Megan’s wide eyes shoot up to mine. Confusion is all over her face. I don’t know why she’s confused. I said I would make Nick pay for how he treated her, and although I am rarely an honorable man, when I say I am going to do something, you can be assured I will.
“No pants,” I push out with a grunt when Megan tugs down a hideous pair of riding pants from the closet in my room. I went without physical contact for years, and although I said I wouldn’t need to feast again after eating Megan’s cunt doesn’t mean I won’t want to ravish her at every available opportunity.
Pants create an obstacle. The hotel clerk learned that the hard way.
My steps into the bathroom to gather Megan’s shampoo bottles slow when I notice two little pills on the chair Charles used as a table to serve Megan supper. I’ve played my father’s games for years, so I knew of his intention to drug Megan. I just had no clue his twisted punt would shift his focus to me.
“Why are there pills here?” When Megan clambers back with a frightened step, I step up to her so fast, my brisk movements waft her hair off her face. “You were told to take them all. The tranquilizer he gave you was strong enough to take down a horse.”
Her wild eyes bounce between mine as her lips quiver, but not a single word I see firing through her skitzo eyes escapes her lips.
“You could have failed.”
The angst in my voice frustrates me more than Megan ignoring a direct order. It isn’t from realizing she may have failed at killing my father since her senses were weakened by mind-numbing medication, his day was coming no matter what. It’s the fact he would have sodomized her in front of me like he did my mother for years on end. That he would have ripped at her like a savage without a heart.
He would have hurt her, and there wasn’t a single fucking thing I could have done about it.
Just like what happened with my mother.
I can’t tell if angst is highlighting my tone or fury when I shout, “You were told to take them all!”
I feel the spiral coming.
I feel it raining down on me too hard and fast for me to combat.
But no matter what I do, and no matter how hard Megan wordlessly pleads for forgiveness, it swamps me in a matter of seconds. I’m no longer Dexter Elias. I am the monster I was groomed to be. The imp from the bottom of the ocean.
I am Megan’s worst nightmare.
But instead of taking my anger out on her, I know a way I can hurt her without touching her. I have the means to rip her heart out and make her regret the day she ignored my direct order. She’ll never defy me again.
Good. Because a king can’t rule if even his queen doesn’t listen.
“Come with me.”
Megan follows me down the hall, up a flight of stairs, and to a locked door at the end of the hall I paced when I was forced to test my mother and she failed. The door is locked, but with my anger at an all-time high and psychosis making me think I am invincible, I kick open the door with my boot, then thrust Megan into the room with a woman who looks eerily like my mother.
“No, please,” the woman begs when I hook her ankle and drag her down the stripped-bare mattress. I want to rip at her clothes like a savage, to watch tears pool in her eyes as I strip her of her modesty, but since my father always keeps his little pets naked and ready, there’s nothing for me to claw at. So instead, I brace my knee between her stick-thin thighs, then backhand her with enough force, her begs turn into faint whimpers.
“This is what would have happened to you,” I scream through flaring nostrils and lungs that are begging for air. “This is what he would have made you.” I thrust my hand at the limp, lifeless woman sprawled before me. She’s bruised and malnourished but still pretty enough to arouse any man’s cock. “This is what you would have become. A discarded little toy too fucked in the head to fight, but not brain dead enough not to know that seduction is theonlything you’ve got going for you.”
When I drift my massively dilated eyes to Megan, I’m not surprised to see her features are hardened with anger. Not a single word I spoke was a lie. Not only would she have become my father’s latest project to torture into submission, but she is also aware the woman lying before us with swept open thighs and glistening pussy lips will doanythingto stay alive.
She’ll even fuck the man whose father tormented her to within an inch of her grave.
The switch-up of her sobs to moans is proof of this, not to mention the creep of her hand toward the zipper in my trousers.
When my father’s latest plaything rubs my cock through my pants, Megan sees red. She pulls at her hair while grunting like a feral pig before she lashes out in the only manner she knows how—with extreme violence.
I don’t know where the salt lamp comes from, but within a nanosecond of it landing in Megan’s hands, she smashes it into the face of the unknown woman. She doesn’t stop at one hit, though. She rears it back over and over again until my worries of this raven-haired woman not representing her become a thing of the past. My father’s little pet’s face is caved in, and although DNA is easy to manipulate once it is in the system, facial scans are a little harder to bypass.
We don’t need to worry about that now.
“I think she’s dead.” The easy deliverance of my words exposes my psychosis ended as quickly as it started. I’m not surprised. Killing has a way of pulling you out of the darkest pit, not to mention when someone kills because they’re jealous.
When Megan’s rage subsides, she stammers back with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Her eyes dart between the bloodied salt lamp in her hand and the woman lying faceless on the bed in front of her for several long seconds before she pulls her hands out from beneath her murder weapon of choice.
“Nuh-uh,” I mutter on a groan when she peers at the door like she’s seconds from racing through it. “If you make a mess, it is only right that you clean it.”
