Beautiful Devils (Filthy Wicked Psychos, #2)

by Eva Ashwood

“That’s my good girl.”

He sometimes mutters things in that language, either saying something too horrible for me to know or something too sweet. It’s always a toss-up with him.

“I was working on my strategy, my plan to go after those men who killed Nikolai. To make them pay for what they had done. I was staking out their warehouse, trying to evaluate their weaknesses, when what did I see? A little deer came creeping out of their warehouse, and I saw an opportunity.” A rough chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Because little deer are so much easier to break than wolves.”

Willow means something to all of us, and having her gone and in danger makes me feel fucking feral.

“There’s no reason for us to be in your life,” he repeats. “Except I can’t fucking stay away.”

“Who was that man you were talking to?” I don’t exactly mean for it to come out like an accusation, but it does anyway. There’s a hard edge to my voice, agitation still churning under my skin. “It’s none of your business,” Willow whispers back, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead. “That’s not true.” Her scent invades my nostrils as I breathe her in, and it feels like a fucking drug. My voice drops low as I add, “Everything about you is my business.

I remember the almost savage pride I felt, looking down at her and seeing that mark above her left breast. The thought of her wanting to remove it makes me want to pin her down and mark her all over again—more permanently, this time, in some way she can never erase. I don’t just want to mark her body. I want to leave a brand on her soul.

I can see her scanning the crowd, trying to make sure no one is watching us, but at this point, I don’t think I’d stop even if they were. Not when I’ve finally got a chance to binge on the only drug I’ve ever been addicted to. Her.

“Ya yeshche nikogo tak ne khotel, kak tebya,” I tell her, letting it slip off my tongue in Russian. I know she doesn’t understand the words, and maybe that’s for the best. I’m not sure I’m ready for her to know just how deep my feelings for her run.

I have never wanted anyone as much as I have wanted you

“Listen to me. There’s nothing wrong with you,” he says emphatically. “You don’t have to believe anything else my brothers or I say, but believe that. If you want to be in this life, to be a part of this world, then they’d be fucking lucky to have you.” He hesitates for a second, shaking his head like he’s debating whether or not to say more. Finally, he continues on. “But you shouldn’t let anyone try to change you. You shouldn’t let anyone make you feel like you’re not already good enough. Because you are. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And the sweetest. You’ve held onto your kindness, even when the world has no right to expect that from you. You’re already perfect.”

“Anything you want,” he promises when he lifts his head. “How the fuck could I ever deny you?”

Before I’m all the way asleep, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text, blinking at it blearily. It’s from Vic, and it’s just two words. VICTOR: You’re beautiful.

“Beautiful,” I murmur. “Such beautiful chaos. Like a butterfly.”

“You’re not a pawn,” he tells me, his voice lowered. “You never have been. You’re a fucking queen. You’re the only person in this whole goddamned world who could bring me to my knees. The only person who’s ever crawled inside my soul.”

“Don’t go out there, Solnyshka,” he rasps. “Please. Don’t go with him.” It takes me a few tries to find my voice, and when I do, it comes out in a whisper. “Why not?” “Because I already have enough blood on my hands, and if he touches you, I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Ya zhe govoril, chto ne otpushchu tebya,” he murmurs in Russian. “Ya ne mogu. Nikogda ne smogu.”

I told you I wouldn’t let you go. I can’t. I never can.

“You won’t be able to think about anyone else when I’m done with you. Gonna mark you. Gonna fucking claim you.”

I can’t stop looking at you.

“I’ve never known anyone like you, Solnyshka,” he murmurs. “You’re fucking… unbreakable.”

“I never wanted a woman to be mine before,” he murmurs gruffly. “Never wanted a woman to be ours. Until I met you.”

One man. Ten men. Doesn’t fucking matter. I’ll kill them all if I have to, to get her back.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For coming for me.” “We always fucking will.”