Page 3 of Death Kiss

My pulse quickens as fear gnaws at me.

We could call the plan off. We’ve spoken about it often enough. But the longer we delay, the more vulnerable children will get hurt the way Liam did. Neither of us is naive enough to think those men will have stopped indulging in their sicknesses.

The time for phase eradicate the motherfuckers is upon us.

It’s not like we haven’t killed before. Kind of. Liam’s killed many; I’ve killed one and a bit. Liam’s dad, albeit I hadn’t really meant to kill him, given that I was only eight. And then Sam. Sure, Liam did the grunt work, but there’s no doubting I am complicit in his death.

My part of the queue draws nearer the stage, and I still can’t see Liam, but I catch Ellie’s eye, smiling at the over-the-top excited wave she gives. Lifting a hand, I wave back and grin.

The guilt of killing her crazy boyfriend, Sam, and lying to her about it is finally beginning to feel like less of a burden. I barely slept for the first month, between the police grilling Ellie and her sobbing about Sam’s disappearance, knowing I’d yeeted Sam down a well; the guilt was a lot to bear.

The cycle of abuse all too often ends with victims becoming perpetrators in some way, so Liam and I intend to funnel our rage into good. If murder can ever be deemed good.

As I near the stage, I wipe my sweaty palms on my gown.

Where’s Liam?

It’s not until my feet hit the stage that I see him, in the far corner of the room, seated between two grannies who are busy nattering at him. He smiles softly and accepts what I can only assume is some kind of purse-scented boiled sweet from one. His face breaks into a panty-melting grin as he meets my gaze before I’m swept up in actually accepting my degree. I shake sticky palms and accept congratulations while I dole out the thank-yous.

In a moment, I’m swept off stage and back into the mass of gowned former students, losing sight of Liam altogether.

Another forty sweaty minutes later, we spill out into the expansive courtyard, thankful for the fresh summer air. The black gowns throw me off as I search for my people through the crowd.

‘Kat! Congratulations,’ Ellie squeals as she tackles me from the side, squeezing me half to death. ‘So proud of you.’

‘Thank you,’ I laugh, squeezing her back.

‘Thought I was going to die in there; would it kill them to open a window or two?’ Ellie pulls a handheld fan from her purse and points it at her exposed neck.

‘They know it’s their last chance to torture us.’

‘We’re free!’ Ellie says, her hair dancing in the artificial breeze from her fan. Half a dozen guys look her way, eating up the ample cleavage she’s sporting. If she could bottle up the raw sex appeal she has, she’d be rich. She’s not even trying. I hope the next guy who comes along is a belter. Ellie deserves to be adored, not used. I want to see someone making her as happy as Liam makes me.

‘Hell, yeah,’ I say, joining Ellie in bouncing with glee. This degree course has felt like a chain holding me down for years. A leash still held by my overbearing parents. Now I just need to find a way to tell them that I don’t want to take on the family business.

Thick arms circle my waist, and I twist sharply. Liam looks down at me with those delectable eyes, his face a picture of pride and yearning.

‘You survived it,’ he whispers before pulling me to his lips, kissing me like it’s been years since we touched, not a matter of hours. Not that I mind. I lean into his attention, sliding my tongue over his while I sink my fingers into his hair.

‘Katherine?’

Oh good gravy.

I’d forgotten about them. Peeling my mouth from Liam’s, I see my mother’s disconcerted face.

‘What in god’s name are you doing?’

Kissing my universe, thank you very much.

The thought flashes in my head, but I can’t speak the words. It’s like being around my parents forces some kind of fear filter over me. It’s not that I’m scared of them, as such. Not in the way Liam had feared his father. Being near them makes me feel like the little kid desperate for their approval.

And I have a feeling I’m not going to get it tongue-deep in my tattooed, scarred boyfriend.

‘Um.’ Come on, Kat. Stop being a little bitch.

Liam squeezes my shoulders before offering out a hand. ‘Mr Elliott, Mrs Elliott, I’m Liam.’

Neither moves to accept the handshake, and I feel heat flushing my face.