Romans & histoires Killer Sans Cute

"I'd have to cut your shirt, is that okay?" "Yeah, yeah, yeah," his quick but dismissive reply, and gave little kisses around K's face. "You can tear up all my clothes if you'd like, I won't give a shit." He quipped, muttering against her lips. "Alright, then." K smiled, her pupils dilated. She raised her head to whisper the words against Jesse's ear. "Let's fuck." ---

Killian proved me wrong. “I am going to make them all pay for what they’ve made you live through, and believe me, malyshka, I won’t be easy on them. They are going to end up begging to be killed, and even then, I would debate on giving them a painful death that their followers never forget.” He said, making my chest swell. “I will leave that up to you. No matter how much he’s hurt me, I am not cruel hearted to want anyone to suffer.” I said, and Killian frowned in confusion.

This hut or cottage, whatever this is, is so small and simple, and quiet now that the pups are no longer in the area. “And?” I swallowed, braced myself for whatever horrible word her tongue might utter. “Kill her.” Delilah’s nose flared. “He wants to kill his mate.” *** My eyes widened after hearing those words. Words that I hardly knew. But all I know is it’s cruel, utterly cruel. Mate. Killing. I don’t understand any of these things. These are all foreign to me. “Delilah, what is a ‘mate’?”

“You beat up my best friend and put the woman you claim to love in handcuffs. That’s a little too low for a man like you. I found out about your identity a while ago, but I didn’t tell because I respected the bond you shared, but I guess you can’t say the same” Kreed frowned. “A rat who’s about to be devoured by a cat has no rules.” Killian chuckled. “Do you think you’ll live even if you kill everyone in this room?” “Right. You always have back-ups. I figured that out.” Killian’s face was as cold and still as a statue as he spoke his next words. “Think carefully. Whatever you do, you’ll die.” “Even if I do, I want to see you die first.”

My killers. I took slow breaths and gazed at my watch. The seconds were going faster tonight. I could tell something was in the air . A crackle, an omen. But it was not important. "Listen up," I said, speaking low but sharply. They sat up like hounds on command. "I don't care how many bodies hit the ground tonight. Let their camp run red with blood. Burn them to the ground if you can. But make sure someone remains alive."

Connor's face turned as pale as paper as he collapsed into a chair. I drifted to his side and whispered softly, "Are you satisfied with how this turned out?" … When Connor pried open Vivian's door, she froze for a moment before putting on a concerned expression. "Is there news of Sylvia?" Her voice remained sweet, her eyes still innocent. "She's dead." Connor's tone held no emotion. "Someone hacked off her limbs with a silver dagger, forced wolfsbane down her throat, and tortured her for at least two hours." Tears had already begun to slide down Vivian's cheeks. "No, that's impossible. Connor, don't scare me like that."

The blade gleamed dangerously under the kitchen light as he raised it over the thick dildo on the counter. My heart stopped. “If you dare,” I said, my voice shaking with pure anger, “we’re done. I swear to God, Nova. If you touch that knife to my toys, we are finished.”

His dead left arm hung like a discarded anchor of grey slate, the split skin along his shoulder weeping a thick, dark icor that froze before it hit the marble. The remaining vanguard private didn't hesitate for the counselor’s commentary. With a low, guttural grunt behind his featureless iron visor, he drove the shortsword down. He didn't aim for a clean kill. He aimed for the raw, unarmored space between Killian's neck guard and his clavicle—a brutal, full-weight plunge designed to pin the Alpha to the bedrock like a beast on a board. "Killian!" The scream tore through my blistered throat, spitting a spray of fresh crimson onto my collarbone.

"Take everything until there is nothing left of his name on my skin." A dark, savage grin cut across Killian’s face. He did not waste another second. He stripped his shirt off in a single, violent motion, revealing the heavily muscled, scarred expanse of his chest. He pinned her flat against the velvet pillows, his large hand reaching down to brutally tear the remainder of her black lace underwear away, discarding it into the shadows.