Tongue (Ruthless Kings MC #8) - K.L. Savage Page 0,14

shoulder leans against the wall. Her cardigan is pulled tight around her, emphasizing the small swells of her tits. I wish I were her sweater, right up against her skin, cloaking her.

I bet she’s so soft and smells so good. I want to get close enough where I can find out. Something tells me she smells as warm as she makes me feel.

Her eyes search in the alleyway again, and they fall on me. I know she can’t see me, but she can feel me. Daphne takes a step outside, and the muscular cop stands in front of her, blocking my view of the only object in the universe that’s found a way to ground me.

Sneering, I almost launch myself across the street and slit all their throats and throw her over my shoulder to take her away. I dig my nails into the brick to stop myself, and my breathing becomes harsh and ragged. Sweat beads across my brows and rage fills my veins. I knew I shouldn’t have used both of the knives that I had on me to throw against the door.

Damn it.

I wait for him to move out of my way, but he doesn’t. I can’t leave because I parked my bike in the alley, and if I speed out of here, I’ll look guilty, even though I am. So I have to wait and watch as he gets closer and closer to her.

I slide down the wall and sit on the filthy ground, tangling my hands in my hair. I start to rock. The urge to kill is humming through my body. I’m coming unhinged. I need to see Daphne. She soothes the killer beneath my skin.

Turning my head, I see her again as she steps to the side, away from him, and I hold back the beast I know she wouldn’t love. I want to kill those cops. I want to kill the man who touched her. I want her to only be mine.

Her eyes search the darkness for me again, and when those big blues land on me, I let out a huge breath, sagging against the brick wall.

I can breathe again.

I’m obsessed with her.

It’s dangerous.

I know what it means when I’m obsessed with someone, and usually they end up dead.

Not this time.

I want to possess her. I want her to be dependent on me. I can protect her. I know that is something I will be able to do. Anyone who dares come close to her, I’ll slice out their tongues.

If she accepts that part of me.

Part.

Who am I kidding? Cutting is who I am.

My cock starts to come to life when I notice her push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Fuck, she’s pretty. I rub the growing erection in my jeans and groan. I don’t ever get hard unless I’m spilling blood.

Sexually, I haven’t gotten hard. I’ve never been interested in sex after what my uncle did, but Daphne makes me interested.

Very interested.

And that scares me. I’m not a man to be scared of anything, but having sex with a woman is something I don’t know how to do.

Need someone tortured? I’m the guy to do it.

Need someone’s tongue cut out? Fucking pick me. I love that shit.

Love?

I don’t know how to do that, but after meeting Daphne, I know I want to learn how.

If I can even be taught. I might be a lost cause, a hopeless case, a stupid person for the rest of my life. I’m incapable.

I’m trained to shed blood.

I was born to inflict hate.

That’s who I am.

I am hate.

But I don’t hate her, and that’s a new feeling for me to process.

The tattooed cop hands Daphne a small business card, and I’ll bet anything it has his number on it. I watch her narrow face for any sort of reaction, but she seems disinterested, sliding it into her cardigan pocket.

Good girl.

The cops get into their car, turn off their blue lights, and drive down the road.

Fucking finally.

Now I can kill the man in the bookstore. There’s one thing I always carry, just in case I don’t have my knives on me.

I pull out my nine-millimeter and aim directly at his head. My finger rubs against the trigger. His hands drop to his hips, and he says something out of the side of his mouth to Daphne, which has me lowering the gun and hesitating to shoot.

I do not hesitate.

I lift the gun again, but I can’t seem to make myself pull the trigger.