Flawed: (A Psychological Dark Romance) (The Dark Necessities Prequels Book 1)

by Felicity Brandon

  Glancing down at the sleeping beauty in his arms, his heart wanted to swell, but as usual, there was no time for that. Ethan never did anything the easy way, and it seemed, Lily was to be no exception. There was no doubt in his mind that he was madly and passionately in love with her, but blurting out his crimes the way he’d done had been a mistake, and a stupid one at that. And that one error had consequences, the aftermath of which was playing out right in front of him. He had to persuade Lily to ring her parents again—that would buy them at least some time—and then he had to decide how to move things forward. She still wanted him, their latest orgasmic session had been more than enough evidence of that, but she was understandably upset by his revelations, and they would need time to work on that. The dynamic between them was still young, and Lily was malleable. Ethan knew he could bring her around with time.

  And if you can’t? The snide little voice in his head purred. If you can’t bring her around?

  Ethan gazed down at Lily’s peaceful face. His chest tightened as the reality of that prospect passed over him. If he couldn’t persuade her then he would do what needed to be done.

  Just like he always did.

  He eased her from his body. The fire had more or less dwindled, and the room was beginning to cool. His little one was still beautifully nude, and Ethan knew she’d get cold if he didn’t do something to heat the room up soon. Eyeing the place the logs were stacked, he realized he’d need to get out there and chop some more wood if he wanted the fire to remain an option. That was going to take time, and they needed warmth right now. It was then that he remembered the electric bar heaters his father had bought. They were something of a novelty back in those days, and the selfish old man usually had them hidden away in this room somewhere, despite the fact he also had a perfectly good fireplace. Rising from his place beside Lily on the rug, Ethan fastened his pants, casting his gaze around the room. Where would his father have kept them? They could be tucked away behind one of the pieces of furniture, or alternatively, he might have stashed them in the cellar. A quick search of the room did not reveal either of the single bar heaters Ethan recalled from his youth, and with a sigh he realized it meant yet another trek down the cellar.

  A soft murmur from Lily caught his attention, and Ethan turned his head to find her struggling against his ropes. She was still asleep, her pretty face buried in the soft fibers of the rug, but clearly she was uncomfortable with her arms still bound, and the thought occurred that she’d actually been tied that way for a quite a long time at this point. Ethan didn’t want her to lose the circulation in her arms or wrists, so he made his way to the place she was curled up on the rug, lowering himself into a crouch behind her back. From this new position, Ethan’s gaze fell over her delectable backside again, the memory of how exquisite he had felt inside it flooding his brain and making his recently satisfied cock rouse again. He also took in the look of the red marks his belt had left, staring at them with a sense of pride. Ethan had been right in his assessment to Lily. Those marks were significant to him—they were like a brand that signaled his ownership of her body in some primal way—and he hoped she’d be able to see it that way, too. With some time.

  With a sigh of resignation, he began work on the ropes. In one way it pained him to unfetter her. Lily looked so fucking good bound this way—too good really—but in the end, his sense of duty to her won out. She was his now, and that meant more than just belting and fucking her. It meant taking care of her, too. Lily’s hands had been tied for hours, and they needed liberating. She wasn’t going anywhere now. He knew that, and he was aware that Lily knew it as well. Initially, he’d sensed the panic in her scattered thoughts, and the idea of fleeing had been there in her head, but after her impromptu collapse, and then the deep, sensual pleasure he’d bestowed upon Lily, Ethan hadn’t had that impression from her again. She might be confused, and angry at him even, but he could deal with that. They would work through that. What mattered most was that she knew she was loved and cared for.

  And owned.

  The restraints weren’t tight, and it only took a few gentle tugs for them to fall free from her wrists. She let out a contented sigh as the ropes fell to the rug, as though Lily had been awake the whole time, but one quick leap into her mind assured Ethan that she wasn’t. She was fast asleep and dreaming, and as he closed his eyes, he could see flashes of the dream that held her attention. They were together—he and Lily—and hand in hand they walked along a beach. Ethan could sense how happy she was, her contentment making him wish he could slip right into the dream with her. They hadn’t shared a dream since he’d brought her here, and it was vexing, but somehow, it didn’t surprise him. This house was toxic. It always had been, and he was only glad they were able to make some good memories of their own—to replace the ones that had seeped into his subconscious over the years.

  Musing on that thought for a moment, Ethan rose, looming over her beautiful body as he tried to focus. Now was not the time for sweet dreams, and it wasn’t the time for ghosts of the past. He had to find the electric heater, and keep his little Lily warm. Striding toward the door, he left her sleeping on the rug. He’d find that damn heater, and when she woke he’d feed her and take her to the local telephone box to reassure her parents, before he brought her back to make love to her again. If they had to be stuck in this Godforsaken place, then Ethan fully intended to create a new, happy memory in each room.

  His gaze fell over Lily one final time before he closed the door behind him, and made his way in the direction of the cellar.

  In her dream, Lily was warm and content. The sun was shining on her face from high in the sky, and as she turned her head, she could see the man she loved smiling down at her. His eyes were a deep blue, the most vivid and gorgeous color she’d ever seen, and they twinkled as he stared down at her.

  “I want to make love to you again,” the words purred from his lips in that tone that made Lily’s pussy wet. “Now.”

  “Now?” Her voice was breathy, and she sounded needy.

  Desperate.

  “But we’re on the beach, how can we?”

  “On the beach?”

  The light disappeared in a flash, and all of a sudden, the sky was dark and cold. Or, maybe it wasn’t the sky at all. Maybe they were somewhere else—somewhere even darker. It seemed that way, and as Lily looked around she found the sand and the sea were no longer anywhere to be seen. Now, there were only four dark walls around her, and a low ceiling. Wherever she was, it was somewhere black and damp, and somewhere she’d been before—the place was familiar—the odor was familiar. She took in a deep breath, absorbing more of the dank smell, and it was then that it came to her, she did know where it was—the cellar.

  “Ethan?”

  Lily’s voice was still raspy, but this time there was a fragment of something else. Fear.

  “Ethan, why are we here?”

  “I think you know.” His voice was different, too. It was harder, and had an edge that made Lily gulp.

  She turned her head to try and find him. One moment Ethan had been holding her hand on the beach, and the next they were here, and he was gone. “I don’t,” she mumbled into the darkness. “I don’t know why.”

  All at once he was behind her, his body pressing up against her backside, and his arms snaking around to the front of her body.

  “Ethan.”

  That was a gasp, and it was in response to one of Ethan’s palms, which was even at that moment, traveling up the length of Lily’s body.

  “Sir, please.”

  Lily didn’t know what she wanted. Did she want the hand to stop, and if so, where should it stop? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she instinctively sensed something was wrong—that she was in danger.

  The hand continued its route, rising north until it was at her throat, the fingers splaying around the front of her neck. Reflexively, Lily lurched backwards, trying to evade its pursuit, but all she did was crash into the powerful body behind her. He wa
s like a wall, stopping her retreat in an instant as his other arm tightened at her waist.

  “Please!” she rasped, or, at least she tried to rasp, but now the words were hard to get out, because air was much harder to get in.

  Lily was panicking now—plain and simple. She could feel the terror as it shot around her body like a bullet, looking for an exit—a solution—but finding none, because there were none. Of course, her hands had risen to the giant palm at her throat, the one that was slowly cutting off her air supply, and they scratched and clawed at the flesh there in a desperate attempt to weaken its hold.

  His hold. Ethan’s hold.

  This was Ethan, she reminded herself. The man who loves you. It was him—he was doing this.

  “Ethan…”

  That time the word definitely didn’t come from her lips, in fact, all Lily heard was a rush of air as she tried to speak. The pressure on her throat increased, and that’s when the pain came. A cold, terrifying wall of it that threatened to snap her in half if she couldn’t escape her fate.

  But there was no escaping this.

  Ethan’s grasp was just too strong.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Lily awoke with a start, her body jolting into an upright position before her eyes had even opened. A cold wave of panic washed over her as she finally took in her whereabouts on the soft rug, and her hands rose to her throat out of instinct.

  Oh my God…

  It had all been a dream, then? Nothing but an awful nightmare, but she wouldn’t know it from the pounding of her heart, and the sense of dread that still filled the pit of her belly. It had all seemed so real, and the terror that had gripped Lily had been as consuming as anything else she’d experienced. As consuming as the apprehension she had about this house, and as consuming as her unexpected response to Ethan’s ropes.

  The ropes.

  She blinked down at her wrists, lowering them to take in the faint markings still evident on her skin. So, she had been tied? That part hadn’t been in her dream, but Lily had a vague recollection of the ropes before she’d crashed out after their amazing sex session. The reality of that last assertion washed over her—another realization for her brain to try and process. Yes, the sex had been incredible. Lily remembered it, the sensation between her legs, and the intensity of that thought reminding her. Just a second ago, she’d been sure there was no emotion greater than her dread, and yet now she could recall every ounce of the passion she’d shared with Ethan, and she wasn’t so certain.

  Whatever visceral energy they created between them, it was real. There was no denying that. But was it enough? Was it enough to lie to her parents for? Could she really give them up, plus the life she had known living with them—all for Ethan—a man she barely knew? A man who’d confessed to murder? The anxiety had her stomach churning as the questions raced through Lily’s mind. She didn’t have any answers to all those fucking questions. All she knew was that when they were together, the connection between them was unbridled—and Lily wanted more of it. Much more. But was that energy really enough to abandon her whole life for? And was it a sufficient reason to abandon her morality for? Lily had been raised with a strong sense of what was right and what was wrong, and whichever way she looked at things, Ethan’s confession was shocking. His crimes were heinous, and they just simply couldn’t be overlooked—could they?

  All of a sudden, the dread in her stomach twisted, sending a surge of nausea shooting up Lily’s body. Her hands flew to her mouth out of instinct, Lily’s feet scrambling to hold her weight, as she forced herself upwards.

  What had she done?

  The guy had admitted the repugnant acts he’d committed, and what had Lily’s response been? Had she condemned him? Had she fought him or fled?

  No.

  Lily hadn’t done any of those things. She’d surrendered to his bondage, reveling in the way it had made her feel as he drove her out here, and then she’d capitulated further. She had allowed him to control her, she’d submitted to a punishment she knew she neither deserved, nor wanted, and then—oh God, then— she’d accepted the pleasure he offered, even begging him to fuck her.

  Shame hit her like a tsunami, the weight of it enveloping Lily’s senses in an instant, and still, the question plagued her.

  What had she done?

  She could hear her mother’s voice inside her head, asking the question, over and over. But now that voice shifted, and so did the words it demanded. Her mother was no longer looking for an answer. Her mother had already made her judgment, and Lily heard it as clear as day in her head.

  You’ve whored yourself, it declared in triumph. That’s what you’ve done, Lily Simpson. You’ve allowed yourself to become his whore!

  Hot tears pricked in Lily’s eyes at the verdict, and now the solution to the riddle was clear. Now, she knew just what she had done by permitting him to take her over. Her surrender had emboldened Ethan. By whoring herself, she’d condoned his behavior. She’d told him it was alright to do those things. It was alright to kill. He could do whatever he wanted, and unlike her, there were no consequences. Hell, he could pop out now and murder another one, and that was just fine, so long as he came home and buried his face between her legs.

  Oh fuck, she thought, scanning the room for evidence of the clothes she’d been wearing when they’d arrived. The fact that she was still naked at whatever bloody time of the day this was, just made everything worse. She heard her mother’s moral judgment again: only a whore would wake naked in the middle of the day, and the reality validated the enormous sense of guilt and shame that had already overwhelmed her. Lily felt those emotions because they were true. She deserved them. She was guilty. Stumbling from the rug, she collected her panties and bra, collapsing into the chair Ethan had frequented as she pulled them on. She ignored the way her arse screamed, finding her tights, skirt and blouse, before finally identifying the place her shoes had been flung. Dressed at last, Lily staggered toward the door. The door Ethan had come through, but the one she never remembered using. Toward the exit from this damn room.

  Lily had made it worse. She’d taken an already unbearable situation and polished it into a whole new world of pain. If Ethan had been a monster, then she had petted that monster—she had loved it, and given it the wings it needed to fly. So, what did that make her? Lily was complicit in his crimes now, and the revulsion she felt about that realization pushed the vomit closer to her lips. She lurched for the door, despising the selfish way she had acted. She should have contacted the police. Lily wasn’t sure how that would have been possible, but there must have been a way. She had just chosen to overlook it. She had chosen to only think of herself, and not all those women—those countless, dead women.

  Yanking on the handle, she pulled the door toward her, revealing an old, shadowy hallway. White paint was peeling from the woodwork in virtually every direction she looked, illuminated only by the limited light spilling from the glass front door.

  The front door!

  The thought filled her head like a revelation. The front door meant an exit—an escape—and right now that thought was the brightest one Lily had.

  “Lily!”

  The sound of Ethan’s voice made her heart pound even harder, and she turned her face in the direction it had come from.

  “Lily, is that you?”

  Ethan. Ethan was still there. Lily shook her head as she processed that concept. Of course, Ethan was still there. Where the hell did she think he would have gone? In some ways, it should have been surprising he wasn’t there when she’d woken, but the fact had been rather lost on her in the aftermath of her nightmare, and the stark reality Lily had woken up to.

  “Lily!”

  He was shouting now, and the urgent timbre of his voice made her feet move faster toward the small door under the staircase. It was slightly ajar, suggesting someone had opened it recently. Lily couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought that must be the entrance to the cellar, the place he had brought her when they’
d first entered the house in complete darkness.

  “Yes.”

  Her voice was rather firmer than she’d been expecting. In all the angst of her self-disgust, Lily had assumed her tone would be weak and tentative, but the sound she heard wasn’t like that. It was determined; almost hard.

  There was a pause as she waited for his response, but the whole time, Lily was edging closer toward that small door, her feet shuffling forward in time to the hammering of her heart.

  “You’re awake.” He sounded pleased. Well, at least one of them was, because Lily had never been more revolted with herself. “I’m just looking for our old electric heater, but even with the light on, the place is a mess. Fancy giving me a hand, or shall I come and find you?”

  Ethan’s tone sounded sardonic, but something about his words sent a fresh bolt of panic racing through Lily’s body. Shall I come up and find you? The words echoed around her mind, and all of a sudden, the thought of him coming through that door, and having to face him, seemed like the most horrendous prospect Lily could imagine. She should have been stronger—braver—she knew that. She had helped to create this mess. She had surrendered to him, giving Ethan the impression that she was okay with the things he had done. Reassuring him. And she was sorry for it. Deep down, Lily knew that one day she would have to pay the price for those mistakes, but not now—not today. Today, she just couldn’t deal with it. She couldn’t face him. Today was a step too far.

  “Lily?” His tone was querying now. “Are you okay?”

  Her left hand reached for the wooden door, skimming over the places the old, white paint had already been chipped away. Lily’s gaze darted right, landing over the large bolt secured at the top of the frame. As her eyes flitted south, she found another strong looking bolt located at the bottom of the frame, too. Both presumably in place to keep the door locked when not in use. For a fleeting moment, that seemed odd to her. Strange, and out of place. Why would you have two massive locks on the cellar door? What would anyone keep down there that would need such strong defenses? And then, all at once, her mind began to whir into life, and the answer to those questions didn’t matter.