use the memory of my fangs in your skin

100 days from today

the wolves return

packpackpack

 

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I wanted to kill him.

I wanted to fuck him.

I wanted him to tear me apart.

“Gordo,” he said, ever the wolf.

“No,” I said, the perfect prey.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

I tried to step back. I didn’t move. “I’ve got a damn good idea.”

Mark turned his arm over. He gripped my wrist, thumb brushing against my pulse point. “I wasn’t your first.”

Goddamn him for knowing what I was thinking. “You weren't.”

“And you weren’t mine.”

I wanted a name. Tell me who the fuck it was. I’d find them. I’d kill them. I said, “I don’t care.”

His eyes flickered orange. “But I swear I’m going to be your last. Fight me. Hit me. Light me up. Hate me all you want—”

I bristled at that. “Get the hell out of my head,” because I could hear him whispering gordo gordo gordo along that thread that stretched between us. It bounced around my skull until all I could do was hear him saying my name again and again and again. He was consuming me, and I wanted him to. I couldn’t stand the thought.

“—but it’s going to happen. You hear me? I will hunt you down if that’s what it takes. You can run from me, Gordo. But I will always find you. I let you go once. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

“Fuck you. I want nothing to do with you.”

He grinned, and it was all teeth. “I felt that. In your pulse. It stuttered. It shook. You lied.”