“Love what you’ve done with the place.” Leo’s lips curl into an arctic smile, a predator’s grin. “Nice touch with the Mad Tea Party. Or is this The Last Supper? Do you fuck the guests before you eat them? Asking for a friend.” “You’ll find out soon enough.” Rhett gestures at the empty chairs. “After all, I saved a seat just for you.” “Oh, joy. I’m famished.” Leo isn’t just ready for this. He’s fucking craving it. Bloodlust inhabits every cell of his body, as much a part of him as his scars and his pain. Nothing will stop us. Not the gun in Rhett’s hand. Not the ghosts that haunt us. Our demons
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