Page 144 of Boys Who Hunt
He grips my face and turns it left and right, glancing at the red marks. But then his fingers curl underneath my shirt and tug it up, exposing the bruise on my stomach.
I immediately grasp his wrist. “I’m fine.”
His gaze intensifies. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
My jaw slowly drops as my brain finally kicks back into gear.
“How did you find me?” I frown as he glances at my bike, and I realize what’s going on. “You put a tracker on my bike.”
“You think I’d let my property out of my sight?”
“Property?” I parrot. The insolence. “I’m no one’s prop—”
He grips my chin and leans in, pointing the sharp end of the knife at my lips, and I shudder in place as it slowly slides down my neck all the way to my chest. “Did you forget the deal you made with me that night, thief?”
His knife circles my heart.
“I let my friends play with you because I love to see you squirm, but don’t mistake my interest in sharing for leniency. Everything you are belongs to me. This body. This brain. This heart.” He inches so close I can feel his hot, bloodied breath on my skin. “These lips and every inch of your skin is my belonging. My property.Mine.” A diabolical grin forms on his face. “Andno onetouches what I deem mine.”
My eyes travel across his face in an attempt to decipher why it feels like it’s being suffocated.
Like I can’t look anywhere else but at his face and those droplets of blood rolling down his cheeks, a testament to his power as a soulless killer.
He maims with ease.
He could end my life in an instant.
Yet he chooses to defend me instead.
With his bloodied knife, he draws a heart on my chest.
I try to breathe.
Honestly.
I swear on my life.
But my lungs are in dissent.
And my body, God, does it hurt … and ache … and long for more.
Fuck.
“I killed them all to protect you. Now, are you finally going to tell me why you need all that money, and if that’s the reason they were after you?” He tilts his head while sporting a smirk. “Or do I have to fuck it out of you?”
CHAPTER 37
Silas
If I hadn’t arrivedin time, she would’ve been taken. Gone. Dead.
Or worse.
Fuck.
My fist tightens around the knife as I slowly lower it along with my eyes, wondering how badly injured she is.
Suddenly, a car comes swerving in from the street to our left while another motorcycle heads our way from the same direction as I just raced through.