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September 25 - October 5, 2025
mine, her breath warming my neck as she whispers in my ear. Lachlan
A dismissive huff leaves my lips, even though his words crawl into my veins
“I’m a serial killer you know,” she hisses. “I could break into your room while you sleep and suck your eyeballs right out of your head with the industrial vacuum that Francis uses to clean the cat hair from the hideous lobby carpet.”
“He’s eating. In the kitchen,” she says. I shake my head, not following what she’s laying down. “The next courses. The…food.” “That’s what most people eat. Food.” The color has drained from Sloane’s face. “Yeah… most…” “I don’t get it—” “You ate a fucking person,” she blurts out.
She’s still reading the homemade label when she draws to a halt in front of me. “I might never look at ice cream the same way again.” “I don’t want to know.” “Ingredients: cream—” “Sloane—” Sugar—” “I’m begging you,” I say, but as soon as ‘beg’ leaves my lips, Sloane’s grin ignites. My stomach flips in the most uncomfortable way. Sloane clears her throat. “‘Semen, milked April tenth to April thirteenth.’ That’s an interesting substitute to salt—”
“And if something really goes South, I know what will help,” I say with a sage nod as his head tilts. His eyes dip to my dimple and narrow. “Beef Niçoise salad.” Rowan groans. “With homemade Dijon dressing.” “Blackbird—” “And maybe some—” “Don’t say it—” “—cookies and cream ice cream for dessert.”
And change your oil, you bloody heathen!
mean to you?” Her eyes
His fingers find my clit and the triangle piercing there and I bite down on my bottom lip at the burst of sensation. He then moves down to the symmetrical outer labia piercings where the bars on each side are capped with small titanium balls. By the time he reaches the fourchette piercing, he’s nearly vibrating with tension.
Every breath shudders through my lungs. “I met you. I didn’t want anyone else. Just you. I only want you.”
tender flesh to keep me bared wide open. Every exhalation warms the moisture gathered at my
“Did I get the raven you left on the table tattooed on my back?” His smile is teasing, but there’s a hint of shyness in it as he finishes my thought. “Yeah. Appears to be the case.”
“I would kill for you, and I have. I would do it again, every damn day. I’d turn myself inside out for you. I would die for you. I don’t just like you, Sloane, and you fucking know it.”
He’ll be just fine. Doctor Blueballs is just a little jealous.”
Tabe twelve is PERMANENTLY RESERVED for: - any reservation under the name Sloane Sutherland - a beautiful, black-haired woman with hazel eyes and freckles, 5′8″, probably alone, shy, looks like she wants to run Inform Rowan, immediately of any reservations under this name or any guests fitting this description. And then, in red text as though it was added at a later date: IMMEDIATELY I AM NOT FUCKING AROUND.
He permanently reserves the booth he knows you would want at his popular restaurant. He beats the shit out of an emo pervert for watching you masturbate. He has some random neighborhood kid bring you groceries. Who the fuck are you kidding? You don’t just ‘more than like’ this guy.
“Are you going to leave that sticker on your face?” Rowan scoffs. “Of course. Makes me prettier.”
Lachlan to identify a target.”
