Noxious (Anathema #1) - Yolanda Olson Page 0,35
of one, but he’s never met a dragon quite like me before.
“I hate you!” Willa suddenly screeches in a tone I’ve never heard from her. It’s wrought with despair, heartbreak, and ire. Even in the state that she’s in, it kinda warms my heart that she doesn’t take it out on me.
She knocks the chick over with as much force as she can muster. The chick lets out a scream as Wills puts her hands around her throat and starts to slam her head into the ground. Her guy turns around instantly to try and save his pussy, but that’s the only thing I needed.
A moment of distraction that causes him to forget that the dragon was still nearby.
I give him a kidney shot and when he hunches over in pain, I immediately loop an arm around his neck and pull him back against me. He’s too busy trying to breathe to struggle too much, and that’s just fine by me.
“I hate you! I hate you!” Willa keeps screaming as she continues to bash the chick’s head into the dirt and pebbles.
I shift slightly behind Mr. Bad Ass because watching Willa basically turn this bitch’s head to mush is getting me hard.
When Willa finally lets go of the dead girl’s throat, she gets to her feet shakily, and I tilt my head to admire her handywork.
“I think you missed a spot,” I tell her dryly.
She snaps her eyes at me, her lip trembling even harder than before, then she walks over to the bucket a few inches away from us. Reaching inside, she retrieves a folding bowie knife.
I take a step back and bring my human shield with me.
Nothing about the look in her eyes right now gives me confidence about what she’s thinking.
Maybe if I dribble a little white lie to let her know that he died happy, then—
A loud gurgle suddenly escapes from the guy that I’ve been using to protect myself from her.
A warm rush of something pooling at my feet and I know that Willa is nowhere near satisfied with the blood she’s spilled.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” she seethes at me as she places a hand on the guy’s shoulder, right next to my forearm.
I take a deep breath and wait for the moment to present itself. And when it does, I push him toward Willa and take a few steps back.
I quickly scoop up one of the fishing poles and use my teeth to snap the wire so that I can roll it around my fist, making sure that the hook is at the top and wait.
I’m faster than Willa, but she’s more cunning, which means this may potentially suck more than it should.
Suddenly, her face crumples as she lets out another wail.
I tense my body and wait.
Trusting her right now is not a fucking option and I still need to get to Arizona.
With or without Willa.
She drops to her knees, looks at the dying man next to her, then sets her rage on him. She raises the knife and plunges it into him, over and over, the sound is wet, sick, and fucking all-consuming.
It’s making me hard again.
I lower my guard when she’s finally done. She drops the knife to the side, her hands completely soaked in blood as it continues to slowly ooze out of the gaping wounds she’s made in his torso. I crane my neck to take a better look and shake my head in appreciation.
She’s stabbed him so many fucking times that if she had any more strength left in her, she would have easily reached his spine. I can see his insides, or what’s left of them, and I can see what pure anguish can do to someone who thinks their invincible.
And maybe now, I’ll have her on my side once and for all.
“Come on,” I tell her quietly as I reach down and extend a hand toward her. She lets me pull her to her feet and I push her hair behind her ear, using a thumb to wipe away a blood-soaked tear. “We need to get cleaned up before we head out again.”
Twenty-Four
Collecting Knives and Memories
Daphne
I wait in the car until I see Aftyn and Willa disappear into the trees, running with each other like a couple of pre-teen best friends. Straight out of some awkward 1950s idealized version of Americana—obnoxious.
Rolling my eyes, I grab my backpack, make sure it's all zipped up, and then I get out of the car and slam the door.