Twisted Death (A Twisted Fairy Tale Book 2)

by Ace Gray

  “You walking away, whatever the reason, is punishment plain and simple,” he shot back, his voice gritty and raw.

  “Cole…” I needed to prove to him that I meant it.

  He didn’t see that I’d given him my body, even after he’d wounded every single cell. My emotions had been barraged for months and then he’d physically hurt me today; a mark that ached with every single movement. But all he saw was me walking out after sex.

  He hadn’t realized that I turned around on top of him because I couldn’t watch the adoration coloring his face any longer than I did. If I had, I would have folded completely, forgiving all his sins. He just figured I wanted to remind him of the wound he’d given me. My twist had put his mangled, angry scar on display and brought back the night he got it into sharp focus. The whole cursed chain of events that got us there too.

  The way to make him understand hit me like a ton of bricks. Before I could talk myself out of it, or even think through the consequences, I spewed out words on instinct alone.

  “I have the ledger, Cole.” All the air whooshed out of the apartment and he froze, his muscles going rigid, all sharply tense. “It was in the things from Seattle.”

  “Why did you tell me that?” His voice was strangled, confused.

  “Because you need to know how much I mean what I say. That I’m not walking away. Not even remotely. I’m just going to Horse’s.” I blew out a deep breath. “You need to know that I trust you with my life.” I offered him a half-hearted smile.

  “And it’s a life I’m going to save once and for all.” His determination flared as he reached for his pants and yanked them on.

  “What?”

  “Do you realize that with that ledger, Elle, our options are endless?” He fastened his button as he looked over at me. “The only thing we know for sure is that we’re out. We’re free.”

  Shit.

  Freedom tasted like fried dough covered in cinnamon sugar on a hot day. Or Cole when he was freshly showered but utterly himself as he slid into my mouth. Freedom was the most tempting heaven. And his excitement was a heady drug that I would live forever wanting bigger hits of, but my mom’s words had been whirling in my brain for about a week now…

  “No, Cole. We’re not. Not even remotely.”

  “We can go to the Italians, to the Feds, to Mickey himself.” He pulled on a shirt focused solely on his thoughts rather than the dresser in front of him. “We can bargain our way out.”

  What a beautiful carrot hanging in front of my face. What a delicious temptation. Cole. Together. A future. Free of murder and mayhem no less.

  But…

  “We can’t.”

  “Elle,” he warned sharply. “Ladylove.”

  “We can’t, Cole.” I blew out a deep breath, the truth resonating deep in my bones.

  “Why not?” He swiftly stepped to me and grabbed my arms. “Why?” He shook me slightly. “Happily ever after is just a step away.” His voice thinned out, rough and ragged.

  I bit my bottom lip, studying him carefully.

  He knew. He could sense what I was going to say before I spoke. My heart swelled at the hope snuffing out behind his eyes. There was a possibility I would break when grim determination replaced it.

  This was why he was my everything despite it all.

  “Cole, you’ve always thought yourself an unworthy monster,” I sighed softly, “but I never saw it that way. To me, you always have been and always will be a hero. A knight. Black, gray, white, whatever, but a knight all the same.” I stepped up to him and snuggled into his warm skin then breathing in his deep, warm scent. “And this time, I’m not the one that needs saving.”

  He adjusted beneath my cheek then went still.

  “You want to save them?” he asked quietly, his voice was a reflection of what I’d seen in his eyes.

  “I need to,” I whispered.

  He stood still for a few moments and the silence was so thick between us, I thought I might drown. But then he blew out a loud breath and his body folded around mine in a soul enveloping hug. I sagged into him and breathed in deeply. For a minute more I let myself believe in the utter fantasy of it all.

  But the weight of reality pulled me back to the apartment all too soon.

  I pushed away from him with a small smile and turned for the door, slipping into a pair of discarded flip-flops sitting nearby.

  “After all that, you’re still leaving?”

  “I told you I was gonna go home tonight, Cole.” I softened my voice as best I could.

  “But you told me you trust me.” His face was a dark question mark.

  “With my life. And I do. But I don’t trust you with my heart just yet.” I bit my lip. “I told you so you knew how utterly truthful I’m being when I say that I’m still in. But at the end of the day, we need time. You need time to show me I’m not wrong.”

  “I’d go to the depths of hell for you, Ladylove,” he said it rough and vehement and my heart thundered in response. “I already have.”

  I took the two steps to close the distance between us and rose up onto tiptoes to plant a small chaste kiss on his cheek.

  “Then this will be the easy part,” I murmured in his ear just before nipping at my earlobe.

  His hands reached out for me but I slid out of his grip and then quickly out of the apartment before either of us could change my mind.

  I needed to walk.

  Today was a weird and wonderful shitstorm. Everything had started out wrong—horrific was maybe a better word—Mickey had… I couldn’t remind myself without shivers shaking my full body.

  But then Cole had saved me the only way he knew how. I wasn’t exactly pleased I’d been fucked in front of people but I’d be lying if I said being with him hadn’t been the most exquisite kind of torture. Honestly, I didn’t even mind the belt lash. Every inch of my skin had sung after that snap, and the way my blood rolled through me had been one of the most intense feelings my body had ever surrendered to.

  That alone may have been enough to keep me living my drab little life for a few more months. I could remember that time electricity had jumpstarted my dormant heart. But then he saved me lying naked on that floor. He’d given me his jacket, he’d gotten me out. And then he’d apologized. For everything. And had offered his heart up on a silver platter.

  Fuck.

  I replayed all of it time and time again in my head, lingering on the two of us together both earlier and then again in his apartment. My cheeks and chest flushed and the color had nothing to do with walking briskly down the warm nighttime city sidewalks.

  All along, I’d been holding onto the hope that Cole was good. It was in every dark shade and simple line of the Ladylove Sharpie mark on my forearm, and I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t wrong at all. My smile grew at the thought of telling Horse.

  My breath caught.

  Horse, my solid hulking shepherd that Mickey had all but dragged out of that den of deviancy earlier. With God knows what in mind.

  My feet picked up pace without me ever having told them to and before I knew it, I was sprinting down the street. As fast as I could in flip-flops anyhow. Wind whipped my hair back behind me and stung against my eyes but I wouldn’t let myself slow down. Not until I saw his townhouse appear out of the panic edging in my vision.

  I burst through the door, not at all concerned when it banged into the wall beside me. I slid a bit on the tile just in front of the door and caught myself as I called out.

  “Horse?” Panic was as wild a force in my voice as the breaths shaking my rib cage. “Horse, please tell me you’re here.”

  “Can’t anyone get a moment of peace around here?” Conrad sauntered down the stairs, his tight black boxer briefs framing his gorgeous inked body were the only thing manly about him. He wore a pink shower cap that matched pink fuzzy slippers. His green mud mask was the exact shade of the cucumber slices he held in his hand. “I know it’s a foreign concept to you two but a lady needs a zen space if she’s goi
ng to keep up appearances.” He shot me a stern look despite the get-up.

  It was enough to loosen the grip of terror on my heart and I smiled in spite of myself.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize RuPaul came to visit,” I said with a bit of snark in my voice.

  “I’m surprised you realize anything at all these…” His voice trailed off and his gaze pinched as he studied me, making him seem more like an old biddy than he had even just a moment ago. “You got off!” he exclaimed.

  “Conrad—” I went to shush him but he interrupted.

  “Twice!” His eyes widened and his smile spread, cracking the mud mask into a million tiny pieces. “Oh my God, girl! Tell me all about it!” He grabbed me by the arm and started pulling me upstairs to the kitchen.

  I didn’t even remember to look around for Horse.

  Conrad pulled me past the breakfast bar where his manicure supplies and fashion magazines were sprawled about and we darted for the box of wine he’d been sipping off. Before I could protest, he shoved me into the corner, snatched a mug and filled it full of pinot. He pushed it in my face and I eyed it, brows arched as high as they would go, before grabbing it.

  “Drink. Spill. Now.” His hands found a spot on his hips as he leaned toward me.

  I made a point of taking a long, deep sip before I turned to place my mug on the counter behind me.

  “Holy shit, Belles, what is on your back?”

  I sighed heavily.

  “Are you going to let me tell the story or should I get an umbrella to protect against your shady ass?”

  Conrad was going to hate Cole even more than he already did after this little story.

  “Scout’s honor.” He held up his hand in a three-finger pledge then let his wrist fall limp before pretending to flip his imaginary long hair.

  “You could never be a Boy Scout,” I said with a barely contained laugh.

  “You think they’ll find out I’m gay?” He brought his hands to his mouth and his eyes went wide in pretend shock.

  “If they have three of their five senses, there’s a pretty good chance.” My full chuckle broke loose.

  He started laughing right along with me.

  “I missed this, Belles. Who had you orgasming this afternoon? I wanna send him a thank you note. Maybe some chocolate. Or porn.”

  I took a deep breath debating between deflection and truth. I decided on ripping off the Band-Aid.

  “Cole.”

  His name sucked everything out of the room. The air went right out along with the humor, the lightness and even my heartbeat. Conrad froze where he was and his eyes narrowed into a very lethal, catlike shape.

  “Did you say Cole? As in Satan himself?”

  “Mickey’s the devil. Not Cole,” I said meekly.

  “He hit you!” Conrad shouted before pounding his fist onto the countertop. Fury rippled through him, fluffy slippers be damned.

  “Yes,” I snapped. “Yes, he did. Actually, on second thought, he whipped me. With a belt.” I shoved away from my perch on the counter and up into his face. “And I liked it every bit as much as I like it when he chokes me.”

  “That’s fucked up. You’re fucked up.” His pointer finger shoved into my chest.

  Rather than backing away, I pressed myself into it. “Maybe I am. Maybe my heart is black. And maybe that means I deserve to be desecrated. Maybe this is the most twisted fairy tale ever written but I don’t, fucking, care.” I wiggled on his finger with each enunciated word. “He’s mine,” I growled, “and I’m perfectly fine with it. All of it.”

  “I can’t even…” Conrad’s mud mask cracked in a completely different direction as his face shifted to horrified.

  “Great. Good. I’m glad. Because usually when you can’t even,” I sneered, “I’m on the right track.”

  “That’s a low blow.” His words dripped acid.

  “Good thing you’re not packing below the belt.” Mine were pretty damn close.

  “Fuck you, Elle.”

  “Fuck you right back, Conrad.”

  We sat seething at each other for a few moments, shoulders heaving. After a stare down that should have been accompanied by dramatic music and full-blown fireworks, we simultaneously blew out deep breaths.

  “I don’t like it, Belles. At all. He hurt you.” Conrad softened but there was still an edge when he referred to Cole.

  I sighed and dramatically shrugged my shoulders. “I know. The pain is still real, still raw… But… But long ago, I signed up for a life lived in gradient. Black and white isn’t an option anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. You should know that better than anyone because of Horse.”

  As soon as I said his name the spell wore off. Conrad’s unique brand of queen magic couldn’t hold me. Panic went roaring through my veins fast and furious enough to flatten me back to the counter.

  Conrad started to banter, probably something witty, but there was a ringing in my ears and a tunneling of my vision. Horse would have come into the kitchen, he would have yelled at me for forgiving Cole, he would have railed on and on about how hope was going to dismantle me brick by brick.

  But he hadn’t come.

  Not while we were laughing and certainly not while we were screeching.

  He wasn’t here.

  The truth of it was in my bones and the terror of it thick in my stomach. I interrupted Conrad mid-sentence, still deaf to whatever he’d been yammering on about.

  “Where’s Horse?” My throat constricted on his name.

  “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Conrad rolled his eyes underneath that pink shower cap.

  “Where’s Horse?” My voice was more strangled, my panic peeking out.

  “He hasn’t come home yet,” Conrad answered exasperated.

  But then he paused and he studied me. He must have seen the storm clouds rolling in the depths of my eyes.

  “He was with you.” Conrad’s words were weak and mangled. “He was with you at Mickey’s. It was just going to be a meeting. Where is he?”

  The unknown was worse than having an answer. My mouth flopped open and closed a few times but I couldn’t even formulate sounds.

  “Where is he?” Conrad was flustered, a ball of emotion was churning just below his surface too. “Elle, where the fuck is he?”

  Words balled up and knotted in my throat. Describing the whole scene, what he had done and what he was paying for, the intricacies of it all, was too hard. Conrad couldn’t understand that foul den and the things Mickey did there, he wouldn’t let himself. And in this particular case, I couldn’t blame him.

  “Elle Belle!”

  As if on cue, a thundering knock pounded against the front door. The echo reverberated up to the kitchen then through my bones. My flip-flop feet just barely beat Conrad’s fluffy slippers to the stairs as we both barreled toward the front door.

  I whipped it open and a wave of humidity hit me. Humidity and something else. Something salty, metallic against the breeze of the barely lit evening.

  It only took me a moment to focus in on the lump of flesh on the stoop. The lump of bloodied, massacred flesh.

  Cole had Horse’s arm around his shoulder as he desperately clung to his waist. They were both soaked wet with blood down to the waist. Horse’s feet were barely working as Cole barged in and to the couch we had in the downstairs den. With all his might, Cole rolled Horse onto the gray upholstery only for blood to seep onto the cushions.

  Conrad fell to his knees beside them, his hands fluttering around his love. Mine likewise wanted to reach out for Cole but I stilled them. And my heart. I needed to be sharp for what came next. Cole was already busy ripping the shirt from Horse’s chest.

  “What the hell happened?” I barely breathed the words.

  “Mickey sent him to see The Butcher.”

  And with those words, my insides bottomed out.

  10.

  Cole

  Holy fuck.

  The moment Elle had walked out of my ap
artment, I stormed out too. I wanted to pull her back, fuck her up against the exposed brick—maybe right next to her sculpture—and make her understand just what I had given up and what I was willing to do all over again when it smacked me. The ledger smacked me. The implications and the desperation that surrounded that Godforsaken leather-bound book. She wanted this—she wanted us—but she wanted to do what was right.

  I’d honor that the same way I honored her.

  Because if it mattered to her, it mattered to me. Every fiber of my being was hers to command, whether she took the reins willingly or not.

  So I’d gone searching for task number one: Horse.

  Whether it was her gauntlet—get an apology, please—or my own need to caress my horse figurines without shame that had me barking at underlings on the phone, I wasn’t sure. When someone finally answered, my heart lurched in my chest.

  The Butcher. The motherfucking Butcher.

  Regardless of his reasoning, sending Horse there had been Mickey’s cruel joke. His punctuation mark on a session that already said I own you. Fear and fury mingled in my blood as I drove, barely seeing the world around me. I knew that it was my need and my need alone that had me weaving in and out of traffic and running lights.

  When I found him, terror became a living being in the room right next to me.

  He was hanging from a meat hook in the main gallery of The Butcher’s showcase. Small, twisting rivers of blood had coated his entire body as he hung and puddled on the floor. His life was seeping toward a drain on the floor.

  But there was no sinister laugh, no meat hook to my throat as I lifted him and dragged him back to the car. That trail of blood was something I’d see in my nightmares until my dying breath.

  Holy fuck.

  My hands had turned crimson, and even now, I tried to keep them from trembling. It wasn’t working. Nothing was. Nothing had been. Not since I’d heard The Butcher. Hearing Horse was there, seeing him like this, was almost the same free-fall as when Mickey told Elle to shove her underwear to her knees. Shit like this could not happen.