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Cursed Angels

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“Get out of the way, Sam,” he says, sadness dancing in his eyes. I’ve done that. I’m not good for him, but he still came to me. He took a chance, and I’m not going to let him leave like this.

“Get out of your truck,” I tell him, folding my arms in front of my chest. His eyes narrow. He watches me for a moment before killing the engine. “Please.” I watch his chest rise and fall at my plea. The man is a cold-blooded killer, and even though he can’t have my heart, I’ll give him everything else.

He exits the vehicle and rounds it to stop beside me. “You’re a psycho,” he tells me, and I nod.

“I know.”

“Let’s get you inside, I don’t want others seeing your sexy little ass.” He chuckles, lifting me over his shoulder, and stalking back toward my cabin. Once inside, he sets me down and crashes his lips to mine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, licking and tasting me. A moan falls from my lips, and he swallows it.

“Hunt—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” He lifts me by my ass, and his erection presses into my stomach. Seconds later, I’m on the sofa with Hunter’s body cocooning me. “Just give me your body. If I can’t have your heart, then at least let me make you feel good. Let me in, Sam, please?” This time, he’s the one pleading. Begging for me.

“Fuck me, Hunter. Just clear my mind and numb me.” For years, this man has given me what I need, and as his cock plunges into me, I cry out and claw at his back. The instant pain turns to pleasure as his hips slam against me, pinning me to the sofa.

“That’s my girl.” His words wash over me, reminding me of the one man who left me. He chose to leave. My eyes close, and I see Archer. His smile, his eyes, everything about him. And as I watch him fade from my mind, it’s Hunter who replaces him, and I feel the tears trickle from my eyes as I say goodbye to the man I once knew because he’s gone. There’s no way I’ll ever get him back, and that rips my heart from my chest. It squeezes the breath from my lungs.

He’s gone.

And in his place, I revel in Hunter’s touch, kiss. And the way his cock brings me to orgasm. Again, and again.

Chapter 6

Archer

“I promise you this won’t hurt. Just stay still. It’s just like watching your favorite film on the television. That’s all.” The doctor who stood over me gave me a headset to put over my eyes. I did as I was told because I didn’t really have a choice now. I’d made the deal with the powers that be, and I couldn’t escape my future. I would just have to accept what I was about to become because I knew she would be safe.

“You’ve got my word. I won’t cause any problems.” I sit back on the comfortable chair and the video turns on. I watch it. Most kids would probably love this sort of thing. Blood and guts spewing all over the screen, but I know the true meaning behind it. The violence it will lead to. I feel my arm pulled out, and the pin prick of a needle enters it. That is when my thoughts of an innocent future dissipate. The boy with hopes and aspirations loses all that, and they are replaced with the overwhelming urge to be the best soldier I can. I’ll follow orders no matter what. I’m strong; I’m a fighter. I will deliver justice where it’s needed and death where it’s not listened to. I’ll follow my leader, the head of The Factory, for they know best. Gone is the boy Archer King once was, and in his place stands a conditioned soldier ready for war.

“Damn it,” I groan and grip the top of my head. I feel like I have the mother of all hangovers. I don’t even remember drinking that much last night. Mind you, I don’t even remember last night. It’s then I feel the warmth of sunlight flow over my body. Er, I don’t get any sunshine in my bedroom at the compound. I dare to open an eye. Yes, I’m not in my bedroom. I’m in a charming, palatial room. It’s like one of those fancy rooms you see on celebrity home shows. The ones where the TV pops out of the bed and there’s a jacuzzi in the bathroom. I peer over at the end of the bed.

“Fuck! There is a TV in there.” I get to my feet in an instant and am in the bathroom even quicker – quickly regretting it when the nausea of my hangover claims me.

“Holy fuck, there is a jacuzzi in here,” I say to no one in particular because there isn’t anyone to hear it. I’m a twenty-six-year-old man, and I’m acting like a frat boy at his first party. Man, I can be a total moron at times.



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