Twisted Game (Filthy Wicked Psychos, #1)

by Eva Ashwood

For all the readers who like their book boyfriends covered in red flags. Red’s my favorite color too.

Someone told me once that when I burrow into a hoodie, I look like I’m trying to disappear, and sometimes I feel so small that I wish I could.

Gorgeous or not, I know he could kill me if he wanted to without breaking a sweat. I saw what he helped do to the Russian last night.

He’s just as terrifyingly beautiful as I remember him. All dark gray eyes and sharp cheekbones, like some kind of gorgeous demon. A devil walking the earth and coming right toward me.

There’s something about her that intrigues me. Something I saw in her the first day we met, and something I’ve seen more of ever since then. She has this incredible strength mixed with vulnerability, and it’s alluring as fuck.

“Nah. That part, I get. Sometimes the people you love turn your love against you, and it’s the most brutal weapon in the world.”

A bemused smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. For some reason, these men keep trying to feed me.

“Because I have to admit, when I came home and saw you standing there between the two of them, I was jealous as hell.”

“I’ve been staring at your lips all night. I have to know if they taste as sweet as they look.”

“I knew you had a wild side,” he murmurs. “I like it. Have a good night, angel. Get some rest.”

But this? Willow? She feels like a drug.

He says it with the same casual bluntness that he might say ‘Ransom and I went to buy milk,’

I go to town on her pussy, hard and fast, and it doesn’t take long before she’s shaking, a chorus of pleas falling from those soft lips.

Maybe… maybe I’m as twisted and fucked up as I always wanted to avoid being. Maybe I’m not normal, not a person who’s attracted to normal guys. Instead, I crave monsters.

“Because you’re our responsibility. And we don’t let people hurt what’s ours.”

She looks savage and fierce, almost unstoppable. She’s half Malice’s size, but in this moment, she doesn’t look like it. She looks like a queen.

I can’t help the grin that tugs at the edges of my lips. I probably shouldn’t care one way or the other, but I like that she picked me.

“You know, you look so sweet and innocent on the outside,” I say, lowering my voice a bit as I step closer to where she’s perched on the bike. “But I still see that wild streak in you. Maybe you want to be a bad girl. Maybe that’s who you are at heart.”

“I warned you not to do this, Solnyshka. You’re making me out to be some kind of fucking knight, and I’m not. I never will be.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Solnyshka,” he murmurs. “You say all that shit about wanting a dark knight, but I don’t think you really understand what that means. I could break you so easily. I could destroy you.”

He probably would destroy me, if he got his hands on me in that way. But I must want to go up in flames, because I tilt my head up even farther, closing some of the space between our faces. Drawn to him the way I always seem to be.

Now she’s here, almost larger than life, taking up space in our home and in my head. She doesn’t come into my room, but I know she’s in the warehouse somewhere at all times. Using our bathroom, leaving strands of soft blonde hair in the drain. Sitting in the living room, watching her home improvement shows on our TV. Spending time with Ransom in the garage, learning about the work we do, integrating herself into our lives in a way that never should have been allowed to happen in the first place.

Malice and Ransom are both fans of crunchy peanut butter, which I honestly don’t understand. Regular butter doesn’t come in a crunchy variety, so why should peanut butter? Butter is supposed to be smooth.

She laughs, and I feel a strange flush of pride at having been the one to elicit that sound from her, even if it was about something as mundane as peanut butter.

All her sweetness didn’t fucking protect her when it mattered. When it came down to it, it was just a weakness that left her vulnerable to the harshness of the world.”

“Yesli ty uydesh', ya naydu tebya,” I breathe. “Ya vyslezhu tebya i vernu tuda, gde ty dolzhna byt’.”

What I said to the Donovan gang that night rings even more true right now. Everything under our roof is ours. And that includes Willow.

I love the way she melts against me as if she trusts me, all that distance and wariness seeming to disappear when we’re close. I love having her that close during the day, the two of us bent over a car together, and I love it even more at night, when she’s in my arms like this.

Part of me wishes I’d asked her to describe it, but a bigger part—the smarter part—knows that would have been dangerous. Hearing about it would have just made it that much harder to keep my hands to myself. Well… to keep my dick to myself, I guess. My hands were pretty involved.

Now there are warm arms around me, and I can feel Ransom’s steady breaths on my neck. It makes me feel safe. Secure. And more than that, it makes me feel… wanted. “Morning, angel,” he murmurs,

I can’t deny things have changed between me and all of these men. They were monsters who stalked me, who violated my privacy and ignored my personal space time and time again. They came into my life soaked in blood and bent on making sure I kept their secret, no matter what it took. Then they became monsters who protected me. Who stood against everyone who tried to hurt or use me. My mom, the guy from the bus stop, Colin. Even when it meant they lost out on work, like with the Donovans.

What do you say to a man who came into your life like a deadly shadow but treats you better than most of the people who were already in it?

“You have no damn idea what you do to me, pretty girl.”

For some reason, I’m not even really freaked out or pissed off by the idea that Victor used his spying to find out what food I like. It’s almost… sweet, in an odd way. In a very Victor way, I guess.

“I want to mark you,” he says, his voice low. “I want to put a tattoo on you.”

It has to be a sight. I’m topless, my breasts on display for all of them. Malice is kneeling between my spread legs, tattooing me, and Ransom has his hand shoved obscenely in my pants.

“Honestly, pretty girl? I would never have guessed that if I hadn’t already known. You’re a natural, and you’re fucking stunning when you let yourself go.”

When I first met them, they seemed so larger than life. Like angry gods that strode out of the darkness to wreak havoc and then returned to the shadows. Invulnerable. Untouchable. As if nothing could break through their armor. But I did. The three of them may have turned my whole world upside down, but I’ve left my mark here too.

All of this is something I shouldn’t be doing. And yet, I feel so relaxed and happy in his embrace. For the first time in a long time, maybe in my whole life, I feel cared about. I just want to soak that up a little more.

“Mm, tastes better like that,” I tease. “Oranges are alright, but you’re my favorite flavor.”

Clearly fucking her last night didn’t get her out of his system, and I’d guess the same is true for Willow. Hell, I can relate to that.

“It shows anyone who wants to fuck with me how strong I am. That’s important. They have to know you’re not some fucking weakling, or they’ll figure out where you hurt the most and try to take advantage of it.” Willow looks like she’s considering that. Then something wicked glints in her rich chocolate eyes, and she tilts her head to one side. “So… do you just whip your dick out anytime you’re negotiating with an enemy? So they can see your tattoo and realize how badass you are?” Her lips tug to one side. “Huh. That’s an interesting intimidation tactic.”