her pinned under him, dick buried to the hilt, hand on her throat to keep her quiet, and I can't move at all for a moment. It's vicious and raw, and I sit back on the edge of the table just to enjoy the show. This is who Aftyn is under the mask, and I don't know why he clings to the fiction of who he tried to be for Willa when he could be this free all the time.
When he sits up, breathing hard, he releases her throat but there's no breath left in that corpse to make a noise anyway. She's painted in brilliant slashes of red, a deeper crimson pooling on her stomach, and I give in to the temptation to step closer for a better look. Aftyn's staring down at her, and I wonder what he's thinking.
Is this his first time letting that side out?
Did I get to see him pop that cherry?
Tilting my head I let my gaze slide down his blood-spattered abs, and I'm distracted by the way his dick slides out of her so I don't catch the fact that he's brought the knife back up until he plunges it into her stomach and drags it down.
Dumbass. I wrinkle my nose, knowing how bad she's going to stink, and we can’t just toss her out the door. Plus, she’s already soaking the bed. "This isn't exactly nice and tidy."
"You bitch…" he growls, and I just smile at him when he turns that feral expression on me. His eyes are empty right now, pretty blue voids just like his daddy's, and with all that blood dripping down his skin, I've never been more attracted to him. I've always liked seeing who people really are, deep down under all the masks they wear, and I think that's why I don't react fast enough when he lunges at me.
"Shit!" A searing pain flashes on my thigh as I stumble back and hit the floor hard. The second I try to push myself away from him, I realize my right leg fucking hurts, but I barely get a peek at the blood soaking my jeans before he's off the bed and coming for me with the knife in his hand.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you for what you did to Wills." Aftyn's eyes are still empty, and all I can do is laugh as I lunge for my backpack and yank it off the chair. He swipes at me with the knife, but I manage to kick his arm away with my good leg. The movement still sends a burning shot of pain up my other one, but it’s worth it to avoid another slash. "Why the fuck are you laughing?" he screams, and I grab the first handle I wrap my fingers around and pull it out of my bag.
Pointing the knife toward him, I force myself to my feet, stumbling back into the wall by the door when my leg doesn't want to hold me up. Giggling a little, I can tell he’s trying to figure out a way past my knife, but I know how to distract him. "How does it feel, Aftyn?"
"How does what feel!" he shouts, and I can't help but laugh again as I try to stabilize myself.
"Dropping your mask. Don't you like it? How freeing it is?" I ask, smiling at him when his brow furrows, fist still white-knuckle tight around the knife’s handle. "It's so much better when you stop pretending to be someone you aren't. Willa isn't here anymore. You don't have to keep—"
"Don't say her fucking name!" he roars, moving toward me again, but I wave my knife back and forth, and he stops in his tracks.
"Tut tut, Aftyn. I've gutted a lot more people than you have, but I really don't want to kill you until Lakyn is done with you."
"Fucking try it. I'll cut you open just like you did to Willa, except I won't cut your goddamn throat," he threatens, moving a half-step closer as if it's going to drive his next point home. "You're going to feel every single second of that pain, bitch. Every fucking bit of it."
"Maybe," I admit, because anything is possible, but I honestly don't think he has the balls for it. Tilting my chin toward the dead girl currently drenching the bed in her blood, I lower my knife a fraction. "But look at what you were able to do when you dropped the mask, Aftyn. That is the