Folie À Deux (The Villainous Heroes Series, #0.5)

by Ruby Medjo

She is color, brightness, new life, and we are rot, decay, carrion. But the beautiful thing about that? The world needs both to function—just like we need her and she needs us.

As despicable as it sounds, we always get what we want.

This poor girl has been through hell and back—she deserves to have her every dark fantasy fulfilled in exactly the way she wants.

“Do you want that, Alice? Because we will give you anything you want. As long as you’re our good girl, we’ll be your fucking slaves.”

“For instance,” Tristan says proudly. “I like it fucking dirty and rough. I’ll choke you, spit on you, bite you, make you come even when you beg for me to stop.” My eyes bulge out of my skull at his brash

words, but the images he paints in my mind are works of art;

“Did you tell her how we’ll kill any fucker that ever tries to get anywhere near her?”

I stare down into Alice’s round ocean eyes. Even through the darkness, I can still see how they shine just for us, how sated and fulfilled she is. She is so ethereal, so beautiful that it makes my heart ache for the first time in years.

Tristan slams into me harder, Jameson’s fingers circle me faster. As soon as I gasp, Tristan clamps down, cutting my air supply to half as my orgasm tears through me, shattering me into nothing but shards of beautiful silver glass.

A whimper of fear escapes me, and I feel stupid for tempting the devil, but it’s too late as he smooths his palms over my ass cheeks, spreading them wide.

Jameson is slowly sawing me in half, working his way deeper and deeper.

“You’re so beautiful when you cry. I see my cum on your lips, fucking gorgeous slut,”

It calls to me as a dominant. Seeing her fear and her tears arouses me, but not for sinister reasons. It arouses me because I know she’ll let me and Tristan ravage her.

“Keep struggling, babochka. I’ll make sure to fuck the fight right out of you.”

Craving how both of them take my weakness and mold it into vicious power in their strong hands. I am able to bring two of the most powerful men to their knees with a simple look. They are mine, and I own their fucking hearts.

“We’re not your gods, baby,” Tristan growls, dragging his thumb over my clit and eliciting a sharp cry from me. “We’re your monsters, your demons, your fucking slaves—and you’re the queen of our black hearts.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” I whisper against her lips. Her smile is as dazzling as the sun. “I love you, too.