The Disciples: A Dark Romance Collection

by Sweet, Izzy

  And I feel like I’m the odd man out.

  I’m surrounded by murderers, kidnappers, and adulterers, and yet I wonder if I should be trying harder to fit in.

  When I really think about it though, especially when they’re all so polite and considerate of me, I have to wonder who am I to judge?

  I don’t know for certain that Lucifer, Andrew, or any of the other men sitting at this table are murderers.

  It’s just a gut feeling I have.

  Sure they grabbed Ivan and me, but I’m still alive, aren’t I?

  And it’s not like I’m exactly free from sin. Lord knows I’ve made my own mistakes.

  Lots and lots of them.

  “Our princess looks tired,” Andrew murmurs beside me, and that word, our, strikes a nerve in me.

  I can understand why he wants to claim me, so he can use me for my body, but I don’t understand why he’s claiming her… unless he’s serious about us being his.

  I look towards Abigail and she is indeed nodding off in her chair with her spoon hanging precariously above her bowl.

  “You look tired as well,” he murmurs, gently grabbing me by the chin and turning my face towards him. “Are you ready to go home?”

  I peer into his dark eyes, searching for the evil staining his soul, but all I see is warmth and concern.

  His thumb strokes against my cheek and his touch is so warm, so nice, my skin prickles with goosebumps.

  “Yes,” I answer, my voice weak and barely above a whisper.

  His lips curve into a smile and damn if that smile doesn’t give me butterflies.

  Butterflies that flutter towards my core.

  I look away, wishing I knew how to destroy the power he holds over me. Inside my mind, I can hate and hate and hate, but when he touches me all that hate goes flying out the window.

  Andrew grabs my hand and we stand. We say our goodbyes and Lily makes me promise to pay her a visit during the week. After having a word with Lucifer, Andrew picks up Abigail and we head to the car.

  Abigail doesn’t stir at all. She’s so tired she curls into Andrew, clinging to him as he gets her buckled in, and then she’s softly snoring by the time we pull out.

  The drive is quiet, almost peaceful. I stare out the window, into the night. The lights of the city streak by, white, yellow, blue and red.

  It feels good just to be outside, to be exposed to possibilities again.

  Beside me, Andrew is silent and radiating tension. I look towards him and for a split second our eyes meet. The strongest jolt courses through me like I’ve been struck by lightning.

  There are so many words between us, hanging in the air, unspoken.

  To speak them, though, would be to acknowledge them, and right now I just can’t do it.

  I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore. I don’t know how I feel about him.

  Is his baby really growing inside me? I place a hand on my tummy and turn back to the window.

  Everything is changing—my life, the way I think…

  My body.

  I could have what Lily has, if I allowed myself to want it…

  Am I going insane?

  Our situations are completely different.

  I glance back at Andrew. As if he was expecting my attention, he reaches over and strokes my cheek.

  Damn him. Why did he have to do that? Why does he have to be nice to me? Why can’t he just be an asshole like Ivan?

  I jerk away and twist in my seat, turning my entire body away from him.

  Am I seriously getting angry because he’s being nice to me? Now I know I’ve truly gone off the deep end.

  His hand comes down on my thigh.

  Warm, heavy, and possessive.

  His fingers curl around me and squeeze.

  I look to him again and glare, using my eyes to tell him to stop touching me. To stop breaking me down with his affection.

  He smirks and his hand begins to slide up, towards the hem of my skirt. I will myself to be disgusted by his touch, to be unaffected as his skin slides against my skin, but I’m only human.

  God help me, I’m not strong enough to resist this man. He’s everything I could ever want, strong, protective, and affectionate. When he touches me, I come alive. And when he stops touching me, it feels like I’m dying a slow death.

  I’m fighting a losing battle. Maybe it’s time to admit that. Maybe it’s time to just give up and give in.

  To see where this craziness takes us.

  We pull up to the house he called home and his hand leaves my thigh. I almost grab his hand to retain my connection to him.

  The suggestion, maybe we could drive around for just a little longer, is poised on my lips but I don’t let it pass.

  Abigail is exhausted and needs her bed.

  He gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. He helps me out and then takes care of Abigail, picking her up and carrying her into the house.

  I follow behind him, shutting all the doors behind us and locking them.

  The irony is not lost on me.

  Up the stairs, I follow behind him.

  The way he cradles and carries Abigail, it’s like he’s carrying the most precious package in the world.

  We enter her room.

  Gently, he lays Abigail down on her bed and draws up the covers, tucking her in. Stepping back, he gives me just enough room to squeeze in. I bend over her, stroke her hair back and give her a kiss goodnight on her forehead.

  She smiles in her sleep.

  As long as she is safe and happy, I can endure anything.

  Even this man.

  Straightening away, I turn to find Andrew holding out his hand.

  I hesitate, looking up at his face and all the dark tenderness there before I place my hand in his. His fingers curl around mine and even this innocent touch is enough to quicken my breath.

  Instead of becoming desensitized to him over time, I seem to be becoming more and more responsive to him.

  He leads me out of Abigail’s room and down the hall to his… no, our room.

  With each step, my heart beats a little faster. And with each step, I sense a change coming over him. His grip on my hand tightens with tension and his face hardens with determination.

  Have I done something to anger him? I wonder. I’m not sure but something certainly has.

  He pulls me into the room and quickly shuts the door behind us.

  Locking it.

  I glance up at him in surprise. Something is very wrong. He was so calm, so affectionate a few moments ago… but maybe that was just the calm before the storm? Right now he looks like he’s about ready to unleash on me.

  “We need to talk,” he says gruffly and drops my hand.

  He reaches up, tugs on the knot of his tie and then yanks it out of his collar.

  “What about?” I gulp and take a step back.

  The drive home was so quiet, I almost forgot to be frightened of him.

  Tie gone, he starts unbuttoning his shirt, his movements sharp and quick.

  “About Ivan,” he growls.

  “What about him?" I ask, and nervously lick my lips. My mouth is suddenly dry and my stomach twists with apprehension.

  He rips his shirt off and then cracks his neck.

  Head straightening, he stares at me for several long, tense seconds before saying, “We’re releasing him.”

  Fuck. My worst nightmare is coming true.

  “When?” I ask, trying to come to terms with the information.

  “Tomorrow,” Andrew says, his eyes never leaving me. He stares at me long and hard, taking in my reaction.

  “Why didn’t you…” I stop and swallow. I can’t even finish my question.

  Perhaps it makes me just as bad as him, but a sick, twisted part of me was hoping that Lucifer would find a reason to take care of Ivan once they got the information they wanted out of him.

  I was hoping I’d never have to see him again. I’d never have to fear him again.

  An
drew sneers. “Why didn’t we kill him?”

  Slowly, I nod my head.

  “Because we still have a use for him.”

  My heart lurches and my breathing quickens. I have to swallow again as bile creeps up my throat. Of course they have a use for him. Ivan is no doubt a never-ending fountain of information.

  But he’ll want me back.

  “Oh god,” I groan.

  I waver on my feet then I tip my head back and peer up into Andrew’s hard, unforgiving eyes. “You have to let me go.”

  His eyes blacken and the word is nearly a roar when it comes out of his mouth. “No.”

  I should be afraid of Andrew’s reaction and his furious expression, but right now I’m much more afraid of Ivan.

  “But he’s going to look for me,” I begin to tearfully explain. My panic ratchets up with each word I speak, knowing deep down in my soul that they’re true. “He always finds me. Always.”

  “I’ll fucking kill him if he tries to take you from me.”

  I shake my head, wanting to believe him but knowing it’s not as simple as that. Ivan has uncanny luck and very deep pockets. Eventually, he’ll find me. If not tomorrow, then the day after that. And then...

  “What? You don’t believe me?” Andrew asks, his voice softer but somehow more dangerous.

  He takes a step toward me, filling up the space I created between us. His hand reaches down, his touch tender and soft at first but then he grips my chin and yanks it up. “I almost drew on Lucifer when I learned Ivan asked for you back.”

  My eyes widen and my lungs freeze behind my ribs. Try as I might I can’t seem to draw air into them.

  “I want to rip Ivan apart with my bare hands. I want to tear him limb from fucking limb and piss all over his rotting carcass for daring to ask for you back.”

  Scraping up the last bits of my courage, I finally draw in some air and then ask the one question I’ve been dreading.

  “Are you going to give me back?” I stammer out.

  He might not have a choice, Lucifer might force the issue.

  “No!” Andrew roars and pulls me into his chest. His grip on my chin is so hard it’s almost bruising. “What part of you’re mine is so fucking hard to understand? I’m never fucking giving you back.”

  In this case, the devil I know is scarier than Andrew. After all, Andrew hasn’t actually hurt me, yet.

  “But,” I argue. “You’ve only known me for a couple of days. You don’t know if you’ll want me around forever.”

  Andrew just stares at me, his expression darkening. The longer he stares at me, the more I feel like I’ve just made a huge mistake.

  I try to pull away, try to free myself from his grip but he pulls me back.

  His bare chest rises and falls, and his black eyes flash with menace. “I see you haven’t accepted your fate yet.”

  Before I can ask him what my fate is, he lifts me up, off my feet, and carries me over to the bed.

  “I thought I made this very clear,” he says, and proceeds to dump me onto the mattress. “But if you need a demonstration, I’ll give you a fucking demonstration.”

  My hair in my face, I sit up and try to brush it out of my eyes, but then my blouse is grabbed and yanked violently over my head.

  “Andrew,” I squeak and just manage to get the hair out of my face before he’s pushing me back. He grabs the waist of my skirt and rips it down my legs.

  I hear threads popping and fabric tearing.

  “What are you doing?”

  The only answer I get is an angry growl.

  Warm hands slide under me, cupping my ass, and then they yank my panties down.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, hoping to quickly appease him, though I’m not sure how I pissed him off in the first place.

  His hands grab my knees and then my legs are spread apart.

  I look down, staring at him as he undoes his pants. The sound of his zipper being ripped down is as loud as a gunshot.

  Why was I afraid of Ivan again? I wonder, staring at Andrew. It’s hard to remember with him between my legs, a tower of powerful, rippling muscle.

  Even when he’s not looming above me, his sheer size makes me feel so small… so vulnerable.

  His pants drop, whispering down his legs, and then he’s upon me again, like a hungry animal going in for the kill.

  “There are my lips.”

  His mouth descends on my mouth and his hands push up my bra.

  “These are my tits,” he growls into my lips.

  He gives me one good hard kiss and then his mouth slides down. Grabbing me up, his hands mold around my breasts, squeezing them into his palms.

  “Mine,” he growls again, and then he’s sucking on them. Drawing the tips into his mouth. Suckling noisily on my nipples.

  I squirm against the bed, flooded with heat as he makes all these delicious little noises in the back his throat.

  “Andrew,” I gasp, arching up and clutching at his shoulders as he sucks and sucks, driving me to the brink of madness.

  And just when I think I can take no more, he begins to slide down my body, kissing a wet, slippery path.

  His tongue circles my bellybutton. “My stomach.”

  His eyes roll up to stare at me and I draw in my breath in anticipation.

  Is he going where I think he’s going?

  His eyes never leaving me, he slides down my body, his lips dragging over the curve of my mons.

  His fingers wrap around my thighs and then he’s prying my legs open wider for him.

  “This is my sweet little pussy,” he rumbles and then his tongue is dragging across my clit.

  I jerk as if he just electrocuted me. My muscles tense up and my ass comes off the bed.

  He forces me back down with his face.

  Pushing his mouth up against my pussy, he sucks me into his mouth and then his tongue starts going crazy. There’s no buildup, no time to brace myself, he licks and suckles on me hungrily, like he’s trying to devour me with his mouth.

  “Oh god,” I cry out, my fingers digging into the meaty flesh of his shoulders.

  He makes an angry noise in the back of his throat and then his hands spread me wider. His tongue drags up and down my slit, and then he’s plunging in, like’s he fucking me with it.

  “Andrew,” I mewl, my core throbbing and aching for him.

  In and out, his tongue plunges, but it only leaves me wanting more. Wanting to be filled and stretched by his cock.

  “So fucking sweet, so fucking wet,” he breathes, his breath hot against my wetness.

  The tip of his tongue slithers up and then flicks against my sensitive little clit.

  I jerk and twitch.

  “So fucking responsive.”

  His tongue presses against my clit and swirls around and around in tight little circles. Then his fingers slide inside me. Slick with my juices.

  He pumps them in and out of me a few times, stretching out my tightness, and then he just stops.

  I cry out as his mouth suddenly leaves me. I was so close to coming all over his face but now I’m twitching and trembling like a junkie needing a fix.

  “Why did you stop?” I ask, my voice wispy and breathless.

  He pulls away and my fingers tighten around his shoulders, trying to keep him from leaving me. He breaks my grip easily and takes a step back.

  My hands drop down, defeated to the bed.

  Panting, I stare at him, wondering what I did wrong this time.

  Is this his punishment? To get me so close and then just stop, leaving me with a pulsing core and a throbbing clit?

  “Andrew?”

  He grabs me by the hips and then flips me over like it’s nothing to him.

  “What the fuck?” I cry out and start to push up.

  His hand comes down, heavy against my spine and pushes me back down until I’m flat against the mattress. Once I stop struggling, he grabs me by the hips and drags me down the bed.

  I have no clue what he means to do
but it’s useless trying to fight him. Just trying to push back up was enough to leave me feeling tired and breathless.

  His hands fall on my ass, grabbing up two great big handfuls of it.

  “This is my ass,” he growls and his fingers squeeze, constricting around me.

  I moan and arch up into his hands, pushing my face into the mattress.

  He shifts behind me and then I feel the heat of his breath brushing over my lower back.

  “Mine,” he repeats, and then I feel his mouth kissing just where his breath was.

  His hands squeeze and squeeze, and he begins to slide down, his lips following.

  His right hand moves only to be replaced by his mouth. He kisses and nips at my right cheek while his hand continues to play with the left. Then he’s suckling on me and my toes curl against the bed.

  Oh my god. I don’t know if it feels so good because it’s strange and foreign or because I’m extra sensitive there.

  He bites me, his teeth sinking into the fleshiest part of my buttock, and then he slides over to do the same to the left.

  Just like my breasts, he slides side to side, paying each cheek equal attention. By the time I feel his fingers sliding into my pussy again, I’m nearly delirious with my need for him.

  “Andrew, please,” I groan, clutching desperately at the sheet on the bed.

  “You’re still too fucking tight,” he grunts, using his fingers to stretch me open.

  “I don’t care,” I whimper. “I want you inside me, now.”

  “Fuck,” he grunts, and his fingers pump faster, some of his control starting to slip.

  Head falling forward again, I bury my face into the bed, muffling my cries as he uses his fingers to bring me once more to the brink of my orgasm.

  I’m so close I can fucking taste it. Then his fingers leave me again.

  “Andrew!” I cry out before I feel the head of his cock pushing against my entrance.

  “See. Too. Fucking. Tight,” he grits out as he fights his way in, pushing through my clench.

  Reaching down, he even tries to spread me open but he’s just too damn big.

  I don’t care at this point. I don’t care if he fucking rips me open. I need him inside me any way I can get him.

  Inch by inch, he pushes his way in. Cursing and praising me for my tightness.