Our foreheads connect, our breathing heavy with emotions that aren’t usual for me. Intense. Desperate. Heady. Somehow, our lips meet, making me drop the rest of my joint to grab his face, holding him hostage to my mouth. We kiss for what feels like hours. It’s hot and desperate; each shared touch of our mouths feels like ecstasy, too intense, but effervescent in the best way.
“What the fuck?” Sam grumbles groggily, breaking me from our moment together. He’s banged up, leaning against the tarp I placed him on. His eyes are barely open, and he appears more drunk than he should be, but either way, his life ended the moment he touched Lena—Elena, our cousin—without her say-so.
“The time has come. Your end,” I announce, moving around my brother. He raises an eyebrow. Sam appears confused, making me chuckle darkly. It hasn’t been that long since he passed out—it’s not like someone can forget being a worthless piece of shit. “You shouldn’t have touched what wasn’t yours to touch, Sam.”
“She was asking for it, the fucking tease,” he barks carelessly, grimacing. I lean down, gripping his stupid face in my hand.
“You will die, James. If your parents are smart, they’ll leave town and forget you existed. If not, I’ll be sure to fix that problem too.” His eyes widen, realization showing in his face.
“I-I didn’t mean to, s-she came on to me! Kissed me!” he cries, sniveling. It’s appalling, that he believes a woman doesn’t have the right to say no, deny him. It’s her fucking body.
“You’re a waste of humanity,” I hiss. “Women aren’t toys. If they kiss you and then change their mind, you stop. You don’t fucking push and try for something that isn’t yours to take.” I spit in his face, smearing it around with my fingers. “Now, you’ll die like the filth you offered Lena.”
Turning to my brother, I smile wildly. “I’ve changed my mind, brother.”
He narrows his eyes in confusion, but curiosity simmers in the curves of his lips. “What’s that?”
“He’s filthy, Kenji. To cleanse him, we must baptize him. Cleanse his soul and whatnot,” I muse with a smirk, my heart racing in anticipation. Understanding flickers in KJ’s eyes, and Sam shakes from head to toe, whimpering like a sad child.
“Your time’s up, James,” my brother goads, helping me lift him.
Together, we cleanse Sam’s soul, and my brother and I grow even closer in that moment.
Chapter Eleven
Atlas
By the time we’ve gotten rid of Sam’s body and notify everyone necessary of the measures we took, our reasoning, and written it in the directory, we head home. When we come into my bedroom, the exhausted whimpers from my closet has Rusty coming to mind. Holy fuck. It’s technically our birthday today. It’s three in the morning. I turn to KJ, and he’s already watching me with lust. Something built between us when we killed Sam together. It was intense, ritualistic, almost necessary.
The raw hunger burning inside me builds with each breath, and I know he wants this to end now too. Our final bet. But I won’t force him to kill Rusty; I’ll do it myself. After all, it’s our birthday, and I didn’t get him a gift.
He wanders to the closet, opening the door. Rusty’s tear-soaked eyes stare at us in horror. A smile, evil and cunning, traces my brother’s lips as he stares at the guy I’ve wanted to kill for a year. Dragging his tied-to-a-chair body out in the open, he gives me a haunting look.
“What?” I ask, interest getting the better of me. He turns to Rusty, biting his lip in such a childlike way, like he just got a new video game and is about to test it out.
“Now Rusty here gets to watch as I fuck my brother. You’ll probably even get hard. Such a freak,” KJ hisses, looking at him before his eyes meet mine.
“Okay,” I whisper, liking the idea of him filling me, completing me. My balls throb with need, my cock already full mast at the idea.
“What about them?” he questions, meaning our parents, who for once are finally home.
“Let them hear. Don’t give a fuck. It’s our birthday after all,” I say on a shrug.
Kenji goes to my drawer, where my knife has sat since we made the bet. He takes it out, twirling the engraved piece like it’s his favorite toy. He flicks the switch, the blade assisted as it jumps from the chamber. He eyes it with pleasure, then walks back to Rusty. Taking the blade to the bare skin of Rusty, he slices open his chest as soon as the tape covers his mouth, and my dick gets harder—if that’s possible—at the sight of the blade in my brother’s hand, making the poor bastard bleed. He keeps striking him with an unabated anger that has me near falling apart. Being this horny over blood and death is sick, but I can’t seem to care.
After several minutes of slices, Rusty seems to knock out from the loss of blood, and fuck, he’s bloody. His entire chest oozes crimson, decorating his chest like one of Tris’s canvases. My brother saunters to me, determination in his lavender gaze. His chest is covered in splatters of red, his palms entirely covered in blood. I smile at the sight, loving the color all over him. He grips my face and takes my mouth, kissing, biting, fucking me with his tongue.
It’s so goddamn sexy that groans escape us both.
“On the fucking bed.”
“Hate this thing,” I complain, not lying at all. He eyes me with understanding.
“Let’s make better memories, Salvatore.” With my nickname on his lips, I’m obeying. We swiftly shed our clothes, panting the entire time. We’re both naked now as he crawls over me, forcing his way between my thighs as our lips battle each other for ownership.
He’s mine.
I’m his.
We’re twisted, but fuck, we’re together.
We grind together, our cocks gliding with the spilled blood.
