“When I’m done wringing yer scrawny neck, I’ll cut your balls off and make a necklace of them for Kyan to wear,” I promised, giving that idea some serious thought as the beautiful feeling of his windpipe crushing beneath my fingers sent me to nirvana. I guessed the blood could be an issue, but if I had them dried out all nicely then I could thread them on a chain. Something platinum, not gold. Kyan wasn’t really the type for gold jewellery.
“Stop!” Tatum screamed behind me, her voice all kinds of distant as I just looked into the eyes of the man I was killing and grinned as he fought uselessly to pull my hands from his throat.
Saint yelled something, the plank of wood crashing down on my head and breaking in half like we were in some kind of kung fu movie, and I couldn’t say I hated the idea of that visual, even while I bellowed in anger and the pain of the blow made my vision swim. It wasn’t enough to break my grip though. Not now that I had death in my sights and my grip was locked tight around my victim’s neck.
His name suddenly came to me as I drew closer to the point of his death, like a little dicky bird had whispered it in my ear. Blake. I remembered now. I’d watched him play ball with Kyan a whole bunch of times when they were kids. He’d even gotten me to show him my best killing knife once. He’d been a cute kid, sweet in a conniving little fucker way. What a shame I was going to be killing him after all that.
Blake punched my sides furiously, making pain sing through my flesh as Tatum leapt onto my back, yelling and clawing at me in a desperate attempt to save her lover. But she really shoulda thought of his mortality before letting him sink his sausage into her. She must have expected this after all. There was one thing an O’Brien could be counted to fight for, and that was the honour of our family. Even if we were the most dishonourable bunch of fuckers anyone was ever likely to meet. We weren’t going to admit that shit, after all.
Saint snatched my crowbar and I snarled as he took Herbert for a swing he hadn’t asked for, bracing for the blow I knew was coming and somewhat relishing the thought of it. I liked pain. Not in a sexually explicit kind of way. But more in a ‘I deserve it’ situation. Because I did. I deserved all the bad in life and I was only ever taking my punishment for my past crimes whenever a strike was made against me.
But before I could taste the power of Herbert’s blow, Kyan came barrelling through the door, tackling Saint to the ground and sending my little iron friend clanging across the floor.
“Kyan!” Tatum screamed as Blake started turning blue beneath me, his punches growing weaker as my gaze locked on his and I held my breath in anticipation of his end, the rush of it building all around me like a rising storm. I could hear that storm inside me, billowing and calling out for this death, aching to sweep another soul into the abyss at my hands. I could taste blood on my tongue, feel the need for oblivion in every inch of my body and I tumbled into that feeling as I sensed the moment of his death approaching and prepared to steal it for myself.
Kyan pushed his girl away from me as she continued to try and fight me off, but before I could take the final beat of Blake’s heart from him, a punch with the force of a sledgehammer behind it slammed into the side of my skull, waking me up and calling me away from the death march I’d been lost to.
My gaze snapped up to meet my nephew’s, my teeth baring as he forced me out of my moment and the desperate, final beats of Blake’s pulse thumped against my fingers.
“Let him go!” Kyan barked, punching me again and taking me by surprise, but I could see the demand in him, the need for something more from me than death in that moment, and some part of me was still able to listen.
I forced my grip to release, sitting back on my haunches as Blake began to cough and splutter beneath me, fighting to regain the air I’d been denying him.
“Get away from him!” Tatum screamed, shoving and pushing at me like a bee who’d lost her way into the hive.
Kyan gripped my arm and I let him haul me up, frowning at him as I stepped away and Tatum fell over her little side piece with a sob.
“They’re fucking your wife, lad,” I hissed, my gaze on Kyan’s as I gave him the explanation he still seemed in need of and a new, much more appealing idea occurred to me. “We can kill ‘em together, if you prefer? I’ll tie ‘em down and we can take turns to cut off limbs. We can even start with their coc-”
“Tell him,” Tatum barked at Kyan, a furious fire in her eyes which made me frown because she should have been begging, right? Sobbing and apologising and all that shit that cheaters did when they got caught in a killing shed with their fella’s best buddies and no panties on.
Kyan’s jaw ticked like he didn’t much want to do as she’d commanded, but he gave it to me anyway.
“She’s with them too,” he bit out, giving me a hard stare as he rolled his shoulders back like he was anticipating a fight. From me! His sweet old uncle Niall who had never been anything but good to him in all my life. I didn’t know where he was getting the impression that I mighta been the kind to hurt my own flesh and blood, but he was seriously mistaken on that. He could ask my brothers…well, no, maybe not them because I’d gladly kill each and every one of them. But my other nephews and nieces…then again, I hated almost all of them too. Or at least held contempt and disdain for them. Huh. Maybe he had a point then; I was inclined to hurt family members. Not him though. Never him. Unless he did something to piss me off of course.
“And Nash. All four of us. We’re hers and she’s ours,” Kyan went on like people just casually dropped that kind of information into conversation all the time. Oh hey, have you met my wife and the three other fellas she fucks? I’m so glad to have brought them all to this birthday party for ya to meet. No. Didn’t seem like a usual kind of opener, that was for sure.
“But she’s your wife,” I pointed out in case he’d forgotten. Maybe that was it. He’d forgotten and their cocks had all just slipped into her a few times while he’d been trying to remember.
“I know, but she’s theirs too. Not by law. But by… agreement. I dunno what else to call it. They love her and she loves them. It’s all of us, that’s just the way it is,” Kyan snarled, his anger clear as he seemed to be fighting against the desire to spill blood almost as hard as I was. Though on that note, the bloodlust was fading fast from me in light of this new puzzle because I was trying to figure this out and it was actually making a whole lot of sense.
Saint had positioned himself between me and their girl now, his fists curled and his intentions clear no matter who I was. He wasn’t going to let me hurt her. And I had to admit, despite how close I’d just come to killing dear old Blake, there were two more of them here who would have fought tooth and claw to keep me from Tatum if I’d gone and turned my killing intentions her way. They’d have done all they could to keep her safe and I had to admit that even with my superior skills and thirst for blood, I likely wouldn’t have beaten all of them before they’d ended me. Which meant that even if I had taken out Blakey, she’d have still been safe.
Interesting.
But then I thought of the other mechanics of that set up and I had to admit that that was the bit which boggled me the most.
“And you’re okay with that arrangement. Multi-dicks and all, lad?” I asked, wondering how that worked. Did they have a ticket system? A day of the week each? But then they’d need seven of them if it was one a day or that wouldn’t work. A four-day cycle? A ballot? A lottery? A goat with impeccable taste who independently selected which one of them got to-
“Yes,” Kyan said firmly, cutting off that wild thought and I put it away for later.
“And you’re okay with it too, lass?” I looked over to Tatum, who seemed to be out of sorts for some reason, her hair all crazy-like and her eyes blazing with unshed tears.