Cold Dark Souls : A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Cruel Black Hearts Book 2)

by Candace Wondrak

  Edward hadn’t even touched his sandwich. It sat on the plate on his lap, seeing as how the coffee table before him was nothing more than broken wood and splinters in waiting. His blue gaze lingered on me, a fire dancing behind his eyes, one I knew well, because I had that same fire when it came to Stella. “I doubt it.”

  “I might tell you…if you agree to two things.”

  The two men shared a look. I knew what the look meant; they didn’t want to agree to anything, especially not with me. These two hated me, for good reason, I supposed. In their eyes, I was trying to steal Stella away from them, but what they didn’t seem to understand was that Stella was mine from the beginning. They were the ones who stole her from me, not the other way around.

  “Depends on what the two things are,” Edward finally said.

  “One, you let me leave here unharmed.” As I spoke, I felt my lip, tasted the blood in my mouth. Well, at the very least no more harmed than I already was. My face was pretty beat; it’d be black and blue soon enough, and that wasn’t mentioning the cut on my upper arm. My bottom lip felt fat and swollen. “Two, Stella decides who she wants.”

  Lincoln’s hands curled into fists. “And why the fuck would we agree to that? You came here to kill Ed. And Stella doesn’t like you. How many fucking times do we have to go over this?”

  “She doesn’t know me,” I said. “Not really. Not the whole me. I want to show her who I am.” And once I did, I knew she’d choose me. She’d have no choice but to. We were meant for each other in more ways than one.

  Narrowing his eyes, Ed said, “She still won’t pick you.”

  “Then you should be thrilled, because that means she’ll pick you.” I waited a moment, knowing I had them hook, line, and sinker. “Unless you’re worried she might actually pick me after she knows who I am. Her Angel Maker.” At first, I’d admit, I wasn’t such a huge fan of the nickname, but the more I thought about it, the more often I heard it, it had started to grow on me.

  Stella and her Angel Maker.

  Who the hell could deny the fact that we were made for each other? Edward and Lincoln didn’t stand a chance, but I had to make them believe they did, because there was no way for me out of this house alive with the two of them here. Hmm…once Stella chose me, maybe we could pay these two a visit, one by one, of course.

  Take them, make them our new angels.

  “A little not-so-friendly competition, huh?” Lincoln frowned. The man must’ve made the facial expression often. It seemed natural to him. He glanced at Edward, who just shrugged, as if he couldn’t comment either way. “Fine.”

  I got up, said “Great,” and started making my way to the door. But really, I should’ve known better than to hope I’d slip out without telling the two what I knew about Stella and Callie. I didn’t even make it halfway to the door before Lincoln had his hands on me, pushing me against the wall.

  I stood nearly half a foot shorter than the guy. He was intimidating, I’d give him that. Strong, too. Even catching him off-guard might not be enough to overtake him.

  “You’re not leaving this house until you tell us what you know,” Lincoln growled out. “Puts us on more even ground, don’t you think? If we all know everything there is to know about Stella?” Behind him, Edward stood up, taking a few steps closer to us.

  A possibility was making something up, but I wasn’t sure I was that creative. Plus, I always thought the truth was more unbelievable than a lie most of the time. So I took my time in saying, “If you ask Stella to meet Callie, you’ll be disappointed, I think.”

  Lincoln’s grip on my shoulders loosened, but he did not let go entirely. “Why the hell would I want to meet Callie? I don’t give a shit about her. Stella—”

  “You won’t meet Callie because I have her body in my basement.” I saw the fury behind his black eyes, and I quickly added, “I didn’t kill her. I only dug her up. Perhaps you should ask Stella about her, first.”

  Finally, Lincoln released me. I tugged down my shirt, undoing the wrinkles he’d caused, but it was useless. The fabric was cut on my arm, not to mention splattered with a bit of blood. I’d have to change before going back to work. See how bad my face looked.

  “You’re saying Stella…” Edward spoke, trailing off, either still clueless like a baboon or unwilling to say it.

  “I spelled it out for you. That’s all I’m doing.” I moved toward the door, tossing them each a look. “Oh, and I do hope you two know I plan on playing dirty. Once she sees who I am, who I really am, you two will mean nothing to her.” Yes, getting Stella to choose me over them—that would be a high I would ride for ages, and then together we’d kill these two fools.

  I left before either of them could respond, sliding off my gloves as I headed toward my car. I got in, started the engine, and drove off, hiding my smile. This, this was going to be more entertaining than I thought. Who knew sometimes the backup plans were better than the original?

  Chapter Fifteen – Stella

  If I said the day was torturous, I would be lying.

  It was worse than torturous. It was downright awful. It was the worst day of my life, I could honestly say. Spending time with my mother and sister, not to mention two of her best friends, was not something I ever wanted to do. I was a loner, deep down. No, not even deep down. Everyone who knew me knew I didn’t like to socialize, knew I hated small talk and gossip.

  Then again, most everyone who knew me, stayed away from me because they thought I was weird, so there was that. Eventually everyone got past the uniqueness of my eyes once they realized I wasn’t like other people, didn’t laugh at their stupid jokes.

  Sometime during the day, I got a text from Edward telling me to call him when I was home. I didn’t bother responding, because I knew my mother would say something. Ask who it was, lean over to see for herself without asking my permission. Margaret was just that kind of person. Petty. Annoying. Haughty. A little bit racist.

  I zoned out for most of the day after I was measured. That was all they needed me there for, wasn’t it? But mother wouldn’t drive me home until everyone else was measured, until all the details about the dresses were hammered out. My mother did make the comment that when the dress was ready, maybe I could come with my date to pick it up so she wouldn’t have to waste her time doing all that driving again.

  I knew what her words meant, deep down. I was a waste of time to her. Everything involving me was a waste. Margaret would’ve been happier with just Bree as a daughter.

  During the long drive back to my house, my mother was busy chatting to herself about how gorgeous Bree was going to be on her wedding day. How the hair stylist was going to do her hair. Some kind of braid with flowers and a veil. I was sure she’d be the picture-perfect bride, perfect in every way. I’d look like nothing beside her.

  Doing my best to tune my mother out, it was only when she repeated herself that I zoned back into the conversation. “I said, Stella, I hope your date has a suit. He can’t show up in jeans and a T-shirt. It’s a wedding, not a frat party.”

  I had no idea why my mother thought I knew what frat parties were. If anything, her precious Bree was the one who’d been to parties like that. She was the one who liked to drink, who went out and partied. I had always stayed in my room while I was in college. My mother should know by now I wasn’t the type for needless socializing.

  “He’ll have a suit,” I said. Honestly, I didn’t know if Edward or Lincoln had a suit, but they could get one. Rent one. Something. Or maybe I could just get Lincoln to go in his police uniform. My mother couldn’t tell a cop no.

  But at this point, I wasn’t sure which man I would bring. Maybe I would tell them both and have them figure it out amongst themselves. I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to choose between them. If anything, I’d want to bring them both—I could only imagine the fresh hell that would create for my mother. Two dates. Then she’d have to squeeze another chair at our table.

  “Where did you meet him?” My mother was
full of questions, it seemed. I had to hand it to her—it kind of sounded like she cared. Sort of. A little. Not nearly as much as she cared about Bree. Maybe I had a sliver of her heart.

  I couldn’t exactly tell her a bar. Well, I supposed I could, but again, since she was driving, I didn’t want her to have a heart attack or something. I said, “A restaurant. It was my boss’s birthday. We all went out.”

  “Please tell me you’re not dating your boss,” Margaret spoke dryly, tossing me a look that said you should know better.

  Killian? That was good for a laugh or two, but besides that, I didn’t see how it was any of my mother’s business who I was and wasn’t dating. “No, I’m not dating my boss,” I muttered, moving my gaze to the window. The scenery was starting to look familiar. We were getting close to my house.

  “Good, because odds are he’s just taking advantage of you. That’s the only reason men in power go after the women under them.” She spoke with such authority on the subject, as if she had learned the lesson herself.

  I said nothing, mostly because I had nothing to say. My mother was…impossible to get along with, even for most normal people. A bitch through and through. I didn’t feel too bad about imagining cutting into her for the majority of the day. If there was anyone who deserved to scream, it was Margaret.

  We pulled into my driveway not nearly soon enough, and I couldn’t have jumped out of the car faster. Before I had the chance to close the door, my mother leaned over, asking, “Is Callie home? It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. Do you mind if I pop in and say hello?” She started to undo her seatbelt as she spoke.

  “She’s probably not home, Mom.” I really hated calling her that, but when I tried to call her Margaret once, she nearly slapped me. Irritation threatened to swallow me up as my mother got out of the car anyway, following me to the front door. After unlocking it, I stepped inside the house, calling out for her, “Callie, are you home? My mom is here, she wants to say hi.”

  No answer from the house. I didn’t hear the shower running, either.

  Margaret frowned. “I guess she’s not here. Pity. Your sister invited her to the wedding for you, because she knows how much Callie means to you, but we haven’t heard back.”

  The last thing I needed right now was Callie going to the wedding. She was mad at me. It was probably the last thing she wanted to do, too.

  I turned to my mother. “She’s been really busy with work lately. I don’t think she’ll be able to come.” Callie hadn’t even mentioned the invitation; maybe it had gotten lost in the mail. Or maybe she just didn’t want to go and thought I wanted her to go. Didn’t matter now, because she most definitely wasn’t going.

  “Sad, but at least you have a date.” Margaret’s blue eyes fell on me, silently judging me for a few seconds before she added, “I can’t wait to meet him. Maybe next year we can start planning your wedding.” She left me speechless as she turned on her heels and left the house, heading to her car.

  I stood there for I couldn’t say how long, wondering how the hell my mother went from meeting my date to planning my wedding. Marriage was…good, for some people. For me? I didn’t think I was made for it.

  Shaking my head, I went and closed the door. I reached into my back pocket and called Edward to let him know I was home. He said Lincoln was off, so he’d be over soon. And then, after he got off, he’d be here, too. All I could do was agree and wonder why they wanted to come over here so badly. I didn’t have any rope or anything to tie me up with…I also didn’t have much food. Feeding two men the size of Lincoln and Edward, well. That required more than ramen and frozen pizzas.

  I moved to sit on the couch, wondering how long Callie was going to be mad at me. I didn’t like it when she was mad at me. She was my only friend. The only person in this world who I could talk to, even if she didn’t understand me half of the time. I wasn’t even sure why the hell she was mad at me—because she was worried about me? She thought I was going to turn into a serial killer myself since I was so obsessed with them?

  She…was closer to the truth than she realized. More than I wanted her to be. After what I did to Destiny, well, how could I say Callie’s fears were unwarranted? The joy I’d taken from ending her life, the buzz that had gone through me when I felt the bone saw cutting through her skin and bone—I couldn’t describe it.

  It was addicting.

  I wanted to do it again.

  I wanted to kill again.

  Letting out a groan, I got up and went into the bathroom, undressing and hopping in the shower. I shouldn’t think about that. I should forget it. I didn’t want to end up in jail or prison, and I certainly didn’t want to end up on the next serial killer documentary on Netflix. The best thing for me, for my well-being, was to forget it ever happened.

  An impossible task, because it had felt too good. It was the best day of my life. How could I forget that?

  I turned on the water, frowning to myself. The water coursed down my body, and I tried to focus on the heat, on the steam, on literally anything other than how great it felt to be the one to end someone else’s life.

  Callie was right. I didn’t want her to be, but she was right all the same. I was becoming like them…or perhaps I was like them all along.

  Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t hear someone enter the house. I had no idea if I locked the door after my mother left, or if I’d left it unlocked for Lincoln. Either way, heavy footsteps in the hallway alerted me to his presence. Wiping my wet hair out of my face, I waited for him to come into the bathroom; being with him while Callie might come home at any time was kind of…titillating.

  But he didn’t come into the bathroom right away. It sounded…it sounded almost like he was checking the house. Maybe to make sure Callie wasn’t home? Although I knew Lincoln wouldn’t give two shits if she was; he liked having an audience. He was definitely not shy in that respect, and he had no reason to be. Everything about his body was masculine and flawless in every way.

  I supposed I could’ve called out to him, but I didn’t. He would come to me eventually, after he did whatever it was he was doing. I let the water course down my back, feeling my body start to warm in certain places as I imagined what we would do. The things we’d done. Everything we would do together in the future. Lincoln would look drop dead sexy in a suit.

  That…that was a thought I never pictured myself thinking. Ever. About anyone.

  I couldn’t believe how much my thoughts had changed since meeting Lincoln and Edward, how much I’d grown in the last week.

  One week.

  One fucking week. That’s all it was, and yet it felt like years.

  I might’ve loved my Angel Maker, but those two…I’d never let them go. Edward and Lincoln completed me in ways I never thought possible, made me feel whole. Painted over my broken cracks and taped over my tears, made me almost new.

  God. When was Lincoln going to come in here? My body was ready.

  Chapter Sixteen – Lincoln

  The last time I searched through Stella’s house to make sure she was alone, I had a totally different mindset. I’d come to kill her, because I’d thought she was no good for Ed. I’d made a quick, haphazard search of the place, dubbed her roommate was gone, and then thought I’d get down to business.

  But, it turned out, I’d missed some things.

  Like the fact that Callie’s phone sat on top of a dusty laptop, plugged in and charging. Almost as if it was completely forgotten. One cup sitting on the end table in the living room. The stale air in Callie’s room, as if the door was always shut and never opened. Things…added up differently now, after what that prick had said.

  Stella had killed Callie? I still wasn’t sure I believed it. If that was the case, then Destiny wasn’t her first kill.

  I had a hard time thinking about it. The look on Stella’s face as she experimented on Destiny’s body was not one of experience. It was one of wonder, of awe. That ginger freak had to be wrong. He had to be.

 
; And yet, when I stood in front of the bathroom door, knowing Stella was inside, I hesitated. A part of me didn’t want to see the facts before me, but I wasn’t one for hiding from the truth. If Stella was hiding it from us, I had to know. I had to wade in the murky waters until I found the truth of it all.

  Heaving a great breath, I walked into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind me. She was in the shower, steam everywhere. Only one toothbrush sat on the sink, one towel on the rack. This was not the bathroom two women shared. Only one person used it.

  Killian was right. He had to be. There were no other explanations for it, unless…

  “Is Callie moving out?” I asked, watching her move the curtain to the side, peeking her head out at me. Water droplets fell off her face, and her eyebrows came together slowly. She looked…both stranger and more beautiful than I remembered, eyes not included.

  “No,” Stella said, drawing out the word. “She’s mad at me right now, so…” Her mismatched eyes flicked to the floor, and she actually looked sad. Either she was a great actress, or…

  Or she really believed what she was saying.

  “Do you think I’ll ever meet your roommate?” My line of questioning was weird, I knew, but I couldn’t help it. My heart felt…odd. Almost like it was speeding up. I didn’t know what it meant if Stella had blocked out Callie’s death. I didn’t know what it meant for us.

  Stella, of course, thought the only thing she could—she thought I wanted to meet her roommate for sexual reasons. “Why? You won’t be having us together, I can promise you that.” She frowned.

  I moved closer to her, wrapping a hand in her wet hair, tugging softly. “You know you’re the only one for me, for Ed, now, don’t you?” I sounded so fucking serious I belonged in a fucking chick flick. Ugh. I needed to move past this and get to the dirty bits, because me and heartfelt emotion didn’t mix well.