GLYNDON

It takes me a few moments to put my clothes together. My
fingers tremble and my body temperature doesn’t seem to get
the memo that the fun times are over.
Killian has already tucked himself in, looking as flawless as the
devil and just as hedonistic.
Seeming to notice my struggle, he subtly pushes my hand
away and glides my bra over my breasts.
“I must say, I prefer undressing you.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you’re starting to know me better.”
“You say that as if it’s a privilege.”
“It’s not?”
“No. I’m only learning about you to know how to deal with
you.”
“Smart little rabbit.” He lets the straps snap against my
shoulders, his voice lowering. “Fucking red.”
My stomach tightens, instantly reacting to the change of his
tone.
I stare at him from beneath my lashes as he continues putting
my clothes together. But no matter how much I look, I can’t really
read his expression. He’s the worst enigma to ever walk the earth,
and I find myself wondering about what he’s thinking at times like
these.
He definitely isn’t thinking about whatever emotional
implications of his actions, considering he lacks emotions, and
seems happy with the fact.
He owns that part of him, takes pride in it, and uses it to do
depraved acts like the hunt tonight.
Like knocking out those people and tracking me as if I were an
animal.
Would I ever feel like more than an animal in his presence?
And what can I do to make him lose interest? If Eli and Lan are
any indication, then his type has a short attention span for
everything.
Unless we’re talking about Eli when it comes to Ava.
Or Lan when it comes to sculpting.
But those obsessions started fairly young for both Eli and Lan.
They basically grew with their personalities, so they can’t be
compared to Killian’s sudden fixation on me.
He’ll eventually get bored and move on to some other
unfortunate soul.
He has to.
Or else I’m completely and utterly doomed.
“What are you thinking about?” His smooth voice swirls around
me as he hooks his fingers against the edge of my top and tugs
me against him. I’m starting to realize he likes to constantly touch
me in some way.
“An effect Cecily once mentioned.”
“And what is that?”
“Have you ever heard of the suspension bridge effect? It’s
when people experience psychological responses related to fear,
but they mislabel them as romantic arousal. The actual term is
called misattribution of arousal, I think.”
His fingers stroke the skin of my stomach in a circular motion,
and he hums, “Let me guess. Your busy little brain was thinking of
that as a way out of actually wanting me?”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t want you. I told you. My reaction to
you is probably me misjudging fear and anxiety as arousal. Think
about it. Every time you touched me, I was scared in some way.”
The more I talk about it, the more it makes sense. There’s no
way I’d willingly want this bastard who lacks a human bone in his
body.
“Aren’t you the smart one?” He pulls on my top and I crash
against his chest with a yelp. He lifts his other hand and tucks a
strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture seems to be doting but
feels threatening. “So what if it is fear? The point is that you want
me.”
“It’s not real. It’s an illusion.”
“If that makes you sleep better at night, let’s say it is.”
“I could want someone else if I feel scared in their presence or
see them after being scared.”
“Believe me, little rabbit, that won’t be happening. Not unless
you want some splashes of his blood on this flawless skin. Though
I’m sure it’d look pretty, don’t you think?”
I shudder, trying and failing to prevent that image from
forming in my head. This wanker knows all the right buttons to
push.
“You really don’t care that I don’t want you for you as a
person?” I realize that I’m provoking him, and I don’t know what’s
come over me. I just know that a weird sense of courage has
grabbed hold of me today.
I’m no longer the scaredy-cat Glyn—that didn’t get me
anywhere—so I might as well embrace the change.
“You don’t want me as a person, huh?”
“No. You’re not my type.”
He pauses before stroking my stomach again. “And what’s
your type?”
“Someone nice.”
“I can be nice.”
“Yeah, right.”
His voice lowers to a shiver-inducing range. “I gave you time
like you asked, and it was a stretch on my part since, and I
repeat, I am not a giver. So if that’s not considered nice, maybe I
should retract my promise and be the opposite of nice.”
“Don’t…” This arsehole is a major headache. I can never win
against him.
“Does that mean I’m nice?”
“You can be,” I mutter.
“Look at that. I’m suddenly your type.” I glare up him and I’m
met with a low chuckle. “You’re so adorable, I could eat you up.”
“I’m not edible.”
“Judging by the taste of your sweet little cunt, you most
definitely are.”
Heat rises to my neck and ears and it takes everything in me
to keep staring into his gleaming eyes. The bastard is enjoying
this. Probably way too much.
“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten yourself killed due to how
infuriating you are.” I huff.
He kisses the top of my head. “That’s because I know how to
fight.”
“Can we go?” I start to step away from him and he surprisingly
lets me go.
I quicken my steps down the path and he catches up to me,
mask around his neck. He picks the bat up from the ground and
swings it onto his shoulder.
My heart tightens when I make out the smudges of blood on
the wood.
“Do you know if the people you hurt are okay?”
“They should be.”
“Does that mean they could not be?”
“Probably.”
“And…you’re not going to do anything to make sure?”
“Why should I? Jeremy and Nikolai’s guards will take care of
it.”
“You…really wouldn’t care if you hurt someone fatally?”
“Again, why? They willingly signed up for this.”
“What if it was me you sent flying with your bat?”
“I didn’t.”
“What if you had?”
He tilts his head to the side, a sudden dullness making his
eyes muted. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”
The thought of holding absolutely no meaning to him makes
my blood turn cold, but at the same time, it’s better if I don’t,
right? I’ll just hate him more and I definitely need to deepen
those feelings.
So I nod.
“I wouldn’t have hit you in the first place, because I would
have recognized you.”
“What if you did accidentally? In the middle of your violence
spree?”
“Using violence doesn’t mean losing my head, so I still
would’ve recognized you.”
“What if one of your other friends had hit me?”
“I would’ve put my med student status to use and nursed you
back to health. It might have turned kinky like some cheap porn’s
plot right afterward, though.”
“Does everything has to revolve around sex with you?”
“Hmm. Good question.” He tilts his head in my direction. “I
think that’s only the case when it comes to you.”
“Because you want my virginity?”
“There’s that, but it’s not the sole reason.”
“What is then?”
“You’re not ready for it yet.”
His tone suggests that he’s done with this topic and will
probably ignore any further questions.
But I need to keep him talking.
We’re getting so close to the finish line and I still have a
chance to win this.
“Are you not going to hunt anymore?” I ask.
“You distracted me. How are you going to take the
responsibility for my losing?”
“I didn’t ask you to leave everyone else and follow me.”
“I couldn’t just let a stray little rabbit roam free. Besides, the
urge is gone.”
“Urge?”
“The one I need to satiate with some form of stimuli. Usually,
I’d be all in for the hunt, but today…you were surprisingly enough.
Is that interesting or what?”
No, it’s downright horrifying. I don’t want to be his fixation or
the catalyst to his madness.
I just don’t.
My fingers shake and I rub a palm on the side of my shorts.
“What did I say about that habit?”
My movement comes to a halt and I let my hands fall to my
sides. Night has fallen and the dark stakes its claim, casting a
nefarious energy over the forest. Under different circumstances,
this would be a dreamy date.
With Killian, however, it feels like an episode of Hannibal.
There’s always a fifty percent chance he’ll jump me and snuff out
my life.
“Has anyone told you that you’re a tyrant?”
“You’re the first.”
“Guess they don’t see this side of you, then.”
“This side?”
“The controlling, oppressive side.”
“They do. It’s just more subtle with them. I don’t need to
make that effort with you.”
“Because I’m easy prey?”
“Because you’re already acquainted with my type. It’d be a
waste of resources and energy to try and fool you.”
The meaning behind his words hits me. He doesn’t have to
hide in my presence.
I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. Being special to a
borderline psychopath is about the worst position I could be in.
Yet, my chest swells at the thought that he has no need to
hide in front of me.
I can trust that I’ll always see his uncut version. No matter
how twisted or barren, it’ll always be true.
Even when he had the neon red mask on, he remained out in
the open, not once attempting to hide.
“Should I celebrate the fact that I’m the only one you don’t
feel the need to fool?”
“As long as your celebration ends with me between your legs,
by all means.”
“Bloody prick.”
“Didn’t I say your cursing turns me on? Might want to tone
down that a little unless you’re in the mood for round two of
sucking my cock.”
“Is there anything that doesn’t turn you on?”
“You lying and coming up with psychological garbage to deny
what we have definitely doesn’t. In fact, it pisses me the fuck off.”
A gust of wind causes the hairs on my nape to stand on end.
This dark version of him makes me apprehensive to a point I’ve
never felt before.
And yes, I totally lied earlier. The dark, unhinged side of Killian
terrifies the fuck out of me.
Still, I manage to say, “We don’t have anything. We’re not in a
relationship.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Whether it’s a relationship or not means
jack shit to me. That label holds no importance.”
“Then what does?”
“The fact that you’re mine.”
“I’m n—” The word dies in my throat when he suddenly blocks
my path, his eyes shining with venomous intent.
He slowly shakes his head. “Don’t finish that word unless
you’re in the mood to anger me.”
I swallow the drool that gathered in my mouth, but my chin
remains high. “You can’t force me to become yours.”
“Watch me.”
“I’ll fight every step of the way.”
“By all means. It’d make the end result sweeter.”
“I hate you.”
“Let me search for the fucks I have to give.” He pretends to
study his surroundings. “See? None.”
I push past him and stomp for a while before I force myself to
remain calm and walk normally.
Killian fucking Carson catches up to me—of course—and
casually asks, “Why are you in a hurry? Shouldn’t you enjoy our
second date?”
“Second what?”
“Date. It could be considered the third, but I have a feeling
you don’t think of that first meeting on the cliff as a date.”
“No shit.”
“So that makes the firefly lake our first date and this one our
second.”
“A date happens in a restaurant or a fun place where I
wouldn’t feel on the edge every second.”
“Aren’t those the type of dates boring couples who have to
fake orgasms for each other go to? Besides, you had fun both
times. Don’t attempt denying it.”
“Oh yeah, being threatened all the time is so fun.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t acting difficult, so maybe
you’re the one who’s blocking yourself from having fun.”
“I can’t believe this. So it’s my fault now?”
“I didn’t say that.” He grins. “You did.”
The audacity of this bastard is seriously out of this world. Just
when I’m thinking about the best insult to come up with, we
reach a clearing. A vast piece of land covered by grass comes into
view and in the distance sits a small building.
The security building that if we reach, we win.
Killian doesn’t seem focused on that, and I suppress the
feeling of desperation as we continue walking at a steady pace.
I’m pretty sure he can smell any change of emotions like some
human dog. Just because he doesn’t feel emotions like the rest of
us doesn’t mean he can’t recognize them or even understand
them.
If there’s anything I’ve learned about Killian, it’s the fact that
he’s a well-adjusted psychopath. He has immense impulse control,
and is calculative to a fault.
There may have been a time in his past where he lost that
control like Lan sometimes does, but they can both adapt so well
to the circumstances and fuse themselves within society as if they
belong.
And the more they live, the harder it is to reach inside their
sturdy bubble. It’s more impossible to make them lose control
once they’ve mastered it.
Since they’re constantly in control, they observe everything.
Killian might seem detached, but he has hawk-like observational
skills. Nothing escapes him.
So I try my best to remain nonchalant and tune out the sound
of eliminated numbers being announced all around us.
“Who owns this place?” I ask, and do one heck of a job of
sounding normal.
“We all do. It’s a gift from campus because our parents donate
a shitload of money to the institution.”
“I assume the ‘we’ are you, Jeremy, Nikolai, and Gareth?”
“Correct.”
“Who’s the one behind the fifth mask?”
“No one you should concern yourself with.”
“Do you always dance around the subject when you don’t
want to answer the question?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, why should I be?”
I steal a peek at the building in front of us. Two meters. No,
probably one and a half.
Killian stops, but I pretend not to noticed and continue ahead.
Yes, the members of the group are monstrous, judging by what I
witnessed today, but I’m done being scared and hiding.
If I’m in their inner circle, I’ll be able to figure out what
happened to Devlin and—
Something touches my shoulder and I freeze as the speaker
echoes around us, “Number sixty-nine eliminated.”
I swing back to stare at Killian, who just tapped me with his
bat.
“You think I haven’t figured out what you’re up to, little
rabbit?”
“Why…you…you…”
“Deep breaths.” The amusement in his voice pisses me the hell
off. “That’s it. We don’t want you to somehow have a stroke when
you’re this young.”
“Why have you waited until now to eliminate me?”
He lifts a shoulder. “It was fun watching you trying to distract
me and acting like an amateur in a B-class spy movie. You should
look at your adorable face.” He retrieves his phone from his
pocket and snaps a picture. “Now, I’ll keep this expression with
me forever.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“I’ll kiss you in the meantime.”
I’m about to grab his stupid bat and lunge it at his head when
the door of the security house opens behind me.
“Killer!”
Wait, what? A killer?
It takes me a second to realize that the feminine voice was
directing that nickname at Killian.
A tall, slim figure steps out, wearing white mask number one.
Straight blonde hair falls to her bare shoulders and she’s wearing
a skin-tight strapless top that accentuates her hourglass waist.
She pulls the mask away from her face and I freeze at how
stunning she is. Like a model or an actress or both.
And when she smiles, it’s so blinding that I have trouble
looking directly at her.
She subtly pushes me away and throws herself at Killian,
wrapping her arms around his neck with the ease of someone
who’s done this countless times.
“I missed you,” she murmurs, and then her lips meet his.