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P.S. Unrequited love.
You never ask a question just because, so I assume you fell in love with someone, and he doesn’t feel the same?
Although the idea of anyone hurting you fills me with rage, I have to say, princess…let go.
If you need to beg people to love you, it’s not love.
It’s sickness, and every sickness has to be cured.
Move on.
Move on before it consumes you and sucks up all your light from you.
And remember one universal truth.
True love heals.
It never hurts.
Florian
“Please,” a naked man covered in blood and his piss whispers, pulling at his hands nailed to the wall. I drop several glass bottles on the floor, smiling when they shatter into tiny pieces, scattering by his bare feet. “Please, I don’t know anything.”
I click my tongue, swinging the metallic cane from side to side. “That’s not true, Peter. You know I despise lies.” He pales even more, trying to step away when I come closer, only to cry out when the glass cuts into his soles and draws more blood. His lips tremble while perspiration covers his skin, and his heartbeat speeds up, judging by the wildly beating pulse. “So I’m going to ask one more time, and depending on your answer, your death will be either quicker or longer.” He swallows hard, leaning on his arm while fear blankets his eyes. “Where is Death?”
“I have no idea. He vanished into thin air.” Annoyance zaps through me at his hoarse voice that grates on my nerves, and since he insists on being useless, I raise my hand, ready to torture him some more, when he quickly adds, “He had a kid. A young boy.”
I pause at this, cocking my head to the side, ready to listen because it’s been two months, and while I managed to kill countless people associated with Death, none of them knew anything about his kid or his real name.
His various dealings and victims? Yes.
Some of the houses he had over the years? Yes.
But actually seeing his face in the light and giving me information I could use to wipe away the fucker?
Nothing, and in this, my frustration only grew, which escalated my violent tendencies.
The rest of the dark four, especially Octavius, tried to reason with me, but I told them all to fuck off. And while Santiago and Remi backed off, Octavius punched me instead and stayed for several torture sessions so I wouldn’t lose my head.
Thank God I chose him as my best friend because no one else would have been able to handle my moody ass.
Or rather…
The only one who knows about Jimena.
At the thought of my dark-haired beauty, unfamiliar softness along with warmth glides through my veins, awakening every protective and possessive instinct inside me screaming at me to get my woman and lock her in my castle so I could indulge in her sensuality and sexy body, drinking my fill and fucking her so hard she forgets about everyone and everything else.
They say Cortez men love their women to the point of insanity. They are consumed with them, and it just makes me want to laugh because I can’t fucking imagine being more obsessed with my woman than I already am.
Anger still fills me at the idea of her thinking I could have approached anyone else in the club that night.
I know every little detail about her, down to how her nose twitches when she doesn’t like something, or her soft intake of breath whenever something shocks her.
I recognized her instantly, my whole body growing hard at the sight of her in my domain, although I despised the mask and wig hiding her from me.
My only type is her, and that includes her long, silky dark hair.
I played along because, for a moment in time, it allowed us both to pretend to be two strangers who fell in lust with each other without the families, death threats, and all other issues breathing down our necks.
