“Nothing for you to concern yourself with,” Julian replied good-naturedly. “We’re going to talk.”
Without waiting for my response, he grabbed my hand and tugged me into his side.
“Is your package a living breathing thing?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His smirk said otherwise.
Now I was curious. “How do you get people in here?”
“If I give you all the answers that leaves behind none of the intrigue or mystery.”
“Really?”
I saw a dimple appear from my peripheral. Someone was in a good mood.
“I got to see his room,” I tossed out.
“Talented, isn’t he?”
“He’s perfect. You did an incredible job.”
“I know. I remember when we made him.”
I laughed and lightly slapped his forearm. “You know what I meant.”
Our steps led us to the rear patio of the chateau this time instead of the study. He pulled out a chair for me at round table where a simple cheese and vegetable tray set with a pitcher of water.
“Your staff must be invisible because aside from Babs I never see anyone.”
“The kitchen staff is supposed to be invisible. You’ll meet the rest as time goes on.”
Time. We’d lost so much of it and that was the saddest thing of all, because time wasn’t something we could ever get back.
I ate some of the fruit he’d placed on my plate, basking in the sun and quiet, contemplating a million different things.
“You never moved on?” I knew the answer for the most part, but I’d rather be one hundred percent certain.
“What do you mean by that?”
I scowled. He knew what I meant. “I already know the answer to the other way you’d have moved on,” I stated dryly. A woman can hope, but he wasn’t that old when I forced our hiatus. It would have been ridiculous for him to go celibate.
“You know what I’m asking you.”
“And you know the answer. I never wanted to do this again. No one could ever fill the hole you left. I was only going to fall in love once, and it was always going to be with you.”
That was a good answer. I rolled my lips to hide a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Have you seen Nester?”
“Why do you call him by his last name instead of his first?”
I lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “It felt more natural to refer to him as that or doctor. That’s what he was to me, after all.”
“Nothing more?”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “You’re still the only man who has ever touched me like that. Or, at least from what I’ve started to remember. And I’m glad.”
“I’m much happier than you about that.” He grinned. “As for Thomas, he left.”
I bit into a grape. How could he leave without saying goodbye? Maybe he knew it wouldn’t be as heartfelt on my end. The more I thought about what he did and all the lies he’d told; I was glad he’d left.
“Is it wrong for me to be happy he’s gone?”
“No. I knew you wanted him gone,” he replied, then changing the subject, “We have all day together.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled around my glass.
“We should probably spend half of it with me making up for what I did the other night.”
“How?”
“I was thinking with my fingers, tongue, and cock.”
“Oh…”
If this was his version of an apology, I was definitely going to take it.
Chapter Fifteen
If someone had told me what he looked like underneath his clothes, I wouldn’t have believed them. I’d known he was fit but this was on an entirely different level. He’d undressed first, all the way down to a pair of black boxer briefs.
His body was incredible. Every hard line and ab was well defined. Even his ass was toned and fit.
But his tanned skin was scarred. Down his right side was a thick line that reminded me of a lightning bolt, he turned to switch a lamp on, and I got to see the scar on his back. One long line and four small ones.
It made my stomach turn. Not because I was disgusted, his scars made him even more beautiful. But he had a permanent reminder of what happened to him all over his body. What I’d caused to happen.
“We’re going to fuck many times throughout the rest of our lives. These scars are nothing but a dark area for us, everyone’s story has one.”
He always knew what to say. I smiled slightly, and without asking or thinking about it, I reached out and ran my fingertips over his abs, gliding them to where his lightning bolt was.
“Do you still hurt?” I asked.
He told me to look, and now I was determined to commit every one of these marks to memory.
“No.” He reached for the spaghetti straps of my dress and eased them down my arms, trailing his fingers along my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
I let him do what he did best, take control of the situation. My dress disappeared, pooling onto the floor. His hands never stopped caressing my skin. They skimmed across my back, unhooking my bra, freeing my breasts. The only thing left were my underwear, leaving me entirely exposed.
He moved me to his bed and laid me down, hovering over me like a dark apparition. I let him see my body because I wanted him to. I knew this man. He’d seen me at my absolute worst. There was no reason to hide myself from him.
“You’re gorgeous.” He pressed a kiss to the scar on my chest. “You were then, and you still are now.”
“Even with the scars?”
“They’re not that bad.” He traced over the one on my arm. “I don’t see them the way you do. Besides, I’ve always thought your scars were beautiful.”
He took his time; his hands touched every surface of my body. His lips moved over every curve, scar, and freckle until they got to the apex where my thighs met.
"Julian..."
He chuckled, sending a soft breath of warm air over my clit.
"Jules," he stated firmly.
"Jules?"
"Call me Jules," he lifted my legs over his shoulders, repositioning his body so that his mouth was right where he wanted it. The instant his mouth covered my clit, he went from soft to aggressive.
Pushing his tongue in, swiping up, and gently biting on my bundle of nerves. Two fingers joined his tongue, plunging in and out of me.
He worked his digits in knuckle deep, turning as he pulled them back out.
"Jules...," I grabbed his hair forcing his face deeper into my pussy.
His soft hums of appreciation had the tension in my core building even faster.
“Come on my tongue, Dollface, let me taste you.”
"Oh, fuck. Jules!" Fisting his soft locks, I held his mouth in place as he sucked on my clit. He curled two fingers inside me, hitting that perfect spot. When my climax hit that amazing feeling turned into something otherworldly. My body seized, a gasp and series of loud moans unfurled in my chest. Julian moved back, watching me squirt all over the bed.
"I need to make you do that three times a week, minimum." He reached between my shaking legs and pressed on my sensitive nub, rolling it until another wave of pleasure had me whimpering beneath him.
He leaned in to capture my mouth, his kiss carnal and hungry. I tasted myself on his tongue, sucking to savor every bit of it.
He pulled back and grabbed hold of my hips, flipping me onto my knees. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, forcing me to arch my back. He freed his thick cock, and lined himself up, pushing inside me without warning.
I felt the heat of him at my back and moaned just from the sensations alone. The feel of him pressing against me, stretching and filling me. He set a grueling pace, riding my body like he needed to make for all our lost time here and now. The sound of skin hitting skin and my uninhibited moans filled the room.
I couldn’t hold myself up and almost folded down. Julian gripped one of my hips and kn
otted a hand in my hair, forcing my head back until I was looking up into his face as he pounded into me from behind.
I could feel his muscles flex with every thrust. “Hurt me,” my voice came out hoarse from the way my head was angled back.
He smiled and lurched down to kiss me, causing my back to arch further and his cock to go deeper. He bit down on my tongue until I whimpered from the pain and blood filled my mouth, not letting me pull away. It was only tip of the iceberg regarding what I needed from him.
"Jules." His name was a mere whisper.
"I know," he breathed out, digging his nails into my ass so hard he broke the skin. I moaned in response.
"More," I whined as he dug in deeper.
“More?”
He shoved my face into the mattress almost to the point of suffocating me, fucking me with a brutal amount of force. I fisted the comforter, screaming into the fabric.
He slapped my ass before wrapping my hair around his fist and yanking my head back again.
Tears pooled in my eyes, spilling down my face. The pain from how hard he was fucking me was complete and utter bliss. I came on a silent scream, sinking down to the bed a boneless mess by the time he found his own release.
My body would feel this for a week, but it was more than worth it. I huddled into his side, laying my head on his damp chest. Neither of us spoke for an elongated period of silence. He held me tight, running his fingers through my hair with his free hand.
“Would you like to play?”
I smothered a yawn, turning that question over in my head.
I couldn’t remember if I’d done that before or not, but I knew I wanted to, so I said yes.
Chapter Sixteen
I walked with him to the corridor I was becoming well acquainted with.
I felt nothing but the residual ache of where he’d just been, come still between my legs since he demanded it stay, and a warmth in my chest. I didn’t think too much about the people that were killed here, and contrary to earlier I didn’t care how they got to Dahlia or where they came from.
“Ready to see my package?” Julian asked, pausing just outside his playroom.
“I knew it was a person,” I retorted as soon as we were inside the room. The guy looked like he drove a luxury minivan and grilled hot dogs on Saturdays.
“What did he do?”
I stood by the door, watching Julian go to his table and pick up a small rounded knife and a blue container.
“Kieran’s a dirty copy.”
“This guy is a cop? Is that smart to have him here?”
“While I appreciate the concern for my well-being. I’ve had much higher ups than a shitty small-town cop brought to the Dahlia. And to answer your question, Kieran is a retired dirty cop. A friend of his just put us back in touch after a decent number of years and I thought now was a great time to wrap up the few loose ends we’ve had dangling between us.”
“Do you kill everyone you have a problem with?”
He scoffed. “Of course, not. Only sixty percent of them.”
“Just sixty?” I teased.
“Most people know better, and I don’t need to kill someone to make their life a living hell,” he replied flippantly.
I was sure he didn’t. I crept closer to the chair, and the man turned his head, silver eyes going wide when he saw me standing there staring at him.
“Does he know me?” I studied his face, but I couldn’t place him from anywhere.
“Lots of people know of you. Few know you. You’re my wife. I didn’t—I won’t—let anyone close to you. You’re also a living breathing ghost right now. No one knows you’re alive.”
I didn’t care about the ghost part. He and the rest of his family knew I was here. That was really all that mattered.
“What if I want friends?”
“I’m your best fucking friend. With benefits. You don’t need anyone else.”
I bit the inside of my lip to smother a laugh. I didn’t care for making new acquaintances either, I just wanted to hear his answer. Beyond this property I knew I would revert to the woman who had always been a hermit. And I was past the age where I needed to surround myself with new people, anyways. I was content with what I had. Plus, I couldn’t imagine it being easy to find friends okay with the family business.
“Here. Put these on and rub this where all the patches are.” I accepted a pair of rubber gloves and block of iodized salt, noticing for the first time the strips of flesh resting in a foil pan. I paused what I was doing and watched him glide the knife he’d picked up, along Kieran’s bare leg, lifting a layer of skin in the process.
He hissed in pain, tugging at his restraints and screeching behind the gag in his mouth.
“Many people will never be able to fathom that a place like this exist,” Julian began. “It’s made me very protective of it and the people within its community. In the world of the mundane, killing to simply kill is considered wrong. Indulging in our carnal desires is frowned upon. People get called psychopaths, maniacs, freaks.”
He lifted another piece of flesh and directed me to rub the salt on the spot it had come from once he dropped it in the pan with the rest.
“Why do you think people kill?” he asked once Kieran stopped yelling.
I didn’t know how to answer his question right away. I pondered it for a few seconds. “When a lion kills a gazelle or another lion it’s not a big deal. It’s just a wild animal doing what animals do. But people are animals too, and I think we’re wilder and more dangerous than any other creature that exists.
“See, you get it,” he mused, wiping his blade on a brown rag.
I went back to pouring salt in my hand and rubbing it into Kieran’s open wounds. We worked together, he cut, and I salted.
“Why do you kill?” I asked.
“Besides it being an all-time American hobby?” he joked. “I kill because the compulsive need to manipulate and make others feel excruciating pain is sometimes overwhelming. That’s why you’re perfect for me.”
“Because you can manipulate me?”
“No, because you’re a pain whore who loves every fucked-up thing that I do to you.”
“I‑‑.”
“You’re beautiful and you’ve got a beautifully chaotic brain,” he continued, undoing the restraints around Kieran’s feet.
“Everything, huh?”
“Give me a minute and I’ll show you.” He finished undoing the other restraints and lifted Kieran up like he weighed nothing.
I pulled my bloodied, salted gloves off wondering what he was going to do next. Carrying the man across the room, he stopped in front of the meat hooks hanging from the ceiling and I suddenly knew where this was going.
The sound the hook made piercing through his flesh was gag worthy. This new pain roused him from his unconscious state. His muffled yell was much louder now. Blood ran down his naked back and dripped onto the stone floor. Julian moved behind him and reached for his flailing arms, hooking each one to a separate restraint each attached to a ceiling beam.
“Bring me that bucket over there and my blade.”
Without asking why I grabbed his bloody knife then walked over to where he had pointed and grabbed a metal bucket.
“Hold it near his chest,” he ordered when I reached him.
“Um…like this?” I lifted the bucket and looked to Julian.
“Perfect,” he smiled. Without any warning of what he was about to do next, he whispered something in Kieran’s ear, and then dragged the knife across his throat.
Chapter Seventeen
She tried to use the bucket to shield her face from the spray of blood.
Kieran’s body went into a seizure like state, causing the hooks to tear clean through his flesh. His death was anti-climactic, which is why he’d still been alive all these years. Killing him wouldn’t have brought Morgana back from the dead.
He’d lived with a miserable amount of guilt ever since he’d helped her plan her suicide and my death,
not counting on the fact that I would survive. It wasn’t all that hard to figure out he’d helped push her that much more. And he was a fucking fool to think I wouldn’t be able to get to him, if, or when, I wanted to. I had many connections in my many places. The Dahlia wouldn’t have been able to thrive the way it had all these years without them. It was more than just a chateau of horrors; it was my empire for the sick and deranged.
I’m sure he knew that now.
Had Dakota not been Luca’s wife she’d have been dangling beside him. She was the one who made Morgana believe she would take Mason away from me and keep him safe. I would have risen from the fucking grave before I let her have my son. She didn’t even raise Declan.
Luca had despised her ever since; but he also refused to let her get away from him. For his happiness’ sake, I hoped he figured shit out and found someone worthy of the Andreou surname before he ran out of time. Though, if people thought my ideals on relationships and the way I was with Morgana was wrong, they would lose their goddamn minds when it came to Luca.
“Gross, it tastes like ravioli,” Morgana’s soft broke me out of my reverie.
“Where the fuck did you get ravioli?” I laughed. She glared at me, olive eyes narrowing into slits.
“Blood tastes like metal. So does ravioli,” she sat the bucket on the ground and used her forearm to wipe her face. She was wearing the same sundress from earlier, a simple yellow and white piece of fabric. Her hair was tied off to the side in a single braid, and her face was bare besides the blood.
To me, this was beauty. She didn’t need anything, only to be herself.
Knocking the bucket out of the way, I stepped over Kieran and grabbed her arms, pulling her into me. A soft gasp slipped from between her lips. I had my own motives for pursuing her all those years ago. Turns out it was the best decision I’d ever made.
It wasn’t every day you found someone who not only accepted the darkness inside you, but wanted to be tainted with it. She stood there with a dead man’s blood on her face, kissing me as with a timid sweetness. She sighed and leaned into me, careful not to touch me with her bloody hands.
I reached down and lifted her up, forcing her legs to wrap around my waist. I placed her in the chair Kieran had just restrained to, and buckled her in.
Malevolence (Dahlia Saga Book 4) Page 9