The Disciples: A Dark Romance Collection

by Sweet, Izzy

  Panting, I stare at him in disbelief. Did that really just happen? It couldn’t have…

  As if he can sense all the shit going on in my head, his voice breaks through the sound of my panting, coming out as a raw growl. “I mean it. Until death do us part, Meghan. The only way you’re going to get rid of me is by killing me.”

  His cock suddenly twitches inside me and then he slowly rolls his hips.

  I gasp, my oversensitive nerves screaming in protest.

  He grins and begins to roll his hips deeper.

  I swear he hasn’t gone soft at all. No, he’s just as hard as when he started.

  “And if you want to go that route, I suggest skipping the guns and knives…”

  “Oh yeah?” I groan back, somehow pushing the words out as I struggle against the fire he’s trying stoke to life inside me. “How do you suggest I kill you then?”

  Eyes lighting up, his grin stretches wider. “I suggest trying to fuck me to death…”

  10

  Gabriel

  Pre-dawn light filters though the curtains directly on my closed eyes. I’ve been lying here awake for the past half hour, trying to determine exactly where my place is right now in the world. I’ve gotten married, tortured and killed men, and been released from prison in less than forty-eight hours.

  It’s been one hell of a week so far.

  Opening my eyes and looking at Meghan, my body feels that now familiar ache of desire and longing. We fucked in the shower, then again in the bed before we both collapsed well after the clock showed midnight. I’m not tired though, I’m awake and alive. I can feel the tiny cells in my body coming to life for the first time in a decade.

  I was dead in prison, I can’t deny that to myself. I was dead and mentally ready for the end. I’ve questioned how much longer I would have been able to hold out before I attacked the guards so badly they would have had no choice but to end my life sentence. I wouldn’t have killed myself directly, nah, that shits for the birds. No, I would have gone down doing what I do best.

  Causing destruction.

  Now all that shit’s out the fucking window.

  Meghan’s curled up next to me in a tiny little ball. She went to sleep with an arm draped across my chest, but when I woke this morning she was turned the opposite way, her ass pressed hard against my hip. I’ve been in those clingy fucking relationships where the girl has to be attached at the hip in bed.

  Fuck that noise.

  We need to be fucking comfortable. I don’t have a fucking worry in the world about us not being attached. I married her and flat-out claimed her on our wedding night. Ain’t nothing else going to break that apart.

  Fuck, even her trying to kill me didn’t stop my ass from claiming her.

  My hand slides over the gouge she made in my chest, right above the fucking heart. She definitely broke the skin last night. And I loved the fuck out of that shit. I want a woman who’s got that fucking killer instinct. I’m not into those fucking shrinking violets, or whatever the fuck they’re called.

  A small groan comes from Meghan as she slowly rolls to her back. “When did I get into a fucking car wreck?”

  Rolling to my side, I look at her delicate facial features scrunched up into a grimace.

  “Fuck, you don’t look so good, you alright?” I ask.

  “Welcome to the world of morning-after, asshole,” she whines as she rubs the palms of her hands against her eyes. “You should never marry someone if you don’t know what they look like in the morning.”

  “I didn’t mean in the looks department,” I say with a chuckle.

  My fingers trail lightly over her chin as I lean over to kiss her temple.

  Whimpering, she says, “Even that fucking hurts.”

  “Fuck,” I growl out. “Did he knock you around before the wedding?”

  I don’t see any bruises on her face, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t shaken or thrown around like a rag doll.

  “Not exactly,” she whispers, a small sound catching in her throat. “But the fucker drugged me, so I don’t really know.”

  Fucking dick-less, pile of shit. At least I make my women marry me drug-free. Not sure that’s something I need to bring up now, though.

  “Fuck. Any idea what they put in you?” I ask.

  “No clue, they just made sure I was very compliant.” A line of moisture seeps down her cheek as she turns her head away from me. “I’m missing a lot of time.”

  Fuck. I knew the outline of it all, I suppose. With the way she fights for what she wants, there’s no way she would have married that sack of slime willingly. Which, I guess, is a good sign for me, even if she has tried to kill me twice.

  Fuck, the thought of her trying to kill me causes a stirring between my legs, my cock wanting to thicken. I want to find out if she’s still as tight as I remember from last night. The way her legs felt wrapped around my hips still leaves me without words to describe how damn good it felt.

  Her body is so much smaller than mine, but it fits so well. It’s like she was born just to be melded against my own body. She isn’t fragile by any means. She’s got the hips and breasts that are meant for a good hard pounding.

  Soft and tender lovemaking are going to happen… eventually. But until we get our fucking beasts under control, I’m going to love pounding the shit out of her.

  “Sorry, is there anything I can get for you?” I ask quietly.

  “No… yes? Maybe some Tylenol?”

  She turns her head to me look me in the eyes.

  “I’m going to have to leave the house for that,” I say. “This place is empty as can be. No food or anything. All we have are towels, sheets, blankets, plates, silverware, and cups. Not even the stuff to clean any of that shit with, though.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. I’d say that you need to come with me…. But we don’t have any clothes for you, either. I’ve got what was in my bag but that’s about it.”

  She lays there for a long time, looking into my eyes.

  “Can I see your phone?” Meghan asks out of nowhere.

  “Huh?” I ask in confusion.

  “I’m hungry and I need panties. You fucking destroyed them last night,” she grumbles.

  “I don’t think the pizza places are open yet, Meghan,” I say as I roll toward the nightstand to grab my phone. “And how exactly are you going to get panties? I’m not letting some pizza boy buy them for you.”

  “Oh god, you’re such a fossil. Things aren’t like how they used to be.”

  She snickers.

  Handing the phone to her, I watch her roll to her back. Her large breasts flatten somewhat, but they still look heavy and full.

  My tongue moistens my lips as I start edging toward her.

  Glancing over at me, she stops typing on my phone.

  Pushing at my head, she says, “Not a chance. My body is one giant fucking bruise.”

  Showing me her wrist, she says, “Alexei wasn’t very nice to me. Every time he touched me, he made sure it hurt.”

  Shuddering, she goes back to typing.

  I growl out his name, “Alexei… that fucker is going to die. I’ll break his fucking neck.”

  “I wouldn’t mind watching that,” she says.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, watching her face.

  I could easily check the screen, but I’d much rather watch her lips.

  “I need your credit card. Do you even have one of those?” she asks as she pushes against my ever-encroaching mouth.

  I know she said she was hurting everywhere. Maybe a kiss on some of those spots would help...

  “It’s in my wallet,” I say.

  “Grab it real quick,” she says, still typing and scrolling through things.

  “My wallet is in my pants,” I grumble.

  “Well, get it out and give it to me.”

  Her eyes lift to look at me again.

  She’s way too fucking beautiful in the mornings. It’s a weapon I’m sure she knows s
he has.

  “My pants are downstairs in the bathroom,” I say, and my eyes drift lower to her breasts.

  Her voice cuts through the lustful fog that’s beginning to cloud my brain. “Not a chance, Gabriel. I’m even sore down there. It feels like you put a fucking baseball bat in me.”

  A white sheet slowly covers her breasts, and I swear I can feel my cock screaming in rage at the injustice of the world. Covering up breasts like hers should be a capital crime.

  Looking up at her face, I frown. “Why do you need my credit card?”

  “Because I need clothes and food. I’m willing to bet you need some stuff too. I can’t imagine the Incredible Hulk can go without his spinach for too long. All those big muscles might turn to fat,” she says, and there’s snippy humor in her eyes as she pointedly looks at my chest and arms.

  “You mean Popeye, right?” I ask and start trying to tug down the sheet.

  Holding it tightly, she glares at me. “Wallet, food, clothes, and then maybe sex.”

  “Fuck,” I grumble as I start sitting up. “How the hell are you going to get all that stuff through my phone?”

  “There are multiple services that will deliver food from restaurants for a small fee. There are also these things called online stores that will deliver books, clothes, and anything else you can practically think of the same day if you pay enough. Other than that, I’m going to try and call Lucifer’s wife, Lily,” she says before she returns her attention to the phone.

  Those last words stop me dead in my tracks. “Why the fuck would you want to do that?”

  Shrugging those beautiful shoulders of hers, she says, “Because she told me to call her if I needed help setting up the house.”

  “I wasn’t aware you had been discussing our home yet.”

  “You were in that office for over an hour and a half. We had to talk about something.”

  She makes a shooing motion with her hand.

  “Are you fucking shooing me?” I ask.

  Treating me like some fucking kid, what the fuck?

  “No. I’m telling you to hurry up and help feed your fucking wife. Remember those vows you reamed into me last night while you were plowing me?” she asks without the faintest hint of a laugh or smirk.

  “Fucking hell’s gates,” I grumble as I turn back to the door of the bedroom.

  “I thought it was funny… reamed and plowed…” She laughs at my back.

  She’s going to find it real funny when I’m cramming my thick ass cock so far into her she starts to fucking choke.

  * * *

  Times sure have fucking changed since I went in. Just the fact alone that Meghan can have food, clothing, and I’m pretty sure anything else on the planet delivered to us is amazing. For most of the morning, I was answering the door. First came the food she ordered from some local mom and pop place. She must have ordered half the damn menu with how much food showed up.

  Sitting there, watching as she demolished everything in front of her as quickly as I did, was an interesting turn of events. She’s not the type of woman to order water and salad. No, she eats what she wants and doesn’t apologize for it.

  “Quit fucking staring at me,” she says when she finally looks up from the phone and plate in front of her.

  “No,” I say before I take another long look at her.

  She’s fucking beautiful, why shouldn’t I?

  “Ugh,” she grumbles at me before looking back down to the phone.

  “What are you doing now?” I ask as I go back to eating the last of my breakfast, still watching the way she sits there, her eyes flying across whatever it is she’s doing.

  “Ordering more clothes. I had no idea how much influence Lily has with this city’s retailers. All I have to do is mention her name and the clothes practically fly themselves to this house.”

  “What’s wrong with what you have on?” I ask, and from the look she gives me, I obviously haven’t been paying attention to something.

  She’s got on a pair of black fleece-lined leggings and a tight heavy metal band shirt. And while I’ve got no clue about when these things came in style, I’m damn thankful she loves wearing them. She should, at least, since she ordered ten pairs of them. Fuck me, I’ve never seen a woman order so much clothing.

  It’s mind-numbing to think about until I ask the one question I should have asked in the first place. “How much is all this costing?”

  “Madness and sanity… You said those words. So, therapy it is. Retail therapy,” she says, looking back down at the phone. “Also, I need a phone too. Can you ask for one on this plan or do I need to order that too?”

  “That’s not exactly what I meant,” I growl out as I stretch out my arms. “I’ll check on the phone. Operational security is going to put a lot of restrictions on what you can get.”

  “I’ve had this phone the whole time and you haven’t once checked on what I’m doing.”

  “No need. Nine-one-one has been disconnected, and I’m pretty sure all the stuff you’re doing is being monitored by that prick, Simon,” I say with a lazy shrug of my shoulders. “Besides, we’ve established you’re in this for the long haul, just like me. I’m going to trust you. That’s not something I do much of. You could try to run like you did last night, before you came into the shower… But you came back.”

  Looking up from the phone, I can see she’s contemplating my words. Her eyes narrow as she realizes everything I said.

  “How did you know?” she asks.

  I smirk. “Did you see all the grass on the bathroom floor? Your feet had clippings on them.”

  “Shit,” she mutters.

  “Pretty much. You came back, that shows you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and us. Also, you could have tried killing me in earnest.”

  “I thought me trying to shoot and stab you would give you more pause,” she frowns at me.

  “Nah, that shit was just foreplay,” I say.

  Food has made me sleepy. Now all I need to do is get Meghan out of those clothes. A day spent in the sack sounds perfect right now.

  The loud shrill of my phone hits my nerves like a fucking atomic bomb. Fucking hell.

  “A guy named James is calling… Is he the one who did the thumbs?” she asks with a wince.

  “Yeah,” I say, motioning for her to give me the phone.

  “That was…” she starts before shaking her head at me. “Do you know how to answer it?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I push the talk button?”

  Laughing, she presses the button and says, “Hello, Gabriel’s answering service. How can I direct your call?”

  I don’t hear the response, but by the way her face flushes, it probably wasn’t a nice request to speak to me.

  “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she asks before handing me the phone.

  “With tongue,” I hear James say as I press the phone to my ear.

  “What do you want, James?” I ask as I push away from the table to stand up.

  “I was figuring you’d want to go out to the cemetery today. Should be a good time to get shit done… Well, shit done before all the madness you start,” he says.

  He’s got a point, I guess. Shit’s going to get hectic soon enough. The calm before the storm is right now. Might as well take advantage of it.

  “Alright, where do you want to meet up?” I ask.

  “I’ll see you over at the cemetery next to Father Coss’s church in about an hour,” he says.

  “Sounds good, bring another load out for me. I need a hip holster and a forty-five,” I say before hitting the red button on the screen.

  Arching my back, I stretch out the stiffness that formed in my shoulders from sleeping on such a soft mattress.

  Looking to Meghan, I feel another form of stiffness starting up as well. Not enough time for it, though. We’re out in the suburbs of Garden City, and it’s not going to be a quick trip to the cemetery when it’s on the opposite side of the city.

&nb
sp; “What’s up?” Meghan asks.

  “Gotta go see some old friends. You dressed warm enough to be outside for a bit?”

  “I think so,” she says as she pushes away from the table.

  “Good…” Staring at the food and stuff all over the table, I grimace. “We need to hire a maid. I hate fucking doing dishes.”

  She picks up her empty plate. “I can check with Lily, if you want.”

  Heading toward the garage after a quick sweep up of the kitchen table, we stand inside, looking at the black Tahoe and the black F-250.

  “We’ll take mine. The mom-mobile is yours,” I say with a grunt.

  “Mine?” she asks as we head toward the truck.

  “You wanted in, you’re in now. That’s your SUV, keys are on the kitchen counter. We’re taking mine today, though,” I say as I pull myself inside the truck.

  My ass feels good behind the wheel of this baby. John did me proud when he got me this big bitch.

  “Why the hell are you calling it a mom-mobile?” Meghan asks when she gets settled in the truck.

  “What the fuck does that Tahoe look like? It’s the new soccer mom car. You’re going to love it when you’re running our brats to practice,” I say with a grin.

  “It’s really early in the day for me to shoot your balls off, Gabriel,” Meghan snarls at me.

  11

  Gabriel

  The cemetery next to St. Michael’s looks the same as it always has—old and full of dead and fucking useless carcasses.

  That’s all we are in the end. Dead weight.

  Fuck, I think most of us guys in the inner circle would have been lucky to even have someone mourn us over the grave, or I used to think that. Now everyone’s getting married and has fucking soccer mom cars. Fuck, I even did it myself. None of us are thinking of the repercussions from doing this shit. It’s going to affect our families one day… it’s just how shit is in our way of life.

  Just like all those stupid fucking movies, the bad guy always gets it in the end.

  I’d like to think the fucking weather matches my mood as I get out of the truck, but it doesn’t feel like fucking cooperating, I guess. Fucking sunshine and blue skies for as far as the eye can see.