These Monstrous Ties: New Adult Dark Romance (Unsainted Book 1)

by K. V. Rose

  I hold still.

  “Ah, Lilith. I’ve been waiting a long, long time for you to come back to hell.” He pulls me tighter against him, and I can feel him, wanting me, against my back. Bile rises to my throat.

  Not because I don’t want it.

  But because I do.

  And I hate that part of myself. I’m not an escort anymore, and I’m not his Lilith anymore, either. There’s no Death Oath between us tonight. We are nothing. And whether it’s tonight or on Halloween night to appease my brother, I’m going to kill him. And I’m going to make him suffer while I do.

  But I still can’t deny the fact that some sick part of me likes this.

  He moves his hand from my mouth, resting it against my throat. He presses his lips against my hair.

  “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” he whispers against my hair.

  I swallow. My mouth has gone suddenly dry. I have a lot to say. But I’m forgetting all of it. Every word.

  “You’re staying here,” is the only thing I manage.

  It isn’t a question, but he murmurs his agreement against my hair anyway. “And you came for me,” he breathes. “Did Jeremiah send you here?”

  I stiffen. I didn’t expect that. Nicolas had been wrong. He knows where I am.

  Does he know who Jeremiah is to me?

  I shake my head. “No,” I answer him honestly.

  “Put the gun down.” A command.

  “No.” A defiance. Because I’m done with people telling me what to do tonight. Nicolas, my brother, now Lucifer.

  I want to do this my way. And that is with the gun in my hand.

  Lucifer rasps a laugh. Then his fingers curl around my throat. He slowly increases the pressure until I can’t breathe. His fingers dig into the bruises already there, from my brother and Kristof.

  A whimper escapes my lips without my permission. I don’t want to show any weakness in front of him, not after the year I’ve spent pining over the boy who left me in the asylum. But the bruises hurt. My face burns.

  Lucifer’s hand stills, and he lets up on the pressure, but he doesn’t let go. “You didn’t hurt that easily a year ago, Lilith,” he purrs.

  I don’t dare breathe. I can’t draw air into my lungs. The woods are so dark, I feel as if I’m in a dream. This might not even be real. But a cool wind blows through the trees, rattling branches, and I snap back to reality.

  This is my life.

  I’m in Lucifer’s arms, once more. And I have the disadvantage, once more.

  Before my mind can catch up with reality, Lucifer spins me around, and takes the gun from my hand. And I let him. My fingers don’t work quickly enough to stop him. Suddenly, he holds the weapon. But then again, he’s always held the weapon.

  He lets me go, takes a step back from me.

  Then arms fold around me, strong and firm and even before I hear his deep voice, I know it’s Ezra. He whispers in my ear, “Did you miss us?”

  And I gasp, struggling against his grip.

  He holds firm and all the while, Lucifer just watches.

  “What the fuck?” I hiss to both of them, trying to twist my head, to see Ezra’s massive form behind me. But he isn’t budging. I stop trying to fight, save that for when I can run away.

  “Lucifer,” I nearly plead.

  I can see his midnight blue eyes blazing in the night, and a lock of curly black hair falls over his brow, from beneath his hood. He wears a black hoodie, like I do, and fitted black jogging pants. But it isn’t any of that that makes my breath catch in my throat.

  It’s his skin.

  His face.

  We’re still close enough to share breath, even if we aren’t touching. And I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen his skin. Before, he’d had on the makeup. But now…his skin is pale, made more so by the night. His jawline is defined, cheekbones nearly hollow. He’s beautiful.

  He’d been beautiful that night, too, but disguised.

  And as his eyes roam over my own face, coming to rest on my lips, I realize he’s seeing me, too, for the first time without the pale makeup I’d worn that night.

  His full lips curve into a smile. They’re pale pink, his top one slightly bigger than the bottom. They’re beautiful. They’re dangerous. Just like him.

  He holds the gun loose at his side, but I’m acutely aware of it.

  And then his eyes go past my lips, and his expression changes. He raises the gun, his arm bent at the elbow, the barrel pointing at the canopy above us. He’s frowning, and his eyes are narrowed, his jaw locked.

  The hand not holding the gun goes to my throat again, and I wince, ready for him to squeeze. Ezra senses my movements because he tightens his grip around me.

  But Lucifer doesn’t squeeze my throat. He brushes his fingers lightly against my skin, making goosebumps rise down my arms.

  “Are those bruises?” he asks, his voice taking a darker, deadlier tone.

  I had forgotten. Or rather, I didn’t really expect I’d see him tonight. And I never expected him to see me. And not like this. Not this close.

  But with his words, the memory of Kristof comes rushing back. Of me stabbing his leg. Of him slamming me against the wall. My brother stepping in at the last minute.

  I try not to think about it. Now is so not the time.

  It seems too late, though, because Lucifer cocks his head, his finger trailing up to my jaw. “They are, aren’t they?” he murmurs. I can smell his breath, feel it on my brow as I look up at him. He smells like cigarettes and spearmint.

  “Who did it?” Ezra growls.

  I don’t answer him and Ezra snorts, pulling me tighter against him.

  I ball my hands into fists, but I’m not going anywhere. Ezra has my arms. Lucifer has my gun. I don’t have a chance.

  “Why?” I challenge Lucifer. It’s time for me to find my voice again.

  His hand goes back down by his side, away from my jaw. “Why what, Lilith?”

  It feels so good to hear his voice.

  And I fucking hate it.

  “Why did you burn down Brooklin’s house?”

  Ezra laughs, but with a look from Lucifer, he falls silent. I can feel his chest rising and falling against my shoulders.

  Lucifer smiles coldly, looking down at the ground between us. “That’s what you want to ask me?” he says softly, dragging his gaze along my body, up to meet my eyes again. “I think you want to know something else, don’t you, Lilith?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want anything from you.” I dig my nails so hard into my palms I know it’ll draw blood. Just like I had that night. The pale white scar on my thigh is there to prove that.

  He has a matching one. But he had more, before me.

  He seems to be thinking about my own scar now as he glances down at my legs, a smile playing on his lips. “I remember your blood,” he says quietly, taking a step closer. I’m frozen, in between these two Unsaints. Once more, me and Lucifer are close enough to touch. But I won’t reach for him. Not even to try to get the gun back. I will never reach for him again. “I remember tasting you,” he murmurs, chin angled down as he takes me in. Like he wants to devour me. “I remember everything about you, Lilith. About that night. And the first thing you want to ask me is about your boss’s fuck toy?”

  Ezra barks a laugh, and I feel his chest rumble behind me.

  But that means Lucifer doesn’t know I’m Jeremiah’s sister. And I sure as hell won’t tell him. If he knows, he might go thinking that I mean something to Jeremiah. That he can use me as a bargaining chip in whatever war he’s waging with my brother. Because there’s more to this than me. The Unsaints aren’t here just for me. They wouldn’t care that much.

  And Jeremiah might get me back if they take me. But he won’t pay anything for me.

  “This was really brave, Lilith. To come out here by yourself.” He slides the gun into the waistband of his pants. I want to tell him that’s stupid, but I don’t care enough to.

  That,
and I catch a glimpse of the V leading down into his low-slung pants and I’ve suddenly gone completely stupid. I remember the tattoo on his thigh.

  I snap my eyes to his, but not before he notices where I’m staring. He lets out a little laugh.

  “Really brave,” he drawls, stepping closer to me, his chest brushing my shoulder. “And really stupid.”

  I back away, farther into Ezra, who laughs again. He presses his nose into the crook of my neck, and I hear him inhale.

  “God, you smell fucking good.” He lifts his head. “We should have her tonight, Luce,” he croons.

  Lucifer’s gaze hardens, but he says nothing to Ezra. Instead, his next words are to me. “You can run, Lilith. But you can’t hide.” He shakes his head. “Not from me.”

  He nods to Ezra, who pushes me forward, and I fucking bolt, not daring to look back. Adrenaline springs through my body as fast as lightening and my shoes pound in the dirt with every hard step. I can’t hear over my own heart, my own heavy breathing, but I don’t think they’ll follow me. Not yet.

  They want to drag this out too. I have no idea why they’re mad at me, what’s gone down between them and my brother besides Brooklin’s house and Jeremiah turning his back on the Unsaints. But I don’t care. If they want to play, it’ll give me time to run.

  I only slow when I’m out of the forest completely, only look back when the lights of the city unfurl ahead.

  They aren’t there.

  I cross the empty street, jog slowly down the sidewalk, to the intersection where me and Lucifer first met. My old apartment complex, my old life, is just around the corner.

  I put a hand to my chest, feel my heart slam against my palm.

  That isn’t me anymore. Lucifer had kept a broken girl alive, only to turn her into a monster. He thought he was bad. He thought I was scared.

  He has no fucking idea what I’ve done in the past year. What I’ve seen. What I’ve endured at the hands of my brother. He might fuck with me, but only one of us is going to get fucked. And Lilith is going to take back what’s hers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Halloween, One Year Ago

  Lucifer gets down on his knees.

  He’d taken us down the staircase at the end of the hall, and we’re underground, in what looks like it might have once been a cell. There’s a wheelchair with a bottle of rum propped up on the seat of it, and a twin bed with a surprisingly white mattress. The cement floors are bare. There’s rope in the corner of the room. And somewhere beyond this cell, I can hear someone moaning, and the unmistakable rhythmic pounding of two people fucking.

  Lucifer rips a hole with his hands through my stockings, and then he looks up at me from the ground, glancing at the blade in my hand.

  “Do you like pain?”

  I don’t know what to say. I can still taste him on my lips. On my tongue. I want more of that. More of him. But I want him to have me, too.

  I nod, hand him the blade with shaky hands. I don’t know if I’m shaking from the vodka, from fear, confusion. Something else entirely.

  His eyes hold mine as he puts the point of the knife against my skin. “It’ll only hurt a little,” he promises. And then, still looking up at me, he slides the blade across my skin.

  It burns, but it’s more than bearable.

  He drops the knife, and I open my mouth to protest. To tell him he has to taste me, like I had tasted him.

  But I don’t get to say the words.

  His tongue goes to my thigh, lapping up my blood. It stings, and I fucking love it. His tongue is hot, and his lips brush against my skin as he sucks more blood into his mouth, his hands gripping my upper thigh. So close to where I want his fingers to be. To where I want him to be. So close, but he won’t give me that.

  Not yet.

  He runs his tongue tauntingly back and forth over the wound, and then he looks up at me once more.

  “Get down here,” he growls.

  I do.

  I fall to my knees on the concrete floor, and his mouth finds mine again. It isn’t a sweet kiss. It isn’t angry, either. It’s possessive. It’s dirty. Raw. I taste my blood on his tongue, and I bite his lip, hard.

  He bites back, breaking the skin.

  I whimper and he groans, his hands wrapping around my body. This is sin. And I never want to be good again.

  His hands find my throat, fingers curling around me. He pulls back, then brings his lips to my ear. He kisses that sensitive spot between my ear and my neck, and then he bites me again, roughly.

  “I don’t care what you’ve done,” he says, his words hot on my skin. “I don’t care who you’ve been with, do you understand?”

  My breath catches. We’re talking about this again. I thought he would hate this part. I thought he didn’t want to hear it. No one else did. It’s why I never dated. And maybe he doesn’t want to hear it, because I didn’t want to hear about the pregnant girl. I don’t want to think one of his firsts, one of the big ones, won’t be with me. That might make me a horrible person. A crazy person. But I don’t care.

  I understand.

  “Do you understand?” he asks me again, his fingers curling tighter around my throat.

  I nod.

  He groans in my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

  “You’re mine now, Lilith. You’re mine from now on.” One hand still on my throat, he drags the other possessively down my body, until he’s there, in between my thighs. Right where I want him to be.

  He grabs me, hard.

  “This. It’s mine.” His hand goes back up, and he cups one breast, and then the other, running his thumb over my nipples. “Mine,” he growls again.

  He pulls away, one hand still on my throat. The other on my chest.

  “All of you. You’re fucking mine now.”

  I think of the girl. Of her baby. Of Atlas and the other Unsaints. Of what Ria had implied about them. About what they are. What they do. I think of all of that, but I don’t care. Tonight, he isn’t him and I sure as hell am not me. Because the ‘me’ that had left my apartment had wanted to die. The ‘me’ I had been mere hours ago was long gone, because if she hadn’t been, I wouldn’t be here now.

  But I am.

  He picks me up and throws me on the bed and I roll over, onto my back.

  He reaches for something out of my sight, and then he kneels over, his eyes devouring me, one hand on my chest. He holds up a bottle like an offering.

  Rum.

  A twisted, sick communion that I won’t refuse.

  “Before you take this, there’s something you have to say.” He’s still pressing one hand against my chest, still kneeling over me.

  “What?” I ask him, curious.

  “The Death Oath.”

  He drops the bottle on the bed and pins my wrists roughly above my head. He leans down, his mouth over mine as he speaks the words I’m to repeat back to him.

  I bind myself to you tonight,

  No matter the shift of the knife.

  Through blood and bone,

  Flesh and heart,

  Death may come,

  But we shall not part.

  I repeat every line into his mouth, and keeping my wrists held together in one hand, he reaches for the bottle of rum, unscrews the cap with his teeth, and holds the bottle over my mouth.

  “That means you’re mine for tonight, Lilith, no matter what I do to you. And I don’t feel like playing nice. I want to fuck the feel of every man you’ve ever had out of you.” He runs his tongue down my throat. “Now open wide.”

  I open my mouth, flick my tongue out, and he smiles. Then he pours the liquor on my tongue, slowly, and I relish in the burn of it.

  His mouth meets mine and we drink together, rum spilling over us until he tosses the bottle just like he’d tossed my gun. We don’t need those things. Not right now. We’re each other’s own drugs. Each other’s own weapons.

  He slides the strap of my body suit down, and then seems to think the better of it. He stops, find
s the knife in the floor of this underground room, and holds the blade up between us.

  “Don’t move,” he warns me. “Or you might get another scar.”

  Maybe I should be afraid. Maybe I’m a fucking idiot. But I do as he says.

  And then he cuts a line all the way down from my chest to my thighs. The point of the knife skims the skin on my belly, but I don’t even flinch. He puts the knife down, and then pulls apart the rest of the fabric like it’s nothing.

  And even though I’ve been naked in front of many, many different men, in all types of positions and various stages of sobriety, under his gaze, I feel as if I might melt. As if the fire in my core could burn us both. His eyes, even in the darkness, are full of a longing, a wanting, that I’d never seen before. Not from any man. It’s almost feral, what I see when he sees me.

  He nudges my legs apart with his knee, his hands back on my wrists, pinning them above my head. He drinks me in with his eyes.

  “Fuck, you have a perfect pussy.”

  Then he lowers himself onto me, his chest brushing up against mine, his body skimming the length of my own.

  “Is this what you want, Lilith?” he asks.

  I buck my hips, trying to feel him against me, but he pulls away, teasing me. My wrists burn but I don’t want him to let go.

  “Not until you’ve confessed,” he purrs against my neck, trailing kisses down my chest. Then, his eyes on me, his tongue swirls against my nipple and I gasp. The world seems to spin. I know I’ve drank far too much to really enjoy this like I should, but I push that thought aside.

  “Confess?” I whisper. I thought I’d already done that. How many more sins does he want to take from me?

  He bites down on my nipple, then flicks his tongue over it, soothing the burn. He holds my gaze the entire time. He bites again, eyes boring into mine, and I see blood on the corner of his lip. My blood.

  “Do you want to take over the world with me?” he asks, his voice husky, his lips brushing my skin.

  I let out a little laugh. “I’d do anything with you.”