Worst of all was when the fantasies blurred and I imagined fucking her while choking her. Listening while she begged for more while clawing at my arm hard enough to draw blood. I wanted to do that to her on some deep, primal level where the demon in me resided. But only if she wanted it too. I wanted her begging me to hurt her while I pleasured her. I wanted her to accept that she needed to be punished for the crimes of her father and fall to her knees before me, begging for me to make sure that she paid.
I’d never ached for anything the way I was aching for that. And I didn’t know if it was just a product of my grief over losing my mom or if it was a depravity which had always lived within my flesh and had only been brought to light now, in my darkest hour.
I’d always struggled to comprehend why Kyan said he needed pain to feel true pleasure. But I was starting to get an understanding of where he was coming from with that. Everything I had now was coated in a layer of pain and the only outlet I could find for it was when I was transferring it onto someone else. Someone in particular.
I sat up in the darkened room, hearing Saint’s morning music echoing up from the crypt as he abused his body through exercise.
Sometimes I had to wonder about the three of us. On the surface, we were the luckiest sons of bitches I knew. We had money, influence, power. Every material thing we could ever ask for and girls begging us for a taste of our bodies on a daily basis. But we were the most fucked up people I knew too. Three monsters who dwelled in darkness while gilded in gold.
I’d always been the one to pull us back to the light before. But now… Well, now there was no light. Only endless night and the scent of blood on the air. And I found that I was just fine with that.
Saint may have been a controlling, domineering motherfucker but he knew a thing or two about the way to channel bad emotions. He’d been doing it for a long fucking time after all. And if he thought that forming all of it, every feeling of grief, heartache, pain, betrayal and abandonment I had into a cold, hard ball of rage was the way to deal with it then I wasn’t going to argue. I could even admit that it was working already. The only feeling I was having trouble moulding into it was lust. That fucker couldn’t be sated by rage alone. But it sure kept good company with it when it wanted to.
I pushed myself upright and moved to draw back the curtains, letting in the light of the pale sunrise so that it spilled over my flesh.
I pulled a pair of sweatpants on and released a long breath as all of the roiling emotions in me fought to be heard and I smothered them with anger.
My hand curled into a tight fist and I crossed the room, taking the key from my nightstand before unlocking the bathroom door and throwing it wide.
Tatum was curled up in the porcelain claw foot tub that dominated the centre of the space. I guessed it beat sleeping on the marble tiles, though if I hadn’t switched off the underfloor heating last night that might not have been the case.
She was sleeping in a sweatshirt and her panties, her arms curled beneath her head as her brow pinched with some nightmare. Or maybe she could just tell on a subconscious level that her nightmare was standing over her. Her bare legs caught my attention for a moment too long and that treacherous desire I felt for her slithered beneath my skin.
But that was okay, I could accept it. I wasn’t going to waste time pretending that she wasn’t hot. Or that I didn’t want to fuck her again. There was no point lying to myself about that. But it didn’t mean anything other than that. Her flesh called to me on a base level, but her soul could rot for all I cared.
The scent of vanilla and honey blossom lingered in the air from her skin and I remembered the way it clung to me for a full day after I’d had her. That smell was a form of torture in itself, pointing out the weakness of my flesh.
I growled beneath my breath and reached out to set the cold water running in the tub.
Tatum shrieked as she jerked awake, leaping from the bath and slipping in the puddle of water as she did so. She fell towards me, arms whirling in panic before she slammed straight into my bare chest.
I caught her and she looked up at me in surprise as I offered her a dark smile before dropping her onto her ass on the cold tiles.
She scrambled backwards until her back hit the door to Kyan’s room and she stared up at me with undisguised fear and hatred brimming in her eyes.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she breathed. It wasn’t an accusation or even an insult, more like a genuine question as she tried to figure out how a man could become as twisted as me.
“Many things,” I said as I stalked closer to her, enjoying the way she cowered against the wood. “But top of the list right now, would have to be you.”
I stood over her for a long moment as she panted beneath me, her blonde hair spilling everywhere, looking almost like it had after I’d spent a night buried in her body.
I folded my arms over my chest, my eyes narrowing as I assessed her. Was she finally starting to get the message or was she only just starting to fight back against the rules she lived by now? Not that it mattered. We’d break her in sooner or later. I was just glad to be along for the ride.
“Get up,” I commanded and she scrambled upright until she stood before me, her back pressed to Kyan’s door.
I stood there for a long moment as she refused to utter another word, looking at me like I was the worst person on Earth.
Try, one of the worst demons in hell and you might be getting closer, sweetheart.
I turned my back on her abruptly and moved to take a piss.
Tatum gasped behind me, but she didn’t actually say anything.
“Complain about it and I’ll get a pot and make you hold it for me every time I need a piss. Maybe even when I need a shit, too,” I growled and she looked at me for a long moment like that was the worst thing I’d threatened her with. But if she believed that then she was deluded. Things were going to get a lot worse than holding a piss pot. Her gaze fell to her toes as I relieved myself and I was in part glad that she was learning to keep her mouth shut while disappointed that I didn’t have a reason to punish her.
I shook my dick off then dropped my sweatpants and got in the shower, ignoring her entirely as I washed myself. I would have jerked off just to piss her off too if I could have done it without thinking about her. Even knowing she was in the room with me while I was standing here naked was enough to send blood flooding to my cock like the animals trying to crowd on to Noah’s fucking Arc.
I shut the water off with a curse, drying myself quickly before pulling my sweatpants back on and moving to brush my teeth.
All the time, Tatum watched me with a kind of numbness in her eyes and tension lining every inch of her skin. She knew I was just prolonging the agony, extending the torture until she couldn’t take it anymore and practically begged me just to do whatever it was I was going to do. But I hadn’t quite decided on that yet. In fact, I’d barely given her any commands since she’d sworn herself to us. At least not any that mattered. Because when I did, I wanted it to be perfect, fucking poetic in its brutality. I wanted her to feel it like a sucker punch, just the way I had when my dad had told me who she really was.
I spat a wad of toothpaste in the sink and finally turned to look at her again.
“Are you just going to stand there in a soaking wet hoody?” I asked as she shivered slightly in the wet material.