The Disciples: A Dark Romance Collection

by Sweet, Izzy

  Leaning over me, he rips one hand from my hair to pull the door shut. Then he shoves that hand into my chest, pinning me against the seat, as he straightens.

  “Now is not the time for this shit,” he states matter-of-factly as he looks me deep in the eyes. “I have to get you somewhere safe and take care of this mess. Do you understand, princess?”

  When I don’t immediately answer him, he tugs on my hair again.

  I whimper at the pain and his eyes light up. Flashing with something that looks a lot like pleasure.

  Fuck. Is he getting off on this?

  “Yes,” I somehow manage to croak out.

  For a minute, we just stare at each other. Me, panting with pain and too aware of his strong hand pressed against my chest. Him, with his eyes boring into me, almost daring me to defy him.

  I don’t know where this new, meaner Simon came from, but I know better than to push him. I’ve learned from experience that the only hope I have of getting away unscathed is by pretending to be compliant.

  Finally, with a look of distrust followed by something that could easily be mistaken for disappointment, Simon slides his hand out of my hair and says, “Good.”

  He glances down at his hand, at all the hair wrapped around his fingers, and frowns. I half expect him to make a mean crack, but he doesn’t. No, he just stares at his hand, at my hair, like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

  A car honks behind us, quickly followed by another. With a sigh, he leans back into his seat, shakes the hair from his hand, and throws the SUV into drive.

  “Put your seatbelt back on,” he says without looking over at me.

  Anger flares inside me and I latch onto it. I stoke it. Needing it to get me through this.

  I hate being told what to do, just fucking hate it…

  But fuck, if I keep defying him, I’ll never get out of this.

  Gritting my teeth, I reach back, ignoring the way my scalp throbs, and grab the seatbelt, yanking it across myself.

  Once the seatbelt clicks into place, Simon’s shoulders slump just the tiniest of bits.

  Good, he’s relaxing a little. Probably thinks he just bullied me into submission.

  Joke’s on him.

  He can yank me by my hair and push me around, but it just makes me even more determined to get away from him.

  We drive in an uncomfortable silence for a couple of minutes before being forced to stop at a light again.

  Simon looks over at me, his eyes daring me to try to run again.

  I want to, but I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction.

  When that flash of disappointment reappears in his eyes, I can’t stop the smug grin that spreads across my lips.

  Oh yeah, I’m onto him now. He wants a fight. He’s practically begging for it.

  And he’s not going to get it.

  Oh no, I’ll be the perfect little prisoner. I’ll do everything he asks…

  His gaze drops to my chest and hardens. “Remove your shirt.”

  “What?” Seriously, what the fuck? He can’t be serious.

  His voice is cold and detached again. “Did I stutter, Meredith?”

  “No,” I draw out, fighting off the urge to recoil from him. I will not show him any more weakness, dammit.

  “Then do it.”

  “Why?” Why the fuck does he want me to remove my shirt? What possible reason could he have for it besides pissing me off?

  “You’re covered in blood.”

  “So are you!” I point out to him. Drops of blood are splattered along his white shirt, his pants, his tie. Not to mention all the blood on his arms and hands.

  What a fucking hypocrite.

  Simon glances down at himself as if he forgot and his lip curls in disgust. “Yes, yes, I am, but that is neither here or there.”

  I sputter, at a loss. “Neither here or there? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It’s fine for you to be covered in blood, but it’s not fine for me?”

  Slowly, Simon’s gaze lifts back to mine, glittering with menace. “That’s right. That’s exactly it, princess.”

  I shake my head. He’s crazier than I ever imagined. He’s fucking loony. Completely and utterly mad.

  The light switches to green.

  Simon turns his attention back to the road. “You have until the next red light to comply.”

  “Or what?” I can’t stop myself from snapping even though I know it’s stupid to taunt a crazy man.

  “Or I do it for you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I hiss.

  There I go, being stupid again.

  He doesn’t even have to say it; I can feel the words hanging in the air between us.

  Try me.

  Oh, I will. If he thinks I’m just going to let him remove my shirt, he’s got another thing coming.

  I’ve put up with a lot tonight and I’ve reached my breaking point. Tonight was supposed to be my night to finally get away, to free myself of Matthew and Simon’s clutches, but some asshole just had to go and bomb the strip club and ruin it.

  Each light we pass under remains green, and I thank the universe for small miracles. That is, until we finally reach another red.

  Before Simon brings the car to a complete stop, I’m throwing my hair over my shoulder, pulling off my seatbelt and pushing the door open. If I had a weapon, I’d fucking stab him. Unfortunately, I’m completely defenseless.

  The only thing I can do is try to make a run for it again.

  Suddenly, the car lurches forward, the tires squealing as Simon hits the gas and I almost go tumbling out the door.

  “Go ahead,” Simon taunts as the car picks up speed. “Make a jump for it, Meredith.”

  Clutching the door for dear life, it’s everything I can do to keep from falling out and kissing asphalt.

  As the road rolls by, my life is literally flashing before my eyes.

  “You’re fucking crazy! Stop!” I scream, reaching out and clawing at the dashboard. My fingers slip and slide across it, failing to find purchase.

  A hand grabs me by the back of the neck and yanks me back. The door slams shut and I instantly let go of it.

  “Fuck!” I scream and start shaking.

  He almost killed me. The bastard almost killed me.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I can’t stop screaming.

  That’s the second time in three months that some asshole tried to kill me.

  The car swerves to the right and I nearly go face-first into the windshield as we come to an abrupt stop.

  Simon’s thrusts out his arm, saving me from eating glass at last moment.

  Whipping back against the seat, I blink back tears, trying to process almost fucking dying again. Before I can get myself together, Simon leans over me and tears the glovebox open.

  My arms are yanked forward and then there’s a loud click that snaps me out of my stupor.

  I look down just in time to see Simon snapping a pair of handcuffs around my right wrist.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, way too close to crying for comfort.

  I try to yank my arms away, but he’s not playing. With a grunt, he pulls me so hard he almost pops my arms out of my sockets.

  “Ensuring you don’t put your life in danger again,” he grits out.

  The second handcuff snaps around my left wrist.

  “Me? Put my life in danger?” I repeat shrilly and incredulously. “You’re the one who fucking accelerated! You tried to kill me!”

  “Stop being so melodramatic,” he sighs as he grabs the seatbelt and yanks it across me. “You only had a fifty percent chance of dying at the rate of speed we were traveling.”

  “Fifty percent?! Fifty percent?! Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Even less with me prepared to yank you back.”

  I look down at the seatbelt and then back up at him. I don’t understand him at all. I don’t understand any of this.

  One moment he’s trying to kill me, the next he’s protecting me. It d
oesn’t make any damn sense!

  Simon’s eyes meet mine and I swear from the expression on his face he’s about ready to crack.

  Ha, crack, as if he’s sane to begin with.

  I take a deep breath, then another deep breath.

  His gaze flicks down, locking on my breasts. His lip curls with distaste. It’s all the warning I get before he reaches for me and grabs my shirt.

  “No! Don’t!” I plead, but he ignores me. His fingers pull and yank at the fabric, splitting it open.

  I’m not ashamed of my body, not in the least, but to have him ripping my shirt off of me against my will is pretty damn humiliating.

  With no way of stopping him, I close my eyes and wonder how my life came to this moment.

  Oh yeah, because I was stupid and begged Matthew for protection.

  Something cold and wet touches my hands, sliding up my arms. Oh god, what is that?

  “There, that’s better,” Simon says and my eyes pop open.

  “Better?” I repeat dumbly and glance down.

  The fucker even wiped off my arms and hands with a wet wipe of some sort.

  “Yes, better,” Simon says, his eyes locked on the swells of my breasts. “Now you’re not covered in that stripper’s disgusting, dirty blood.”

  I can’t even. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with him?

  He’s starts to reach for me again and I jerk back, crying out, “There’s none on my bra, asshole!”

  Simon pauses in mid-grab, blinks, then shakes his head as if he’s trying to come out of something.

  After a couple of seconds, he says, “You’re right,” and pulls away.

  Damn straight, I’m right. I have to bite my tongue though to keep from spitting more venom at him. Lord knows he deserves it, but I’m done fighting him. I’ve had enough excitement for one night, thank you very much.

  Settling back in his seat, he rolls down his window and tosses my shirt and the wipe out like it’s garbage. The window rolls back up as he refocuses his attention on the road, and we’re moving again.

  He’s so damn calm, so damn cool, it’s like nothing just happened. I really don’t understand him. I really don’t understand why he was so upset there was blood on me and doesn’t give a fuck about all the blood on him.

  And why did he almost go for my bra? That’s the part I really don’t get. If he were a normal, hot-blooded man, then I’d totally get it. But he’s not. He’s a fucking freak. He’s… inhuman. And I’m not the only one who thinks it. In the short amount of time I’ve spent in this hell-hole of a city, I’ve overheard some of Matthew’s men crack jokes about him being a spider masquerading as a human.

  With my hands handcuffed in front of me, the shoulder strap of the seatbelt rides up, towards my face, and I have the strongest urge to try and chew my way through it.

  “What’s that perfume you’re wearing?” Simon asks out of the blue, his voice back to that cool monotone I’m so fond of.

  I look at him sideways. Is this another weird thing he’s going to use to attack me?

  “I don’t wear any perfume,” I say slowly, cautiously. Doing my best not to provoke him.

  His gaze jerks towards me. Why is he so surprised by this? Do I stink or something?

  I lick my lips nervously and further explain. “I find most perfumes to be too strong, or they make me smell like an old lady.”

  Simon’s nostrils flare and then he gives a sharp nod of his head before looking back to the street.

  I watch him tense up again, his knuckles going white as he clutches the steering wheel. Somehow, someway, I’ve managed to piss him off again.

  The rest of the drive is spent in a tense, uncomfortable silence.

  The lights and cramped together buildings of the city fade away, giving way to woods. We turn and drive up a winding, secluded road, and I start to tense up. Where is he taking me? Obviously not back to the townhouse that’s been my prison...

  The winding road goes on for a couple of miles before a house appears in the distance like a beacon. It’s white and ultra-modern. Looking completely out of place in the middle of the forest. The brick walls reach at least three stories high, and large, chrome-like windows reflect the moonlight that hits them.

  We pull up in front of a gate set in a white brick wall that matches the house, and all the security cameras pointing at us makes me feel like we’re entering the lair of an evil spy movie villain.

  “Where are we?” I ask, taking everything in. Plotting and planning how I’m going to get out of this.

  The white brick wall surrounding the house is at least ten feet high and it’s going to be a real bitch trying to climb it.

  “My house,” Simon answers as the gate opens and we roll through it.

  The gate doesn’t even extend all the way out before it quickly begins to close behind us. It’s made up of black wrought-iron bars and they’re so close together there’s no hope of me squeezing through them.

  “Why are we here? Why not take me back to the townhouse?” I ask as we pull up to a garage.

  Damn, I never thought I’d actually want to go back to the townhouse, but the thought of staying in Simon’s house is giving me the heebie-jeebies.

  The garage has four doors and is so large it appears to be its own separate building attached to the main structure.

  Simon rolls up to the second door and it begins to lift before he answers like I should know the answer. “Because, Meredith, Lucifer has tasked me with your protection.”

  “Yeah, so? You can’t do that from the townhouse?”

  He gives a sharp shake of his head.

  Fuck. “Why not?” I ask as we roll into the garage and the door lowers behind us.

  I really, really don’t want to stay here, and now that we’re parked in the garage, I’m starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

  Simon turns off the car and turns to look at me. His face is completely smooth, not giving away any emotion. “Because the closer you are, the better an eye I can keep on you.”

  He couldn’t be creepier if he tried.

  Opening his door, he slides out and then slams the door behind him. I jump at the sudden loud noise.

  He walks around the front of the car and then yanks my door open. Leaning in, he unbuckles my seatbelt for me, and it’s everything I can do to keep from taking a cheap swipe at him.

  I have no hope of knocking him out so the move would be completely pointless.

  Grabbing me by the chain between the handcuffs, he tugs me out of the car and slams the door shut behind me.

  His face may be emotionless, but his actions definitely scream that he’s irritated.

  I doubt he wants me to stay here any more than I want to, so I try to make a suggestion. “You could always take me to the compound. I’d be perfectly safe there.”

  I hate Matthew, absolutely despise him. But the devil you know and all.

  “Your presence would only be a burden to him,” Simon says and tugs me forward.

  Ouch. That kind of hurts, but yeah, I get it.

  Simon leads me up to a door that connects the garage to the main house, and as we step over the threshold, the room we step into is instantly illuminated.

  The lights must be on motion sensors. That’s going to make getting away even trickier.

  As we move deeper into the house, my nose stings a little with the smell of disinfectant.

  He leads me through a gleaming, stainless steel kitchen. Through a white and gray modern living area. Then up a set of winding stairs.

  Everything is done in cool neutral tones. The walls are either white or grey, and the furniture is all sharp lines and hard angles.

  There’s no personality, no warmth. Everything is cold and sterile. A perfect reflection of the owner.

  Once we reach the second-floor landing, he leads me down a long hall and up to the third door.

  Twisting the door open, he roughly shoves me in. I stumble forward and manage to take one deep breath before he grabs
me and drags me over to the bed.

  My eyes look wildly around the room. Searching for anything to help me. An escape. A weapon.

  Simon gives me another shove, pushing me onto the bed, and steps back.

  Without a word, I hear him exit the room, slamming the door behind him. There’s no click of a lock and I take that as a promising sign. He probably thinks I can’t get away with my hands handcuffed.

  Pushing myself up, off the mattress, I just manage to get my feet under me when he comes stomping back in.

  Head whipping towards him, my eyes immediately lock on the set of handcuffs he’s carrying in his hand.

  “What do you think you’re going to do with those?” I ask sharply in an effort to keep my panic from leaking through my voice.

  “I’m going to secure you, Meredith, so I can get some work done,” he says, his face still wearing that smooth, emotionless expression.

  “The fuck you are,” I hiss and take a step back.

  He stalks towards me and I lash out, swinging my bound hands.

  “Keep your fucking hands off of me, Simon!” I screech.

  I get a couple of hits in before he’s gets a grip on the chain between the handcuffs. Using the chain, he jerks me over to the bed and then shoves me down on it.

  His body comes down on top of mine and my mind goes completely blank.

  Is this really fucking happening?

  Pinning me with his weight, I try to twist, try to knee him, but he’s too damn big and heavy. For such a fucking geek, he’s surprisingly dense.

  “Stop fucking fighting,” he grits out, his emotionless mask cracking as he struggles to secure my hands.

  “Fuck you, asshole. Get the fuck off of me!” I scream and then I do the only thing I can do.

  I lift my head up and bite him.

  “Fuck!” he roars as my teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder.

  My teeth dig and dig, but it doesn’t stop him. No, I feel one handcuff being opened, only for my wrist to be covered by another.

  Then he yanks my arms up hard and my teeth are forced to release him.

  I can taste the coppery tang of his blood as he cuffs each of my hands to the frame of the bed.

  Simon jumps up from the bed and takes a stumbling step back. His hair is even more disheveled than before and his eyes are bright and wild. He glances at his shoulder and then lifts his hand up, his fingers exploring the wound I inflicted. The blood stain on his shoulder started small but is growing and growing.