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Something about sharing this space with him flustered me. It wasn’t the way he made sex eyes at the insane amount of weapons on the wall, nor was it the faint smell of bleach clinging to the cement floor that hinted at the pain he and Ares regularly caused in here. It wasn’t the eerie operating table in the center of the room, the restraint chair, or the Saint Andrew’s cross and whips. I could feel negative, evil energy rolling off him, as if it were a tangible caress. It assaulted me on a molecular level, invading my senses and making concentration almost impossible.
He moved closer to me, and a warning chill shivered up my spine. He wasn’t quite behind me, but I could barely see him out of the corner of my eye. I repositioned myself so he was mostly in front of me, and tried to pick the knife up with my mind. Over and over again, I struggled to get it more than a few inches off the ground. Every time I failed, it fell to the floor with a clink that loudly reverberated around the room. On the ninth try, Malcontent’s deep guffawing broke my concentration.
“Is Desmond demented now? How are you the same person he was raving about earlier today? You’re a useless piece of ass that can’t even lift a knife off the floor. We risked our lives foryou?”
Desmond raved about me earlier? It didn’t seem like he was that impressed at the lesson. Forget civility for the sake of learning. I couldn’t let that misogynistic bullshit stand.If he thinks he can make me feel bad and run out of here crying, he obviously doesn’t know me very well.I’ll make him feel even worse.
“Bash and Ares have spent a lot of time with me since I got here, which means they’re not spending as much, if any, time with you. Jealousy isn’t a good look for you.” Even though I had to crane my neck up to look at him, I gave him the pettiest glare I could.
He stepped closer to me, until there was barely a foot of space between us. His cold index finger tilted my chin up so our eyes met. He grasped it painfully between his knuckle and thumb, giving me no option but to hold his molten hot gaze. I inhaled a rich sandalwood scent that must have been his cologne. The warm, comforting notes contrasted with the cold, unpredictable man before me.
“I wish Bash had never seen you in the park that day, because then you’d be where you belong, in an urn on your family’s mantlepiece. You’re nothing but a collection of holes that my friends like to fill,for now. Eventually, they’ll get tired of you.” He licked his lips as he flashed me his pearly white teeth. “You’re an untalented little slut whose only purpose in this house is warming cock and collecting cum. You’ll never be worth more than that.”
“You think your attitude is so justified, huh? I grew up in Brooklyn, you slimy bastard.” I took a step toward him, refusing to cower to this pathetic excuse of a man. “Men have treated me so much worse, dealing with you is fucking child’s play.” I took another step forward. “I’ve been catcalled, bullied, mugged, assaulted, and survived without magic for years just fine. I didn’t ask to come into your perfect little life and trigger whatever trauma you have. I don’t know what woman ruined your life, and I don’t care. You probably deserved it. But don’t youdareaim that hurt at me. I’ll make you pay for it.”
He closed the distance between us, standing nose to nose with me. His icy blue eyes bored into mine. The glimmer of malice dancing in them–the yearn to hurt me beyond repair–scared me.
He grabbed my forearm and dug his long, thin fingers into the flesh. Slamming me against the wall, he crashed his lips into mine. I tried to push him off, but he took my other arm and pinned them both above my head with one hand. He used the other to collar my throat as he shoved his tongue in my mouth. I hated myself for enjoying the way his soft, plump lips felt against my own. For loving the faint salty caramel taste of his mouth. As my eyes closed, I could almost imagine he was someone else, someone less infuriating. He broke the kiss, giving me a derisive huff.
“You taste like Bash’s cum. I bet he didn’t even have to convince you beyond pushing you onto your knees. You really are a dickslut, aren’t you? Did your aunt and grandmother know how much of a cumdumpster you were before youruntimelydemise?”
Each word he spoke was a stab in the heart. My family meant everything to me. I missed them with every fiber of my being. Half of the time I mourned my fake death, wishing I could be there with them. I hated myself for yelling at them and saying such awful things our last time together. The other half I spent feeling guilty about enjoying the majority of my time here, fucking two hot guys who I barely knew.
My anger reached a whole new height, past the point of screaming, yelling, or even clocking this fucker in the face, which he totally deserved. All I could see was red. I thought about how beautiful his back would look with red blood oozing from a giant knife wound. Before I could weigh my actions or consider consequences, I used my magic to drag the knife from the floor and plunged it directly into his back. Shock seized me. I had never stabbed someone, but I’d be damned if I regretted doing it.Fuck this asshole.
“You get an A for effort, but a D for execution. I’m immortal.” He tightened his hold on my throat and smirked at me, like this was a game to him. “But you’re not. Mmm, is that some fear I smell?”
“Joke’s on you, I liked getting choked. I wonder if this is how you became a hellbound. Were you Jack The Ripper?” I rasped out through the sandpaper feeling in my throat. He pushed against me, and I could feel his hardness pressed against my stomach. “Did you earn eternal punishment for killing and torturing women because it got your rocks off?
“You have no clue what happened to me.” He pressed his thumb into my windpipe, cutting off my air supply, and I saw blackness along the edges of my vision. His eyes glowed red, zoning out as I desperately gasped for air. Seconds turned into minutes, and I started to lose consciousness. I tried to kick him, struggling against his body weight, but he was too strong. “Lucifer’s glory, your fear tastes so good.”
I heard the door crash open and saw a tall, broad figure with a shock of red hair standing behind Mal.Desmond. My throat was released, and I crumpled to the floor, the wall holding my listless body upright. I sucked in deep breaths as my lungs burned with the effort. They were yelling and screaming.
“You are BEYOND lucky! How is she still alive after what you did?” Desmond shouted as he grabbed his shirt and threw him against the wall.
“That’s a great question, sheshouldbe dead.” Malcolm’s remorseless, suspicious tone turned Desmond’s face the same color as his hair, the redness signaling his oncoming fury.
Malcolm slammed his head in Desmond’s jaw, causing Desmond to back up enough that he could slip free. His pale blond hair fell out of its high bun, falling in front of his eyes. He pushed it out of his face, showing gritted teeth and a fierce determination. He wasn’t going down without a fight.
Malcolm sharply lifted Desmond in the air, slamming him back into a wall with spiked weapons. Right before Desmond crashed into the wall, he froze in mid air, his palm raised toward Mal. A crack resounded through the room and Desmond’s clothes fell in tatters on the floor. He was beautiful in his full demon form. His red tinted skin, pointed ears, horns, tail, and hooves painted the ultimate picture of dangerous power. He dropped to the floor, landing on his hooves. His glowing eyes locked onto Mal’s, and for a few minutes everything was quiet. Then Malcolm fell to his knees and held his head in his hands, screaming in agony. Desmond used his other hands to weave neon red magical binding chains around Malcolm’s wrists as he writhed in place. His eyes bugged out of his sockets, and a red flush worked its way over his pale skin.
“Who are you?” Desmond asked. I had no clue where this was going. Obviously the man kneeling on the floor was Malcolm. He didn’t reply, trying harder to free himself from the chains. “WHO ARE YOU?” he yelled again, the deep, echoing tenor of his voice reverberating off the walls and making me flinch.
Malcolm stopped moving, slowly turning his head toward me. If evil had a face, it would resemble his. His laser red eyes and a manic smile fell from his face before he keeled over onto the floor. Desmond fastened an extra magical band around his ankle. He kneeled next to him, grabbing a fistful of his blond hair, and pulled his head up from the floor.
“Malcolm?” he asked.
Malcolm panted as he shuddered on the floor. He gave Desmond an unfocused, glazed over look as a reply.
“Do not try to leave the house. We’re going to get this sorted soon.”
He picked me up, cradling me against his strong, chiseled chest. I felt inertia overtake me when we faded, but couldn’t open my eyes. Emotions warred inside me, exhausting me to the point where I couldn’t even speak. Desmond removed my shoes before placing me between soft linens. I tried to open my eyes, stay awake so I could keep an eye out for Mal. A strong, comforting hand held mine, and I slipped away into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Iused answering emails as an excuse to leave the table as quickly as possible. From the minute Diana came downstairs with her ass crammed in those tight jeans, I couldn’t stop thinking about ripping them off, pushing her back down on the table, and eating her pussy instead of my omelet. I tried to keep my head down and read some operations updates from the establishments we managed, but failed miserably. Watching her verbally thrash Mal and hearing the filthy things Bash and Ares said about how she tasted made my blood run hot. If my cock got any harder, my pants would tear. I loved her boldness, sharp tongue, and defiant ability to not give a fuck. Meak, quiet women had never appealed to me, lacking the necessary backbone and folding to me too easily. Diana, however, had a feistiness that did me in. What I wanted more than anything was to put her in her place, to tame her until she submitted to me. That’s one of the reasons I told her she wasn’t my type. I couldn’t see her giving up control in that way, being dominated.
Her fake, amiable behavior when I had manipulated her mood wasn’t the kind of submission I craved. I wanted her to willingly let me control her. Usually, I just practiced that dynamic in sexual situations, able to relegate my need for dominance to the bedroom, so to speak. With Diana, I ran the risk of letting that need escape its confinement and run rampant in every aspect of my life. Our argument at the greenhouse had proved that. When she refused to get the ball for me, I wanted nothing more than to put her bratty ass in its place. Ineededher to bring me the ball and bend to my will. The image of her kneeling at my feet, peering up at me under those thick, long lashes, and levitating the ball into my hand drove me to use my magic to influence her decisions.
She was right, that was unfair and the worst way to gain her submission because it wasn’t freely given. Diana had every right to be angry, and I was ashamed of myself for using that tactic.
