The Iron Wolves Read Online Free PDF Page B

intimacy in death, don’t you find? To drive in that knife through soft resistance. An immortal embrace. To feel the last dying breath on your cheek, like a kiss from God. To see the sparkling life-light fade from understanding eyes. It is a beautiful moment. Exquisite. Perfect. Eternal. A moment to share. A moment to be stolen.”
    Kiki said nothing. She was near the wall, and the window which overlooked the street. But turning to slide open the portal was not an option. Turn your back on this man and he’d put a knife through your kidney.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Jahrell,” he said.
    “I am Kiki.”
    “I know. And we need to know these things. To share them. Before I kill you. Before you die.” He smiled, gently, like a doting father to a treasured daughter.
    “Before one of us dies, surely?”
    “As you say.”
    They paused, weighing one another up.
    “You don’t have to do this,” said Kiki.
    “That’s what they all say.”
    “You’ve done this before? This murder?”
    “Oh yes.”
    “A lot?”
    “Many, many times, my beautiful little songbird.”
    “How long have you got away with this… trickery?”
    “All my life,” smiled Jahrell. It was a sickly smile, when it came.
    “Ahh. I see. So… you’re one of those,” said Kiki, darkly.
    “I am not ashamed of my actions. I have done nothing wrong. I am holy in what I do. Blessed, so to speak. It is the greatest honour to take a life; and I do so enjoy earning that honour.”
    “I need to thank you,” said Kiki.
    “Thanks?”
    “Yes. You’ve removed my guilt.”
    “What guilt?”
    “Any guilt I might have felt at cutting your fucking throat,” she said – and launched at him. His knives came up fast, for he was supremely skilled despite his psychopathic tendencies; steel clashed, singing a metal song, a series of incredibly quick blows first from Kiki, defended by Jahrell, then by Jahrell, defended by nimble fast sure strong movements from Kiki.
    She stepped back.
    Horse hooves stomped outside. Men shouted.
    Time was… limited.
    “Good,” breathed Jahrell. “You’re one of the best. I’ll enjoy tasting you. Every, single part of you.” He licked his lips, which gleamed.
    “You’ll have to earn it,” said Kiki, sinking lower, into that place down below combat, down below war and fighting and anger and hate; she sank into a world where there was nothing more than the blades in her hands and the blades in her enemy’s fists. Rain filled with ice drummed the streets. Gushed in the gutters. His eyes sparkled. She could see sweat on the stubble on his upper, unshaved lip. He was smiling.
    He was sure, despite her skill.
    Fuck you, she thought. I despise your arrogance. I pity your superiority. I mock your pointless dedication.
    I’ll show you. Show you something new …
    He came this time, blades a dazzling blur, his movements more urgent. He knew his comrades would be dismounting, walking through the hall, climbing the stairs. And if they arrived too early he wouldn’t have his fun. His playtime would be over. He had to kill her fast. Had to earn his reward. The life-light leaving her pretty, pretty eyes…
    And she led him on, like an eager, spotted teenager with a priapic cock.
    It wasn’t difficult. She’d done it before.
    That was the problem with men.
    Always ruled by their petty, simple lusts.
    Just… No. Fucking. Intelligence.
    Blades clashed, clanged, deflected; his blade cut her upper arm and she yelped, sighed, turning to one side, injured, in pain, agony firing her eyes, deflating, and he came in fast for the kill but too fast and too eager and too ready to get the job done and finished. He was a premature ejaculation. Her knife cut into his belly and he gasped, choked, coughed heavily.
    He slumped against her, his arms suddenly weak and useless. She supported him as he gasped again, and it was intimate. She looked into his eyes, blade still buried in his guts, supporting his weight. He fought to lift his own