Page 97 of Boys Who Hunt
“Fine. Whatever. You do whatever you want as long as I don’t have to deal with your mess.”
“Ivy will be here soon,” he says as he walks to his own bathroom, leaving a bloodied trail. “She’ll clean my mess for me.”
Ivy
I’m standingin front of the Skull and Serpent Society house, wondering why I’m even back here again. Not that I have a choice in the matter. Silas made that much clear.
Well, at least this way I can pay off the debt without being killed in the process. And I wonder if he’s going to pay me again for the effort.
I blow out a breath and approach the door, but when I knock, it’s already open.
That’s odd.
I go inside and close it behind me.
“Hello?”
No one replies.
Has everyone left?
I softly tiptoe around, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone inside the building, not in the kitchen, the common room, or the hallways, so I head upstairs instead. The boards creak under my feet as I approach the only light coming from down the hallway … Silas’s room.
My heart beats in my throat as I push open his door.
No one is inside.
Where is he?
In the middle of the room sits a bucket filled with soap and that same damn brush again that still makes me heat when I look at it.
I walk inside and take a deep breath before I look around the room to see where the dirt is at that he wants me to clean up so badly. If this is even a cleaning job at all. Because as far as I’m concerned, he just wants to use me as a glorified whore.
But when I pick up the wet brush from the bucket and rise, my eyes fall upon a thick, red stain in the carpet near his bed. I get closer for a good look, bending over to touch it.
Blood.
The brush drops from my hand.
He didn’t hide the crime.
He wanted me to find it so I would see what he’s capable of. As a warning and a threat.
If I don’t do what he says and clean up after his mess … it’ll be me next.
I swallow and dip the brush into the bucket, rubbing it over the bloodied mark again and again. Sweat slowly builds up on my back as I get to work, rubbing the blood out of the carpet, adding more soap, and brushing it again. When it’s turned more pinkish than red, I lift the carpet and roll it over to get to work on the stain on the floor. But there’s a whole set of droplets—no a path—that leads all the way to the bathroom. Footsteps.
With my brush, I follow the path, cleaning up the footsteps until they’re erased from existence, and when I get to the bathroom, the door appears to be cracked open. My eyes find the small slit, and I can’t help but look inside. Steam has filled the room, and I can barely see anything, except the figure standing underneath the shower, his black tipped hair with white roots dropping rivulets of water … and blood.
Not just tiny amounts.
Bucket loads.
All while he’s rubbing his own muscular body with his hands, washing off the blood. And even though I shouldn’t be gawking like this, I still can’t avert my eyes as I come to a stand in front of the door, peeking at Silas. He’s got tattoos all over his body, like a snake that crosses his left shoulder and shoulder blade, and a very intricate pattern that runs from his side all the way down his thigh. Each inch of his body is tight, muscular but lean, and even though he’s not as tall as the other boys, I’m pretty sure he could win a fight with any of them just with his muscles alone.
His hands slowly move down his body, and when he grips his big dick, I do a double take. Even though the blood is still caked on his skin, he begins to jerk off with closed eyes, almost as if he’s fantasizing about something. Or someone.
I swallow away the lump in my throat.