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Masked patrons in various states of undress looked over, watching me enter, before returning to their partners. Talking, fucking, indulging in everything they were too cowardly to take anywhere else.
These men wrote the rules but I was above all of them. The masked king. A secret whispered in the night. The boogeyman in a closet that they wanted to keep shut.
“No safe words, no limits. You do not tell me no,” I said, speaking every word as clearly as possible, so there was no way she might misunderstand me.
I looked everywhere but at her, not wanting her to see how much what she said affected me. I loved my work, but dying before ever properly living was probably my greatest fear.
“Don’t yuck my yum,” she teased. “And if anyone should be afraid, it should definitely be me. You’ve touched more dead men than living men.”
His searing energy seemed to twist and bend everything around it; scrambling thoughts and warping metal. I wanted to back away from him but I couldn’t seem to move.
A magnetism radiated off him, pushing me away and pulling me close simultaneously. Drawing me like a moth to a flame. Making me want to run like prey from a predator.
An hour was gone before I knew it. Then two. My promise of just one more chapter turned into five as I devoured page after page of a romance story so dark it had me questioning my own morals.
It intrigued her, that feeling she couldn’t put her finger on. That sense that danger was just around the corner, close enough to bite her.
I wanted to ruin her. Ruin her so fucking fully–so completely–that I was the only man who would ever know how to put her back together again.
I wanted her and I was going to have her, it was only a matter of when.
I almost recoiled from his admission. Weak. Weak men were no good to me. I wasn’t even angry at him, I pitied him.
The undertaker would have no choice but to do what I wanted if I had his daughter. The perfect bargaining chip. The perfect hostage.
I tore through the second half of the book and for a while thought of nothing else but the story. The characters. Their problems instead of mine.
I wasn’t young and naive enough to think of my mom somewhere up in the clouds, watching over me, but I was fiercely protective of the legacy that she had built with the mortuary while she was still alive.
“No, little lamb. I’m not going to kill you,” he said, his eyes roaming my face in the dark, making me feel his intentions like a fire held too close to flesh. “I’m going to keep you.”
That’s right, little lamb, you want this. You want me. You crave the touch of the monster in the dark.
If Emily returned to this place, she wouldn’t be his daughter anymore, not the one he recognized. Already her past was burning to worthless ash. I was her future.
A sob grew in my chest, burning my throat on its way out as I pressed my palms hard into my eye sockets until the tears ceased. They wouldn’t help me. Neither would Dad. What could he do? Call the police? Ha. Yeah, right.
“You belong to me, now, little lamb,” he snarled, his grip on my chin tightening until I whimpered. “Forget about everything outside these walls.”
“I hate you.” He opened his eyes, pulling his hand back as he unfurled to his full height, standing over me with the regal grace of a lion mid-hunt. “We both know that’s a lie.”
“Admit you liked it.” She laughed at me, the sound harsh and short. “Fuck you,” she said, glaring at me through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Tell me you want me to touch you.” “No,” she whispered, sealing her eyes shut as I edged closer to the apex of her sweet pussy, the strain in her pinched expression winding me up just as much as it was her. “Then tell me not to.”
She was exquisite. Her body deserved worship. Men should kill and die to have her. Men had done just that.
She didn’t control me. She didn’t possess me. She belonged to me. Mine. Mine to touch. Mine to mold. Mine to break.
Touching her wouldn’t be enough. I wanted to possess her. Wanted to twist her into something that could fit against my broken parts. I didn’t just want her body. I wanted her heart. Her fucking soul. “I want it all.”
I should feel something. There should be more.
I opened my mouth to suck in a lungful of water, but as soon as it filled my mouth, I shot up, water sloshing over the tub’s edge as I spat it out, gasping for breath. What was I doing? I couldn’t even die properly.
He squeezed, jerking my head back down to look him in his lust-filled eyes. “Fuck yourself on my Glock, Emily.”
“You’ve got a whole fountain of pussy, Ruarc. Why fill only one cup?” I scoffed, appreciating the analogy.
When I told her I wanted everything, I didn’t realize how deeply the meaning ran. I wanted her whole heart. I wanted her to love me like she would never love another person on this vile planet. When I was finished with her, I’d hand her the key to her freedom and I wanted her to drop it at my feet. I wanted her to stay.
“You’re the worst idea I’ve ever had.” He shook his head. “Resorting to dangerous games to get my attention...” “But it worked.”
His raw power fell over me like a spell. This was what no man in the past had been able to give me. Potent, undeniable domination.
“I hate you,” I shouted at him, my voice cracking trying to maintain the volume. His jaw ticked and he nodded. “This time, I believe you.”
Do not deny me, little lamb. Do not deny yourself. “You have it.”
“Bargaining?” She nodded astutely and a swell of pride grew in my chest. “Done.”
I lacked the correct words for the twisted, trusting, yet apprehensive relationship between me and this place. Between me and the man who ruled it.
Last night, he’d been something other than the beast I’d grown to expect. He was still that, but he was more.
Ruarc showed me he could be cruel. Terrifying. Monstrous. But he’d also shown me thoughtfulness. That beneath the shadows cloaking his soul in a blanket of impenetrable darkness, he possessed the ability to feel.
Every time I pushed him, his limit moved. He gave me that little bit more of an allowance.
It was like learning who someone was in reverse. Getting all the bad, all the dirty, all the ugly, out of the way before glimpsing all the things that were pure and true and good.
“It’s not often that we’ve had to do that. Just sometimes. There are those bodies that just don’t stop.” “Emily.” “Hm?” “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve heard in my life.”
Not a fully willing participant of my twisted devotion.
There was only one solution. They both had to go.
That had to be the most terrifying thought of all. That I might like being a monster’s captive. That I might choose this over what waited for me back home. Home.
My ghost come to collect its soul. Something was wrong.
My heart shook seeing him. Every thrust was a fervent plea. Something happened. Something was wrong.
A phantom backlit in shades of royal blue, red, and yellow from the stained glass window at his back.
“I’m sorry, that must’ve been difficult to understand as a child.”
“You need to leave.” His words hung in the air for a long time before I could process them. “Why?” “Because I don’t want you here.”
