Fear Me, Love Me

by Lilith Vincent

“Tell me what it is, angel. Do you feel nothing, or do you feel too much?”

The knife is headed right for his flesh. “Tyrant, don’t,” I cry desperately. “If you need to bleed, then I’ll bleed for you.”

“Your pain is my pain. It’s inside me. It’s flowing out of me. I’m bleeding for you, so you don’t have to.”

“I’m going to fuck my spit into you. My blood into you. My cum into you. All of me, angel. You’re so far from being alone. I’m going to fucking suffocate you.”

Tyrant reaches for the bloody knife, puts it in my hand, and then grabs my wrist and holds the blade to his throat. “Do you really think I’m scared of you? Angel, I’m not scared of anything. Now, hold that blade right here while I fuck you, and if you don’t come, you can slit my throat.”

“What the hell are you doing?” “I’m going to let go. If you move the knife away from my neck, I will take it from you and stab myself in the heart.”

My blood is all over her body. My body. Her clothes and her satchel. There are drips on the carpet. She says murder scene. I say a really good fuck.

Soon she won’t need the box at all because she has me. I’ll be your dark thing, angel.

“There’s one person preventing me from killing you right this second. I hate to see her cry, and right now she’d cry over your dead body, even though you don’t deserve it. If my angel ever comes to me in tears over something you’ve done again, next time I won’t just break your arm. I’ll break your fucking neck, and your wife will get a bullet.”

It’s up to Stone what happens next. If my girl is smiling, I’m smiling, and they get to live a little longer. If she keeps crying, then I’ll have to fix this problem quickly for her.

“Tyrant is merciful,” Vivienne insists. “He let Barlow come home to us. He hasn’t demanded that you pay back his money. He hates to see me suffering, so I know he wouldn’t hurt my family.” I hate to see Vivienne suffering, so I have to kill her family.

Lucas Jones screamed, wet himself, and sobbed for his mother as I beat him to death with a heavy chain. What a wonderful moment that was.

“Did they hurt you?” She raises a hand and touches her ribs. Her stomach. All the scars that she bears because of them. Pain is etched on her brow as she remembers all her loneliness, all their cruelty. “Yes, but…” “Will you ever forgive them?” “No, but…” “Then they have to die.”

Her seeking hands slip beneath my jacket, and when she finds what she’s looking for, she pulls it out and backs away from me. I open my eyes and see that I’m staring down a metal barrel. My gun. She stole my fucking gun. Vivienne points the weapon at me with shaking hands. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll kill you before I let you hurt anyone else.”

“Then shoot me. I’m never letting you go, and I’m going to destroy everyone who’s ever hurt you, so killing me is your only option if you want to stop me.”

“I don’t love you, Tyrant. I could never love someone like you.”

Frustration and anger race through me. I could never love someone like you. Never? Never love me? After all I’ve done for her? Spite and rage roar in my heart. I promised Vivienne the moon, and she threw it in my face. I fought for her, bled for her, made myself feel for her. I have thought of nothing but her since the moment we met, and she thinks she can toss me aside?

This will never be over. I’ll have her, or I’ll end this world and everyone in it.

Say the word, and I’ll make them bleed for you. If someone hurts you, I will make them suffer tenfold. Knives cut deep, but my obsession for you cuts deeper. Your pain doesn’t control you. I do.

Why couldn’t I see what was in front of me all along? Not an intriguingly dangerous man, but a psychopath. My loneliness made his obsession seem romantic. My damage turned him from a villain into a hero.

He held me down and fucked me raw against my will, and my twisted heart mistook that for love.

I lay sprawled across the leather, the same place where Tyrant held me down and screwed me. I’ve been so stupid, and now it’s too late. I danced with the devil, and now he’s never going to let me go.

“You owe me,” he seethes. “I’ve never taken anything from you. The only thing you ever bought me was one pregnancy test.” Tyrant laughs as the car moves off, and the sound is cruel and cold. “I bled for you, angel. That’s a bigger debt than money, and I will be repaid in full for every last drop.”

I wish I’d brought a hammer, a knitting needle, anything I could use as a weapon.

After being hopelessly stuck and wasting so much precious time, she stumbled across the first gate by accident, and now she thinks she has my whole labyrinth solved already. What Miss Stone doesn’t know is that it’s not only the gates that change. As soon as she disappears around a corner, walls will move. Markers like lamps and other decorations shift around. It amused me to design a garden that would confuse anyone who doesn’t understand its secrets. I find it fun watching people stumbling around in it, hopelessly lost.

I groan and shift on my feet, and I have to adjust my pants which are suddenly tight around my hardening cock. I wonder how wet she’ll get as I lick her. How hard she’ll cry as I force her to get turned on against her will. I would bet my fortune that if I fuck her, there’ll be blood all over my cock after that first thrust.

It’s clear my housekeeper is dying to pry the baby away from me and make a fuss over Barlow. I should just hand him over, but I find myself reluctant to deposit him in Angela’s capable hands. I stole him. He’s my baby.

Angela’s worried frown softens into a smile. “Look at that. I’ve been thinking lately that you’re the ideal age to become a father. Not so young you’re hot-headed. Not too old you don’t have the energy to run after them. This big house needs a woman and babies, and so do you.” I don’t need a woman or any babies. I need my fucking money. “This is a hostage situation, Angela. Stop getting clucky.”

“Oh, you’ve read a book of myths and watched a movie. Congratulations on your literature degree.” “Art history and costume design, actually. Do you know what always happens to the monster in the maze? He’s killed.” I smile and let my gaze travel down her body. “Eventually. But he fucks a virgin sacrifice first.”

She gives a short, sharp exhalation. “Everyone in Henson talks about you that way. It drives me mad.” “But you’re too wise to believe any of that,” I guess. “Of course. And now I see I was right all along.” “Oh, no. A little college nobody thinks I’m cringe. Hashtag sobbing.”

She turns around and starts to walk away, but a moment later she hurries back, interest and excitement gleaming in her green eyes. “No, wait. If you’re here it means that I was going the right way.” Shit. I gave away the answer. That is cringe. Or bad vibes. Or basic. Whatever the eighteen-year-olds in my crew say.

There’s no woman I’ve met that I would trust to be as insanely overprotective as I would be. Miss Stone begging for her baby brother and running herself to exhaustion to save him is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

“You’re a power-hungry asshole who expects everyone to roll over at your feet out of pure fear. Yes, Mr. Mercer. Thank you, Mr. Mercer. I’m not afraid of you. You’re a bully, just like all tyrants are. Just like your name. Do you know what happens to tyrants? They’re toppled. Their regimes end. Their statues are torn down. Read some history.”

My hand tightens mercilessly around her slender throat. Such a pretty neck. So very chokeable.

I want to throw up. You don’t abandon family? How honorable. How admirable. What total fucking bullshit.

This is dangerous. I’m too far gone. I don’t care what he does next if only he keeps believing me.

“Why did you do it? What possessed you?” Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, and I start to sob. “I know I’m disgusting. You don’t have to look at me.” “I don’t mean your scars.” His jaw pulses in anger and his blue eyes are burning. “Those people. Your father. Your stepmother. They did this to you, and you’re here killing yourself trying to save their child. Are you completely insane?”

She looks so vulnerable, and I’m feeling so turned on all of a sudden. It must be all this talk of violence.

“Tyrant, please,” she whimpers. “Just tell me how it looks.” Her scars? I don’t know. I’m too transfixed by the sight of her.

I grip her throat and squeeze, and her eyes go wide. Lovingly against her lips, I murmur, “I could hurt you, angel. I could make you bleed with one hard, deep thrust.”

“Oh, fuck. You’re soaking wet for me. I’ve never felt anything like it. How many times in your life have you been this wet and turned on by me?” “Hundreds,” she confesses in a whisper. “Good thing I’m finally here so I can do something about all your sweet, dripping frustration.”

“Tyrant, this is crazy.” “Let me do this for you, angel. No one’s ever made you feel good, and I can’t stand it.”

I smile and slowly suck on her clit. She can tell herself whatever she likes. I know why I’m doing this. A pretty angel getting wet over me beating the shit out of some lowlifes is the best thing I’ve ever heard.

“You’re a bold little thing.” “I’m a stupid little thing,” she whispers and unthreads my belt.

“You’re so beautiful.” I laugh. “Me?” “Yes, you. I thought so the moment I saw you. Don’t laugh at me.” I lean down and kiss her, pulling her naked body closer to mine. “I’m laughing because I’m surprised. You’ve seen me all but kill three men, and you still think I’m beautiful.” “Maybe that was beautiful as well,” she says, then takes my face in her hands and kisses me.

“You’re only allowed to bleed for me from now on, angel. You hear me? Only for me.”

“How do you feel?” She traces my jaw, my lips, as she carefully thinks about her answer. “Like nothing bad ever happened.”

MORON

My angelic little virgin, full of cock and cum, without a care in the world.

“Believe you? I’m not going to believe you.” Pain blazes in my heart. “Then why—” “I’m going to reorder the universe by reordering his fucking organs. I’m going to make such a mess of his entrails, eyeballs, and fingernails that it will take a team of crime scene investigators to identify who he used to be and a dozen cleaners to bleach away all the blood. This Lucas, anyone else who hurt you? They’re as good as dead.”

“He told me I was mistaken and that Lucas wouldn’t do that. Then he asked me if I made it up because I was worried I would be in trouble for sneaking out of the house.” The mental gymnastics involved to ask such a ridiculous question is astounding.