Rot

by Candace Wondrak

I doubted many people actually cared when they said I’m sorry. It was just something people said, empty words that were meant to make the recipient feel better. I didn’t think I’d ever been sorry for anything I’d done in my entire life.

I sounded innocent, but that’s the thing about innocence. It could be a weapon, just like anything else.

“If you want to play, I’m all for games. Games are what make life fun.”

if there’s one thing I knew, it’s that there was nothing like watching a person die, whether that was from drowning or something else. Watching the life flow out of someone’s body, watching their movements grow slow and unsteady, watching them become still.

I really wanted to make each and every day I had here count. I wouldn’t be here forever, I knew that, so I planned on enjoying the ride for as long as I could.

I supposed death, to some people, was a scary thing, the kind of thing that left nothing but scars in its wake… but to me, death was nothing short of beautiful. We’d all die eventually. There was no point in being scared of it. There was nothing more natural, nothing more magnificently beautiful than the cold, unflinching embrace of death itself.

Why? Don’t want to talk to strangers? A small laugh left me. I wasn’t worried about strangers. Strangers should be worried about talking to me.

You couldn’t get worse than me. My soul had been born black, and it had only served to taint everything around it until now.

Someone like me wasn’t destined for fairytales and a boring life. I wasn’t meant for the sweet or the sugary. No. I was at home in the darkness, with the rot in me, so it was only natural that I’d be drawn to it in someone else, regardless of who it was.

“Did you fuck him? Did you let that asshole between your legs?” The words were practically growled out, as if he was some kind of animal. “Did you give him all of your firsts?”

“You don’t want to pack up and leave? Fine, but when you’re here, you’re mine.”

What a fool I’d been. I’d given my first kiss to an idiot while trying to make a god jealous.

“You wanted me to go fucking crazy watching you with Jordan Vito? Because I did. I watched. I lost my shit. I listened to you come upstairs and go to bed, like you did nothing wrong. I paced my fucking room while imagining my hands wrapping around Jordan’s neck and squeezing the life out of him,” Elias murmured. “And then I imagined doing the same to you.”

“Is that what you want? Is that what you do? Get into someone’s head and make them go insane? Because that’s what you’re doing to me, Sloane. That’s what you’re doing to me.”

He moved his hips and dragged his cock in and out of my mouth like it was a second pussy. He did it all while I knelt there and took it like a good girl.

By God, if I was going to be his, he would be mine. I guess we had to play a few more rounds of the game before the results came in. So, it was a good thing I liked playing games. It was what I was good at. Made life a bit more fun.

“You’re aggravating. You piss me off. I hate you, but at the same time, I don’t want anyone else. I can’t even think about Dana now that I know the sounds you make.”

“I don’t care about the world. I don’t care about anyone else. You and I are the same.” We belong together, cousins or not. I’d make him see that.

He was a god. He was everything I’d never known I’d needed. He was made for me in every single way.

“You’re mine, Sloane,” Elias groaned out, his eyelids narrowed into slits as he watched me take his cock like a good girl. “Mine. No one else gets to wet their dick in you. Not Jordan. No one.”

“Such a desperate little slut for me. It’s like you can’t control yourself. Fuck yourself on my fingers, Sloane. Come for me again like the good little slut you are.”

A part of me wanted to make him cum like that, but I knew Elias would want to take the reins soon enough. He wasn’t someone that could sit back and let me handle things. No, he was a guy who had to be on top, always. Had to be in control, all dominant and rough, which I was fine with.

There was something addicting to being the one to end someone else, something so beautiful in being the last thing they saw.

He was addicting in the best of ways, something I’d come to need so desperately.

We were sinners. We were monsters. We were everything normal people never aspired to be, and that’s what made us perfect for each other.

We were a match made in hell, and our life together was only beginning.