3. Zane #2
In the two seconds it takes to pin her body to the bed and cover her mouth, she wakes. Her eyelashes flutter like a firefly’s wings, and the moment her eyes open, I lose my breath. We stare at each other as the songbirds outside mock me. This isn’t some fairytale—it’s not love at first sight.
I don’t know what it is.
A problem , I remind myself, clenching my jaw.
“You,” I hiss, pressing her deeper into the mattress.
She’s limp beneath me, not even trying to fight.
What’s wrong with her? It would be easy to snap her neck.
Smother her with a pillow. Shove a bottle of pills down her throat and force her to swallow.
Her fight-or-flight response must be broken—it’s why she didn’t run last night when she had the chance.
Why she didn’t stab Kane or slit my throat. Why she didn’t call the cops.
I draw a deep breath and say what I came here to say. “You’re a stupid fucking girl.” Anger rises in me like a tide, boiling and unstoppable. Sweat breaks out across my skin despite the chill in the room. I can hardly breathe, and she just sits there. Watching. Waiting. Is she even awake?
She blinks, and only then does she take a deep breath through her nose. A myriad of emotions cross her face before they settle on tired. She looks so small and fragile beneath me. Like I could break her without trying.
“You should have let me kill you.” My voice scratches in my throat, and I swallow dryly.
“Now you have an entire year to wonder. Will it hurt?” I dig my fingernails into the soft flesh of her cheek.
“Will you suffer?” Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh bitterly.
Our victims don’t normally see their deaths coming.
We wine and dine them up until their final moments, because it makes the sudden switch around that much more painful for them.
And delicious to watch.
“How will it happen, I wonder?” I sit up and straddle her waist, removing my hand from her mouth to pin her wrists over her head.
Even her bed frame is an old, rickety metal thing, creaking at the slightest shift of weight.
“Slow and cold as your life seeps from your body like water from a tap…” I tap her inner wrist with my fingertip, admiring the flutter of her heartbeat.
A flush creeps across her cheeks, but who’s to say what from?
“Or a quick flash of pain before it all goes dark? I wonder.” I hum to myself, trying to picture Mercy’s final moments.
But all I get is a blank void of static in my brain.
Her voice is a tender caress on my senses. “I don’t think I’ll convince you not to kill me.”
I lift an eyebrow. “So you’re not as dumb as you look.”
“I could kill you,” she murmurs, whisper sweet and gentle despite her declaration. “Is that what you want?”
My blood runs cold. “The hell did you just say?”
She repeats herself. “I could kill you.” Her eyes, a warm auburn, suddenly brighten. “Is that what you need? A way out?” She clenches her fists over her head. “I may not know much, but I know grief when I see it. Your eyes?—”
I tear my gaze away from her face to stare at the wall over her head. Its paint is peeling like the rest of this fucking place.
“—You’re hurting.”
“Shut up ,” I snarl, baring my teeth. “You’re insufferable.
I can’t wait to fucking kill you.” Closing my eyes, I take as deep of a breath as I can and refocus on the purpose of my visit.
“The rules of the fucking game. You can try to make my brother fall in love with you, but I want something else.”
If she thinks she can kill me, ha , fat fucking chance. But reverse-murder-schemes bore me. And “convincing me not to kill her,” as she allegedly declared her win condition, is equally as stupid.
I lower my lips to her ear and breathe in the scent of lavender on her pillow.
Someone has trouble sleeping at night.
“For me not to kill you, I want…” A shiver rolls down my spine, and I dig my knees into the mattress.
My feet hang over the edge of the bed, the furniture just as inadequate as the woman beneath me.
Hatred boils in my gut like lava. This is why I don’t get involved.
Kane’s the one who handles our targets—I can’t handle interacting with them.
I grow impatient and irritable, and they end up running away before we’ve closed the deal.
But Mercy can’t run away. Not if she wants to live.
Licking my lips, I hum against the shell of her ear. “You can’t have sex with Reaper.”
It’s perfect. Kane will tie himself in knots over this girl and try to fuck her two ways from Sunday.
It’s how he attaches to people—his love language is physical touch.
I can’t count how many times I’ve woken up to Kane smothering me in bed.
It started when we were in the system as kids.
Now that he’s a grown ass man, he’s rarely home at night, and we keep separate sleep schedules.
But if the weather’s bad and either of us can’t sleep, we revert to old patterns and seek each other out for comfort.
All it takes is a crack of thunder to turn two men into babies.
I’d roll my eyes every goddamn day if I didn’t need him just as much as he needs me.
Mercy suddenly turns her face so that our eyes are locked.
Her warm breath fans across my cheeks. “That’s like having a death wish.
I know his reputation.” She finally struggles against me and tries to pull her wrists free.
“He sleeps with anything with a pulse.” Her hips press into mine as she bends her knees, and I struggle to keep her pinned.
“Why don’t you want me to have sex with him? ”
The retort why does it matter? is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it in. “This is how I win the game,” I say simply, huffing as she continues to writhe beneath me. “Stop fucking moving.”
It’s her turn to huff. “Get the fuck off of me, then.”
I jump off of her the moment I feel heat stirring deep in my gut. There’s no fucking way I’m entertaining that reaction. “If Reaper fucks you in any way—anal, oral, vaginal, titty fuck?—”
“ Jesus, ” Mercy shouts, quickly sitting up and throwing a pillow at me. “Get the hell out of my room! I won’t sleep with him!”
“—or if you fuck him, I’ll be the one collecting your life, Kitten. Before the year ends.”
Her mouth pops open. “ Kitten? ”
The nickname slipped out on its own. I frown.
“Mercy. Whatever.” Turning back towards the window, I push her desk to the side and throw one leg over the sill.
“That’s my rule. Break it, and you die.” I jump down to the porch, and the wood splinters beneath my weight.
I quickly hop onto the ground and peer back up at the window just in time to find Mercy glaring at me.
“If I get you to fuck me,” she shouts, disturbing a pair of birds hanging out on the rooftop, “then I get to kill you !” Her skin is flushed bright pink, the sun’s rays painting her in warm brushstrokes that give her a new spark of life she didn’t have a moment ago.
I chuckle under my breath, but it’s short-lived.
Kane appears from the back door of the house, a half-eaten cookie trapped between his fingers.
“If you what? ” He wipes a crumb from his upper lip and jumps off the porch in one huge leap.
Turning on his heel, he nearly stumbles to look up at Mercy’s window.
“Tell me it’s not true, Siren. You’d rather fuck him than me?
” A flash of hurt in his baby blue eyes almost makes me feel bad.
Of course he’s more concerned about the sex than he is about the homicide.
I clap him on the shoulder. “It’s her win condition. Don’t worry about it. Never gonna happen.” I raise my hand high and flick Mercy off. “Deal, bitch.”
Let the game fucking begin.