They were everywhere. Disfigured corpses put back together in an array of water colors, pastels, and morbid artistry.
“Mason…” My voice trailed off as I approached the round table in the center of the room.
Two skulls sat side by side in the center, and behind the table was an easel with a portrait of Annie resting on it.
Her eyes were gone; her lips were sewn back to reveal a bloody set of teeth, and her chest was gouged open.
The painting itself was…gorgeous. It was unique and different, just like Mason.
“Are these Glenda and my dad?” I asked Mason without looking at him.
“The right skull is your father. The left is Glenda…it’s new,” he made sure I knew, still standing in the doorway.
I stared at it the picture and the skulls, feeling an odd sense of peace, like they had all gotten what they deserved. They were selfish people who did selfish things.
“Can I touch one?” I looked to Mason with my hand already halfway to Glenda’s skull.
“Be my guest.” He perked up, finally coming to stand beside me.
I didn’t hesitate to smooth a hand over the skull’s forehead, marveling at how soft the bone was.
“You’re not acting how I thought you would.” He ran a hand down my back, watching me examine the skulls.
“It’s just a picture, Mason. Why would I be mad?”
I had a gut feeling Annie was dead long ago, not to mention the fact that he’d hit the nail on the head the first time he brought up me trying to ‘save’ her.
“They were all you had; I can officially say my family is responsible for killing yours.”
I pulled my hand away from the skull and stepped to the side so I was in front of him, my back to his chest.
“They weren’t my family. You’re my family. You gave me a reason to want to live. They wouldn’t have cared if I died—you did.”
I looked over my shoulder at him with a shy smile. We never discussed feelings, but I wanted him to know how serious I was. The same hands that peeled skin from bone gave me a solace I had never known.
“Katie,” he more growled than said, pushing my front down onto the table, right over my daddy’s skull. Excitement coursed through my veins, desire going right between my legs.
“You’re everything to me. You’re living, breathing perfection.” He yanked my pants and underwear down in one harsh movement.
He spat and smeared the glob of saliva around my tight hole.
I curled my fingers around the edge of the table when he placed his dick between my ass cheeks, spreading my legs and crushing the skulls with my chest.
“Ready?” he breathed, his tip already pushing past my muscle’s resistance.
“No,” I whined, tears prickling in my eyes from the pain. I braced myself, knowing he would brutally take me anyway. Our bodies communicated with ease, saying everything we didn’t know how. Rough and painful, yet soothing and blissful—all things that defined our relationship.
He grabbed hold of my throat and pushed into my ass, thrusting past the tight sphincter. My scream turned into a hoarse cry at the end. His thrusts were gentle; he slowly moved his cock in and out of my ass, kissing down the side of my face and adding pressure to my neck.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded, pulling me back just enough so I could reach between my legs.
I did as he said, finding my clit in the midst of him pistoning his hips.
“Mason,” I moaned, encouraging him to move faster as pain and pleasure started mixing together.
He obliged without objection, fucking me so hard my ass began to bleed. The table slammed into the easel, sending Annie’s picture smashing to the floor.
“Fuck,” he cursed, tightening his grip on my throat. Black dots danced in front of my eyes, and my muscles began to contract around his cock. I couldn’t scream with him holding my throat; the sound that slipped out was more a squeal.
I came looking into my sister’s empty eye sockets, on top of my parents’ skulls.
Epilogue
I finished washing the blood from my hands, and then began preparing a simple lunch. I’d been trying to perfect my craft of degloving for the past month.
My skulls were never as clean as Mason’s, but I was getting there. He was off helping Declan rearrange the Red Rooms, which I now knew were nothing but rooms they killed people in.
There was much more to it than that, of course. The Dahlia was a very special place—which is what led us to deciding to make it our permanent home. He and his family we were now revamping things.
I could never tell anyone what truly went on here for obvious reasons. My husband’s secrets were mine to protect.
I smiled to myself every time I looked down at the ring. We didn’t have a big wedding. It was small and intimate with a few of his—our—family members; therefore, it was perfect.
Grabbing the tray of sandwiches and water, I walked to the family room where Julian sat on the sofa, watching Psycho for the fiftieth time. He wasn’t amused when I pointed out his similarities to the film.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked him once I had the tray settled, taking a seat beside him.
“Are you going to start fucking crying again?” He took a sip of his water, smirking at the television.
I rolled my eyes. He and Mason were so alike. I’d taken over caring for him at his own request. I wanted to object, but I couldn’t. Mason hid it well, but I knew he was still worried about him. Even though he was obviously getting better.
We were as close as could be now. Turns out my father-in-law was a special man for a multitude of reasons. I shouldn’t have thought otherwise. After all, he raised Mason.
“I won’t cry,” I huffed.
“We can blame the hormones,” he teased.
I smiled at that, looking down at my obnoxiously huge bump.
I swear I got pregnant by Mason’s will power alone. What we were going to do with twins, lord knows.
Obviously, we weren’t going to be cookie-cutter parents, but our kids would grow up loved and well taken care of, so what else mattered?
When it came down to it, all we really wanted was a family and love. Sometimes, love was a tragedy. It had the power to set your soul on fire, but for a love like ours, I’d happily let it burn.
The pain made it real. That’s what was between me and Mason; I wouldn’t trade him for anything. I had come to accept what I could never change. He was never going to let me go, and I no longer wanted to leave.
Mason Andreou was the home I never had.
I sliced the man’s neck open and stepped back. I’d hung him upside down so he’d bleed out faster.
He gurgled and his body convulsed as his life poured down onto the floor.
“Why don’t you go get cleaned up, Papa? I’ll finish this,” Declan grinned, walking into the room.
I hid my grin behind a glare.
He could tease me as much as he wanted; the woman who had my heart in her hands—and occasionally my balls in her pocket—was carrying my twins.
“You sure you can handle this?”
“Please, I’m better at this than you.”
I scoffed and headed for the door, leaving him to finish the man hanging from the meat hook, and his wife, who we had tied to the chair.
I nodded to Ethan as I headed down the corridor and back to the main hall. He was one of our rare childhood friends, something more for my cousin. His family had deep ties with ours.
He’d come back to town to attend my wedding and had been around ever since, helping renovate the Dahlia. That was fine with me. I liked him for Declan. Their story would be interesting, to say the least.
Before entering my bedroom, I paused to take in the scene. Katie sat on the bed with a magazine in her lap; Max was sleeping peacefully near her feet.
She sensed me as she always did and looked over with a smile.
Everything we had gone through, and everything we would go through, was all wo
rth it for this.
She was the catalyst of new beginnings for the Andreou family, a reason to rebuild our legacy.
I would never let her go. She was part of me from now, and long after we were both in the ground.
*Julian & Morgana return in Malevolence*
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Obscene: A Dahlia Saga Novel Page 15