed over, confirming I am right. Without his file, I am not even sure why the man is here.

I lift the ball gag from his mouth, and he lets out a scream. Immediately, I push it back down and force it between his lips.

“Shut. Up. Why are you here?”

Lifting the ball again, the man shows he has not learned his lesson and lets out another ear-piercing scream. I once again shove the ball back, this time with a little more force.

“Stop screaming and answer my question, or the ball stays indefinitely.” The man’s eyes widen in horror. This time when I lift it, the man follows orders. He clears his throat from disuse and answers my question with a dead look in his eyes. “Forgery and prostitution.”

Forgery sounds right, but why would Aiden care about whether a man whores himself out?

“Prostitution? As in, you?”

He grunts, almost like he is disgusted, “No. I had some girls working for me. The Araneaes didn’t like how I treated the girls. Apparently, they were more than property. Doesn’t make no sense to care about sluts that way.”

Got it. This fat piece of shit treated women like garbage. Now the charges make more sense. I don’t bother responding to him as I replace the gag while I unzip the bag the rest of the way.

I’m not naïve enough to think that I can move his body across the room to the table, so I keep him here on his tray. His shelf is hip level, which makes him a perfect target for what I have in mind; the man’s body is an open buffet of options to me for his own torture.

Walking over to Aiden’s wall of tools, I ponder my options. Seeing the knife I used last time brings a smirk to my face. Just thinking of the way the man imploded beneath me makes my fingers itch to grab it. But I am looking for something different. What’s the point of having all these accessible to me if I pick the same one each time?

It would be easier if Aiden would label these fucking things. I’ll tell him when he gets here. He’s clearly going to have to share his space now, and I have organizational standards that need to be met.

I spot a small paring knife. It won’t do any major damage—well, not for my purposes tonight—but it will be a nice little tester. A warm-up, if you will. Eyeing the wall, I look for something that will induce a little more damage. When I spot it, I know immediately it will be perfect for tonight. A carving fork with a thick wooden handle that sprouts two sharp blades running parallel to each other. The man on the table looks like a rotting turkey already. Might as well meet him at his level. Plus, I have somewhere very specific I want to stab each blade. Spotting some rope, I grab that too, just in case I need it.

As I walk back to the man with my tools in hand, he starts trying to twist out of his binds. A smirk takes over my face. I wonder if he underestimated me because I was someone new. An unfamiliar face when he has only been faced with Aiden. Maybe he didn’t take me seriously because I am a woman. Well, he is in for a surprise. Keeping the paring knife, I place the rest on the palette next to his head.

“Do you think women are beneath you?” He squints his eyes, clearly not knowing how to respond.

In rapid succession, I add slits into his chest.

“Answer me.”

He shakes his head.

“Too bad I don’t believe you,” I continue, adding another mark right over his nipple.

Tears stream down his face. “Did you make them cry when you took what wasn’t yours?” Slashing the other nipple, I watch as a drop of blood leaks out of him.