Feral (Darkly Ever After, #5)

by Mila Crawford

I became consumed with tethering my lovers to me in blood, intertwining our lives in a twisted ritual by carving my name into their flesh.

“I’m not sure I like my odds.” “Don’t worry, Az. We both know Cyrus can’t keep up. Think of him as a pity fuck.” Cyrus growls as he grabs Zeke’s hips and tugs him until his back is flush with his chest. “That’s not what you were saying when my cock was deep in your tight little ass. If I remember correctly, you were crying about how it was so fucking big. My favorite was when you screamed, ‘Keep giving it to me, Daddy.’” Cyrus gyrates his hips. “‘Pound my little fuck hole. Make me feel so good, Daddy. Oh, Cyrus, that’s it, I’m gonna come. Just like that.’”

“Listen up, Cyrus. I’ve never called your punk ass Daddy, and I never will.” Cyrus’s laugh echoes through the air as his hand slides provocatively along Zeke’s black army boot. “These are kind of hot. Maybe the next time I fuck your ass, I’ll tie you up spread eagle, completely naked except for these. Legs in the air as you get fucked like the little bitch you are.” “When I shove my cock up your ass dry, you’ll know who’s the little bitch,” Zeke spits.

I gaze around me, gauging where my boys might be. The sight of a gray three-piece suit made from luxurious Italian wool startles me and brings me to a sudden halt. Lev. He leans against a large elm tree, arms crossed over his broad chest. Wisps of black hair fall over his pretty gray eyes as he watches me. A regular old peeping tom. Before I can say anything, I’m tackled onto the ground, and Zeke’s deep voice rumbles, “Gotcha,” in my ear.

The tip of Zeke’s nose glides against my neck. “Fuck, you smell so good. Do you have any idea what it’s like to get hard from someone’s scent?” It’s immensely erotic when a man finds your scent so desirable he could lose his ever-loving mind. Covered in leaves and mud, I lie on the ground, captivated by his deep corn-blue eyes.

I stare at the tattoos along his neck, knowing those markings trace every inch of his skin. I asked him once why he allowed a tattoo artist to touch him when he denied me. His answer was simple. “They never touch me. Not in the ways that matter. Their touch causes numbing pain, not pleasure or something deeper. Love.”

Lev steps toward me. “I don’t enjoy wanting things I can’t have.” I’m furious. I want to kick his ass and pin him beneath me with a knife at his throat, but I smirk and sing “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by The Rolling Stones. Cyrus slaps his palms to his ears. “How the fuck can someone so hot sound like a goddamn dying cat when she sings?”

“I want to do ungodly things to you—things a man shouldn’t do to a woman he loves. I want to hear you beg for mercy and promise you’ll do anything to make it stop. That’s not normal, Az. I’m not fuckin’ normal. What kind of man wants to tear apart the person he loves the most and watch them bleed?”

“I don’t know. What kind of woman carves her initials into the men she loves? My purpose in your life is not to judge you, Lev. You understand my boundaries. I trust you’ll stop if I tell you. You have urges and desires most don’t deem palatable, but it doesn’t mean you’re not a good man. What’s good, anyway? I grew up in a world where supposedly religious men raped fourteen-year-old girls because killing a virgin was unforgivable in the eyes of God. The three of you had fathers who were praised by strangers while they tortured their sons. They might not deem the four of us proper because we’ve had to do questionable things to protect innocence, but fuck them and fuck that. The only thing that matters is we accept you. I accept you. But most importantly, I trust you. Do your worst, Lev. I’ll still love you in the morning.”

“Is that it? You’re gonna run away again?” I call after him, taunting him. Anger rises, and I long to lash out. “You’re a good man, Lev. But you know what else you are? A fuckin’ coward.” Lev stops in his tracks and turns his head. Just as I think he’s about to speak, he moves in a blur, pressing the cold barrel of his gun against my temple. “I’m not good, Az. There’s nothing good about me. I like guns, I enjoy violence, and I’m obsessed with you. Nothing about me being with you will turn out well.”

Lev rubs my clit with the barrel of the gun. “Taking a chance on me is like being fucked by this gun.” He pushes the barrel against me, teasing my swollen folds, a crazy smile on his lips. “We’re both loaded. You never know if or when we’ll go off.” “I live for danger,” I whisper, arching my hips toward him, relishing the sensation of the cold metal against my pussy. “But I’m also a vengeful bitch. Know this, Lev; one day, you’ll crawl like a dog for me to fuck you this way.” When he arches an eyebrow, I lock eyes with him. “Remember, you gifted me the other gun that goes with this pair.”

“Maybe it’s not about her,” I growled. “Perhaps I’m sick and tired of the way you three bitches torment every fuckin’ human being that you perceive as beneath you.” I stepped toward Rachel until her back hit the cafeteria table. “I suggest you and your band of merry bitches pack it up and leave Azadeh alone.”

I jabbed my finger to my chest. “I’m Ezekiel, but you can call me Zeke.” She pointed to her chest. “Azadeh. English no good, but learning. Nice meet you, Ze-eck.” Usually, I wanted to bust someone’s lip for fucking up my name, but she could’ve called me a hot pile of shit, and I would’ve been happy as long as it meant she kept talking to me. I wanted to know everything about her. “Your name is beautiful.” She blushed and averted her eyes. “Thank you. Means free.” “You speak a language other than English?” Azadeh nodded. “Yes, Persian.” “Persian like the cat?” She laughed at my question, and I swear I saw angels appear. Okay, not really, but I wouldn’t be shocked if they did. “Yes, like cat. Me from Iran.”

“Oh, cool. I went to Los Angeles with my father a few years ago, and there’s a big Iranian community there. Y’all have killer food.” “Killer?” Her back straightened, and a frown furrowed her brow. “No, our food no kill. We not killer. Like here, good people and bad people. But we mostly good, like Americans. Our government bad, like yours.” I hated seeing the panic in her eyes. Her hands moved expressively, and her face scrunched up in frustration, which made me realize she was searching for words she couldn't grasp. I touched her arm, an action I regretted when she immediately pulled away. “Azadeh, no. I meant the food is good.” I rubbed my stomach in circular motions. “You know it tastes good. I like the food.” Azadeh took a breath, and her shoulders dropped. Her face broke into the most radiant smile I’d ever seen. “I liked a meat dish. Long piece of ground beef with yellow rice. That was so good. Puts American BBQ to shame.” Her smile grew. “Kabob. It’s also my favorite. We not have BBQ, but my maman makes it in oven. Tomorrow, you come my house for dinner. We cook Kabob for you. To say thank you for helping today.” I smiled. “I’ll go anywhere you want. Tell me where and when.”

“No, Zeke,” she said, her voice tight with worry, “you’re not okay. These visible bruises and cuts are merely surface indicators of a deeper injury. You will carry these marks on your flesh and these fractured bones for a lifetime.”

“I didn’t show you my marks to gain your sympathy. The people who did this to me didn’t care about me. They weren’t bound by any attachment. What’s happening to you is leaps and bounds worse than what happened to me. This man is supposed to love you more than anyone, yet he harms you for no reason. I’m scared, Zeke. I’m terrified about what your father will do when he finds out you’re bisexual.”

“I always thought the West would be this paradise where everyone was free to think, act, and say whatever they wanted. And to an extent, I suppose that’s true. You don’t have government officials arresting you because you said something about Jesus. No one will torture you if you don’t follow the dress code. But I’ve come to realize even here, some people are so desperate to get you to paradise they force you to live in hell.”

I pointed toward the mammoth book. “What’s that one about?” “The Shahnameh,” she said, her face radiating pride. “The book of kings. You can’t call yourself Persian and not own a copy.” “Why is it so important?” “That book saved the Persian language. It’s become a symbol of the perseverance of the Persian people. The book is mostly filled with fables and myths.” “Have you read it all? Looks thick.” “Some. It’s a hard book to read. Kind of written like The Fairy Queen by Edmund Spencer. My goal is to read and understand the entirety at least once before I die.” “What’s The Fairy Queen?” She laughed. “I love that about you.” My brain froze. Love? Azadeh loved something about me. Wait, what did she love? “What? What do you love about me?” “So many guys pretend they know everything, even when they don’t. They act like they do or fake it. You don’t do that. Being around you is easy because you’re so genuine.” I shrugged. “Fadat besham, Azizam.” Azadeh’s face flushed red. Bright red. I frowned. I was pretty sure I’d said the words right. Oh. My. God. Did I just ask her to suck my dick? Fuck. “Um, my Persian sucks. Did I pronounce something wrong? I could have. Whatever you think I said, I didn’t. I’ve been learning, and it’s way harder than English. Did you know there’s no gender? That part is kind of cool. Of course, you know that. Why wouldn’t you know that?” Azadeh grabbed my shoulders as she belly laughed. I think she snorted. Oh, my God, she thought I was a tool. “Relax, Ze...

Without hesitation, I lowered my head and brushed my lips with hers. The kiss was slow at first, tiny sparks igniting, but then my hands were in her hair, and our tongues were dancing. Fuck. I felt like I’d won the lottery. If I died and her lips were the last thing I tasted, I’d consider it a life well lived. When we pulled back, I was so mesmerized I couldn’t stop staring at her. Her fingers moved to her lips. “That was my first kiss.” “I know you need more than I’ll ever be able to give you. But I’m glad you gave me something as memorable as your first kiss.” I swear the pain my father had inflicted vanished as Azadeh smiled at me. “You’re so beautiful. Sometimes, it hurts to look at you.” Azadeh’s smile grew. “That’s an interesting compliment. And you’re more than enough for anyone. You’re Ezekiel Summers, the boy who showed me kindness can be found in the most unlikely places.” “You blind me, Az. In your presence, I’m both David and Goliath. I can’t explain it. I’ve never met anyone like you, and I’m positive I never will again. You bewitch me in so many ways.” “We better get you to bed before my mother checks on us.” Azadeh brushed past me and went to the bed, turning it down.

On her nightstand lay a battered copy of The Handmaid’s Tale. The cover was dented, pages dog-eared, and highlighter applied to various paragraphs. The book was the only banged up one in her collection. Most of the others on her shelf didn’t even have a cracked spine. “What’s your obsession with this book?” Azadeh pulled the book from my grasp and traced her fingers over the cover. “I find it fascinating, a woman who lived on the other side of the planet captured the horrors haunting so many women in Iran.” “But your mom is a fierce, independent woman. She had an education, and judging by how she talks about your father, she seemed to run that show. In The Handmaid’s Tale, the women are prisoners in a patriarchal nightmare. Is Iran that bad?” Azadeh gazed at the book, her mind going to some place darker. “Like you said earlier, life is based on luck. My mother was lucky to be born to a man who respected her and lucky enough to fall in love with my father, a man who adored her. But for many women in Iran, it’s like living in hell on earth, where they’re nothing but property and cattle to be bartered. So your answer about Iran will depend on who you ask.”

In Persian, you don’t simply say, “I miss you.” You say, “Jaheh shoma Kahliheh,” which means your place is empty. Azadeh's not being here has left a void nothing and no one can ever fill.

This is how it’s always been with Azadeh and me. She goes off to discover new things, and I wait to welcome her home.

But we all know why we stay frozen in time. It’s so a pretty girl with long black hair always has a place to call home.

There’s something magnetic about her. A wild rose you want to encase in glass so you can gaze at its wonder for all eternity.

“Look what the cat dragged in. About time you stopped by during your world tour, Princess. I know everyone needs saving, but your three men have missed you desperately.” “I’ve missed you too, Zeke. So damn much, but this is going to have to wait.” Azadeh pulls away from me, and I notice her tired, red-rimmed eyes. She glances at the manor and clenches her teeth. “Where’s Lev?”

“How could you?” she shrieks. “I thought you gave a fuck about me. You were working on your shit, Lev. Zeke was helping you. I believed no matter how insane you behaved, you would always have my back. How could you?”

“Hellcat,” Cyrus says as he rushes toward Azadeh. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees her dark scowl. “Okay, this isn’t a happy visit. You mad at us, Kitten?” “It depends. Did you help Lev?” “Help him with what? I keep trying to unload that stick out of his ass, but he seems to be very fond of it.”

“I mean, look at the fucker. He’s hanging around the house on a Monday morning dressed like he’s going to a wedding at Buckingham Palace.” I scoff at his remark. “We can’t all mimic the dress code of a junkie on skid row.” Cyrus glances at his ripped black jeans, combat boots and smiley face Nirvana t-shirt before dragging his eyes to me. “Doesn’t matter what you think. Chicks dig the fit, bro.” He wags his eyebrows. “Don’t forget, I’m the one who bagged Azadeh, and your dick is about to get a disease from the blue balls you’re packin’.”

“Is that why you took my sister, Lev? Because you weren’t getting enough attention? Ever thought about seeing a professional for that? Therapy works wonders. Trust me, I did it for years.” Lev steps forward, using his immense height as a fucked-up intimidation tactic as he towers over me. I reach behind me, grabbing Cyrus’s shirt and tugging him forward. “What’s happening here? You wanna get naked?” Cyrus asks, lifting the hem of his shirt. Fuck a guy a few times, and he thinks any touch means he’s about to get his dick wet. “Bend over,” I demand. “I need a lift.” Cyrus obediently crouches on the ground and grabs my ankles, hoisting me onto his shoulders. “Step closer to Lev.” Cyrus chuckles and gets right in Lev’s face. I gaze down at Lev and smirk. “What was it you were saying, Lev?” Lev’s eyes narrow. “You’re acting childish.”

Love made me pathetic, and obsession made me insane—both sentiments bestowed upon me from the moment I laid eyes on Azadeh Baran. Until Azadeh, I didn’t believe goodness existed in the world. My whole life had been an extensive exercise on how to manipulate, use, and discard people for pleasure. I was surrounded by monsters pretending to be otherwise in society’s prying eyes.

We’ve been sitting at the table for hours, listening to Lev’s plans. Apparently, the fucker took Mona from her school and locked her up downstairs for weeks. I do some out-of-pocket shit, but I don’t fuck with my own. Well, unless they want some, then I deliver every single time. I sure as fuck wouldn’t do anything to Mona. She’s family. You don’t fuck with family. Unless it’s your biological one who created your mentally unbalanced personality. Those fuckers you let burn in your childhood home as you watch with glee from the front yard. The same yard they forced you to take the yearly perfect nuclear family photos they sent to friends and clients.

Lev grabs his charred tie and removes it. He’s probably ensuring no one tries to strangle him with it or set him on fire again. I’m shocked Azadeh hasn’t already stabbed him to death. I lean back and stare at her with a smile. She loves us. “Why are you smiling like a psycho?” Azadeh asks. She’s so cute when she’s annoyed with me. Who am I kidding? She’s always cute. I like how her right eyebrow arches when I do something stupid. She wags her fingers and tells me I’m an idiot. “I was thinking about how hot it’s gonna be watching you slit some throats. We should bang in it. Not so much into the whole blood scene, but I’d walk on the wild side for you, Hellcat.” Azadeh shakes her head. “You’re an idiot.” I place my hands behind my head and lean back in my chair. “I love you too, boo.” She keeps shaking her head, but I see the smile cracking her anger and her eyebrow lowering. “You’re the only moron who takes an insult as a term of endearment.”

Lev growls again in some sort of barbaric warning. I guess chicks are supposed to dig that shit, but it’s annoying as fuck. What dude walks around growling like a wolf or a bear, some dumb forest animal? I blame those romance novels Azadeh reads. Lev probably reads them too. He’s been stalking her since she came into our lives. I’m pretty sure those three-piece suits are for her benefit. That’s how all these dudes dress. Big-ass mafia dons who look like Henry Cavill kidnap these women, and every chick has Stockholm Syndrome. He does some “Me Tarzan, you Jane” shit, and boom bam, the chick creams her pants for her captor to plow her. So the chick thinks, yes, that’s hot. My pussy is fucking wet. Like a faucet, baby.

I glance up and notice Az tracking Lev’s movements. Holy shit, her pupils are dilating. Is she breathing heavier? Well fuck, that’s annoying.

Zeke chuckled. “If someone asked me five years ago if I’d let one of my best friends light me up before he fucked me, I would’ve laughed in their face. But fuck, this shit is all kinds of relaxing. It almost deludes me into thinking I could take that giant ass cock of yours with no lube.” I smiled as I grabbed the torch, streaking a flame along Zeke’s taut muscles before putting it out. I had a sick and twisted impulse to allow the flames to penetrate his skin and sear his flesh, releasing the stench of burning tissue. I pushed back my baser impulses and forced myself to remain in the realm of sanity, putting Zeke’s safety above my depraved and twisted desires.

I killed my father after I got out of the hospital. Poetic justice, if you ask me. Took out the man’s eyes with my mother’s chef knife while I tied her to her mahogany dining room chair. That act got me two years in a psych ward, where I met Cyrus and Lev. My mother’s shrill screams during my first kill are still my soundtrack when violence is all I can see.

“No, they don’t. Monsters are beautiful, Cyrus. You should know that. They appeal to the masses. Their beauty lulls you into a sense of safety. If demons showed you their true face, they couldn’t corrupt innocent people.” She placed her hand on my cheek. “You, above all others, understand the tragedy of what a real monster is capable of.”

“Guys, this is Lev,” Azadeh said as if we were at a picnic and she was introducing us to a new friend. “Lev doesn’t like to be touched. I need the two of you to make sure everyone knows that.” Zeke smiled and moved over, making room for Azadeh’s new stray. “Hey, man. I’m Zeke, and that one is Cyrus. Nice to meet you.” The Lev guy didn’t say anything. He sat with his head hanging. “You hungry, Lev?” Azadeh asked as she grabbed a paper plate and filled it with the food meant for us. “We share our food with the stray too?” I asked, annoyed. “You know if you feed them, they keep coming back.” Azadeh raised her right eyebrow. “Cyrus, should you be casting stones when you were brought into the inner circle the same way?” “Yes. I told you, feed a stray, and they keep coming back.” I turned to Lev. “So why don’t you like to be touched?” “Why do you have those hideous marks on your face?” Lev parried. Fuckin’ smart ass. “Parents.” “Same.”

You can’t fault a man for doing what’s necessary to keep his life safe.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I can’t pretend I didn’t know what I was doing because I did. At first, I was fine when you were in Asia, but I panicked when you were in Tehran. I’d made connections there over the years and had them keeping an eye on you.”

I crack open Azadeh’s bedroom door without knocking. “We’re still mad at Lev, right?” Azadeh glares at me. “Yes. Come in and close the door.” Fuck, she’s so cute when she’s mad. I’ve been thinking about all the ways I can get her to fuck me right now. Last time she was this pissed, I ended up with a bunch of scars on my thigh. You’d think I’d have an aversion to more scars, but the ones she gave me are as hot as fuck. My little vampire.

“It’s okay, Az. I got some of this for you, too. I know how much you like being a little whore beneath me.” Zeke’s fist shoots out, but before it connects with my face, he yanks my head back by my hair. Azadeh smirks at me, her pretty lips turned up in a smile. “The only little whore I see is the one beneath me.” That’s my girl. Azadeh presses her foot against my back, and I slam to the ground face-first. “You’ve forgotten your manners, Cyrus. What should we do about that? Should we tie you up and make you watch as Zeke fucks me while calling you a pathetic little boy? Maybe if you beg nice and long for me, I’ll let his cum drip into your pathetic cum-guzzling mouth.”

“I’ll be your whipping boy, Hellcat. I’ll crawl on broken glass for a simple smile from you. But we both know you need to be owned like a dog tonight. You need us to shut off your mind, abuse your body, use your holes as if they mean nothing, and paint your body with cum.”

“We gonna fuck or not?” I ask to break up anything that could lead to realizations and grand statements of love. Azadeh pushes me down with her foot and smiles as she peers at me. She lifts her arms, and Zeke pulls her shirt off over her big tits, discarding it on the floor by his feet. Azadeh removes her foot from my chest and places her feet beside my head. “Oh, we’ll fuck all right.” I start to speak, but my words are muffled as she lowers herself over my face, and I taste the sweetness of her pussy. There are a million ways a man can die, but being suffocated by this woman’s cunt may be the ultimate way to go. That would be a bitchin obituary: Pyromaniac Cyrus Porter Dies While Eating His Favorite Meal.

“I’m going to pound in this cunt so hard and cum so deep in you. Maybe I’ll put babies in you, Az, to keep you tethered to us. What do you think about that, pretty girl? I’ll force you to stay. Tie you to a bed so we can breed you. Load after load of cum until your belly is big with our child. You can justify abandoning us to save the world, but would you be able to deprive your child of your love?”

“I’m feeling left out here,” Cyrus whines. Zeke and Azadeh laugh. Humor has always been Cyrus Porter’s forte. I’ve always envied him for that ability. I don a mask of indifference and snobbery to shield myself from the ongoing pain while he uses laughter. My way causes loneliness, and he creates joy. “What do you think, Princess? Should we let him have a little fun?” Zeke asks Azadeh. “I’m gonna fuckin’ destroy you for that, Ezekiel,” Cyrus growls. “Keep talking, Cyclops. I’ve got nine inches about to go up that tight ass, and I’m gonna make it hurt.” Zeke laughs as he carries Azadeh to the large California King bed. “Oh, look at Freddy Kruger over here, inflating his numbers. That’s eight inches at best.” Cyrus discards the lube and pushes Zeke down on top of Azadeh. “We’ll see how big it is when you’re begging Daddy to stop hurting your puckered little hole for being a bad boy.”

I close my eyes for a moment as I switch between the desire of wanting to fuck my friends and wanting them to fuck me. My only real sexual experiences have been with Zeke. He allowed me to tie him up while I explored his body and mine. Having him tied up lessened my anxiety. He assured me he wouldn’t accidentally touch me in the heat of passion. And from those sessions, I knew how fuckin’ perfect and tight his ass was. How my cock fit so perfectly, and how he moaned with pleasure as I came deep in his asshole. I remember the shock and pleasure in his eyes and his deep moans as my tongue probed his ass, licking him clean.

“Mmm,” Cyrus moans. “I love eating this fucking ass. One day, Lev will get over his hangups, and we’ll run a train on your pretty hole, Zeke.” I watch on the screen as Azadeh’s nails dig into Zeke’s back, leaving a trail of blood on his skin. She always draws blood with knives, nails, or her teeth during sex. Sometimes, she licks the blood; others, she steps back and admires her handy work. This particular proclivity garnered her the affectionate nickname of Little Vampire—a name Cyrus occasionally uses instead of Hellcat. Cyrus chuckles as he rises from his knees. He grabs the lube, pops the cap, and pours the liquid on his dick and between Zeke’s ass cheeks. “You think that’s hot, Hellcat? Wait until you see our boy begging for me to fuck his ass until he can’t see straight.” Cyrus lines up his dick. Zeke growls as Cyrus forgoes prep and pushes his cock inside him. “How many inches is it now, baby?” “Fuck, that stings,” Zeke says hoarsely, moaning in pain and pleasure. Cyrus grabs Zeke’s hips and thrusts. “Admit that I’m hung like a motherfuckin’ horse, or I’ll decimate you.” “Is something in my ass?” Zeke asks Azadeh. “I swear Cyrus said he was going to fuck me, but I can’t feel shit. Only mild discomfort of a whiny little bitch talkin’ a big game when he has absolutely no follow through.” Zeke pushes his ass back. “Still trying to find a dick here. Here dicky, dicky. Come here, boy.”

Cyrus growls, holding Zeke down and thrusting repeatedly. “Feel it now, Zeke? Feel how your tight little ass is begging to get fucked? How I’m using it as my cunt? My giant cock will make your pathetic ass its cum dump.” He slaps Zeke’s ass, leaving a red handprint. “Better fuck our girl....

Grabbing Azadeh’s black leather purse, he removes the stainless-steel tube. Extracting the straw from inside it, he moves behind Zeke and parts his ass with one hand. Bending, he inserts the metal straw in Zeke’s ass and closes his mouth over the other end. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, he’s sucking the cum out. Cyrus removes the straw from Zeke’s ass but keeps it in his mouth and walks closer to the camera. The surrounding screens suddenly all have creamy liquid obstructing my view. “Stop acting like a little bitch, Lev. I know you’ve been watching the whole time.”