Page 35 of Villains Never Die

I remembered the feeling of my cock jammed down his throat and had to adjust myself under the sheets. As if he had read my mind, he texted me again.

Rook: If you’re not planning to sleep, you could always come by after the fights. I’ll show you what I’d really rather be doing.

I am going to sleep. Goodnight.

Rook: Your loss.

I set my phone aside and rolled onto my stomach, my rigid dick trapped between my hip and the mattress. I willed it to settle down. I thought of tea and paperwork and the queen. My body laughed at me, and no amount of repositioning soothed that hard ache. I sighed and turned back over, shoving the covers to my knees.

I spit on my palm and choked my cock in my hand, each stroke filled with hostility as I dragged my fingers up and down the length of it. Blue eyes flashed, laughing at me, their taunting glint filling me with need that made me want to kiss him and murder him at once.

My chest rose and fell in rhythmless breaths and the wet slide of skin against skin grew loud in the room.

What a complete arsehole. He thought he was so fucking clever all the time—witty and funny—when truly he was a complete menace I should leave well alone.

I wished I were still in my office at Avalon, forcing myself down his throat, muffling that mouth of his that never stopped talking. The way his eyes watered and he moaned around my cock…

I played the image over and over while I fisted myself until I was swollen and the head of my dick glistened with precum.

Rook could suck me off and then burn in hell for all I cared. He didn’t matter. He was no one.

That.

Insufferable.

Bastard.

I came so fast and so hard that I made a complete mess of my bed, and I hated Rook even more as I changed my sheets so that I could sleep in them.

***

Rook: wait for your demise, salvation denied

I picked up my phone where it sounded on my desktop and read Rook’s message.

Sounds like the lyrics to an emo song.

Rook: You listen to emo?

Not if I can help it.

Rook: It’s the next message.

He didn’t have to specify which message or who it was from, and I could guess how it was sent. The murderer had been silent for long enough I thought they had given up, but now there were three victims. Bodies mutilated in the same way. Messages left with each.

This was a pattern.

Does the Council have the body?

Rook: Picked it up this morning just after dawn. Someone already leaked the message, so word must have spread fast. Think your little Council errand boy can get us into the morgue?

He meant Charles, and, come to think of it, it wasn’t a terrible idea. Bribery went further than threats with people of little importance to the Council.

Charles thought it was a bad idea, despite the crisp hundred-dollar bill I slipped him when he met us outside the Council morgue at three in the morning.

“I’m going to lose my job,” he bemoaned, to which Rook handed him another hundred dollars.

“Shut up. If you draw attention to us, you’ll have bigger problems than losing your job.”