Lights Out (Into Darkness, #1)

by Navessa Allen

Women tended not to like it when people found their dark moods cute, and I was betting Aly was no exception. But I couldn’t help it. She was adorable,

I raised the blade high. She threw herself to the far side of the bed. “What are you –” I stabbed the knife down. Straight into the corner of her mattress. She clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her horrified scream. I crooked a finger at her, beckoning her forward. “Come here, Aly,” I said, wrapping my other hand around the knife handle so there would be no mistaking my intent. “I want to watch you ride it.”

He called my cat his son. He bought me a bed for both of us as if he planned on spending a lot of time in it together. When I needed him, he came to me, held me while I cried, helped me work through my issues, and listened without judgment when I confessed to wanting to kill someone.

I would never get sick of being looked at this way: like I was someone to be cherished and lusted after at the same time.

“Are you scared?” “Yeah, but I like it,” I confessed, and speaking those words felt freeing in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

“This is about you,” he said, gently pinching my nipples one after the other. “You’re going to sit. I’m going to play.”

“I’m going to guide you down. The knife handle has a thick guard on it, and the blade is stuck deep enough that it shouldn’t move, but I’m still going to keep a hand under you, both as a barrier and to hold it in place.” “But your hands are hurt,” I said. “I like the pain.” Oof. That declaration was as hot as it was fucked up.

“This pussy belongs to me now, Aly, and I protect what’s mine.” And they said the perfect man didn’t exist. “Yours,” I agreed.

“Then what the fuck are you sitting still for?” he purred into my ear. “I told you to ride it.” Hot damn. Dom Josh could get it.

Fred only liked me because cats were sociopaths, and he recognized one of his own? I should have picked up on the subtext then: Fred liked two people, Aly and me, making us two peas in a pod.

The woman was down for kinky sex, knew how I liked my coffee, and was more than willing to aid in the murder of a rapist. What had I done to get so lucky?

“This is probably a bad time to gloat over the fact that I was right about your identity, isn’t it?” Reader, I puke-laughed. And, no. I do not recommend it. I’d just killed a man, and my unhinged partner in crime was cracking jokes. “Fuck me,” I muttered. “Kind of a weird time to offer,” Aly said without missing a beat. “Can I take a raincheck until after we’ve disposed of the body and you get a chance to brush your teeth?”

That felt oddly fitting for Josh. He was like a soft dom – sweet in the streets and mean in the sheets. But, like, mean in the best way. Bossy and demanding and relentless,

“We’re not doing this now. If there was ever a worst time to have the Josh’s Tragic Backstory conversation, it’s right after I killed someone.”

“You are the best girlfriend a guy could ask for.” My eyebrows flew up so fast it felt like they were trying to jump off my forehead. “Uh, what was that?” “Too soon?” he said. “I mean, I know we haven’t had the official conversation yet, but we share a child, and I feel like disposing of a body is a boyfriend-girlfriend activity and not something you do with a casual hookup.”

“Are you saying that the couple who commits homicide together, stays together?” He snorted. “Too wordy. I prefer the couple who slays together, stays together.”

“I guess that depends. How do you feel about slicing off Brad’s fingerprints, ripping all the teeth from his mouth, hacking him into pieces, setting those pieces on fire, and then dumping them all into a river or lake?” Josh blanched. “Like I might be sick again.” I nodded. “Same. Death, I’m okay with; dismemberment, I’m not so sure. And because we’re amateurs, the risk of getting caught somewhere along the way is too high for me to stomach. I’d much rather let the professionals handle it.” “Consider me team mob then,” Josh said.

“Aly? Do you want to be my girlfriend? The position comes with snacks and orgasms and maybe a little light stalking.”

“So, what brings you here so early?” “We killed someone,” Aly said. I turned toward her with wide eyes. She gave me a “What?” expression. “You didn’t want to ease into that?” She shrugged. “I must have missed school on the day they taught us the polite way to tell people about bodies in car trunks.”

She was a grown-ass woman who knew what she wanted, and if getting railed by her boyfriend in the shower was what she demanded, then I was going to give it to her, just as hard as her greedy little cunt needed it.

I hope you’re serious about this boyfriend-girlfriend thing because that was the best sex of my life, and if you try to break up with me right now, you’re going to be the one with a stalker.” I chuckled. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. I’d love to round a corner and find you waiting for me in the dark.” She shuddered in my arms. “Fuck. Same.”

I wondered if the pocket-picking skills I’d developed during my brief, rebellious teenage stage were up to the task of lifting it off him. Apparently, I turned into a kleptomaniac around advanced technology, but who could blame me? A magical jammer that killed lights with a single flick? There wasn’t a tech geek alive who wouldn’t have developed a sudden case of grabby hands in my place.

“Your girlfriend,” Junior said in between wheezes, “just kicked me in the junk and ran off into the night.” “Oh, so she’s your cousin when she’s being good and my girlfriend when she’s misbehaving? I see how it is.”

“Kin-” I clapped a hand over his mouth. He swirled his tongue over my palm, all the warning I had before he bit down. Hard. I yelped and pulled my hand back. “Ky,” he finished.

“Come for me, Aly,” he said, tugging my hair hard enough to sting. “Let me feel that perfect pussy choke this cock.”

“Alpha, huh? Is that something out of your porno books?”

“They’re called spicy romances, and they’ve taught me as much about myself as your masktok account has.” “Yeah?” I asked. “Like what?” “Like when we’re at that Airbnb we booked in the mountains, I want you to chase me down and fuck me in the woods like an animal.” It was my turn to choke on nothing. Yup. Yes. I could definitely do that for her.

“I love you,” I told her, unable to keep it in any longer. “I know,” she said. “You do?” She nodded, her hair tickling my forehead. “Yeah, you’ve been saying it in your sleep for the past week.” “Oh.”

I turned and fled down the hill. Just like that, the chase was back on.

“You’re soaked, Aly,” he said, his voice rough with lust. “Did you like being hunted?” “Yes,” I moaned. “You liked getting run down like prey.” It wasn’t a question, but I answered him anyway. “Yes.” “Spread those legs for me, then. Show me how much you like getting caught.” “Make me,” I told him.

Yes. This was what I wanted. To be pinned like an animal out in the open, with no inhibitions and no thoughts in my head besides how well my boyfriend fucked me. “Harder,” I said.

There was something so primal about it, so right. I thought I wanted this because of things I’d read in paranormal romances involving werewolves, but now I wondered if my desires went deeper than that, were more instinctual. This was how our ancestors fucked, rough and desperate in stolen moments between hunting and being hunted, giving it everything they had because they didn’t know if they would live to see the next sunrise.

“Alyssa Cappellucci,” he said. “Will you marry me so I can spend the rest of my life chasing you?”

“I thought people got married because they wanted to stop chasing someone?” He shook his head, his expression serious for what felt like the first time in our entire relationship. “Not me.”

“How many kids make a clan?” “I dunno,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like, eight?” I knew my vagina couldn’t speak, but I swore I heard it let out a low whimper of terror. “How about two?” “Seven,” Josh said. “This isn’t a negotiation.” He dropped his arm from my shoulders and turned to face me. “Okay, six. But that’s as low as I’m willing to go.” “Two,” I said, fighting back a grin. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Five. That’s my final offer.” “Keep it up, and it’ll be zero.” He leaned forward and waggled his brows. “Picture me holding a toddler in one arm and a baby in another.” Uh-oh. No, ovaries. Put down the warpaint. He leaned closer. “Shirtless.” Fuck. I was totally going to have this man’s giant babies.