Chapter Two #2
“Ah, that’s right. You’re a poor little broken boy who didn’t get a hug from his mother.
” He laughed and rolled his soulless eyes.
“Tell you what...when you stop searching for love and accept that you’re top of the food chain and those little jewels are ours to slice, dice, fuck, and shoot, then we’ll talk.
Until then...you’re wasting my time.” He scoffed at Charles and his winded breathing.
“Actually, you’re both wasting my time.” Breaking into a run, he dashed toward the black maw in the cliffs.
“See you later, losers. I’ll be sure to leave a few pieces for you. ”
“Asshole.” Charles watched him go. “Always has been.”
And that asshole was hunting Ily.
“See ya round, Charles.” I took off after Kyle.
No fucking way would I let him out of my sight.
Charles tried to call me back, but his wheeze faded beneath the surf.
My feet pounded over sand and sea glass, chasing Kyle as he leapt over a few rockpools and scurried up the boulders toward the black crack in the cliffside. Taking the path of least resistance, he scaled the rocks and pulled away as I slogged through soft sand.
Changing my direction, I followed his, leaping onto the rocks and praying I didn’t break an ankle.
The sly fucker kept up a pace my damn loafers couldn’t. The slippery shoes offered no traction as I did my best to leap from rock to rock. Slinging my gun over my shoulder with its black strap, I tried to go faster—to stop him, kill him, only...
A strange rumbling beneath my feet.
A roar of power; a shake of earth.
A flock of seagulls took wing.
“Watch out!” Charles yelled behind me.
Too late.
Kyle vanished into the cave just as a gush of heavy seawater exploded beneath me.
It felt as if the ocean formed a fist and sucker-punched me right in the balls, throwing me backward, slapping me with a tower of salt.
My back bellowed as I landed on craggy rocks.
My temple thwacked against a sharp outcrop.
My gun broke from my weight, the muzzle snapping in half as I tucked and rolled, wincing as a curtain of punishing rain pummelled from above just like it’d pummelled from below.
A few seconds and it was over.
The roar faded, the violent water nothing more than wetness glittering on rocks.
Fuck!
Cupping myself, I rode through the flush of icy-hot agony as my balls throbbed from the ocean’s beating. Everything hurt. Everything dripped.
Goddammit!
Clucking his tongue, Charles appeared by my pounding head.
Planting his hands on his hips, he looked at where I lay contorted and in motherfucking agony. “Blowhole got you good, huh? Avoid the rockpools. You have no idea which one will turn into a waterspout.”
The torture in my dick slowly faded, seeping into my lower belly and down my legs. I wished the pain in my head would do the same thing. “Yeah, thanks.” I groaned, gritting my teeth and forcing myself upright.
“Oh shit. Guess you’re out of the game.” Charles cocked an eyebrow at my broken gun. He chuckled as his eyes dropped down my jeans. “And I hate to tell you, but that’s not just seawater you’re dripping in.”
Ignoring the contusions throbbing in my spine and the black dots dancing over my eyes, I stood and brushed at my soaking clothes. A rush of nausea—that had nothing to do with morals and was more about a head injury—had me locking my knees so I didn’t fall back down.
At least the spots in my gaze faded as I looked at the bright orange paint coating my left side.
Great.
Fucking wonderful.
“Definitely out of the game. You’ve smashed all your paintballs and broken your gun.
” Charles shrugged with fake grief. “Ah well, better luck next time, old chap. I’ll be sure to tell Ily you said hi.
” Licking his lips, he bent a little closer.
“I have to say, after watching you two at dinner, I’ve been dying to know how she tastes. ”
I bared my teeth as the world swam a little.
Backing out of my reach, he chuckled. “You know...Kyle might like to cut them up, but what he doesn’t know is, if you don’t cause too much damage, you have a never-ending smorgasbord.”
Rubbing at my blood-streaked temple, willing the beach to stay still, I frowned. “Smorgasbord?”
Lowering his voice so even the seagulls didn’t hear him, he whispered, “I’m saying I’ve eaten a few strips off Dane over the years, and as long as you don’t cut too deep or take too much, the body heals itself in the most miraculous—”
“Wait.” All my pain vanished. “You’re saying you fucking eat him?”
He laughed with a whimsical sort of obscenity. “Ah, don’t be jealous. I used to be like you. Blood was my dessert of choice, but after a while...I needed more. You’ll reach that level too, eventually. And I’ll be here to teach you.”
My ears roared.
My mind went blank.
I’d seen some sick shit in this place, but that?
Knowing that this seemingly normal man—this man who had a wife and a career and was old enough to have existed in society with no one the wiser—dined on people?
Yeah...he has to die.
“Go rest up,” he said. “That head wound looks nasty.” Breaking into a waddling run, he waved. “Bye!”
I lurched after him.
The world tilted.
I landed on my knees.
The cartilage in my joints crunched against barnacle-sharp rock.
“No, no, don’t follow!” Charles glanced back. “You’re really not looking so good. Don’t worry, plenty more games to enjoy if you sit this one out.” Laughing again, he clambered toward the cave entrance where Kyle had disappeared.
Scrambling to my feet, I went to chase.
Vertigo kicked my ass.
I tripped to the left, the surf dragging me toward it with its salty song.
FUCK!
Unslinging my useless gun, I tossed it into the sand with a snarl.
Closing my eyes and balling my hands, I focused on getting my shit together.
I couldn’t think about Charles or Kyle or the other two Masters already in the caves.
Focus.
Breathe.
I tried to do what Ily did every morning and ground myself. I pictured the pain in my head trickling down my body and into the beach.
I felt ridiculous standing there with my eyes closed and pain tearing through me, but...slowly...breath by breath, my mind quietened just enough for the pain to cascade through my bones and seep out the soles of my feet.
What the hell?
Meditation, she called it.
Wrong...it was a fucking miracle.
My eyes snapped open, clear and focused again.
How had something so simple as shutting out the noise and concentrating worked so well?
Sure, I still hurt.
Sure, I was still cold and drenched and bruised in places I really wished I wasn’t, but...it was no longer debilitating.
The wooziness was gone.
The pain manageable.
I ran.
I chased after Charles and his sick confessions.
I had nothing but my bare hands, all while two guys—who just admitted they got off on chopping up human flesh and turning cannibal—hunted Ily.
If they find her...
The animal inside me prowled and snapped at its tether.
The darkness sucked me deeper.
I’d tried to play this smart.
Tried to stay human.
But...the ocean had either decided to condemn me or free me.
I wasn’t meant to play this as a man.
I was meant to play this as a creature unbeholden to rules and regulations.
Stiff with pain and breaking beneath monstrosity, I stalked Charles right into the darkness of the cave. He stumbled and grunted as he navigated uneven ground, sounding like an elephant seal as I hunted.
Every step, I turned my back on sanity.
Every breath, I embraced anarchy.
I’d eaten with this man.
Spoken with this man.
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.
But it wasn’t a blowhole exploding this time.
It was me.
My soul.
My immortal spirit shot out of me as I dug my thumbs deeper into his fleshy neck and squeezed.
I squeezed until he switched from sleeping to dead.
I squeezed until there was no chance he’d ever wake again.
I squeezed until the beast inside me stopped snarling and accepted that it’d won.
Only then did I wipe my hands on his shirt, steal his gun, and stride barefoot into cave-wrapped darkness.