The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,263

was hurting. Alone. Terrified.” My eyes narrow. “And then I found you four. You want to know who I wanted? Not a single one of you.” My words pick up speed, my voice leveling out and growing stronger. “You scared the living shit out of me. All of you. Psychos, stalkers, deviants.”

I dig my fingers so deep into his skin that I’m sure it’ll leave a mark. Zach doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, then he doesn’t care. He seems fixated on me, on what I’m saying, and that’s all I need. Because the others will realize he’s not with them, and they’ll come looking for me. For us.

Give me ten.

Except if they agreed they wouldn’t.

A chill courses through me. It almost snatches me under, but I fight it.

He wants to know? Well, there’s no time like the present.

I slap my hand against his bare chest, pushing at him to try and make room between us, but he barely moves.

“We scared you?” he prompts, his eyes devouring me like he’s getting some kind of perverted pleasure from my words.

“Of course you did. But that was your plan, wasn’t it? Because if I was scared, then I’d do whatever you wanted me to.”

“How scared were you?”

“I could barely breathe.”

“And when we fucked you that first time? Did that scare you too?” His lips quirk as if he’s suppressing a smile.

I was so wrong about him. We haven’t made progress. If anything, his visits to the psychiatrist were probably all just some twisted game he was playing. He does that, Zachary. He plays games with everyone in his life. Not the kind where he has opponents, but the kind a little kid plays with a dollhouse. He controls all the people inside that miniature house, staging them just the way he wants, mimicking whatever twisted world view he holds inside his mind.

But I’ve had enough. He’s been pushing for years, but this is going too far.

“I’m not your fucking doll,” I hiss, shoving him hard.

He sways, and I take that brief moment to try and slip past him. But he’s too fast. Too strong.

Always has been.

Always will be.

An arm slides around my throat. Zach pulls me up against him, my back rubbing against his wet chest. Now it’s impossible to ignore the rock-hard cock between us.

Violence excites him. It breathes life into him.

Even the promise of it.

He was so rough with me the day we’d located Adam that Rube gave him a black eye and told him if he ever touched me like that again, he’d kill him.

But they’re not here now. It’s just me and Zach and the pounding water…

And Malachi.

“Zach, please. Calm down!” I grab onto his arm, tugging at it.

Which is when I realize he’s not gripping me tight enough to cut off air—just enough to hold me in place.

His other hand grasps roughly at my breast, tweaking my nipple between finger and thumb hard enough to make me gasp.

“Want to know a little secret?” he whispers in my ear, his hand moving down my belly. “Those times you were so scared…I knew it. I could feel it, taste it, smell it coming off your skin.”

“Zach.”

“Like now. You’re scared now. I can feel you shaking.”

I swallow hard. “Please.”

His hand moves lower, cupping my belly. Going around and around like I have a tummy ache he’s trying to soothe. I want to laugh, want to yell out that it’s his kid inside me, not fucking indigestion.

Has he lost touch with reality? Does he even understand what’s happening? He must—he’s not a fucking idiot—but does he really, truly understand? We’re bringing a baby into the world, him and I. All of us. How the fuck did he expect the killing to continue? Would we eventually be taking Malachi with us on our hunts? Have him take turns with the binoculars as we scoped out a suspect’s house?

Just how the fuck was this all supposed to play out?

But I don’t get a chance to ask. Zach’s hand moves down, his mouth pressed hard against my ear as he ducks to reach my pussy. He shoves his hand between my leg and drags his fingers over my slit so hard that I can feel the scrape of his fingernails.

A shudder spills through me. My traitorous body responds instantly to his rough touch, coating his fingers with my warm, slick arousal.

“I love it when you’re scared, and you want to know why?”

“Because you’re fucked in the head.”

He laughs, his chest pushing against