I give it a moment’s thought. “I think guilt is the emotion most people feel when they know they’re responsible for a man’s death. It’s understandable. Appropriate. It’s the normal thing to feel in the circumstance. So no,” I shake my head, “I don’t suppose you will feel guilty.”
The sound of him laughing skips off the water, echoing through the valley.
“Do you like killing?” he asks when his laughter dies down.
“Nah, it doesn’t do anything for me. Necessary evil, you know? If I can avoid it, I do. It’s not like I do it that often.” That’s true, by the way. I don’t do it for sport. I have rules about it, and everything. I kill in self-defence and I kill when I’m threatened. It’s not that I lack empathy. I don’t. I have a strong sense of empathy, actually. Always have had. It’s just that my survival instinct is stronger.
“Not like you do it that often? Are you for real? Do you think that makes it better? Normal people do itnever. Neverever. Most people literally go through their whole entire lives without doing it once.” He looks shocked that he has to explain it to me. “Bad people kill. Good people don’t. It’s that simple, Asshole.”
“But Demon,” I say reasonably, “I never said I wasn’t a bad man.”
Chapter 17
Demon
It’sthesilencethatalerts me to the fact he’s gone. Even though Saint moves around freakishly quietly for a man of his size, the house feels eerily quiet without him. I wasn’t sure if today wastheday but I thought it might be. He told me we had to move quickly before my uncle does something like reporting me missing. He’s purposefully avoided telling me the plan. I can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t trust me, or if it’s because he’s trying to protect me.
My suspicion that today is the day, is confirmed by the sticky note he’s left on the fridge.
Demon,
Please load the dishwasher while I’m gone.
And RUN IT.
His handwriting is neat and precise. So neat that the lines of the letters are perfectly parallel to each other. It’s so neat you can tell just by looking at it that he’s some kind of psycho.
I know, I know, I shouldn’t be mean about him today of all days. I know he’s doing me a pretty big favor. I admit that. I’m thankful for it. I’m grateful, etcetera etcetera. Whatever. It doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s done little but drive me crazy for the entire two days that have passed since he agreed to sort this mess with my uncle out for me.
The first night, at around midnight, we went back into the house. He told me he had work to do, pointed down the hall and said, “My bedroom’s on the left. You can sleep wherever you want.”
That’s what he said. Those were his exact words.
Rude!
Obviously, I couldn’tchooseto sleep in his bed when he put it like that. So I slept in one of the spare rooms instead. The room’s not too bad. It’s more comfortable than the bed in the safehouse was, but it was fucking unpleasant to sleep down the hall from him. Knowing he was close but not feeling him pressed up against me, made me feel crazy. It was cold and I kept waking up all the time, thinking I could hear him at my door.
The next day, he spent most of the day in Nerdy Assassin Mode. He was on his computer all day. Looked like he was hacking. At one point he looked up and said, “When things settle down, you need to find a new doctor for your mother.” He didn’t elaborate and when I asked him about it, he put in his AirPods and looked back at his screen. Now and again, he asked me something about my uncle, his routine, his dogs, his household staff, that kind of thing. He didn’t give me any indication whether he thought my answers were helpful or not.
By mid-afternoon, I was pissed at him. I can’t fucking stand being ignored. I marched up to him and pulled one of his earbuds out. “I need clean clothes, Asshole. I wore this outfit yesterday. I can’t be expected to wear the same set of clothes day in and day out. I’m not a fucking animal.”
He stood up, took me by the wrist and all but dragged me to the laundry room. He pointed to the washing machine with a dramatic flourish. “Knock yourself out.”
I gave him a filthy look until he got my point.
“Jesus, Damon. You’re almost twenty-five years old. Are you kidding me right now?”
I wasn’t.
He made me strip off and stood by my side as I put my clothes and underwear into the drum. He patiently explained a whole lot of crap about cycles, detergent, and softener. I stood there, bare-ass naked, trying to think of something other than the massive boner I was sprouting from being close to him. Once the machine started, he lifted me up and pushed me back onto the top of the machine, resting my legs on his shoulders, and fucked me agonizingly slowly until the machine started beeping. After that, I had his undivided attention for several hours.
It was the same the next day. He worked until I wanted to scream. He ignored me flatly, hardly even raising his head when I started re-arranging the furniture in the living room – the position of the sofa was idiotic before, it was blocking the flow of the entire room. The Feng Shui was abysmal. I made several small changes, and you wouldn’t believe how much better the whole place looks.
When I couldn’t take the boredom anymore, I crawled under the table and unzipped his fly. He was hard by the time I took him into my mouth. I thought for sure I’d have him right where I wanted him but instead of letting me have my way with him, he wrapped his fingers in my hair and held my head securely, controlling the speed and depth.
“Don’t make me come. Just keep my dick warm.” His voice was stern. No nonsense.
It affected me immediately. It affected me hard. In a split second, I went from feeling cocksure and pleased with myself, to feeling like nothing more than a downtrodden pet. I was deeply insulted by the sudden change in power dynamic. It angered me no end. My dick, on the other hand, could not get enough. It strained against my fly as he kept me at arm’s length. It leaked when he let me get close. It throbbed when he rubbed my face on his balls. His musk was heady. Strong. Male. I sniffed at him like an dog in heat. By the time he pulled me out from under the table, I would have let him do anything to me. And I did. I let him fuck me into the night. On the table. On the floor. On the banks of the lake.
