Goddess of Pain - Katie May Page 0,19

here in my home, staring up at me from beneath thick lashes. Her question, though innocent in nature, gives me a pause.

Am I trying to kill her?

The logical answer should be an abrupt no, but I’m not entirely sure. It’s my job to kill her, and I’ve never once failed before. It’s what makes me the best assassin in the United States.

“Well, that’s just fucking lovely,” she scoffs, throwing her hands up in the air. The movement lifts the bottom of the skin-tight shirt she’s required to wear for work. I catch a glimpse of a lean, tanned stomach, and for some undefinable reason, my cock begins to harden. She jumps up abruptly, lips pulling away from her teeth in a snarl…though I’ll be the first to admit it’s more cute than terrifying.

“How do you know my name?” I rumble. Nobody—not even my supervisor—knows my real name. I’m known as the Butcher by the people in my community. Helio is the name I was born with, but the Butcher is who I’ve become.

“Are. You. Going. To. Kill. Me?” she demands, stalking forward until her face is centimeters from my own. I inhale her sweet, honey scent as my cock continues to twitch in my pants. Why do I have such a strong, visceral reaction to her? I’m not a virgin…at least, I don’t think I am. I don’t have any memories of fucking a woman, but surely, I must have, right? When I close my eyes, I remember slipping my cock between wet folds as a woman screams my name and calls me…pumpkin.

Yeah, my fantasies are fucked up, even for me.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, running the pad of my thumb across her neck. For a brief moment, I imagine a blade in place of my finger, and the thought sends dread rippling down my spine.

“Do you want to?” she breathes, those sooty lashes of hers fluttering.

I continue to regard her curiously, warily almost, as she meets my gaze without any fear. Grown men have cowered in terror when in my proximity, yet this slip of a girl—barely the height of my chest—is glaring up at me as if I’d personally offended her.

Keeping my face blank, I search her face carefully. I only kill the bad and the wicked—the people who deserve it.

And Emily Lopez? She most definitely does not deserve to be put down by my blade.

I practically sag in relief at the direction of my thoughts, at the way I had justified sparing her life. I know in my heart that this woman does not deserve to die.

As I stare into her gorgeous eyes, I feel myself falling. Not physically, of course, but mentally. Falling into her. Falling into her essence that curls around me like rays of sunlight.

And then, I remember.

The Goddess of Pain is not what I expected.

I’ve been alive for thousands of years, wandering the Realm of the Gods with senseless abandon. While some of my brethren chose to settle down and create a kingdom for themselves, I remained a nomad. I’ve never had a home before, and I never wanted one. Why would I, when I could enact vengeance best on my own? You’d be surprised the deranged acts people commit when they think no one is watching. When they think they can get away with it.

I thrive on justice, on karma.

And I thrive on doing it by myself.

But then, a goddess demanded my presence, and for the first time in centuries, I heeded her call.

As her assistant, Rebecca, leads me down a twining hallway, I envision my meeting with the legendary goddess capable of evoking fear in lesser men. I expect her to be cruel and hideous, the taint on her soul reflecting on the outside.

Instead, when I enter the elegant banquet hall, I see a young woman with a jovial smile on her face, laughing alongside a tall man with messy brown hair. They both glance up when I enter, and a knot forms in my throat when I meet her eyes.

She’s…beautiful. The light radiating from her smile is just as bright as the light I see in her soul. How can that be? How can the Goddess of Pain still have more goodness in her than most men and women I meet? Shouldn’t she be dark and twisted?

“Helio!” she states, gracefully moving from the chair. My eyes sweep over her generous curves before I smooth my expression over. The man beside her smiles broadly, as if he knows the direction