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I lifted the pliers from the counter, pocketed the scalpel, and walked over to the first table with a clamp in my hand. Disgusted by my method of torture, Bastian shook his head. But when did he ever approve? He merely accepted the fact he couldn’t change me. But it didn’t stop him from trying to get me help.
He was the reason I had agreed to see Dr. Lansing. Not like the old man could help me. I was beyond saving.
I stared at the man on the table, my mind slowly drifting to my special place. A sly grin stretched the corners of my mouth as I leaned over the table and studied the curves of his face, the rapid beat of his heart as he tried to scream against the bandana covering his mouth. I reveled at the sight, the blood pumping through my veins so fast I could hardly catch my breath.
Luca got up from the chair and pointed at the man. “That one is Nikolay Petrov. He ordered his men to find and rape Alex. If you hadn’t killed the man, they would have taken turns with our girl.” He clenched his hands at his sides. “I want you to think about that, Damian. Think about what they would have done to her.” He tipped his head at Nikolay. “This is your duty to the family. Protect our queen.”
That was all I needed to hear before I cut off his cock with the scalpel and shoved it into his mouth. He bit down on it, screaming and choking on his own flesh as the life drained from his eyes.
Why did Luca have to encourage Damian? If he hadn’t been at the safe house, detailing each of the Russian’s crimes, Damian wouldn’t have been out of his mind.
He fucking lost it.
Went full-blown ripper, covering every inch of the space in blood. We had it all over our clothes, even on our faces. And as I drove onto our property, my hands trembled.
He was out of his mind.
So fucking gone.
Physically, he sat in the chair beside me with a vacant stare in his eyes. Mentally, he was somewhere only I could reach him. I knew what I had to do once we got inside my bedroom. It wouldn’t have been the first time I had to calm him down. Damian couldn’t soothe himself, so I had to be the one to do it.
Luca parked his Aston Martin next to mine and headed into the house without a word. He liked when Damian was all riled up and out of control, and the bastard knew I was fucking pissed at him for turning him into a monster. The Russians got what they deserved. They would have hurt Alex repeatedly until she was nothing more than the shell of the girl we loved.
I didn’t hate that Damian disposed of them. I hated I was left to clean up the mess, to deal with snapping him back to reality.
Once inside the house, I got a better look at Damian’s face, which was almost completely covered in blood. He looked like a demon that crawled straight out of the depths of Hell. Damian had a dead look in his green eyes, like he wasn’t even in his body. Top lip quivering, he looked at me, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He clenched his teeth, staring right through me.
Fuck.
I knew what I had to do.
Pushing on his back, I steered him up the staircase at the front of the house and followed him to my bedroom. His room adjoined with the bathroom he shared with Alex, so I intentionally avoided that direction. I slammed my palm into his back and forced him into my room.
“Take off your clothes, D.”
He seemed to snap out of his head for a second at the sound of my voice. Just long enough to give me a once over, then went back to nothing. Back to the fucking dark place in his sick brain.
“Damian, now!” I yanked on his tie and pulled him closer to me, choking him a little. He liked when it hurt, when there was some level of pain involved. “Strip.”
After my second request, his fingers moved to the top button of his dress shirt. I slid the jacket over his shoulders and then removed mine. Blood stained our suits, so there was no point in having them dry-cleaned. Down to our boxer briefs, I studied all the blood on our skin and shook my head. This was excessive, too fucking out of hand this time.
I slid my fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs. “These too, D.” Then I shoved him toward the bathroom.
I kicked off my boxers and threw them near my closet door before walking into the bathroom with Damian. He hadn’t spoken a word since before he took the life of his first victim. When he looked in the mirror at his blood-stained body, his eyes widened. His cock was rock fucking hard at the sight.
Back in high school, he couldn’t even get hard without hurting or killing something or someone. The sight of blood always got his rocks off. Doctors called it erotophonophilia, sexual arousal from murder. A common diagnosis of most serial killers.
He rolled his thumb over the tip of his cock and pre-cum dripped onto his hand. Our eyes met in the mirror as he stroked his cock.
I reached into the glass shower and turned on the water, feeling the temperature with my hand. “Shower.” I pointed my finger. “Now, D.”
After a kill, he didn’t want to wash off the blood. He liked the sight of it too much and wanted to savor the moment. But this was necessary. The only way to bring him back to life was to help him forget about it.
I gripped his shoulder when he didn’t move and forced him into the shower with me. He turned around to move past me, and I slammed his back into the wall. It was the same process every time. Damian wanted to go back out and hunt. But I feared he would go right for Alex, like he did last time.
I pinned him against the wall by his throat, jerking his shaft so hard his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His hand came up to my throat. He wanted to choke me like he did to Alex not that long ago.
But I was in control this time.
