Where the fuck's my bag? It's gone, fallen, lost.
Shit.
They're doing a nice job of kicking the crap out of me, and healing is not my strong point. Still, these assholes can't kill me, not again. At least, I hope they can't.
But Kane can. If I don't bring him that lamp.
"Hold the fucker still." Whippy yanks back the slide on a big fuck-off .45, snapping a round into the chamber.
His big-ass troll sidekick drags me to my knees and twists my arms behind my back, his thick scaly fingers sponging into my forearms. There's the bag on the ground, half-open, brass glinting inside. I jam my heel into the troll's fat ankle and lunge for the bag—now my nerves are awake, I've got a few of my old moves back—but Whippy stomps on my hand, mashing stinging grit into my palm and knocking the bag aside.
The lamp tumbles out, and the lid clinks off, rolling onto the wet concrete.
The troll snarls, spit spraying, and wrenches me to my knees, yanking my head back with a fistful of my hair. It hurts, glorious. Not too hard, fucknuts, you'll rip it out and I won't be so goddamn pretty anymore.
"Can't kill you, can I?" Whippy jams the barrel into my cheekbone and grins, broken orthodontics shining. "Doesn't mean I can't pretend. Swallow this, you crazy fuck."
I grit my teeth. Great. Another hole in my head. I'll never get laid again. "Your mother, asshole."
His smile widens, and the shot cracks like thunder.
Only it isn't my head that jerks like a puppet's and splatters brains out the back. It's his.
***
A hollow whisper echoed in my head, calling my name.
I jerked upright in bed like I'd been stung. Luke's coarse blond hair tumbled over my thighs. "What was that?"
"What was what?" Luke wriggled up to suck me again, teasing my hard knot of nerves with those supple lips.
Mmm. He's really quite good at this . . . but I was sure I heard something.
Someone messing with my lamp, that's what. Lid coming off, nasty meddling fingers creeping inside. Could have sworn.
I twisted my feet in the sheets, trying to listen, but concentrating with Luke licking between my legs wasn't easy. He pushed my thighs further apart and slid his tongue inside me, that little knob of metal rubbing in a very sweet spot.
Gentle pleasure swelled, and a groan welled up in my chest. It couldn't be. Door locked, cupboard closed, lamp safe and hidden. Must be imagining things. "I . . . I thought I heard something."
"TV, maybe. You okay?" He ran the tip of his tongue over me, his lips shining wet. He was a sweet kid, really. I like a boy who takes pleasure in his work.
"Uh-huh." I closed my eyes, relaxing a bit as he pleasured me. Next I'd go down on him, taste that musky flavor, feel his hard flesh quiver in my mouth. Mmm. Lamp safe. Has to be. Don't worry.
His warm fingers slicked over my entrance, dipping inside. Sweet Jesus. I sure as hell wasn't imagining that. He moved back up to suck me again, searching with his fingertip for that special place, and worlds of sensation ripened all over my body, staggering. "Oh, fuck." I gripped his hair to pull him closer and fell back on the bed, lost.
***
Chapter Seven
Gavain flits closer on ultralight feet, leveling my pistol at the troll. His ruby eyes flush with rage, but his aim's dead steady. "Hands off. Now."
Cautious relief warms my skin, and my pulse flutters, stirring thick blood. My hero. This is a side of Gavain I've never seen. He's strong, confident, aware. He almost looks like he gives a shit. Who knew? This time, I can't pretend I'm not pleased to see him.
I've got leverage, with one foot braced beneath me, and I try to twist free, but the troll's too big. He just growls and squeezes a massive hand around my throat, reminding me what a nice convenient thing breathing is.
Gavain hops nearer, silent and delicate. God, he can move like a butterfly when he needs to. Hypnotic, the way he glides, light like a fairy but sleek and dangerous too, the muscles in his
Shit.
They're doing a nice job of kicking the crap out of me, and healing is not my strong point. Still, these assholes can't kill me, not again. At least, I hope they can't.
But Kane can. If I don't bring him that lamp.
"Hold the fucker still." Whippy yanks back the slide on a big fuck-off .45, snapping a round into the chamber.
His big-ass troll sidekick drags me to my knees and twists my arms behind my back, his thick scaly fingers sponging into my forearms. There's the bag on the ground, half-open, brass glinting inside. I jam my heel into the troll's fat ankle and lunge for the bag—now my nerves are awake, I've got a few of my old moves back—but Whippy stomps on my hand, mashing stinging grit into my palm and knocking the bag aside.
The lamp tumbles out, and the lid clinks off, rolling onto the wet concrete.
The troll snarls, spit spraying, and wrenches me to my knees, yanking my head back with a fistful of my hair. It hurts, glorious. Not too hard, fucknuts, you'll rip it out and I won't be so goddamn pretty anymore.
"Can't kill you, can I?" Whippy jams the barrel into my cheekbone and grins, broken orthodontics shining. "Doesn't mean I can't pretend. Swallow this, you crazy fuck."
I grit my teeth. Great. Another hole in my head. I'll never get laid again. "Your mother, asshole."
His smile widens, and the shot cracks like thunder.
Only it isn't my head that jerks like a puppet's and splatters brains out the back. It's his.
***
A hollow whisper echoed in my head, calling my name.
I jerked upright in bed like I'd been stung. Luke's coarse blond hair tumbled over my thighs. "What was that?"
"What was what?" Luke wriggled up to suck me again, teasing my hard knot of nerves with those supple lips.
Mmm. He's really quite good at this . . . but I was sure I heard something.
Someone messing with my lamp, that's what. Lid coming off, nasty meddling fingers creeping inside. Could have sworn.
I twisted my feet in the sheets, trying to listen, but concentrating with Luke licking between my legs wasn't easy. He pushed my thighs further apart and slid his tongue inside me, that little knob of metal rubbing in a very sweet spot.
Gentle pleasure swelled, and a groan welled up in my chest. It couldn't be. Door locked, cupboard closed, lamp safe and hidden. Must be imagining things. "I . . . I thought I heard something."
"TV, maybe. You okay?" He ran the tip of his tongue over me, his lips shining wet. He was a sweet kid, really. I like a boy who takes pleasure in his work.
"Uh-huh." I closed my eyes, relaxing a bit as he pleasured me. Next I'd go down on him, taste that musky flavor, feel his hard flesh quiver in my mouth. Mmm. Lamp safe. Has to be. Don't worry.
His warm fingers slicked over my entrance, dipping inside. Sweet Jesus. I sure as hell wasn't imagining that. He moved back up to suck me again, searching with his fingertip for that special place, and worlds of sensation ripened all over my body, staggering. "Oh, fuck." I gripped his hair to pull him closer and fell back on the bed, lost.
***
Chapter Seven
Gavain flits closer on ultralight feet, leveling my pistol at the troll. His ruby eyes flush with rage, but his aim's dead steady. "Hands off. Now."
Cautious relief warms my skin, and my pulse flutters, stirring thick blood. My hero. This is a side of Gavain I've never seen. He's strong, confident, aware. He almost looks like he gives a shit. Who knew? This time, I can't pretend I'm not pleased to see him.
I've got leverage, with one foot braced beneath me, and I try to twist free, but the troll's too big. He just growls and squeezes a massive hand around my throat, reminding me what a nice convenient thing breathing is.
Gavain hops nearer, silent and delicate. God, he can move like a butterfly when he needs to. Hypnotic, the way he glides, light like a fairy but sleek and dangerous too, the muscles in his
Similar Books
