I point at him. “You said nothing about a countdown, how was I supposed to know one was coming?”
“Well—” He scrambles for another excuse. “Youthrew him out of the way—you can’t just throw people, Blair! I was going to win right then and there if you hadn’t done that!”
“You only said there was one rule and that was to give the prey a thirty second head start. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to touch him!”
Santi shrugs, a smug smile spreading across his face. “I also never said you couldn’t throw a weapon so what I didwasn’tcheating.”
“We can agree to disagree,” I object. “Throwing a weapon should only be used if the weapon wasmeantto be thrown.”
“We’ll confer with Rhett about that.”
I roll my eyes. “Alright, fine. This is clearly a draw until we can?—”
“What?! Absolutely not!” Santi objects, affronted. Pointing to himself, he declares, “I’m the winner tonight.”
I glance at the dead man then sigh dramatically. “Okay, fine. I suppose youdidkill him—even if you didcheatto get it done. So, now what? Is there a prize or is it just gloating rights?”
The feverish twinkling in his eyes shifts. Beneath it is a darkness that only emphasizes the glint sparkling in his gaze. His face is flush from the excitement of the night and his hair, tousled, has a few leaves trapped in it. He looks wild and full of life, the air around us brimming with energy spilling from him. I feel trapped in it, absorbing the energy he’s eluding and feeling just as giddy.
Reaching out, Santi touches my face—cupping my cheek with his palm. My breath catches in my throat. While I’m not used to soft touches—I’ve grown used to the way Santi just bulldozes through personal boundaries. With him, it's like I'm a marble statue coming to life—everything around me becomes bright, new and exciting.
I love the connection.
So used to feeling like an outsider no matter where I go, I’ve grown used to living on the outskirts of life. Yet, when I’m with Santi, I’m the center of his world and it’s a beautiful thing. My heart races at dizzying speeds and laughter is just a few words away.
Santi’s head dips. Before I can process what he’s doing, his soft lips press against mine. Shock doesn’t even have a chance to register, before he pulls just far enough away to whisper against my lips.
“The winner,” he starts, then stops to let out a dark chuckle. “Gets to pick which hole they want to cum in.”
I jerk my head back with a gasp. I’m not sure if it’s a gasp of horror or excitement. My heart is at a full gallop, slamming against my ribs trying to break free. A million thoughts race through my head but they’re being tamped down by the flare of desire, so strong I can hardly breathe.
“Now that we’ve killed alongside one another,” he continues. “Sin has soldered our souls together. It’s only right to finish the binding. You’re mine tonight, Blair.”
You’re mine tonight, Blair.
WantingSantiago more than just a friend isn’t an idea I’ve allowed myself to entertain. Which, given how last night went with Wes and Ledger, seems pretty wise. I don’t know what I’m doing. I already adore Santi. He makes things so easy and given how hard my life has been, easy is exactly what I crave. Taking our friendship to a physical one will only make this more complicated.
But now that I’ve seen Santi at his worst, and he’s seen me at mine, it’s clear we’d be great together.
In fact, we’d beperfecttogether.
As I stare up into Santi’s face, I note the glossiness to his eyes, which are void of much emotion other than hunger. Gathering in his body is a tension that hadn’t been there seconds ago. There’s a hardness to his face, erasing the boyishness that he usually carries. The man bending down over me isn’t Santigo, it’s a stranger pretending to be him. Unease slithers down my spine.
Standing before me is a dangerous man who’s won a prize and expects to enjoy it.
This is the ugly side of Santi. The deranged, unpredictable, killer he wanted me to see.
I shouldn’t feel exhilarated at the stranger staring back at me. My thighs shouldn’t clench together at the disgustingly possessive tone of his voice, and I certainly shouldn’t be trembling with desire. Something is definitely off about Santi right now.
But then again, there must be something wrong with me because my body is responding in heated waves at the danger Santi presents. He means it. He’s going to try to use my bodyto celebrate his victory. There’s something so primal, so filthy about this that it makes my mouth dry and pussy drip.
I’ve never been afraid of danger. Yet, it’s definitely never made me feel like this either. Could there be harm to exploring this depravity with Santi? It’s not like me to take risks without calculating what my advantage would be. I don’t know if he would hurt me in this state, but it’s not like I’m defenseless. I’ve already thrown caution to the wind. There’s a dead body on the ground to prove it. What’s a little more risk?
“You can’t be serious…” I start as I reach up and brace my hands on his hard chest. Beneath my palms and through his long sleeve shirt, I can feel the rapid beating of his heart. It matches the pace of my own. “If you think I’d just let you have your way with me. Not when you didn’t win fair and square.”
I give him a hard shove that he doesn’t expect. It forces him to take a few steps back in surprise. That surprise quickly morphs into a scary grin.
“Are you going to be a sore loser?” he taunts. “That seems a bit beneath you. Why not be a good girl for me and help me decide where my cock should be nestled for the night? Should it be between your pretty lips? I know my dick would look so fucking good with them stretched over it. Or maybe?—”
