Page 177 of Boys Who Hunt

The release?

My throat feels clamped shut as my heart sinks into my shoes. “You fucked her?”

I ask the question before I even dare to look at him. But the smug smile on his face confirms my thoughts.

“Her pussy was so goddamn wet for me …” he growls as he steps closer and closer, removing the space between us. “And when she came all over my goddamn cock, she screamedmyname. Not yours.Mine.” He taps my chest so hard I flinch.

“I …” I swallow. “If she wanted it, who am I to stop you?”

His brows furrow even more. “What?”

“You two made that deal with her,” I say. “I can’t stop you. I won’t.” I push back the tears. “But if you’re trying to make me jealous, job well done.”

I waltz off and head into the game room where the bar is, and I grab myself the scotch I never go for and pour one out, downing it in one go. I cough and heave, but the burn is not enough to quench the fire raging in my chest.

The giant TV in the back crackles from the fake fire being displayed on it while I just try to breathe.

Breathe, Max. Breathe.

CHAPTER 43

Ivy

I chuckthe knife at the board in the back of the room but miss, and the knife clatters to the floor.

Silas picks it up with a smug smile. “Again.”

“How many more?” I ask.

His brow rises. “Until you hit the center.”

“Why? I already know how to hit a fucker with a knife. I’m not afraid to hurt people,” I reply.

“Hurt, yes. Kill?” He makes a face as he hands it back to me. “Doubt it. Now try again.”

Sighing, I accept the knife from him, but the moment our fingers touch sends electrical currents up and down my spine. I brush them off and focus on the board in the back, the center feeling more like an eye staring right back at me.

He comes to stand behind me and suddenly grips my arm, lifting it. “Higher.”

I try to focus, but it’s hard with him breathing down my neck.

“Center yourself.” He kicks my legs open. “Spread them.”

Jesus.

Why did that make my stomach flutter?

“Even if I aim correctly and make the hit, it’s just one knife,” I say.

“Just that one knife could make the difference …” he murmurs, standing so closely to my side I can barely even breathe. He pushes my hand up to exactly where he wants it to be, as his other hand slowly snakes up my body, pulling me closer to him until I’m turned sideways.

“Between life …”

I throw.

“And death.”

And hit.