Promising My Love To A Savage

By Vaneecia

Chrys was just a young girl of seventeen who had the weight of the world on her shoulders. With a base head for a mother, nothing ever seemed to work out for her. She had her two best friends, but what she really wanted was her mom to care enough to get better.

On a chance encounter, she runs into Ky'zaire. He's seen her before but avoided her as best he could because Chrys made him do something that he hadn't done since he was nine: feel.

Ky'zaire is a contract killer who doesn't feel remorse or anything for that matter. But coming across Chrys gives him feelings that only killing has done for him. Once he gets closer to her, he decides that she is his, and he will do whatever it takes to protect her and keep her close.

But the past has a way of catching up to people, and there in no telling if the past will catch up to Chrys and Ky'zaire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royalty Publishing House
• Release date: Jun 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9781648407611

Book preview

Ky’zaire

It was a long ass day, and really, it had just started. The life of an assassin was something for the books. My days always started early because I had to get into the right mindset before a job. And I was known for running early all the damn time. Like today, I had gotten to my scene thirty-five minutes early to set up. Now, I was just sitting on the roof waiting. And what made it worse was I was getting bored as fuck sitting on this roof. I loved the kill, but I hated the waiting. I was an impatient motherfucker, and today was no different.

I had one job today, and I wanted to get it over with so that I could go climb into something warm and wet. I finally had a weekend off from this shit, and I was going to take full advantage of it. I never had days off, but that was the price that I paid because of this job. There was always someone to kill, and it didn't leave time for anything, which was why I had a couple rules that I abided by. No real relationships and no days off. But I hadn't been called for a job for this weekend, so I was going to break one of the rules just this once. I sparked the blunt that I had tucked behind my ear and screwed the silencer on my favorite gun. 11:30 a.m. In about five minutes, my target would be walking out of the front door of his workplace to go get lunch. I almost wanted to let him get his last meal on earth, but I had a deadline, and I wasn't about to miss it and mess up my payment. I hope he had a bomb ass breakfast this morning.

I slid my favorite pair of Beats onto my head and started to scroll through my playlist on my iPhone 8 plus. There was one song that I listened to before every kill. It was a song that I felt spoke volumes, and it managed to clear my head right before. It was Till I Die by Machine Gun Kelly. To be honest, that nigga went hard to me. White boy had bars if you were really listening to his shit. I finally found it and hit play. At 11:33 a.m., I turned toward the entrance before setting my M110 semi-automatic sniper rifle right at the ledge and lining up the shot. I wouldn't miss. I never missed. I never caught civilians in the crossfire either. I was good at what I did. I had been good at it since I caught my first body when I was nine and had only gotten better as I aged, and now I was twenty-two. But that was another story for another day. I took a deep breath, stilling myself to all outside forces. Not God himself could move me before this kill unless I wanted to be moved. And to be honest, killing was fun for me, so I damn sure didn't want to be moved. I mouthed the words to the song as I sat looking through my scope and waiting.

Bitch, I'm from the land, till I die

On the East Side till I die

Bumpin' that Bone Thugs till I Die

In the hood I'm good till I die

CLE till I die, hoe

I sat there hoping that he wouldn't be a late motherfucker. He would throw off the fact that I didn't have shit else to do today if I had to just sit on this damn roof and wait for him. Because no matter how late he came out, he was dying today. At exactly 11:35 a.m., my target walked out smiling like he was on top of the world. Shit, he probably was, but his wife wanted him dead and was paying me a grip to get rid of him. I didn't know what he did to her nor did I care. I was just doing a job. And to be honest, he wasn't the first nigga I had killed for their wife, and I was sure that he wouldn't be the last one that I killed either. In my opinion, these niggas needed to do right by these women and learn to vet them ‘cause bitches was crazy outchea. And between being crazy and gold diggers, that shit just wouldn't have good outcomes for these niggas. I had asked one bitch why she wanted me to kill her husband, and she said it was because he looked at another bitch, and that was how she knew he was fucking her. Don't ask me how she came to that conclusion, but after that, I stopped asking and realized that I didn't want to know. This was just another job, and I couldn't bring myself to feel bad. Like some niggas went in to a nine to five, sat at a desk, and did what they were asked, I got an assignment and did that shit. That was how I kept myself sane, by reminding myself that this was a job. Well, that was back when I had to do something to keep myself sane. Now killing was like breathing; I needed that shit, if I was honest about it. It was my addiction. There was a woman to the right of him. She was about half a step in front of him. Just enough room to make sure she didn't get hit.

1... 2... 3... PHEW!

One bullet left my chamber soundlessly and entered the side of his head. Blood splattered across the woman’s face and clothes, and his body hit the ground all in the same three seconds. A job well done if I must say so myself, and I must say so. I unscrewed the silencer as her shrill ass voice rang out just screaming but not saying a word. I never understood that part. What the fuck was screaming gon’ do? You go get help. But then again, I had never been one to act off emotion. Everything had a logical answer, and I always took that route. I put my rifle back in its case before placing the case inside a second case that was really for a guitar. It worked like hell at concealing things just in case I couldn't get out before the cops arrived. Made me look like I was a nigga that was singing for money, and the long ass hair I had on top of my head helped with the look. I left my Beats on and got the hell out of dodge. With one final glance at the crime scene, I smirked and left. My job was done. I didn't contact my employers until the death was announced, and it was always announced. I had a burner phone for jobs, but I didn't want to chance that the cops would see the message and piece together what happened. I was a mystery to the cops, and I planned to keep it that way. They didn't have a single lead at the moment. The bullets always matched, but they had never found the weapon. Not that my shit was registered anyway, but they had never been able to find one solid lead, and I liked it that way. I would never be caught if it was left up to me, and honestly, it was left up to me. They would just have to settle for having a string of unsolved crimes. And speaking of my weapon, it was time for a new one. Wasn't about to keep making this shit easy for them.

I bobbed my head to the beat of the song that was playing. I had a long walk ahead of me, so I was going to get into the music. Yes, I said walk. I never parked my car near any future crime scene. You never wanted anyone to give your car description up. It was just one of my many precautions. I kept my eyes moving so that I was always aware of my surroundings as I remained as inconspicuous as possible. I was walking for about thirty minutes before I saw something that was out of the ordinary.

Dead ahead of me there was a girl. She was gorgeous. Far too gorgeous to be in the neighborhood that we were in. Pretty brown skin. It was like sienna brown. Yeah, a nigga knew his shades of brown, but that was because I loved my black women. Wouldn't give them a relationship, but I loved them and the beauty that was in each and every one. I could see her hair sitting on top of her head, a curly mess, but it was a mess that worked for her. She couldn't have been any more than five feet four, but she had a body on her. I could see that even from a distance. As I got closer, I could see doe eyes that looked wide, almost doll-like as she searched frantically. I didn't know who she was looking for, but I could tell she had love for them. Her body language screamed sadness. I didn't know her, but I damn sure didn't like that she was sad about something.

As I continued to get closer, I could finally make out what she was saying… Momma. This girl was out on the street looking for her mother. I didn't need to know much else to know that her mother was probably a base head. Shit was sad as fuck. Not that her mother was a base head, that was her momma’s choice, but that her mom had her daughter out here looking for her like that. Shit like that was dangerous, and the world wasn't kind to women. Anything could happen to her, but her mom was too gone off the drugs to give a damn apparently. The girl walked up to the trap house, and I slowed my pace. I didn't want to see anything happen to her, and these niggas that ran the shit didn't give a fuck about women and children. I didn't either when it came to a job, but this wasn't a job, and she wasn't trying to do anything but get her moms back.

The door swung open, and a big nigga was standing there. I wasn't no small nigga, but this nigga looked like all he did was eat, built like a twin sized bed and shit. But she didn't even flinch. That let me know that she had to do this shit far more than she should.

I told you about bringing that shit around here, little girl, he fussed at her.

I know. But have you seen my momma? she questioned in the sweetest voice I had ever heard come out of a female.

It was like she was singing something just for me, even with the tears that were threatening to choke her up, and that shit was unnerving. I ain’t ever felt shit in my life. And I didn't just mean for females. I never felt anything except maybe the urge to get my dick wet, and even that wasn't an all the time type of deal for me; not with the shit you could catch out here. So me feeling anything, especially for a female that I didn't know, had me pissed the fuck off. I mean, I didn't even feel shit for my momma after all we had been through. But I couldn't bring myself to move until I made sure she walked away from that door without a scratch on her.

She ain't been by here, was all he said before shutting the door in her face.

I watched her shoulders sag even lower as she walked down the steps. She looked so damn defeated, and I wanted to ask her if she wanted some help, but that wasn't me, and I wasn't about to start changing myself for a girl whose name I didn't even know. Once she was a good distance away from the trap, I continued my trek to my car. I was hoping like hell I never saw that girl again. After seeing her