“Same. So, we’re good?”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
Hill turns over and kisses me quickly. “Come on. Let’s shower. Then we can talk.”
I pull him in, licking inside his mouth. “You don’t want to go for a round two?”
“Not right now. I want to talk.” He rests his palm on my chest and leans his chin on the back of his hand. “I’ve nevermet anyone I can talk to about killing before. That would scare people off if I told them what me and Lucian get up to sometimes.”
“Lucian is your tiny friend?”
He smiles widely. “Yeah, my roommate. He probably heard us.”
I shrug, not really giving a fuck. “So, you two kill together? Like a team?”
The smile drops from Hill’s face as he shakes his head. “Not normally. He usually finds the people that hurt him in the past and one or the other of us kills them. He had it rough.”
Twisting so I can hold him in my arms, I ask, “Why? What happened?”
He lets out a long breath. “We were in foster care together. None of us had it easy, but Lucian had it really bad. He was placed in a few homes because, I mean, you saw him. He’s adorable and he’s actually really smart and funny. But he was more introverted in those days and people didn’t like that. They thought it meant they could beat him or take advantage of him. Those people have to fucking pay.”
“Damn, that’s fucked up. I’m glad he has you, though.”
Hill shakes his head. “No, I have him. He’s my best friend, the first person I met that didn’t treat me like a monster or a freak. I don’t…I’m not very approachable and I never have been. As a kid, I didn’t like hanging out with people or being around anyone my age. Lucian didn’t care about any of that. He stuck close to me and eventually, we started talking and getting to know each other. He’s the reason I’m a journalist. I looked up to him because he was always so tough, even when he got the shit beaten out of him. I wanted to be just like him.” Hill smiles and I can’t help but do the same.
“What was your first?” I ask, slapping his naked ass.
He yelps, then glares at me. “You’re a dick.”
“So I’ve heard. Tell me?”
“It was actually one of our group home counselors. He slapped Lucian for crying and…I saw fucking red. I pushed him down a flight of stairs.”
“Quick and efficient,” I say. “I like it.”
“How about yours?”
I frown, not having thought about my first kill in ages. But I remember it like it was yesterday.
“It was my dad.”
The room is silent for a few beats as I’m pulled back into the memory of when I lost both my parents.
“What happened?” Hill asks quietly, leaning back so he can meet my eyes.
I hate being dragged back down memory fucking lane, but I can’t deny Hill anything. “He killed my mother. He beat her to death.” Sighing, I pull him closer and kiss his forehead. “He was always an abusive prick. He didn’t beat on me, but he loved hitting my mother. I told her over and over that when I got older, I’d protect her. But if ever I hit him for hitting her, he’d beat her worse. So she told me to stop trying.”
“I’m sorry,” Hill whispers.
I shrug, though my chest tightens at the thought of my mother’s body on the ground, her eyes open and glassy as she stared at the ceiling, her blood everywhere.
“I shot him,” I say. “I shot him in the head and made it look like a murder-suicide. Then I went to the mall to walk off the nervous energy, to try to feel bad about what I did to him, but I didn’t. I felt nothing. He deserved it, so I felt empty of any guilt. That’s where Sya discovered me. She said I walked like I had purpose when all I was trying to do is run away from my lack of emotion.”
“Are you unemotional about everything, or just your kills?”
I look at him, meeting his brown eyes. “Do you ever feel bad about the people you kill?”
Hill shakes his head slowly. “No. They all deserve it.”
