His Lost Lycan Luna (Jessica Hall) novel Chapter 117

Read His Lost Lycan Luna by Jessica Hall Chapter 117 – Gannon POV

For two days, I listened to his screams when they finally cut out. Liam sighs and pouts.” P***y! I wanted to feed him his bowel first,” Liam growled, looking down at Doyle’s limbless body.

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you removed his heart,” I said, pointing to his hand. Liam looks at the hand that is holding Doyle’s heart. “Oh, yeah, that would have done it,” he said, tossing it over his shoulder.

My skin itched from all the blood caked on it. Thick like gravy, I was surprised he lasted this long, and if it wasn’t for the blood bags Liam got, he probably would have died yesterday when we removed his arms. Liam whistles happily when the bell rings, signaling someone is here.

“Yes! Customers. Missed my calling; I did. I reckon my steaks look pretty good. Wonder if they want to try my marinated Doyle steaks or the Doyle sausage,” Liam says, excitedly taking the tray he had been placing his were-steaks on. He was taking butchering the butcher too seriously. I laugh as he grabs his tray and races to the front of the store before I hear the shrill scream of a woman before the bells sounded as she rushes out.

“But it is a delicacy. Marinated him myself for 12 hours,” I hear Liam call out to her. I shake my head, taking my rubber apron off. I hang it on the hook next to the freezer door. Liam comes in with his tray in hand, looking rather upset that the woman, whoever she was, didn’t want to try his Doyle steaks.

“Wasted all that time marinating those,” he says, tossing the tray on the counter. He washes his knives and places them in his satchel. Grabbing the soap, I scrub my hands clean when Liam growls. Peering over my shoulder to see him glaring down at Doyle.

“B****y b*****d, look what you did! You owe me a new apron. You better hope I can wash this out,” he snarls, taking off his apron. I raise an eyebrow at him. The man was bonkers.

“What? He got his filthy blood on it. Look at this,” he says, trying to clean his apron in cold water. “He turned it pink. I’ll just say it is salmon. I can pull off salmon, right?” Liam growls. Scrubbing his apron that he has come to love.

“I like to see someone tell you you couldn’t,” I laughed before looking down at my jeans. Not even the apron could save them. I sighed, walking out through the shop to the car and retrieving the bag from the trunk. I always brought spare clothes. The town square was pretty quiet as I stepped out. A lot of stares, but no one dared say anything. I was kind of waiting for them to break out in a dance, like a flash mob, with the way the noise stopped abruptly and everyone froze.

Shaking my head, I pop the trunk, grab a fresh shirt, and pull it on. Hearing the butcher’s shop bell jingle, lyrics glance over my shoulder, and a scream rings out from an elderly lady sitting out front of the bakery eating a scone under a blue and white umbrella.

Liam struts out naked, drenched from head to toe in blood. He shakes off some congealed blood that has plopped on his foot as he shakes his head. His apron is clutched in his hand, and he shakes it out.

“That is not coming in the car. Put it in the trunk,” I tell him.