Vicious Cycle: A Dark MM Romance (Wayward Sons Book 3) by L Eveland

Author:L Eveland [Eveland, L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grim Cat Press
Published: 2024-05-29T00:00:00+00:00

I was too tired to go back to my bed, and I didn’t want to be alone anyway. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Harold’s dead eyes staring back at me.

I didn’t feel guilty for killing him. The fucker deserved worse. If he hadn’t pissed me off, I would’ve started cutting off pieces. Slowly. But I learned I didn’t have the patience for torture, and it felt pointless anyway. He wasn’t going to give me the information I wanted. I was going to have to find his clients some other way.

If Xavier had a list of names on his computer, that meant Leo had it as well. All I had to do was get Boone to order Leo to give me the list, and then…

I wasn’t sure what. Boone hadn’t exactly agreed to help me kill all those people, and I didn’t think I could do it by myself.

My stomach twisted as I looked over at him in bed next to me. Even in the dark, his red hair stood out like fire. It was a mess, knotted in places and sticking out every which way. I wanted to comb my hands through it, but that would wake him, and I was enjoying watching him sleep. It reminded me of the days when Xander would have a nightmare and wake us all up. We’d pile into my bed because there was just the right amount of light, and Xavier and me would hug him until he fell back asleep. It was nice to have someone breathing next to me again. Someone real.

Even if what we were doing was completely insane.

What am I doing with him? I turned over on my side and curled my arms around his. He let out a soft sigh that made my heart race, but he didn’t wake up. That was happening more and more whenever he did something small around me. Things that used to irritate me were suddenly sexy. And when he called me Pup, it meant more than to hear my name on his lips. He’d called me that since the beginning, almost like he knew me better than I knew myself.

Whatever this was between us, it could only end badly. What was it my old therapist used to say? A house built on shifting sands was doomed to fall. That’s where we’d built everything we had. He said he wanted to protect me, but he couldn’t save me from the biggest danger to me: myself. Eventually, he was going to realize that and do what everyone else did when they got tired of me. He’d dump me and move on, and I couldn’t even fault him for it. My life was a fucking mess without adding sex to the mix.

So why was there this awful ache in my chest that only went away when we were together? Why did touching him feel like such a damn relief when I hated touching anyone else? Why did I like having sex with

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