Confessions of a Killer

9 "Make love?"

Maze:

My boots sound thunderous in the silence enveloping the room like an unwieldly suffocating cloak, tensions high after the stunning revelation. My hebetudinous feet plodding heavily over to Natalia, halting mid-step as I study her broken body to see the faint light pulsing in her neck. "What the actual fuck?" I breathed quietly, unease slinking into my body, raising my hackles with the thought that there may be one in me too.

"How do you know it's a tracker?" I asked a little louder, the man who looks old enough to be her father glanced up at me. A look of pity crossing his features.

"I don't. Just... an educated guess."

"We need to get it out to see then... to be sure."

He growled, low in his throat, his beast peeking through his sullen expression. Power and rage leaked into the air around us, his presence, scent, and eyes reflecting some beast other than wolf. Man, this is really an eclectic pack.

"How else are we going to know exactly what it is?" I roll my eyes, crossing my arms in front of chest while throwing my hip out in defiance. "I don't want to have it in me too and bring those bastards around. I don't want to go back." A note of apprehension in my tone, makes me wince. I hadn't meant to reveal the munificent anxiety climbing up my spine to anyone, hiding behind my cocky stance.

I can feel the scrutinizing burn of multiple sets of eyes turned my way, boring holes into my back, practically smell the damn astonishment filling the room. A collective breath let out in the room as the man's beast disappeared, power draining like water spinning down a drain.

Ugh. I hate being center of attention. In an orgy it is one thing, pleasure to be had by everyone in that instance, I am exceptionally talented with my hands, and my mouth. There are a bunch of old dudes and ladies up in here though and I'm not feeling particularly attractive at the moment. Or the fact that... I kind of only want to know what Jax has to offer. Not in a mate-for-life kind of way. Maybe a night, or two, or three. Or six. I'll play it by ear.

The notion of Killian finding us quelled the intense fire in my blood, my feverish thoughts quailed with the dread that he will find us. That I would be the reason for our discovery froze me in my mental tracks. I gaze around at the shifters surrounding us, frowning as they meet my curious regard with intriguingly sympathetic, even startlingly apologetic stares.

I love older people. Voices feeble with age, relaying the tales of their youth, wrinkled skin smiling as their eyes go distant with memory. Their whitening or graying hair usually cut short in an attempt to get their ancient manes to cooperate. Doesn't matter what color they are; oldies are goodies. Though these people aren't as old as my aunt was before she died. They'd live a lot longer if we manage to escape Killian's scrutiny.

Char stepped forward, her long legs flashing white underneath the t shirt barely covering her body, stopping next to me to lean down, examining Natalia with a frown. The clothes in her hand almost forgotten as she reaches a hand down, gently caressing Natalias neck.

"Is there a noninvasive way to do it Maze?" She looked up at me. Asking my expertise. Trying to take the attention off of me and succeeding.

Only, I don't fricken know the answer!

Maybe?

"Uhhh..." I sound dumb, even to myself. I can't help the flush in my cheeks. I hope he didn't notice. I do my best to discreetly glance over.

Shiiiiit.

Of course, he noticed. He's always watching me. 'Creep.' I think making eye contact. He grinned.