Chapter 9 #2
The thought made something in my stomach twist, some emotion I didn’t want to feel start to bubble to the surface, so I did the only thing I could do.
I pulled my pistol up and started unloading the clip of my gun into the beast as Phoenix jerked his axe out and brought it forward, slipping the handle around the thing’s throat so he could force it back.
“Behind!” I shouted, my body tensing at the demand. I’d functioned like this before, but that had been eight years ago.
“Go for its eyes,” he said, like he knew what I’d wanted. I had a second to see the muscles flex in his arms as he jerked back and dragged the bear until it was forced to rear up on its hind legs.
It roared, breaking free of Phoenix’s hold easily and shaking him loose.
In that moment, I could have stopped. I could have turned and run. The rabid would have killed him—there was no doubt in my mind, because he moved like half a unit—like he already knew where I’d be.
His axe swung up, and even though the claws raked forward, grazing across his chest, the sharp metal took it in the throat and forced its head back.
The eyes.
I raised my gun and shot.
Once. Twice.
Three times.
And then a fourth as it opened its mouth, straight into that delicate skin.
It wasn’t enough to kill it, but it made it stumble. I ran forward without thinking, throwing my body weight into it in tandem with Phoenix, so we both took it to the ground.
This time, when he lifted his axe and swung, it took the beast in the face. And when it tried to raise its paw to swipe at him again, my boot slammed down on those massive claws to hold it still.
The wet thunk of metal cleaving a skull, hacking into sticky fur and thicker things, filled the air. It carried on past the sound of gurgling coming from the beast’s lungs.
It carried on until the animal beneath us had nothing but a pile of so much blood and bone and meat where its head had been.
Phoenix only stopped hacking when my hand landed on his shoulder.
“It’s dead.”
He turned to me—his eyes were wide, his breath coming in heaving gasps. When he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, the words were cut off with another shout.
One of the others in his group.
“Shit, Cora has a broken arm. ”
That meant that she was still breathing, and I wondered if they realized she was luckier than she should have been.
She should have died , but Phoenix had run at the bear like he’d known he could win the fight all along.
“We should—” His hand catching me by the throat as I tried to turn stopped me. My eyes widened in shock as he pulled me closer. I thought he meant to kiss me, but he tilted my face up to look at me instead. I knew I was probably a mess—soaked in blood and sweat, but he didn’t seem to care.
He brought his hand up and ran his palm across the curve of my jaw, and his pupils dilated at whatever he saw.
“There you are,” he murmured. I didn’t realize what he meant until he drifted his hand across my cheek, painting my skin with the blood of our kill.
The beast we’d taken down together.
The possessiveness in his gaze as he slid his fingers through the blood and pressed it over my brow, my temple, my eye was almost too much.
He was like a man possessed, a man seeing his favorite toy for the first time.
I watched him in half horror, half fascination as he carefully drew a line across my collarbone and dropped his hand, coating his palm with blood from the wound on his chest so he could wrap his fingers around my throat.
He was painting me. Like a raider. Like a monster.
Like him. Like his .
It almost felt right—I was here. I was acting like the monster those scientists had made me…
And I was ready to live a life where I never had to be Aubrey again .
Good dog was fine.
Killer felt almost familiar.
But I was through with Aubrey Malcolm. I couldn’t be in this place and remember all the ways Aubrey wanted to hope—the ways I’d thought I’d settle down here with…
No, I couldn’t be that Aubrey anymore.
I could feel something strange drifting through me—I’d worked with him perfectly, like we were two halves of a whole. I’d saved him.
I’d let him paint me.
It felt like something in me was changing, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
That sensation spread as the rest of his group spilled into the plaza, and one of the men stepped forward. He had red tinged water in a container, and he used it to soak a cloth so we could wipe ourselves clean.
I didn’t try to wipe the blood off my face, and I knew Phoenix noticed.
“I’ve never seen you fight like that with someone else,” the man said, and Phoenix’s lips twitched up into a grin.
“Fuck off, Zero.” Zero smiled at the jab, glancing between the two of us.
“It’s like you were made to fit. Come on, we should really get you two fixed up.”
Let’s get you fixed up.
Made to fit.
Fuck.
I wasn’t made to fit with anyone. And if I had been… it had been…
Fuck . I threw the cloth to the side as soon as I’d wiped myself down and grabbed Phoenix by the wrist.
My emotions were too much—all consuming. Overwhelming.
And I remembered. I remembered how it felt to have his cock down my throat—how it burned away everything to be completely overpowered and pinned to the wall. How intoxicating it was to completely forget myself and just live in the moment of his brutality.
I didn’t have to be Aubrey when I was that person. I didn’t have to think about words like made to fit , or imagine all the things I’d lost.
I didn’t have to be anything but broken—anything but his.
Phoenix had the ability to unmake me, and I needed to feel that beautiful destruction again.