So bright. So red.
Callie would despise me if she knew what I was doing right now. She’d never understand how badly I wanted to know what it was like. Snuffing someone else out, watching their body give way to my will, to whatever device I had in my hand. Callie was too nice, too normal. She’d never understand.
No one would ever understand that this was me, other than Edward and Lincoln. No one would accept me for who I was. I never really knew how fortunate I was to have stumbled upon these two men. A random night in a bar I never went to, for my boss’s birthday party, which I normally couldn’t give a shit about. Never was I gladder to have gone out in public.
My eyes traveled downward, and I found myself asking, “How messy can I be?” I wasn’t foolish enough to think I would be able to make an utter mess in their basement and have them clean up after me, but I felt the urge to do so much more to this woman. And what I wanted to do could not be clean.
There would be tons of blood.
“Do whatever you want,” Edward said, moving to my other side. “She’s all yours.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a test. If this was some kind of game the two men were playing. If I swept the board, would I win? Was this a game where I could emerge the victor? I’d find out soon enough.
With Lincoln holding her head still for me, I was able to place the tip of the scalpel directly beneath her right eye. Through the smudged makeup, I pushed the blade inside, drawing it straight down, curving with her cheek, all the way down to her jawline. Her skin split and came apart, bleeding instantly, a red and gory mess that was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. And the scream that left her as I made the incision was one of the most harmonious sounds I’d ever heard.
This was fun in a cruel, addicting way. What if I started to like doing this too much? What if I wanted to kill more? What if it was never enough? The line I was crossing here, now, was a line I would never be able to turn back from.
It was far too late now, for I’d already listened to her pained cries, watched her eyes widen in realization I wasn’t going to back down. Destiny knew she would meet her end today, and that she would die by my hand, small and innocent as it was until this point.
In an hour, it would not be so innocent, and it would probably be covered in blood.
My next cut freed Destiny’s chest from her shirt. I had to see all of what I was dealing with, didn’t I? She wore no bra, her breasts much larger than mine. I ran my scalpel-free hand down her neck, touching the blood that had oozed from the large cut down her face, smearing the red as my palm grazed the tender spot of skin between her breasts.
I offered the scalpel to Edward. “Give me something bigger,” I spoke, my voice sounding strange, foreign. Not like my voice at all. Low, deep, even a bit sultry. I hardly sounded like myself.
Edward handed me a bone saw. Large and metallic, silver and shiny. It glimmered in the basement light, an omen of what I was going to do to Destiny.
I moved the bone saw before my face, wondering what I should cut off first. I could go for something small, like a finger, a few toes—or I could skip the foreplay and get to something larger. How would she look without feet, for example? How far would she be able to crawl if I sawed off both feet and her hands? She’d probably pass out from delirium before the blood loss claimed her life.
Edward moved behind me, swiping my hair aside, lightly running his lips along the back of my neck. As Destiny cried and whimpered, I felt his hands roam all along me, up and down my sides and front, as if the sight of me holding a bone saw was too much for him. Too sexy. Funny, because I felt like I was the least sexy person alive.
He was almost too good at distracting me.
A soft moan escaped me as I set the bone saw on top of her left wrist. Lincoln, I noticed, still held onto her hair, but he was now busy watching Edward touch me, his hands slipping beneath my clothes. The man behind me wasn’t playing fair at all, was he?
How terribly mean. Give me a plaything and then want sex? Was that how these sorts of things normally worked? I refused to let him win this. He could tempt me all he wanted, but I would ultimately keep my focus on Destiny and her soft, fleshy body.
One of his hands made its way beneath my pants, curling along me as he found folds of skin that were still wet from our previous physical exertions. I let out another moan when Edward started rubbing my nub, a circular motion that made me start to grind against his hand.
Okay, fine. My body would respond to him on its own, apparently. But my mind would be elsewhere.
I brought down the bone saw against her wrist, digging into the skin, eliciting a sharp cry of agony from Destiny’s lips. I barely heard her. All I could see was the metal cutting through her skin, flesh and veins alike. Tendons and muscle, eventually sawing down to the bone. I knew I’d reached the halfway point because suddenly sawing was not so easy. It took some muscle on my part to keep going, not to mention a hell of a lot of focus since Edward had stuck two fingers inside of me.
“That’s so fucking hot,” Lincoln muttered, dark eyes on me, on Edward, on the both of us.
The pain was too much for Destiny; she’d started to rapidly breathe in, almost like she was in shock. A little panic attack, though it was well-deserved.
I kept cutting, and Edward kept rubbing, pumping me with his fingers as I sawed through her bone. Once the bone saw was through the bone, the rest came apart with ease. The severed hand fell from the restraint, smacking the floor with a loud, squishy thump. Destiny herself sagged forward, her head held back by Lincoln. Her whimpering had stopped, her eyes blinking slower.
Edward’s other hand crept up, cupping one of my breasts, tweaking my nipple as he continued to finger-fuck me and his lips roamed my neck. I could feel his hard-on behind me, and I arched my back, running my ass along him, gripping the bone saw tighter.
I took the bloodied bone saw to her inner thigh, barely able to keep my concentration thanks to Edward. I knew what was coming, and yet I fought it. I fought the pleasure as much as I could, because I wanted to hear Destiny scream one more time before death took her. I wanted to cut her in half and watch as she bled out—and then I wanted both Edward and Lincoln to take me in the blood.
I was more fucked up than I realized before. No normal person had thoughts like that—no normal person wanted to be fucked while lying in someone else’s blood.
The bone saw went up her skirt, and though my body wanted to give in to the pleasure from Edward, I did a bit more sawing. Destiny didn’t so much as scream as she cried out one final time before her eyes dilated and her mouth sagged open. Probably a good thing she was gone, because that bone saw was three inches up between her legs now, new, fresh blood dripping onto the floor. When my fingers released the saw, the metal instrument was stuck inside her, buried in a place no sharp metal should ever go.
Edward pulled his hands out of my clothes, and before I knew it, my pants were on the floor and he was bending me over, stopping only when I was on my hands and knees before him. He fumbled with his zipper, and in the next moment he pushed his hard dick inside of me. One swift thrust, filling me up in a way I couldn’t describe.
I wanted more. I needed so much more.
Lincoln had long since dropped Destiny’s motionless head, letting her sag to the side that was still chained up, her body bleeding, the bone saw lodged between her legs. He moved into my view of her mutilated body, and I saw that he’d dropped his pants, too. His large dick stood ready, the tip pushing against my lips.
He wanted me to suck him off while Edward was inside of me from behind? I wasn’t sure how well it would work, but adrenaline pumped so quickly through my veins I didn’t even care. I opened mouth, taking him in once more. Maybe it was because I felt high, but this time his dick felt much more comfortable in my mouth than it had both times before, probably because this time I wasn’t so much caught by surprise.
I did ask for more, didn’t I?
So they t
ook me together. Edward behind me, his dick pumping in and out of me in fast, rapid strokes, his hands holding onto my sides tightly, possessively. Lincoln before me, his thick cock in my mouth, hands tangled in my hair, making me drown in the sensation of his length gliding in and out of me. It really was too bad I got ahead of myself, that Destiny was dead, otherwise she could’ve watched and heckled us for being so depraved and awful. It would’ve been funny.
Lincoln’s body tensed; I could feel it in the way he gripped the back of my head, so I knew to anticipate his cum, and I knew enough by now that I had to swallow. Every last bit he shot in my throat I gulped down, my lips forming around the tip of his dick as he slowly pulled out of me. Behind me, Edward had his climax too, his body practically collapsing on top of mine as his hips moved with an erratic pace. He was even more sluggish in withdrawing from me, falling backwards on his ass as he breathed in and out, wiping his forearm along his forehead to gather the sweat.
I felt like I was missing something, now that neither of them were inside of me. Getting to my feet, I pushed Lincoln aside, once again focusing on Destiny. She was dead, I knew, because her bare breasts hadn’t once breathed in for a while. Reaching for the bone saw, I yanked it down, out of her apex, bringing it to my face to study my reflection in the bloodied blade.
The need to cut her more overtook me, and I set my other hand against her side. I supposed I should’ve been more worried about fingerprints, but Edward and Lincoln had been killing for a while; if I wasn’t allowed to touch the body with my bare hands, they would’ve told me, I knew, because they wouldn’t want to see me locked up for this. Not with how well we all fit together.
Lincoln was behind me. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?” He chuckled, a deep, low sound that I felt reverberate in my own body. “What kind of monster did Ed and I create?” If doing what I did made me a monster, I didn’t want to be right. I didn’t want to be good.
What did I get for being good? Nothing. Parents who hated me, a friend who thought I was the weirdest person alive, coworkers who ignored me, and a boss who only wanted me because he had no idea how messed up my mind truly was.
Being good was so overrated. Being good was boring. Maybe being bad what was I needed to do to meet the Angel Maker.
“You didn’t create me,” I said, turning to face him, the metal handle on the bone saw cold in my grip. “You just found me.” I was well aware I was basically confessing that I was always a crazy psychopath just like them, but it was true. Besides, who didn’t dream of murdering people every now and then? People were assholes. People deserved it.
Lincoln’s dark gaze stared down at me. Past him, I could see Edward sitting on the floor, still breathing hard. Dark stubble graced his jaw, his mouth a thin line. I knew how Lincoln tasted, both his lips and his cock. Like danger bottled up and shaped like a man. A man with a rippling hard abdomen and arms that could practically pop my head off my neck.
Taking a single step toward me, Lincoln appraised me. My bottom half was naked, my hands covered in blood. I was sure I looked quite the sight. “I knew you were hiding something from the first moment I saw you and those crazy eyes of yours.”
“Still don’t like my eyes?” Lincoln’s honesty had been refreshing at first, but now I…well, it was dumb, but now I wanted him to like my eyes. I wanted him to like me, every part of me without question.
“I feel like that’s a trick question,” he said, gazing down at me, quirking a single eyebrow.
My eyes fell to his manhood, which hung between his legs. Based on past experiences, I knew it wouldn’t take much to get him aroused once again. “Remember when you came into my house and tried to kill me?” I asked, moving closer to him.
He nodded.
I bit my lower lip, resting the flat edge of the bone saw against his chest. He was so strong. Lincoln could probably cut through bone with a butter knife; he didn’t need something with a serrated edge like me. I didn’t need to say anything else—all I had to do was start dragging the bone saw down, careful not to nick his skin as I went. Lincoln understood.
He grabbed the wrist holding the bloodied instrument, moving it to the side, his fingers curling around my wrist so tightly I dropped the bone saw. The metal clanged on the tile floor, right into a puddle of dark red blood. “I don’t think so,” he muttered, more of a growl than real words.
Lincoln pushed me back, all the way, backing me up until I felt Destiny’s sagging body behind me, her slumped figure not as slumped while I leaned back against her. I felt his dark gaze eat me up, and I grew warm in a certain lower place in my gut. I moved mechanically, wriggling out of my shirt and unhooking my bra, tossing them both far enough away from the bloody scene behind me that they were safe from the excess of red.
It was so wrong what I wanted, but Lincoln must’ve been in synch with me, for he said nothing as he closed the distance between us, sweeping me up in his arms, pinning me against the wall. Or, well, not so much against the wall as I was pinned against the body. Against Destiny. She was still warm, still bleeding. Behind him, Edward snapped to attention, and I watched as his dick steadily grew yet again.
These men would drive me crazy yet. Or crazier, depending on how you looked at it, because right now I definitely felt like I was riding the crazy train.
Lincoln cradled me against his chest, positioning himself between my legs before pushing himself inside. He slid in easily, no resistance at all from my body. I wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes as I relished the feeling of being taken, of Destiny’s motionless body behind me, her bare chest rubbing against my back with each thrust of Lincoln’s dick.
This was wrong beyond all measure…and yet I’d never felt as good as I did in this exact moment. I had found where I was meant to be when Edward had found me in that bar and took me home. These guys might not have been my Angel Maker, but they were something far better. They were mine.
Come death, come blood, come hell or high water, I would never let them leave me.
Chapter Nine – Stella
It was insanely difficult for me to wake up the next morning, partly because I was in my own bed, my wrists and ankles free, no Edward and Lincoln nearby. Partly because I didn’t get much sleep the night before since I’d spent most of it in their basement, rolling around in the blood, getting all hot and sweaty only to end the night with a long shower with them both. And also partly because Callie was mad at me. She walked by me, refusing to look at me. She wouldn’t even talk to me.
I never liked it when she was mad at me. She shouldn’t even be mad at me. Callie had no idea what I did last night, that I’d…ended someone’s life. She had no right to be mad at me for wanting to get to know the Angel Maker better—which I still did, of course; it’s just Edward and Lincoln had made for a wonderful, long distraction…not to mention Destiny.
I had to stop thinking about it. I had to focus on getting through the day without losing myself in my daydreams. Shouldn’t be so hard, right? Even I knew the answer to that question wasn’t one I wanted.
The look on Destiny’s face when I’d cut into her skin. It was one that would dominate my dreams, assuming I got sleep in the near future. I could pinpoint the exact moment the woman realized she would not get out of there alive, the very instant she’d given up all hope. It was a rush I could not describe adequately. My heart beat faster just thinking about it.
Callie was out of the house before I even made it out of bed. I ran a quick brush through my hair, tossing it up in a bun before throwing on my typical leggings and baggy beige shirt. I had a little time before I had to go into work, so I plopped down on the couch, got out my laptop, and checked my blog.
Over fifty comments in less than twenty-four hours. Might not seem like much to some bloggers, but it was a lot for me. It meant people were reading my work and enjoying it. Really, that’s all I wanted.
I took my time replying to each and every comment, trying to sound normal, a typical American blogger and
not a woman who’d just killed someone. The blood on my hands might’ve been washed off last night, but their innocence was long lost now.
I made it to the final comment, and my fingers hovered over the flat keyboard as my eyes scanned it over. One word, one word was all it was, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from staring, mouth agape.
Soon.
It was him. It had to be him. The Angel Maker. He’d seen my blog—of course he had, because I had more than enough evidence to know he was following me. He’d read my last call-out post and kidnapped me, brought me to the crime scene, and let me see his meticulous, beautiful work firsthand.
I didn’t know why I felt so stunned at the anonymous, single-word comment. I supposed it could’ve been anyone trying to act as if they were the Angel Maker, knowing I was hoping he would come to me again, but deep down I knew. I just knew. Without a doubt, the word had come from my serial killer himself.
What to write back to him? What to say to get him to come to me again? I had to meet him, had to know who he was. I yearned to stare the beast of blood and darkness in the eyes and see what kind of mask he wore, for surely he wore a mask. There was no way the Angel Maker could walk around wearing chaos and destruction in his daily life. He wouldn’t have made it this far. No, he was a master at disguise, deception and lies. He had to be.
I stared at the anonymous comment for fifteen minutes, my fingers frozen above the keys as I tried to think of something to say. Something simple, something to let him know I was no threat to him, that I was not like everyone else. Like him, I was different.
I’d always been different, in spite of my parents and their constant trying to get me to be normal. They’d forced me to do reports and papers on boring things when I could’ve spent the time delving deeper into the minds of killers. They made me go to college, because it was the next logical step, made me major in something I didn’t really care about because I couldn’t major in serial killers.
Cold Dark Souls : A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Cruel Black Hearts Book 2) Page 6