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Silence. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. If not for the fact I’d seen her writing in her diary several times, I’d think she was totally catatonic. The diary in question was in her lap, her fingers curled around it like she was terrified someone would take it away.
Uhhhhhmmm?? Are we witnessing Abigail’s return?
Holy fuck, had I just met Abigail? Shocked, I turned back in the direction I’d come, but the doctor was wheeling her away with a brisk pace. Somehow Dr. Russo seemed to sense I was watching, though, and glanced back my way. Our eyes locked, and cold fear ran through me at the little smile that curved her perfect lips. How the fuck was this possible? Or was it? I shook my head, blinking against the sunlight and questioning fucking everything. Including my sanity.
GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER! We have things to do!
“Ne m'oblige pas à jouer avec ces autres salopards. La moitié d’entre eux ne connaissent même pas leur propre nom.”
“Non. Prenez-en huit.”
“An autobiography written by Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex,” I read aloud, wrinkling my nose. “I’d rather eat my own toenails.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, Duckling,”
That is THE stupidest nickname in this whole series.
“I regret everything. I don’t know how to say how sorry I am or how badly I wish I’d made different choices. I didn’t just break your heart, Duckling. I destroyed mine.”
“I still want to kill you,” I murmured, raising my gaze to meet his. “But I also really, really want to fuck you. Just once. Then I can get you out of my head and feel nothing when you die.”
I dipped my head toward the donuts. “Those for me?” He gave a huff of amusement, shaking his head as he started up the truck. “No, they’re for the other girl with a massive sweet tooth that I rescued from a psych hospital last night.” I rolled my eyes but was too busy taking a bite of the first donut to respond with anything remotely quick-witted. Instead, all I could do was moan like a porn star when the original glaze coated my tongue.
“That’s it, Spark,” Carter purred as I bent over and wrapped my lips around Heath’s cock. “Good girl, taking a quick trip to Paris in your mother’s kitchen.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t sleep here tonight, though.” I nodded my agreement, already thinking of all the ways I wanted to have the four of them sharing me in bed and debating how many times they could make me come before I passed out or became dehydrated. Wait. Three. The three of them. Carter, Heath, and Royce.
“You’re so beautiful, Ashley,” he murmured, “So damn perfect.” He propped his weight on one elbow as he traced his thumb over my lower lip, seemingly mesmerized for a moment. Then his hand shifted a little lower to wrap around my throat. “Royce,” I whimpered again, rocking my hips in an attempt to put him back where he belonged. That evil smile grew wider, and his thumb stroked my jaw. “Beg for it, baby. Beg me to fuck this sweet little pussy of yours and remind you that no matter what happens…you’re mine now. And I’m never letting go.”
“Guys, get in here!” Royce barked, leaning out of the apartment door to beckon us. “I have a great idea, and Carter is talking about hiring a hitman. We need a vote. Come on!”
He glanced down at the glass, then narrowed his eyes at me. I smiled back at him, silently daring him to comment on the lukewarm still water with a slice of apple I’d presented. He just drew a visible breath, then sipped the water and offered a tight, cold smile. “Thank you,” he gritted out. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”
“Shit,” Nate growled after a few moments, raising his head just an inch. “All I can see from here is Royce’s asshole. That’s a mood killer.” I almost choked as Royce laughed and thrust a little deeper than anticipated. “Fuck,” he snickered, sliding out of my mouth with a wet pop. “You suck at this group sex thing, Nate. You’re supposed to tell me how lovely my asshole looks from down there, or just stick a finger in or something.”
Carter looked between the three of us with disgust—and a little amusement—then grabbed the eyeball from Heath, tossed it into the toilet on top of my vomit, and flushed. “There. All gone.” Gone but never forgotten. Fuck washing my hair—I needed to shave it all off.
Cracking my eyes open, I lifted my head from his chest just enough to meet his eyes. “I do love you, Royce. Enough to jump out of a plane just to see you sparkle.”
Holy fuck. Some people said I love you, but Nate gave me a sledgehammer and asked me to demolish his mom’s home. Same thing.
Carter handed me a slice of my favorite pizza—Hawaiian with cranberries and cashews—and I hummed happily as I took a bite.
Disgusting
Panic flooded through me. “Wait! I want to know more about your experiment!” Jocelyn tossed her head back with a laugh. “Oh, honey, it’s adorable you think I’m going to stand here and spill my life story in a clichéd villainesque soliloquy. This isn’t fiction, sweetheart. The big bad doesn’t need to justify their choices to help you sleep better at night. Sometimes sad things happen, and we don’t get closure.”
