**If you're looking for a deliciously devious submissive alpha male MC and a sexy as sin dominant FC, look no further** Consistent updates**
Orion has a buried secret and a slowly spreading darkness that threatens to consume him. In his 4th year at...
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"Golddigger?! N*gga if I was a golddigger why the fuck would I be waisting time with your broke ass?"
I try to school my expressions and keep the smile from my face, but it's a losing battle from the jump so instead I lift the coffee mug to my lips to cover my chuckle.
The sun is sinking into the horizon bleeding shades of red and orange, the colors ignite a calm within me, and I'm more focused on my motive. I keep my eyes on the view while focusing on the conversation taking place behind me. Something in the timbre of her voice tells me that while she's standing her ground with confidence, there's a layer of fear there that she can't hide.
I want to tell the stranger not to worry, that I'll take care of her problem.
"Bitch I know you took my Jordan's." Comes the gruff voice of the large, tattooed man sitting across from him. Looking at him, I feel tendrils of pure evil stretching out from his body, my nose twitching at the foul stench.
He's perfect.
"On God, n*gga I didn't touch your shit. You've got me all the way fucked up." I watch from the corner of my eye as she pushes herself back from the table and starts furiously stuffing her jacket and phone into her bag before sliding it up her shoulder and giving him a glare that could burn the devil, she lowers her voice so that I almost miss her words. "It's the fucking caucacity to say this dumb shit after what you did last night that really gets me." She snarls and is about to turn away when he says. I almost choke at the term, something I hadn't heard before but which I'm assuming is a mix between 'Caucasian' and 'audacity'. For someone so scared she definitely presents herself as fearless.
"You're being dramatic bitch, don't pretend you didn't want this dick." My jaw clenches in barely concealed anger at this man's "caucacity" as she called it, as he not-so-subtly grabs his dick through his jeans and grins at her.
Men...Seriously we need help.
He sounds like the perfect target.
A haunting death melody plays in the back of my mind, urging me to step closer and closer to the dark waves. I take a deep breath to control myself, I can't afford to slip up like last time.
I didn't mean to kill him, that was an accident.
But that's why I only hunt bad men. If I slip up and go too far, the guilt on my conscience lessons knowing that the death wasn't in vain, that I saved future victims.
She huffs, grabs the glass of water on her table, then dumps it over his head. Without another word, she leaves him dripping and scowling at her turned back as she walks away. He lets out a loud, taunting laugh. I can tell it's not because he's amused; he's doing it to send her a message. He's telling her he's not sorry about his actions, whatever they may have been, and that thought sickens me.
He's the perfect target.
I stay calm, lowering the empty mug of coffee from my lips and calling the waitress for the check. I know he's about to leave soon and I don't want to lose him or this opportunity. The man stands with a scowl on his face, cursing out the woman responsible for his looking like a wet rag. He shakes out his hair, droplets flying in a halo around his head and I grimace in disgust. He's cursing out the woman who left, not bothering to lower his voice, and every curse that spills from his lips stretches and morphs into blood and I watch as the droplets land on his shirt collar.
