Kill Switch (Devil's Night, #3)

by Penelope Douglas

I feel you. I feel you everywhere. The cloves on his clothes, the fountain on his skin. The words on his tongue, the breath on his lips. The hand on my neck, the sharp in his silence. Down the hall. Sitting in the study. Outside in the rain. At the open bathroom door. Or right in the corner of the room. Right here. Watching me. He was always coming. Or . . . Maybe I never left. His words came back to me. When he was in prison, he was here. When I wanted to want other men, he was here. When I danced, when I cried, whenever I was alone, and when I was quiet in a room full of people and thinking about him, he was here. The truth was, I’d had what Michael and Rika had. I thought I had anyway. Those days were when I was the happiest. Even though it was a lie, it was the best I’d ever felt.

I hated him. He was everything bad that happened to me. But he was the only time—other than dancing—that I felt alive, too. Being with him was like dancing. Dancing with death.

Jesus Christ. She was beautiful. And mine. All mine whether she fucking liked it or not. She’d do this for me. Only for me from now on.

And I raised my hand, bringing it to her face, claws bent and starving to grab her pretty little neck, but . . . I drew back. Provoking me was her goal, and that is not how you’re going to wind up in my bed, little Winter. She thought she was strong. She thought she could play with me. She could try. I had you once. I’ll have you again.

desire, and her mouth giving back what I gave to her. But I needed her mind. “It’s all in my head,” I muttered. The control. The memories. The knowledge that our bodies betray us, and it was the brain that was the prize. That the mind knew what we really wanted, not the body.

“I want her to want it,” I told Mikhail, his brown eyes looking up at me expectantly. “I want her to want me, to give me her heart, and be my soft, sweet, smiling Little Devil, clutching at me and unable to stop herself.” My heart quickened. “And then I want her to hate herself for it. To turn against herself and hate that she likes it, so she knows she’s weak and pathetic and no different than any other bitch. That she wasn’t special.” Once I see her as just like everyone else, I’ll have destroyed her and killed my obsession with her. I will have killed her power over me, just like I killed Natalya’s.

Getting off her, I sat down next to her. “There’s more coming. Gimme a few days.” “It’s bad?” she asked, turning her head to look at me. “It’s exactly what I told you last year,” I said. “I told you I don’t lie. Evans Crist—and my father—had yours killed.”

“I’m sixteen, and I’ve never been kissed.” I put my hands on his chest, feeling my breasts grazing his body. “I waited for you.” “Winter . . .” “I waited for you,” I repeated, panting and brushing his lips with mine. “But I won’t wait forever.” I layered my lips with his and dipped my tongue out, flicking his lip as I rolled my hips on him. The unmistakably hard ridge of his cock rubbed against my panties through his jeans, and I moaned. He grabbed me under my arms, holding me up to his face. “That better not be a threat,” he bit out.

“Winter . . .” he groaned, pulling back. “I don’t want to . . .” I picked up pace, and he grabbed my ass, helping me move. “Don’t want to what?” I gasped out. “Make you dirty.”

“Dude!” the guy barked again. “Girls your own age, right out here! What the fuck?” A breathy laugh rumbled from his chest. “I don’t think I can wait for her to be legal, man,” he whispered to his friend but only loud enough for me to hear. I nibbled his mouth, playing. “Sixteen is the legal age of consent in thirty-three states,” I teased. “Just not ours. It’s a technicality.” “Researched it, have you?”

“Because they’re mine, not yours,” he warned, moving his mouth under my ear. “And you’re mine, not theirs.”

It was amazing she hadn’t figured it out yet, but I was careful to take off the rosary when I met her, and I always showered before I came. I thought it would be tough, not smoking to avoid giving myself away, but when I was around her, I just wanted to stay around her. My nic fit wasn’t worth leaving her until I was damn good and ready. I’d also never worn my mask, because then she would know I was a Horseman. But if I told her I was nineteen, she’d figure out which class I graduated in, and with my lurking and scaring her just like I did in the janitor’s closet and in the lunchroom, she’d eventually have to face the reality of who I really was, and for now . . . I liked that she liked me.

I knew this would happen. She’d have expectations. Yes, I wanted to see her again. She was mine. In our secluded, secret little world, she was mine. I wanted to watch her dance, and I wanted to steal her away a thousand more times to feel her excitement and fear and live through how vulnerable and sweet she was, but . . . I wanted to keep her happy, pure, and innocent, too. I didn’t want to ruin her. The more time we spent together, and the older she got, the more this would turn into something else. We’d eventually fuck, and she’d make demands I couldn’t fulfill. When she found out who I was, she’d run.

What the fuck? What was she doing to me? Where was my head? I’d rolled through the past two years, watching her from a distance, knowing that she would be my heroin and knowing that my obsession was a no-win situation when I got to her again. I wanted to be with her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to keep playing games with her. But I wanted to keep her fourteen forever, too. Young and beautiful and innocent and the one place in my life that wasn’t dirty. She wasn’t fourteen anymore, though. She was growing into something men would want. Something I wanted.

We deserved one night. A few minutes or a few hours, just a little longer. I knew this was bad. I knew I was fucked. She hated me. Her family hated me. She was one of the few people I didn’t want to hurt. I was nineteen, and she was too young.

“I want you to be my first,” she whispered. I closed my eyes. “I want it to be you,” she continued, “even if you’re going to disappear on me again, I want it to be you.” I dug my fingers into her young thighs, wanting to fuck her on this sink right now and kiss her until I couldn’t move anymore. I wanted her first time. “I . . .” Fuck, I needed to leave. “I . . .” “You. I want you.” She peppered my neck with kisses. “I love how the world looks when I’m with you. I want it to be you.”

“Do you have your phone?” she asked against my skin. “Yeah, why?” “Take a picture of me doing this,” she whispered. “If you disappear, I want you to remember me.”

so sh3 made him do it

I didn’t want her first time. I wanted every time. But I didn’t want to love her, either. I didn’t want it to feel like this. It couldn’t feel like this. When she found out I lied, she’d hate me. This had no future. It was just sex.

“I’m afraid to . . .” I couldn’t catch my breath all of a sudden. “I’m afraid I’ll make you—” “I’m not dirty,” she rushed, remembering what I said earlier in the car and knowing what I was trying to say. “You’re not making me dirty. There is no you. There’s no me. This is us. Just us.”

“So was that red?” she asked, changing the subject. Red? Oh, right. The night of the motorcycle ride. She wanted to know what red felt like. I scoffed. “Maybe like orange.” “Orange?” She looked appalled. “Can it at least be purple?” I laughed under my breath, walking over to her and taking the washcloth off of her. “Purple, then.”

“When can I see red?” she asked. I planted my hand on the wall, holding her face with the other one, as I stared down at her and saw all the shit that was going to eventually hit the fucking fan. When you find out who just fucked you, you’re gonna see plenty of red then.

Keep going? Did he want to die today? Or did he think I wouldn’t use this on him? “Why?” I asked him. “So you can prove how well I can do what I’m told? Like a dog?” I put my free hand on his chest, trying to keep him from getting too close. “I don’t need you to feed me.” “Maybe I need you to feed me.” What did that mean?

This wasn’t Will. I knew it even before I slipped my fingers into the back of his hair and felt the same little scars I’d come across years ago. But in this moment, in the dark where I was someone else and he was someone else, I didn’t pull away. Why wasn’t I pulling away? God, he felt good.

Where was he taking me? Where were my friends? But really, I didn’t care. I just felt like I should. He wasn’t my enemy in here. He was my secret shame.

And in the minute as things calmed and my desire and every other overwhelming emotion I’d just felt left, I couldn’t help but think one thing. I’d let it happen. Again. With all the men in the world, why did I hate myself so much that he was the only one, in the heat of the moment, I wanted?

He let out a sigh and then my bra hit me in the chest as he tossed it. I grabbed it just before it fell. “My father wants his grandchildren, Winter.” My stomach sank, anger and shame burning my face. Oh, God, if I get pregnant . . . I quickly went through the calendar in my head, remembering I’d just had my period last week. It should be okay. As much as I wanted to be mad at him, though, I could’ve stopped him. I just didn’t think about it. I stood up and slipped my bra back on, but I was unable to fasten it. “I will never have your children,” I told him. It was Damon. It was my sister’s husband. And I’d rather die than raise a family under his thumb. He’d be a terrible father. But I felt him approach and stop just in front of me, his deep voice quiet but steady. “You’re going to have lots of my children,” he informed me.

I hated him. I hated who I turned into with him. How could I have just done that? Why did I do it? He didn’t force me. I could’ve run. I didn’t even think to say no. I didn’t want to say no. It was like we were animals, for Christ’s sake. Red.

Anger and fury and heat and need so strong you’re a fucking animal, Winter. It’s primal. So that was red. I’d wanted to do it. I loved the flames. I had dived in.

I was either the victim of a technicality or a deviant who messed with a girl they didn’t know was far from a one-night stand. Winter’s age wasn’t the problem to me. I didn’t even see it. The crime was I couldn’t tell her who I was. And the crime was she didn’t love me back. Her heart was so shallow, she couldn’t understand and know that I was real. Every moment with her, I was real. I would’ve been faithful, and I would’ve died protecting her. As soon as she knew, though, she cut me out. It was over. That quickly, she hated me, her fickle heart abandoning me and completely forgetting it all.

“I may be married to Ari,” I told her, dying to get inside her body again. “But her little sister is who I really wanted to play with.” I yanked her down to me, the knives falling away as I whispered against her lips. “Always wanted to play with.” She trembled, and her eyes watered, and I thought she was going to pull away and run, but she was frozen. “You’re mine,” I said, kissing her mouth once as I humped her. “Mine.” I kissed her again. “Mine in that fountain. Mine in the locker room and in the janitor’s closet. Mine in the dean’s office.” I took her jaw in my hand. “You’ll have my kids and be my woman and fuck me, because that’s what I want.”

I wanted this. So much more of this. Her body in my arms, shivering and sweating, in a hundred different positions, no piece of her left untouched. But as hard as I was and as much as I wanted to strip her down and take full advantage of having the house all to myself with my sweet new little sister-in-law . . . this bitch sent me to jail with no hesitation and no regret. We weren’t in love.

I knew without a doubt that this was who I would’ve been if I hadn’t become me. If I hadn’t learned to cope with pain in all the worst ways growing up in that house and denied taking any responsibility for the man I became. I would’ve gone to school, played basketball, laughed with my friends, and snuck into my pretty little girlfriend’s house at night to make love to her, delirious, with no other need than to be good, because I wasn’t so twisted that I needed anything else to be happy. This was what I might’ve had forever if I hadn’t lied.

She’d be unbelievably angry, but it was the only thing I could do to make sure she absorbed it and got a chance to see past it. To make sure she knew the man I was with her was what was real.

Like I was a monster. Just die and leave me alone. “I hate you!” she growled. “You’re a horror, and you had to lie because you knew I’d never want you! No one would ever love you! Get out!” Kincaid pulled her in, putting a blanket around her shaking body as she cried. “Don’t let him near me again,” she pleaded. “Please, don’t let him touch me.”

harder. I didn’t know I was being recorded. It was private. It wasn’t like that.

yes you did

“Did he make you do anything you didn’t want to do?” my mother asked, clarifying her question. But I just dropped my head, shaking it, because I didn’t know how to answer. No, he didn’t make me do something I didn’t want to do, but he made me do something I would never have done with Damon Torrance.

I was the one paying for his lie, not him, but so help me God, I would drag him down with me. I would make sure he remembered me and know how enormously he failed at being the worst thing to ever happen to me, because he wasn’t that important. He was nothing. I didn’t love him. I didn’t even understand him.

“Nothing was a lie,” he whispered. And then he walked out, and my chest ached so badly, for air or for him, I didn’t know, but I ran to the window, yanked it up, and drew in a lungful of air, feeling everything give way. Slip away, fade, and ease. My fear. My worry. My hatred. My anger. Why hadn’t he said all that years ago? Why?

I wanted her. I broke last night because I didn’t want this. I just wanted that kid back who sat in my lap and drove my car. I made her happy. Me. And instead of sticking to the plan and making her hate that she wanted me, I hated that I still wanted her. None of it was a lie, except my name. It was real, and I wanted it again. I fucking loved her.

Oh, my God. Tears pooled as I realized. He hadn’t taken away the fountain. He’d replaced it. My eyes stung. It was a fountain maze.

“You’re supposed to be wearing your uniform,” I whispered, feeling the jeans and brushing the hoodie with my hand as I reached up to touch his face. “This is how you knew me then.” I appreciated that he wanted to be who I fell for in high school. But they were always the same person. “As long as you’re Damon Torrance, I don’t care what you wear,” I told him.

“Damon,” I whimpered, my chest caving again and again. “Say it again,” he growled. I gasped. “Damon.” “Who’s fucking you?” Oh, God, I was coming. “Damon Torrance,” I breathed out.

“I won’t,” I whispered. “Say you love me.” I swallowed, my throat so dry. “Say you love me,” he demanded. “I love you,” I told him, surprised by how easily it came. “I love you, Damon.”

He wasn’t dumb enough to leave me a note, was he? I picked it up, noticing the little pokes in the paper, and I laid it in my palm, running my fingers over the raised dots and instantly recognizing the braille. Moving from left to right, over the cells, I deciphered the message. Stay in bed. I’ll be back for breakfast. Then after breakfast, we’ll eat. I snorted, realizing the breakfast he’d be back for was me. P.S. Your phone is on the nightstand. I crashed back on the bed, feeling my body tingle all over. He wrote me a note. I’d never gotten a love letter before, and that was totally one.

The room was dark, but moonlight shone through, and I looked up, seeing not only Rika, but Alex standing there, too, all three women staring down at me. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I whined, holding my side and trying to get my feet under me. “That’s how you thank three females who just saved your ass?” Rika remarked, sounding all too amused. And then Alex tipped her chin at me, taunting, “Who’s your daddy?” Winter snorted, and I just fixed a snarl on my face as I stood up. “Just get me out of here,” I told them. “And don’t tell anybody about this, for Christ’s sake.”

She laughed nervously under her breath. “I’m, um . . . I’m pregnant.” Everyone fell silent, but I couldn’t help but smile a little at the irony. Uncle Damon. That would be fun.

“So isn’t it a little convenient that Damon and Rika both share the same exact rare blood type?” My eyes rounded. Oh, geez.

hahHahHh I knew it

“Tell me you love me,” she whispered. “Say it.” I looked down at her, fucking done with this rotten luck. We weren’t dying. I wasn’t telling her that shit like I wouldn’t have a chance to tell her later. She could fucking wait. I held her close, nose to nose. “Someday,” I taunted, forcing a smile into my voice.

I could feel the small smile on my face as I leaned into Will’s ear. “You see that shit?” I growled, both of us zoned in on the triangle of Winter’s panties. He breathed hard. “You stay on the outside of it,” I ordered. He chuckled, his playful tone like his old self again. “And if I don’t?” “Then you just might die tonight, after all.”

“I’ve never let women do that to me,” Damon said quietly, breaking the silence. “Do what?” “Put their mouths on me,” he replied. “Down there.” He didn’t let other women use their mouths on him? “I just never . . .” he trailed off. “It’s not something I . . .” He struggled to find the words, but I realized what he was talking about, and I tried to keep the sadness from my voice. “I know,” I told him, saving him from having to say it. His mother and what she did to him. He didn’t like that, and the reason had to do with her. “Why did you let me?” I asked, keeping my tone soft. “I didn’t even think about it until it was over,” he whispered. “It was like she wasn’t here. It was just you.” He sucked in a breath and tightened his arms around me. “I love you,” he said.