Malevolent

by Cassia Brightmore

  Descending the last step, the man smirked at her, delighting in her fear. Relishing in the memory of her capture was part of the thrill. The chase. The duplicity. Nothing made him feel more alive. Her warm blood still stained his hands, an endorphin he wasn’t ready to part with.

  “Sugar, you’re still here. Glad to see you haven’t left us.” He chuckled at his own joke, noting the way her bound hand tightened in anger. They had shown her several hours ago what happened when she talked back, and he was pleased to see she was heeding the lesson.

  Stepping closer, he tilted her head up by her chin. Her eyes met his, her gaze glaring daggers at him. Tracing the dried blood on her temple, he slid his finger down to her mouth, forcing its way past her lips. “Suck,” he commanded. Her teeth automatically grazed his finger poised to bite. Oh, she’s a feisty one. Gripping her hair tightly with his other hand he warned, “Don’t even think about it darlin’.”

  She fidgeted, likely reigning in her temper and complied with his request, opening her mouth and allowing first one, then two fingers to slip inside. Her tongue traced his fingers lightly and then began to suck. He forced them deeper, feeling her gag as he reached the back of her throat.

  The sensation was like a jump start to his cock, which hardened immediately. His hand travelled down, over the remnants of her torn, red sparkly top to pinch her nipple roughly. She jerked back at the contact, his fingers slipping out of her mouth with a small pop.

  “Well, sugar, I do adore that mouth of yours—but let’s get more comfortable.” Ignoring her whimpered cry, he gripped her upper arm tightly and hauled her to her feet. Dragging her over to the wire framed bed, he gave her a hard shove, watching as she stumbled and sprawled out face down on the mattress. The chain was stretched tight, restricting her movement on the bed.

  “I love you in this position, darlin’,” his gaze roamed over her tight ass appreciatively.

  “Fuck you, asshole. What’s the matter? Once you get past the second date, women find out that you’re a fucking lunatic and it isn’t as easy to get laid—” her spiteful words were cut off by a searing pain down her back. Twisting her head, she caught a glimpse of his blade as it swiped down her.

  He moaned as he ran his hands through her blood, the red liquid coating his hands. “Beautiful sugar, and delectable.” She heard a sucking sound and knew he was lapping at her blood, just as he had before.

  Out of nowhere, he thrust two fingers inside her, setting a furious pace as he pushed them in and out. He leaned over her back, his mouth near her ear. “I do believe I’m addicted to you, can’t seem to get my fill.” He kept up his pace as he spoke, not pausing for a moment. To her shame, she felt her body begin to respond. she felt a shiver go through him—and knew he could feel it too.

  He was going to make her come. The shame and despair was almost too much to bear.

  “Sugar, you beginning to like me? You’re going to make me blush.” His mocking tone had her anger rising, all thoughts of arousal vanishing into the stale basement air.

  “Go fuck your—” she gasped as he forcefully pushed his cock inside her, cutting off her words. He was balls deep with that one push and before she could catch her breath, he was slamming into her from behind at a ruthless pace.

  Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth against the pain. Be strong, Claire. She felt the blade drag across her back again and gave a fleeting thought to how her back must look now, cut to shreds and covered in blood. Instinctively, she tried to crawl further up the mattress, only to have him roughly grab her hips and drag her back. His hands moved to splay across her back, coating himself in her blood. Bile rose in her throat, she swallowed hard to force it back.

  It wasn’t long before she felt another set of hands traveling up her stomach, stopping to cup her breasts, twisting her nipples. She knew then that they had been joined by the other lunatic, the more vicious of the two.

  “Couldn’t stay away and let me play, could you?” His rhythm picked up, his cock driving into her brutally as he chased his release. The newcomer didn’t reply, just moved closer; grabbing her face, engulfing her lips in a brutal kiss. Squirming, she tried to get free to suck in a breath, but her attempts were futile. The more she squirmed, the more it excited the man pounding into her, which he showed by grunting and fisting his hands in her hair.

  Hands encircled her throat, squeezing soft at first and then gaining in pressure. Black dots danced before her eyes and she thrashed. No, I don’t want to die.

  “Enough. Not yet, I’m not done playing with her.” In Claire’s hazy state, she had no idea who gave the order to spare her, but she was grateful as the hands around her throat loosened and she sucked in a gulp of glorious air.

  Finishing with one final push inside her, he pulled out, giving her a playful smack on the ass. He took a moment to appreciate the scene before him, the sight of her enticing blood almost pulling him back for more.

  Zipping up, he moved to head for the stairs—leaving the two of them alone. Looking back he smirked. Such a foolish girl.

  She thought he was her salvation, the one that would release her from her nightmare and chase away the demons. The taste of her innocence on his tongue was intoxicating, engulfing his senses as the monster inside him fought to devour her. He was no one’s salvation. He was not her savior. The devil himself walked in him and when they were through with her, her soul will be consumed, condemned, damned.

  I am malevolent.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The little apartment over the diner was the type of home Gwyn had always wanted. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was cozy and comforting all the same—and it was hers, for now. She was in love. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, she perused the options in her fridge. Joan had been kind enough to provide her with a few essentials, but she would need to make a trip to the grocery store for her lifeline—coffee.

  Wandering over to the apartment’s one big window, she gazed out at the town, stifling a yawn. Sleeping in a new place had never been easy for her, and it was especially difficult now that she had an infuriating, sexy Sheriff occupying her thoughts. The man caused a reaction in her that was completely out of character. She had been so terrified of male attention for so long; but with Brady, everything was different. Arguing with him one second, dying to feel his lips pressed to hers the next. She needed to keep her wits about her when around him, better yet, to just avoid him altogether until she earned enough money to move on to somewhere else.

  Feeling satisfied that she had made the right decision to stay in Durham Heights, she dressed in a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a plain pink tank. Joan had given her a few hours that morning to get herself acquainted with the town, before she had to be at the diner to begin her training. Deciding that coffee was first on her agenda, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

  The humidity slammed into her as soon as she stepped outside, and it was a warmth she welcomed. Taking a moment to bask in the sunshine, she felt something she hadn’t in a very long time: freedom. Living in fear for as long as she could remember had caused cold to seep into her bones, to slither its way into her soul. She had been under Lawrence’s thumb for so long, she had forgotten what it felt like to simply take a walk down the street on her own.

  With each step she unlocked a piece of herself that had been hidden, a part of herself that had been stolen from her. She had earned this freedom, fought for it, clawed her way out of a hellish existence.

  It was liberating, the taste of it on her tongue was decadent.

  This was the best idea Joan could have suggested for her, to see the town for herself, and get comfortable with her surroundings. She already knew there were two main streets in the small town, which meant two ways in and two ways out. Memorizing the routes was key to her, if the time ever came—she needed to know she could make a quick getaway and be on the highway speeding towards safety. Being unprepared was not an option.

  A few blocks to the left of the diner she passed a small bu
ilding with a white sign hanging from the roof announcing that it was The Bean Bar. Hopeful, she headed towards it and pulled open the door, delighted to discover it was a small coffee shop. Thank God.

  Exercising caution, she did her best to make a quiet entrance. The last thing she wanted was to call attention to herself. Taking in the homey set up of the shop, she relaxed, muscle by muscle. The décor was simple with a few wooden tables and chairs and large overstuffed chairs scattered throughout. A few people were lounging by a plastic shelf featuring assorted knick-knacks and mugs for sale.

  Stepping up to the glass counter, she took a moment to study the menu, silently praying that Salted Caramel Mochas were an option. Spotting them on the sign behind the counter, she flashed a grin at the young male barista. “Hi, may I have a salted caramel mocha please? Medium?” Splurging on a five dollar plus coffee probably wasn’t the smartest use of her minimal funds, but she couldn’t resist. The guy nodded and busied himself filling her order. Studying the showcase of baked goods yumminess, she was tempted to add on a chocolate covered pretzel to her order. Why not? The guy returned before she had fully made up her mind. “Sorry, ma’am, we don’t have any of the salt for the topping so I had to make it without. Hope that’s okay.” Gwyn frowned in response. Ma’am? How old did this ponytail hairstyle make her look? It wasn’t okay, the salt was the best part.

  Opening her mouth to decline the drink, she startled when she felt a hand at her elbow and a deep, now familiar voice answer for her. “That’s no problem, Davey. She’ll take it.” Annoyed, she glanced up into the mesmerizing blue eyes that had been occupying her dreams. The Sheriff.

  Huffing out her breath, she prepared to snap back that it most certainly was a problem when she caught the slight shake of the Sheriff’s head as he motioned for her to look over beside Davey. Against her instincts, she complied, noticing the stern looking man watching the display from the door to the stock room. The manager no doubt.

  Not wanting to cause trouble for the young boy, she muttered, “Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks.” Aiming a glare at the Sheriff for his meddling, she took the coffee and reached in her pocket for the money.

  “Davey, I’ll take a large black to go. You can put hers on my bill,” he instructed, shooing away her outstretched hand. Gwyn bristled at the way he said ‘her.’

  “Actually, Davey, that won’t be necessary. I can pay for my own,” she argued, moving to stand in front of Brady. The second she moved, she realized it was the wrong decision. Her back was now completely pressed to his front, the heat coming off of his body slowly engulfing hers. His gun, please let that be his gun, was pressing into her side. It took all of her willpower to not lean back against him and let his strong arms enclose her in his embrace.

  Fuck, Gwyn. Get a grip. Scooting forward, she let the counter dig into her stomach, desperate for some distance. The pain was welcome, it helped to ebb the flow of lust coursing through her body. She barely knew the man, but on two encounters now she had been ready to offer herself up for sampling. All she needed was to be wearing a big, shiny bow and a sign saying, take me! I’m easy. Inwardly groaning, she shoved a few bills across the counter to Davey and spun, looking to make her escape.

  “Gwyn, wait.” Brady’s voice stopped her in her tracks, even though her mind was yelling at her to continue her getaway. Shit, he knew her name. He was a distraction she didn’t need. Her lady parts disagreed, if the tightening she felt in her core at him saying her name was any indication. However, past experience had taught her that listening to them wasn’t always a smart idea.

  Still, she couldn’t make her feet carry her out the door. Catching up with her, he offered her a smile. Lord above, why did he have to look so sexy in that uniform? He had a hat on today, cowboy style with a star in the middle. It should have looked ridiculous, but on him, it just added to his appeal. Her eyes travelled down to his chest, noting the way the buttons strained. I bet they would pop open with just one little flick. “So how’d you sleep?” Her head snapped up at his question, her eyes locking with his.

  “Sleep?” she squeaked. “Like in my bed?” Blushing furiously, she fought to get a handle on her thoughts. “Um, what do you mean?”

  He chuckled, and she knew that he knew where her mind had been. “Your first night. In your new apartment…” Realization dawned and with it came utter humiliation. God, what is wrong with you Gwyn? Men had never flustered her this easily. She never let them get close enough to have the chance. Not since Lawrence.

  “Oh, right. My first night, well it was good. I’m still just settling in, you know.” Her answer sounded lame to her ears, but Brady didn’t seem to notice. He was staring at her with intensity, causing her to shuffle her feet.

  “I mean, sure it was a little unnerving, being in a strange place. But I just got an extra blanket to huddle under and put my pepper spray and a very sharp knife under my pillow. Robbers beware, this girl is a menace with pepper spray.” She pointed at herself with both thumbs. Seeing his smile, she continued, “And I mean really, this doesn’t seem like the sort of town that’s overrun with crime. If it was, you’d be a lot busier,” she joked. Brady’s eyes clouded over and his jaw tightened at her words.

  Seeing his distress, she reached out and touched his arm. “Hey. Sorry, bad joke.” Concerned at the storm she saw brewing behind his eyes, she sought to soothe. He took her hand in his, his hold firm but not rough. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was devastating all the same.

  “Tonight, I’m taking you to dinner.” His tone left no room for argument. A clear indicator that he was a man that was used to getting what he wanted, no questions asked.

  “What? Why? No.” There was no way in hell she was going to dinner with him, that was a mistake she wasn’t ready to make on her second day of her fresh start. Shaking her head for emphasis, she tried to tug her hand from his grasp. He was having none of that.

  “Yes, Gywn. I am. I’ll pick you up at seven.” He enjoyed the way she squirmed under his gaze, her stubborn nature was trying its damnedest to break free and assert itself. She was fascinating, and fuck she was gorgeous. Her tiny frame barely came up to his shoulders and her blond hair was in a messy ponytail. She had the most expressive brown eyes he had ever seen; eyes that spoke of sadness and pain.

  However reserved she tried to be, he sensed strength under her fragile exterior. There was more to her than met the eye and he was determined to uncover every one of her secrets.

  “Brady.” Jesus why did his name feel so right on her lips? “We aren’t going to dinner, I don’t even know you,” she tried to reason with him.

  “That’s the whole point of a date, sugar. For me to get to know you. For me to sit across from you and hear you tell me all about yourself. I’ve had your sweet voice stuck in my head all night. Those eyes of yours were the first thing that popped into my head this morning when I woke up. So yes, we are going to dinner. And after?” He leaned down and put his lips next to her ear. Her whole body sprang to life at the contact. She was positive everyone in the coffee shop could hear the pounding of her heart.

  “After, I’m going to walk you up to your door and kiss those luscious lips of yours until you can’t breathe. I’m going to sink my hands into that soft hair, nibble on your tiny ears. And then—I’ll make sure you’re tucked in safely and be on my way.” His words were a promise that had her entire being singing. She wanted all of that, desperately. His effect on her was overpowering. Consuming.

  Dazed, she stared back at him, breathing heavy. He seemed just as affected by their closeness as she was. “Got it, darlin’?” He wasn’t going to back down. What could one dinner hurt? She could admit that her physical attraction to him was strong.

  Gwyn nodded. “Okay, um yes. Alright, one dinner. Just one, don’t think this is going to be a regular thing,” she warned him. It wasn’t going to be, she would make sure of it. She caught his amused look and knew he obviously didn’t believe her for a second.

  Taking
a sip of his coffee, he tipped his hat at her and headed for the door. Before he opened it, he suddenly turned back and was back at her side in two long strides. Wide-eyed, she stared up at him.

  “Seven tonight, Gwyn. Don’t make me wait for you,” his arrogant tone pricked her anger and just as she opened her mouth to tell him just how long he’d be waiting for her, he leaned in and lowered his voice. “I can’t wait to taste you.” He winked and this time when he reached the door, he strolled right through.

  Standing in the middle of the coffee shop, her mouth formed into a tiny “o” of shock and lust, she was left wondering what the fuck had just happened.

  “You might as well give in now, honey. That man is irresistible.” Spinning around, Gwyn found herself caught in the stare of a tall, fair haired beauty. Raising her eyebrows in question, she ran a nervous hand down the length of her ponytail. “Excuse me?” she asked, not sure what she was referring to.

  The woman gestured towards the door. “The Sheriff. He’s full of charm and definitely got lucky in the good genes department. And you, honey, are the first woman he’s showed interest in since he finally got his head on straight and got rid of that wretched Mila.”

  “Oh, him? He’s not interested in me. We just met,” Gwyn hurried to explain. The other woman shot her a look of exasperation.

  “Honey, believe me. He’s not only interested; he’s practically putty in your hands. He was looking at you like you’re a pot full of honey and he needs a place to stick his stinger,” she informed her with a sassy wink. Holding out her hand, she introduced herself. “I’m Hailey, and you must be the new waitress Joan hired on.” Seeing Gwyn’s look of surprise, she continued. “Small town, darlin’, get used to it. We’re gonna know your business before you do around here,” there was no malice in her tone, she was simply explaining the way things worked in Durham Heights.