Page 13 of The Carnage We Keep

“Oh, pro tip!” she yells as she twists to smirk at me over her shoulder. “Don’t be kneeling over a dead body when the police show up!”

It's only pure rage—at her, yes, but also at myself for completely overlooking her as a threat—that gets my pulse beating enough to yank myself to my feet. I stumble my way down an alley and into the rancid embrace of a dumpster, closing the lid on myself just as the sirens close in.

But this is far from fucking over.

3

BELLA

Intense, dark eyes float closer to me. Hot, sweet, slightly minty breath ghosts over my skin as long, strong fingers wrap around my throat.

“On your fucking knees for me. Show me what a good girl you can be…”

My pulse turns to liquid fire, my core flooding my thighs with slick heat as I nod eagerly.

The black armor wrapped around me crumbles to dust. The walls crack and fall. And for once—once—I allow myself to be truly naked to the world.

No more sharp points and edges. Just a softness that the world never sees.

Slowly, I drop to my knees, my eyes trained on his gaze as he wraps my hair in a fist and takes full control of me.

“Bellllaa…”

Heat shivers through me. My core tightens. My lips part.

“Beeeeeellllaaa…”

Something cold and slimy wriggles into my ear.

…Suddenly, I’m wide the fuck awake.

“KIRILL!”

I shriek the name as I sit bolt upright in bed, scrabbling to yank the covers up over myself and bat his hand away from my ear at the same time.

“What the fuck?” I blurt as reality and consciousness rudely shatter my dreams.

My sex dreams.

Involving him.

I scowl and shake the last bits of the dream away.

But just as quickly as my thoughts drift back to the steamy dreams I was having—yes, fucking again—involving Damiano, the other face grinning right in front of me yanks me back to the present.

“What the fuck are you doing in here!” I yell at a smugly grinning, shirtless Kirill as he folds his arms over his chest and leans against the stone wall of my bedroom in The Spire. My gaze shifts to the glistening wet index finger of his left hand, and my jaw drops. “Did you just stick your finger in my ear?!”

My dickhead friend grins broadly. “Bells, I just…” He sighs dramatically. “I worry sometimes about all the important moments in life that you missed out on as an only child.”

I glare at him. “Important moments like getting woken up by a wet fucking willy in my ear?!”

A wide smile spreads across his obnoxiously perfect jaw. “If you mean awakened in a charmingly teasing way by an older-brother figure…”

“Stick your fucking finger in my fucking ear again and I’ll cut it off with garden shears,” I mutter, frowning deeply. “And would you please put on a shirt if you’re going to break into my room? While I’m asleep, I might add? Creep.”

Kirill chuckles and flexes a tattooed, muscled arm across his bare chest. “Clothing in general is so overrated.”

“Not in my room it’s not,” I mutter.