The Bad Guy

by Celia Aaron

My name is Sebastian Lindstrom, and I’m the villain of this story. I’d like to tell you that I try to be good, to do the right thing. That would be a lie.

When I found her, she was already in the company of her white knight. He’d claimed her for himself, planting his flag and showing her off like the treasure she is. A fairy tale romance by all accounts. But every fairy tale has a villain, someone waiting in the wings to rip it all down. A scoundrel who will set the world on fire if that means he gets what he wants. That’s me.

I’m the bad guy.

The need to possess her was what fired through my veins, not the sentimental nonsense of hearts and flowers.

She was mine. Even if I had to steal her.

“He’s perfect for you. Tall, handsome, rich family, big hands, good hair, and I can tell you right now that he’s got it where it counts.” Crimson flamed through my cheeks. “You mean—” “A package, yeah. He’s got a big one.” “You can’t tell that by looking.” “You can’t.” He grinned. “I certainly can.”

Are you thinking of ditching Link for this guy?” “Whoa.” I held my hands up. “Your imagination is running wild. It was one dance with Link’s boss. No. Link and I are—” “Not doing the deed.”

“There’s something about him. I can’t put my finger on it, but I can assure you he’s the worst sort of trouble.” She stretched her arms over her head and closed her eyes. “The kind I like.”

“Stay away from him though.” “Who?” I clicked the lamp off, shrouding the room in darkness. “Tall, dark, and deadly.” “Sebastian?”

Smile when they smile. It’ll take you miles. When in doubt, wait it out. Emotions will always show what they’re about.

I stared at Camille, looking for her nuances. She spoke to me, her body, her eyes—all of her. I could read her, no guesswork needed. Perhaps that was what drew me to her in the first place, the way she telegraphed her emotions directly to me, as if we were connected by a thin, invisible wire.

The fair maiden wanted the monster more than she needed the knight.

He was a moron. If I had a girl like Camille, I’d masturbate to her every fucking night. No, actually, if I had a girl like Camille, I’d be eating her pussy like it was a competition and then shoving my cock deep inside her every chance I got.

I had no shame. Playing with my food and watching it bleed before I devoured it was nothing new.

The fear that welled in her was sweeter than anything I’d ever tasted.

“You’re mine. Your violence, your anger—all mine.”

“You’re a monster.” “I know.”

“Someone will find me.” He leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing mine. “Someone already has.”

So many times I wanted to touch her, pull her into my arms. But she’d fight me, which I didn’t mind. She could also hurt herself, which I did mind.

Nature, not nurture, had created my monster.

She followed and stopped. I turned and backed up a step so she could get the full view. Two tiers of books, bright windows, comfortable chairs, and a warm fire—the house’s library was one of the first rooms constructed over a hundred years prior.

Ahh, the beauty and the beast aspect

I sipped my wine and pondered the butter knife on my plate. Would it do any damage? “If you’re going to stab me, I’d use the fork. It would leave a better impression. More badass than a dull butter knife, don’t you think?”

“Where you’re concerned, I’ll be as creepy as necessary to make you happy.”

This was the second deal with the devil I’d made. How many more before he owned my soul?

“I’ve seen all of you.” He hit the floor at my feet and took my ankle in his hands again. “Doesn’t mean you have a right to see any more of it.” “I have every right.” He pressed the peas to my skin. “How’s that?” “Cold.” “Good.” “And you don’t have every right.” I couldn’t let it go. “Does it make you feel better that you have every right to me, as well?” He looked up at me, his eyes guileless. “Do I?” “Yes.”

“Oh, by the way.” His voice floated back to me. “You missed the perfect chance to fork me when I was leaning down to see about your ankle.” Damn him.

“Why are you smiling like you just drowned a kitten?”

“You can’t buy me off with my favorite foods.”

“What did you want to show me? The well where you keep the lotion?” “Your knowledge of movies starring psychopaths says more about you than me.”

Her soft plea would have broken anyone else. It had the opposite effect on me. The more she tried to fly away, the harder I wanted to clip her wings. She was the most precious thing I’d ever found.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” “Let me guess.” She swiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “You need to return some videotapes?” “Once again, I find the fact that you can quote American Psycho quite telling.” It tells me I’m the only man for you.

This had to be textbook Stockholm Syndrome, because his words heated me inside and out.

You’re light, but you crave the dark. You crave me.”

“I crunched the data, and I found you. The real you. The one who wants a monster instead of a man. You enjoy dancing with the devil. Our deals? You play the good girl, but you wanted my kiss.”

I’m drawn to your spark of darkness the same way you’re drawn to the ocean of mine.

“Do that again, and I’ll be forced to bury my face in your cunt until you learn how to behave.” Please do it again.

“Go to sleep. I’m tired of your robot analysis and your stalking and—really, I’m just tired of you.”

“Next time, draw blood.” “Psycho.” I kissed her hair again and relaxed into my pillow. “Your psycho.”

“You are sick.” “That’s what all the professionals say.”

“If you let me kiss you here”—he cupped my pussy with one hand—“then I’ll never harm that pathetic white knight unless you ask me to.”

“I like it when you’re feisty. Maybe even more than when you’re sweet.”

“You’re sick.” I gripped his shirt and closed my eyes, trying to be anywhere else but here, pressed against this door, with a devil whispering dark desires.

You had a white knight, but you were waiting for your monster. Here I am.”

My body tightened and narrowed into a tiny pinprick of light. And then I exploded in a crash of rolling waves, each one dragging me deeper until I was eye to eye with Sebastian in the darkest circle of hell.

“None of that will ever happen again.” “What part? You coming on my face, or you saying my name, or you having the best orgasm of your life?”

My deviousness knew no bounds, not when the prize was so spectacular.

Sebastian didn’t just kiss, he overwhelmed.

“I don’t think I can live without you.”

“You think I’m the bad guy?” “I know you are.”

“Do you have a plan B?” He let his gaze trail down my body. “One that gets even more physical than the strangling scenario?” “How do you mean?” “If you sat on my face, I’d be more than happy to suffocate, just so long as you came first. And I can guarantee you would.” He licked his lips.