Chapter Six
She stabbed me. She actually fucking stabbed me!
I rip the knife from my thigh and just stare at it. It's small, pitiful, and as dull as the one before. Barely worth the steel it was forged from.
The cabin door hangs open in the distance, firepit crackling behind me as her makeshift cleanup burns away. The flames curl higher, devouring plastic, clothes, and the wig. She left it all behind, open fire, door swinging wide, and bloody prints stamped across the threshold.
If it were anyone else, I’d leave it, let them learn from their mistakes, but her?
There is no fucking way I will let her get caught.
I slide my belt free, loop it high around my thigh and wrench it tight until the blood slows down. The cut isn't deadly, not deep, just messy.
The fire collapses into embers, spitting ash into the night air. I wait, breathing through the sting, before limping toward the bike. I brace the tank and grip the seat as I lean there for a moment, jaw clenched.
How the fuck am I hard right now?
She put steel in my leg, and my cock’s reacting like she kissed me. I close my eyes, drag air into my lungs, and try to breathe it out. No use. The ache in my thigh just pulses in time with the twitch between my legs.
Helmet on and the engine growling. The black beast rumbles under me, and I tear down the back roads, bleeding and smiling. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me?
When I finally roll into the garage and push through the door, Beau glances up but doesn’t speak. Caleb’s the one who notices first.
“The fuck happened to you?” He steps closer, eyes dropping to the red soaking through my cargos. “You’re bleeding.”
“She stabbed me.” I sink into the nearest chair with a groan. Pain lances sharp through my thigh, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
“She what?” Beau barks a laugh as Caleb disappears down the hall.
“She—” I shake my head, smirk tugging at my mouth. “Fucking hellcat.”
Beau crouches, fingers tugging the belt loose before peeling the fabric open. “What the fuck did you do?”
“I might’ve… scared her. A little.”
“A little? She fucking stabbed you,” Beau mutters, though his mouth twitches like he’s holding back another laugh.
“I think she liked being scared.” My voice drops without meaning to, remembering the flash in her eyes, the curve of her lips when she stepped close enough to slide the blade in.
“Right,” Beau says, inspecting the cut. “Jesus. She got you good.”
“Thank fuck she only owns shitty knives,” I grunt.
“She’s going to get better ones if you keep pushing her.”
Caleb reappears, tosses the first aid kit onto the couch. “Not too bad. Couple stitches and you’ll live.”
“Good.” I lean my head back, pulse still quick. “Fix it fast.”
Beau raises a brow. “Why?”
I smirk at the ceiling, already seeing her again.
“Because I’ve got a hellcat to visit.”
I clean the blood off, lean on the bathroom counter, and reach for the laptop.
Just to check on her. Just to see.
The feed flickers alive and her bedroom glows faint in the dark.
She’s curled on her side, facing the wall. Tossing. Turning.
Good.
She can’t sleep.
She shifts again, huffs. Then her hand reaches under the pillow, then the drawer, and I freeze.
Is that—
A fucking pink dildo?
Oh fuck no.
Her hands disappear under the covers, and I see the way her hips twitch, the way her breath hitches, her thighs parting.
Her head tips back, lips parted.
That plastic piece of shit between her legs is doing what I should be.
I lean closer to the screen, every muscle tensed, jaw locked.
That’s not what you need, hellcat.
She moves faster. Whimpers. Her back arches a little.
You need my hand. My cock. My fucking teeth.
I slam the laptop shut so hard it rattles the mirror.
I’m going to break that silicone piece of shit in two.
Her lights are off, I check the cameras, she’s fast asleep. It’s past four in the morning, and it’s quiet as death out here.
I cross the lot, the cold biting through my cargos, and slip inside the building with the spare key I lifted from her idiot neighbor. Stairs creak under my boots as I climb to her floor. The lock on her door is laughable; I’ll get her a better one. Just one twist, one click, and I’m in.
Shitty building.
The door shuts behind me with a low thud, the wood floors groan at my weight. She shifts in bed, turns over, and bolts upright with another fucking knife in her hand before she’s even awake.
“What the hell?!” she yells, pointing the knife at me.
“Shhh, hellcat.” My arms fold across my chest, calm as stone. “You really want the neighbors calling the cops?”
Her eyes widen. Her hand trembles just enough for me to notice, and that sheer little shirt she’s wearing does nothing to hide the stiff peaks pressing through. The hem barely covers the tops of her thighs. My cock reacts instantly to the tantalizing sight.
“Are you insane? Do you enjoy being stabbed or something?” she demands, circling the bed with that sad excuse for a blade aimed at my ribs.
“Maybe I do, Tamsin.” I draw her name out, watching the way her lips part, the way her chest lifts and falls faster.
“How do you know my name?” she hisses, stopping close enough for me to touch.
“I know everything. Your cousin. Your targets. The little hideout where you prep your kills.” I smirk under the mask as her gaze flicks toward the door.
She can try to get past me, but I won’t let her.
My eyes drop to the knife. “Where the fuck do you get your blades? Knife’R’Us?”
She glares and waves the knife right in front of my mask. “Are you seriously making jokes right now?”
She waves it again, but I don’t so much as blink.
“I could kill you. It’d be self-defense,” she says.
“Then do it.” I take a step closer. “Cut me. Kill me.”
She backs up until her knees hit the mattress, a small gasp slipping past her lips and feeding something dark inside me.
“I could do both,” her gaze dropping to my leg where the blood has dried in a crusted stain. “You bleed pretty.”
Fuck me, I think I’d let her carve her name into my skin just to hear her say it again.
“You enjoy hurting me?” My hand shoots out, catching her wrist before she can twitch away. She tries to pull back, but I just grip tighter. Her eyes are glazed, pupils blown wide.
“You want to hurt me, don’t you? Cut me open and see what’s inside. I’ll let you.” I whisper it against her cheek, close enough for my breath to stir her hair.
“I already know what’s under there.” Her voice is a soft blade, heat curling in every syllable. “You watched, you didn’t turn me into the police, you are just like me, aren’t you?”
My thumb strokes the inside of her wrist, slowly, she’s still holding the knife, but the tension between us doesn’t feel like a threat.
“This is foreplay now?” she breathes.
“Do you want it to be?”
My body’s not asking permission, it’s already decided. Every nerve feels wired to her, my cock throbs, and I haven’t even taken her down yet. She put a knife through my thigh and now I want her, I want her body. Her moans.
I press my thumb to her bottom lip, drag it slowly until her eyes flutter. I press on her wrist harder, and she whimpers with the pain and finally lets the knife fall.
“I should kill you,” she whispers against my lips.
“You’ve got time.” I lift the hem of her shirt and find the lace between her thighs. I trace her hip with my knuckles, slow enough to make her shiver.
“You smell sweet,” I murmur, my mask rubbing her neck. “Coconut.”
Her breath hitches.
“Bet your cunt tastes even sweeter.”
Her breath catches, shallow and quick.
I don’t move. I stay right there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her like it wants to burn through my skin, like her body’s daring me to lose control.
My mouth dips low, the mask brushing the edge of her ear as I murmur, slow and sharp, “Fuck…”
She exhales like I punched the breath out of her, hips tilting forward, her thigh grazing mine in a way that’s not innocent or accidental, her body betraying her, moving for me before she even seems to realize it herself.
I lower my head, letting my hands slide down until they wrap around her thighs, tight and possessive. My fingers digging deep into that soft flesh I’ve already claimed in my head a hundred fucking times.
I pull her in. Closer. Harder. Right where I want her.
“You gonna stab me again, hellcat?” I murmur, the words vibrating against her skin.
Her laugh comes out breathless, tight. “Depends… if you keep showing up uninvited.”
I chuckle and the sound makes her shiver. “You love it. You want it.”
I drop to my knees, the shift making her inhale deep. Her hands twitch toward my mask, she’s going to tear it away, but I catch her wrists midair and press them down to her sides. My grip is firm, bruising, making sure she knows I decide when I’m uncovered.
“Not yet,” I growl. “First, you let me taste you, then you get to see me.”
“I can’t do this,” she pants, words tumbling out fast. “I don’t even know you—this is fucking insane—”
I silence her with the slow drag of my finger over her clit through the soaked lace of her panties. Her words cut off in a strangled gasp, her head falling back.
“Your body already knows me,” I say, rubbing lazy circles, creating the lightest tease of pressure. “Your cunt’s already dripping, and I haven’t even put my mouth on it yet.”
She moans, hips jerking toward my hand, and I take my time sliding the lace down her thighs, exposing her inch by inch until the cool air meets her heat.
“Stay still, hellcat,” I warn. “Let me learn you.”
I lean in and pull the mask up just enough to free my lips.
The scent of her hits me, sweet, and intoxicating, and I bury my face between her legs. It's been years since I’ve had a taste of anything worth remembering. My tongue makes a slow path from her entrance up to her clit, collecting every drop.
She chokes on a moan, hands fisting my hoodie despite herself. Her thighs tremble, the muscles flexing under my palms.
“Oh, fuck—”