Body Count (Wayward Sons #1)

by L. Eveland

For everyone who likes their men like they like their coffee: dark AF with a hint of sweetness, addictive as hell, and always there to pick you up after a long night of bad decisions. No. Matter. What.

Seriously. River is a walking red flag.

I needed to hurt someone, or maybe fuck someone. Maybe both.

I found the dead much more interesting to be around. They couldn’t lie and had no ulterior motives. What you saw was what you got with the dead.

But I didn’t want to play with the little redhead across the bar, at least not in the normal way I liked to play with people. I wanted to possess him. I wanted to take him and put him up on a shelf like the little porcelain doll he was, place him where no one else could reach him. Maybe he would fall from that great height and shatter, and maybe I would put him back together. I needed to know which way it would go.

I, on the other hand, knew that some people were more useful as fertilizer for my mushroom garden than taking up oxygen.

I liked the way he said my name far more than I expected to. I wanted him to say it again just so I could watch the shape his lips made when he did.

“Are you going to run away from me, Theo? Because if you run, I’ll have to chase you, and if I chase you, I will catch you.” His wide eyes swung to me. “What?” I reached across the space, cupping his cheek. “Don’t run from me,” I told him. “Ever.” He licked his lips and shook his head. “I won’t.”

“I don’t want you to worry about that,” River said. “If he comes for you, I’ll kill him, too.”

River looked over at me, his expression blank. All the anger that had been in his voice a moment ago was suspiciously absent, as if he were somehow able to flip a switch and turn his emotions off. I wished I could. Everything would be easier if I could do that.

Mom said consent was important. She’d drilled that into us, making sure we understood that was one boundary we were never to cross. If any of us ever did, she’d hunt us down herself and make sure we never hurt anyone ever again.

I wished he’d let me kiss him though, because now I was craving bubblegum; his nipples were exactly the same color as bubblegum. Thinking about sucking on them, imagining the sounds he’d make if I did,

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, and for the first time, I saw his smile. It was sweet, warming the whole room. He had a face made for smiles. I didn’t want him to smile for anybody but me,

Steam filled the bathroom around us as the soft, full lips of the world’s most beautiful killer met mine in a brief press.

“Why me?” I whispered in the dark. “Why’d you save me?” “Because I wanted you for myself.”

“Were you…watching me sleep?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I like watching you sleep. It relaxes me.” Coming from anyone else, that might have creeped me out, but coming from River, it lined up with everything I knew about him so far.

“Because he’s not a sociopath.” I rolled my eyes again. “That’s technically an offensive term, you know. It’s called anti-social personality disorder.”

“You do realize, River, that most people don’t consider murder a romantic gesture?” War asked. “Most people are boring.”

I snorted. “He’s an ascot wearing tool. Guy’s so vanilla, he’s allergic to chocolate. No way he’s got good dick game.” “There’s more to making a relationship work than being good in bed,” War protested.

“I have my family, and my mushrooms, and now I have you. I don’t need anyone else.”

“Because I want to be the only one to make you come, little finch. I told you already. You’re mine to take care of, every part of you, and that includes your needy cock. You only come for me now, understand?”