Epilogue
EPILOGUE
DEATON
T his is stupid. And boring. Music pumps through the speakers of the club, blood filled bodies gyrating on the dance floor. Condensation wets my hands, lifting the glass of whiskey to my lips. I hate that I let Dalton sweet talk me into coming along for his “date” night.
The whiskey burns on the way down, my eyes finding Dalton sitting in a darkened corner of the club, blue eyes frequently reflecting the strobe lights. I follow his gaze to his woman sitting a few chairs down from me at the bar, a backless gown showing off her toffee skin. I like the way her skin holds the light, giving none of it back, a beautiful blank canvas. It’s too bad Dalton is over the moon about her.
It’s still stupid to even pretend to share, both of them hunting for prey with Natalia as bait. My eyes sweep the sheep in the building, but nothing grabs my attention. I drain the last of my drink, standing to leave, but pausing when I notice a blonde man walking up to my future cousin in law. He chats with her, a false smile twisting his lips.
But it’s the man who’s been sitting next to her for the past hour drawing my predatory gaze. While she’s distracted with the blonde, he leans, sprinkling a powdery solution into her drink. My head swivels to Dalton, who’s already cutting a path through the crowd. Well, this is about to get interesting, I think, retaking my seat.
I truly enjoy watching my cousin work, a true protégé. Remorse over Aunt Samantha’s death never arose upon hearing about her “accident.” Eyes riveted to Dalton stalking through the crowd, my instincts scream at me her death was no accident, that I trained a killer.
Good. The world is too populated, anyway. Someone needs to thin the herd.
* * *
NATALIA
My nipples bead with excitement, adrenaline surging through my veins. Who the fuck knew I’d get off on this? Stranger Danger sitting next to me gave off creep vibes from the moment he sidled next to me, trying to make idle conversation. I don’t doubt he’s attempting to tamper with my drink as Mr. Corporate tries to butter me up.
His green gaze keeps wandering down to the deep V of my gown, his attention drawn to all the skin on display, a hint of the curve of my breasts acting as a flashing sign.
“I own a condo not far from here if you want to go somewhere quiet—” He stills before slowly turning to Dalton, a shark-like grin on my man’s handsome face. I can’t see through the press of their bodies, but I’m sure he has a blade pressed to the spine of Mr. Corporate.
“I don’t think she wants to go anywhere with you, so run along before this gets messy.” Dalton’s voice slides over me, teasing my skin. He’s blown my world wide open during the thirty-day deadline I gave him, from edging me in public, a toy nestled within my pussy that he controls, to arriving bright and early to Sarah’s, waking me to his tongue between my legs.
Zaiden had the bright idea of gifting his twin a key, and Dalton took advantage while the couple slept. I spent the past thirty days there, strengthening my bond with Sarah, signing up for coaching classes with her on days Zaiden had work, shopping for baby clothes and everything in between. It’s scary how good things have been going and Dalton’s eyes promise it’ll only get better, stepping back and allowing his prey to scamper away.
“You look fucking delectable, my flower,” he says, coming closer and ghosting his lips across mine, but I know he’s spotted the creep oby the side of me.
“I’ll be right back, baby. I won’t be far,” he whispers, heat simmering in his eyes, filled with sinful promises. I watch him stalk away, disappearing into the crowd.
* * *
DALTON
My cock has never been this hard in my life. Natalia looks like a damn meal I can’t wait to devour and for once, it’s not actual flesh I’m craving to feast on, her pussy becoming my favorite meal.
Thirty days of hell is what I called it. Tonight marks the day after her deadline, the night she’ll say yes to being mine and I couldn’t think of anything better than reminding her of what she’s getting into bed with, taking Zaine’s suggestion.
Deaton’s eyes track me, a dark caress I can feel. He always enjoyed stepping back and watching me work. I invited him for sentimental purposes, a sort of graduation, a transfer of ownership. After tonight, Natalia owns me and I her. This’ll mark the end of the rare hunts I shared with Deaton. My flower will be my master, her dainty hands leading me to my next kill.
The scum sitting next to her keeps lavishing leery looks on her derriere. The first thing I’ll take is his eyes. Then his tongue so he can never speak to my flower. Growing impatient, as his ilk is prone to do, he gets up, heading in the direction of the men’s bathroom.
Bingo. It’s playtime.
Stalking my prey in the overcrowded club, sweat slicked bodies bumping against one another, is too damn easy. Eyes tracking my bounty, I pull my phone out, shooting a quick text to Natalia.
Meet me in the men’s bathroom.
How fortunate for us there isn’t a line. The meat bag makes it in before me and I soon follow, thanking my lucky stars that we’re the only occupants. His eyes find mine, a question in them before he darts them back down into the urinal, zipper sounding louder in the muted room.
I disappear into a stall, piss and unpleasant scents assaulting my nose. In my other pocket lies pieces of a blow dart that I quickly assemble, peeking through the crack to make sure my prey doesn’t wander off. It's pressed to my lips, ready for my breath to shoot the paralytic through the crack into the meat of the idiot who thought it was a good idea to violate my flower.
The bathroom door flies open and I know it’s her, cock twitching in my pants.
“What the hell—” My catch of the day startles. I yank the door open and blow, watching it hit its mark.
“Lock the door,” I command Natalia, hurrying to catch my prey before the thud of his body hitting the floor draws attention. I slid him beneath the base of the urinals, kneeling to begin working.
“Dalton,” Natalia breathes. Her eyes prickle my skin as I drive the blade of one of my favorite knives into the eye socket of her would-be attacker, scraping along the wall until the eye floats freely.
“Ugh,” she says, feet darting into a stall, but I keep working, removing both eyes. What else did I say I’d take? Oh, his tongue, so he can’t speak about this. What’s the saying? See no evil, speak no evil. His body jerks occasionally, but mostly, he’s paralyzed. I bet this is how his victims feel. Helpless, unable to fight back. It’s bitter sweet poetic fucking justice.
Liquid splashes into one of the toilets and I pocket my trophies, walking in on Natalia vomiting. Fuck. I didn’t think I could fuck this up.
“Nat.” She shakes her head, silencing me. I wait until she’s done, hoping this isn’t the end of us. She stands, cocking a brow at my gloved hands. Did she think I’d risk us getting caught?
“Nat,” I whisper, prowling closer and she moves until her bare back presses against the wall of the stall. My hand lands near her head, my eyes asking a silent question. She nods, hiking her dress up. Oh, fuck. I thought I’d scared her off.
“He deserved it,” she answers my unspoken question. “That doesn’t mean I’m used to the sight of blood and viscera.” Her hands tug at the waistband of my pants, fingers quickly free my hard cock. Oh shit. This is happening. I’m about to fuck my flower in a bathroom stall with loose eyeballs squished in my pockets.
This night cannot get any better—a knock ends that thought. Scowling, refusing to tuck myself away, I march toward the door, opening it enough so to expose only my unzipped pants and a sliver of torso.
Deaton cocks a brow, and smiling, I let him, motioning at the body. It’s all his. He walks in silently, jerking his head for me to lock the door. Natalia peeks through the stall and I was so unequivocally wrong. This night could get better.
Crooking a finger at her, I shove my pants down the rest of the way, cock completely exposed. She licks her lips nervously, darting frequent glances at Deaton, walking over. I ignore him, slamming her against the wall as soon as she’s within touching distance.
This—not fucking a damn eye socket—is about to be the best nut of my life.