“Maybe,” he replies before I hear Sariel’s sweet “hi” through the line.
He’s Uriel’s partner. Their intimate relationship intrigued me from the start—I kept an eye on my brother for years. It was clear that he had a peculiar interest in him, but witnessing it with my own eyes left me a little confused. Uriel’s sociopathy mirrors my psychopathy in many ways. Feeling affection is impossible for us. Ownership, on the other hand, can develop an array of different emotions, like hunger, obsession, relentlessness, and ruthlessness.
When we were kids, we used to steal toys from other children, not to play but to simply possess them. Breaking them was the predictable and enjoyable conclusion—power is less in what you have and more in what you are capable of. Keeping and protecting our possessions wasn’t a thought we ever contemplated. What made Sariel different, then?
Uriel is my identical twin. Mine. Sariel belongs to him, and therefore, he’s mine as well. That’s the only reason why I followed him when he was kidnapped a few months back and helped my brother find him. The desperation, self-sacrifice, and recklessness in Uriel’s actions until he got his boyfriend back puzzled me, until I somehow got fucking jealous—an emotion I don’t particularly care for.
At first, it irritated me that Uriel had found something—someone—he didn’t want to get rid of. Like me, he used to get bored easily. One of life’s certainties was that most people were interchangeable. But the more I saw them together, the more cracked that certainty became. I wanted that, that one person to possess and make mine. Sariel, though, didn’t do it for me. What I wanted was a Sarielof my own. My toy to take and break or do whatever the hell I wanted. And I did find it faster than I thought.
“Are you coming on Wednesday?” Uriel’s voice takes me back to the phone call. “You didn’t answer my text.”
I didn’t reply on purpose. My silence made him contact me, showing me how eager he is to see me. Why, though? Is it about Nine? I wasn’t very forthcoming with him or the others, but I needed time for them to accept me and get comfortable with me. To let me in. I’m close, though. Having five killers in my corner will be handy until we get Nine.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
A sudden boisterous laugh follows my answer. The drunk girls are chuckling thirty feet away from me.
“Ezra, where are you?” My brother repeats the question from earlier.
I like hearing my name. I chose it a while after escaping the assassin program, but I hadn’t heard someone calling me by it in years.
“Hunting,” I cryptically say, before hanging up. My phone is secured, impossible to track, unless Ramiel decides to use his hacking AI and tell my brother. No one else knows my whereabouts.
I walk five more minutes before I reach the big oak tree. Fucking finally. After making sure nobody is around, I start climbing. I’ve done it so many times before that I could do it with my eyes closed. I find my usual spot on the bigger branch and make myself comfortable, opening a pack of M&M’s. Among the leaves, I have the perfect view of Sully’s bedroom window. I already know he’s in there. He might not see me, but I fucking see him. Every night around this time, I get on this tree and just watch him.
Creepy? Who gives a shit? I simply need to be near him.
My gaze on him should’ve gone no further than a quick glance. He looked naive, weak, and pathetic. Anybody else would have received no space in my memory. But there was something about his eyes. It gave life to this…this aching pressure inside my head, it makes me want more every time I hear his name.
Hunger. That’s what I felt. Up until that moment, I had only real lust for violence. An unquenchable thirst, never satisfied by what I had and achieved. Until I saw my little chick. His small head on top of his slender neck, so fragile my hands could have twisted it with just a little force. Then why didn’t I feel the need to do it?
The absence of my typical indifference toward a human being fueled my fascination. For the first time in my life, thatbottomless, constant ache was aimed toward a person, and it was persistently telling me nothing else would ever be enough.
Sully Carver.It’s because of the way he goes around looking like he wants to be taken, owned, broken. It makes me want to grant that wish and more, so much fucking more. I picture him wearing only what I allow, meeting only the people I approve of, and waiting only for me in the house I built for him. Fuck, I like the sound of that.
But a good hunter won’t make an immediate move once the prey has been spotted. He bides his time until the right moment arrives. When his prey lowers its guard and relaxes, he finally strikes his target down.
I turn on the night vision inside my mask and wistfully gaze at his delicate figure curled up under a thin comforter. His soft features are fascinating to look at. His full pink mouth, small, rounded ears. His long, slim body felt so fragile in my arms, so hot, perfectly tailor-made to mine. My cock twitches beneath my pants at the memory. His eyes are closed, but I can clearly see them as if they were focused on me. One with the mesmerizing shade of tea green that seems to fade into emerald; the other the color of the richest caramel with hints of cinnamon and yellow tones. They are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, holding such depth that it seems to have no end.
Would they look lighter, overflowing with tears as I skull-fuck his face? Would he try to dip his chin to dodge my gaze as I nut inside his throat? I’d like to see the constant fear shadowing his irises disappear as I make him come on my dick. I know what he went through. His father sold him to be one of the victims of a live show on the internet where people were beaten to death. Uriel and the rest of the team took care of the fuckers whosent Sully to the hospital, but I found out they didn’t do a very thorough job.
I had some free time since I couldn’t work much—not wanting to raise red flags and let Nine discover that my death was staged—I decided to take matters into my own hands and get all the people who were even slightly involved in Sully’s attack. They tried to take away what now belongs to me, and they all paid with their lives. Nine is the last on the list, since she was the person who orchestrated the whole thing. She wants revenge. For what exactly, I have no idea. I could make a couple of lucky guesses, but I don’t really care about the reason behind her behavior.
People live daily with such complicated feelings. There’s no meaning for most of them. They are weaknesses taking control of one’s mind and body, turning them vulnerable. An absurd reaction, which I exploit any chance I get. I’ll do the same with Sully. His sweet naivety and unflinching loyalty will help me earn his implicit trust. The plan is already in motion. He wants me. I can see it in his eager eyes, and feel it in his chopped breaths, the desire to be possessed. Any predator would, that’s why I’m on this fucking tree. Spying on him helps with the hunger; it also assures me that nobody will take advantage of his gentle nature but me. He won’t fall prey to someone else. My entire being rebels at the idea. Just the thought makes me want to murder the hypothetical bastards.
I’m not new to stalker territory. I’ve got permanent citizenship. Mostly because it’s part of my job. Recon is crucial to an assassin. Studying the target, finding his habits, weaknesses, and fears, helps wrap up the job without troubles. Hitmen have no room for mistakes.
But keeping my distance from Sully is more challenging than I expected. The moment I want something, it is mine even beforeI physically own it. The wait and the planning fill me with thrill, but as soon as I get it, I don’t care for it anymore. This time, though, I know it will be worth it. How can he not be?
Four more months, then all bets are the hell off. Fuck Oliver and fuck Raguel and all the rest of the team. I’ll get Sully’s virgin ass where he belongs, on my pistoning cock while he screams my name.
My phone vibrates in my lap. I slide a fistful of M&M’s under my mask and turn off the night vision to look down at the screen. It’s a text from Ramiel. I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m watching my little chick, but he did give me access once again to Serena, which allows me to keep a closer look at Sully—easily hacking almost any electronic device.
That’s how Ramiel found out about my claim over Sully, putting his nose where it didn’t belong. After a long and tedious interrogation regarding my intentions toward him, I answered, pretending like he had any right over my little chick—and he surprisingly decided to help me out. He said something about doing the same thing when he met his boyfriend and having to hold back. Don’t know what he was talking about. If he expects something in exchange, he should know I never feel obligated to reciprocate a favor.
Ramiel:
Enjoying your psycho stalking time?
