DEPRAVED

by J, Bella

  Slither smiled, and the snake on his face seemed to move. “Your plan won’t work.”

  “Like I said, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  He bit his lip, pure amusement on his face. “You’re giving me what I want. You know that, right?”

  “And what exactly is that?” I tilted my head, my shoulders squared.

  “A fight. A chance to ruin the Kings once and for all.”

  Onyx moved, and I could practically feel the tension roll off him and onto me. Luckily, Ink was there and jumped in front of him before my brother had the chance to do something stupid.

  “Listen, you reptile, cock-sucking fuck,” I growled, baring my teeth. “If you knew how much I’d like to tear you the fuck apart, you wouldn’t come onto my turf and threaten my club. Your balls are way too small for that shit.”

  Slither didn’t back down an inch, an evil smirk plastered on his ugly face. “It’s just a matter of time before I kill you with the same knife I stuck in your father’s spine.”

  I lost it. I lost my shit, not giving a fuck about witnesses or collateral anymore. It took me a split second to launch myself at the piece of shit, but Dutch had his arms around me before I had a chance to plant my fist in Slither’s face.

  “Not here, Granite,” Dutch warned. “Keep it together.”

  Slither started laughing. “Better listen to your bodyguard, Lincoln Walker.”

  I hissed at him when he used my real name. No one had called me that for years. The last person who called me Lincoln was my dad on the day he died. Only then we didn’t know it would be the last time we’d see each other.

  “I swear to God, Slither. The day will come when I tear your goddamn skin off.” I jerked from Dutch’s hold, moving closer to the son of a bitch in front of me. “There’s a special corner in hell for motherfuckers like you.”

  “I don’t care much for your threats. What I do care about is when my enemy tries to win a war by playing dirty.” He cocked his head. “And kidnapping Alyxandria Green, then trying to frame us, is a very dirty move.”

  I hated the way it sounded on his lips, the evil that laced his every word, how he rolled his tongue while saying her name. It made my skin crawl.

  “You’ve been warned, Walker.” Then he turned around, so sure I wouldn’t shoot him in the back. It proved he knew I had more honor in me than he had in his left fucking testicle.

  As I watched the fucker get on his bike, the snake on his cut taunting me, I realized I had fucked up. For the first time since we put this plan in motion, I regretted it. I regretted the decision to use Alyx as a pawn in this game. Greed blinded me. My obsession made me see only what I wanted to see—grief over my dead father…and my lust for the girl in the window.

  16

  Alyx

  Since Granite locked that door, I had been sitting on the bed, tracing my index fingers across my lips. Left to right. Right to left.

  It felt surreal, and I kept replaying it in my head, starting at the part where he grabbed me. Everything from there was a blur right up until he kissed me. Hard. Demanding. And unapologetic.

  The way he pulled me close, my body molded perfectly against his, our lips locked together. It felt like we were two pieces of a puzzle made to fit. Yet it was wrong. At least, that was what my head was trying to tell me, anyway. That his kiss was wrong. His touch was wrong. The way my body responded to him…was wrong.

  Everything was wrong. But I liked it, and it scared me. Would I have given him my body if he demanded it? Was I so weak, so easily corrupted that I would give my body to my captor on a whim? What did that say about me as a person, the fact that while he had his tongue in my mouth, my panties were wet with desire? Jesus. I was just as depraved as he was.

  With a sigh, I fell back on the bed. I could still smell him in the room, that enticing earthy scent lingering around me. And my skin was still craving more of his touch, all hot and sensitive. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to sort through my thoughts like they were little sticky notes reminding me of who Granite really was and what he was doing to me.

  He’s a bad man.

  He kidnapped you.

  He can’t be trusted.

  You’re attracted to him. Always have been.

  But he’s not what you thought he was.

  He’s bad.

  He’s wrong.

  But his kiss felt good in such a bad way.

  Oh, my God. My mind was like a minefield, a ticking timebomb threatening to explode any second.

  Frustrated and confused as hell, I grabbed a pillow and pulled it over my face, screaming like a woman gone mad. I refused to accept the fact that I was turning into one of those women you read about in romance novels who developed this sordid attraction toward her kidnapper, thinking she’d be the one to change his evil ways.

  Only I had been attracted to Granite long before this nightmare started. Long before I knew how dangerous he really was. My attraction toward him wasn’t a new thing—the way he affected me, the way I desired him, it had been that way long before this. He had been on my mind every day for the last few years. Apparently, I had been on his mind as well. But did that make all this right? Did it justify my body’s twisted desire to be taken by him? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  All this time, I thought my father was behind guys being too scared to date me. But it was him. Granite. Somehow, he made sure men stayed away from me. How was that even possible? Did he really have that kind of power in this city? Was he really capable of threatening whoever he wanted to, manipulating lives?

  “God.” I got up from the bed, tossing the pillow on the floor. Unreal. That was what he was. Un-fucking-real.

  Pacing, I caught sight of the chest of drawers with my stuff on it. My brush. My make-up bag. My perfume. He was in my room. If he had been able to manipulate my life without me knowing, getting access to my room was probably a piece of cake for a man like him. By dealing with my dad, his weekly visits, it gave him the perfect opportunity to invade my privacy.

  Jesus. My insides coiled tight just thinking about it.

  I picked up the blue bottle of perfume. It was unused, and the bottle I had at home was almost empty. For some reason, knowing it was only replicas settled me a little. Placing it back, I glanced around before walking to the window. Someone had closed the shutters, probably to remind me that this wasn’t a bedroom. It was a prison. Twice I had been let out of the room, and not once did it occur to me to look out a window, to try to see where we were and if the area seemed familiar. It was pathetic, really, the fact that I had zero survival skills.

  “Yo, Swan Lake?” Neon knocked on the door. “You okay in there?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  “No.”

  The door unlocked, and Neon slowly opened it before walking in holding out my clothes. “You looked hideous dancing in that outfit that’s, like, five sizes too big for you. So I washed these. Thought you’d feel more comfortable in your own clothes.”

  I crossed my arms. “Thanks.”

  She placed it on the bed. “No problem. So, needless to say, Granite is slightly pissed at me for letting you out of the room. And judging by the bulging vein across his forehead when he came out, it’s safe to say he’ll chew my ass if I do it again.”

  “It’s okay.” I hugged myself tighter. “At least I don’t smell like a mucky ballerina anymore.”

  Neon stifled a laugh. “Yeah. There’s that.”

  She hovered for a few moments, glancing around the room.

  “Neon. You don’t have to stick around. I’m okay.”

  “You sure? You’re not hungry or anything?”

  I scowled at her. “Not funny.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t trying to be.”

  “No, Neon. I’m not hungry. But thank you.”

  “Such good manners,” she mumbled on her way out. “Oh, by the way. We’re having pizza tonight. Extra cheese.” She winked then closed the door.
>
  Why was everyone so obsessed with my weight? God.

  With a grunt, I grabbed my clothes from the bed then opened the closet doors which Neon said led to a mini bathroom. It only had a tiny sink and a toilet. Nothing else. Not even a window or a dash of color. If you asked me, the bathroom was probably a new addition to the bedroom. It gave me shivers thinking about it being added to accommodate my kidnapping.

  I walked into the nothing-but-white bathroom and caught sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror placed on one of the doors. Neon was right. The clothes she gave me were far too big. I looked like a child playing dress-up in adult clothing.

  I stepped closer, examining the bruise on my face. It was a mix of black, purple, and blue—an ugly reminder of the night my entire life changed. Softly, I placed my fingertips against the purple welts. From afar, a bruise just looked like a giant purple and black blotch. But up close, you’d see shades of green, yellow, different shades of blue. Almost like people. From afar, they looked simple and two-dimensional, some grotesque and ugly. It was only when you got up close and personal that you realized how intricate and complex they were. Every line played a part in shaping a three-dimensional being. I guessed that was why they said every person was unique, even though we all had the same goal in life. To survive.

  What if there was more to Granite than this big, cruel, selfish man who had no problem interfering with other people’s lives? Maybe, if I got closer, I would see layers too. Different lines, different shapes that in the end formed something unique. A better man, maybe. Hopefully.

  One thing was for certain, though. I looked like shit. My hair was clean, but unkempt, strands hanging over my shoulders like it was clinging to my scalp for dear life. With one bruised eye, the other was framed with a dark circle. There was no color in my cheeks, my face pale and beaten. Even the shade of my eyes seemed more gray than blue.

  Now that I was wearing baggy clothes, it was painfully obvious why everyone I’d come across had something to say about my eating habits. My body was nothing more than flesh covered bones. No curves. No palm-sized breasts.

  I was all cheekbones and ribcage.

  I was a mess.

  The first thought that popped into my head was how could Granite kiss me. How could he want to kiss me, and be jealous when it came to his brother? I wasn’t beautiful. I wasn’t pretty and curvy. The only thing that made me noticeable around here was my weight. Nothing about me gave Granite any reason to want me—something he had admitted a few times already.

  It was nothing but ugliness that stared back at me. The sight of my reflection made me want to look away. Like when you passed a handicapped person in the mall, or a mentally disabled child. You’d do anything to look the other way so you wouldn’t embarrass that person by staring at them with pity. It was the weirdest feeling, not wanting to look at myself. My entire life, my mom had praised me when I lost weight, told me I looked beautiful. Whenever I picked up an ounce, insults would fly out of her mouth like poisoned darts aimed right at my heart. After a while, it seemed like I started seeing myself through her eyes. A perfect ballerina. But now that perfect ballerina was slowly morphing into a flawed, skinny girl.

  The more I thought about it while staring at my reflection, the more I convinced myself that Granite’s jealousy just wasn’t plausible. Was he trying to mind-fuck me, seduce me so I’d end up giving him what he wanted? Sex? Submission?

  But then again, if it was only sex for him, why would he have gone to such lengths to keep other men away from me? Whether other men had me or not, it should have made no difference to him if sex was his only motivation. Nothing about any of this made sense.

  He was big, bold, and beautiful—in an obsessed, creepy kidnapper kind of way. And I was pretty sure panties dropped for him daily. A man who had the kind of power he had didn’t run out of pussy options. I was willing to bet he had women falling at his feet every goddamn day. Yet here I was. Confused, angry, and scared, feeling guilty for liking his kiss so much. Embarrassed by the way my body responded to his touch and mortified to think I was anything but disgusted by having his tongue in my mouth.

  And now, while staring at my reflection, I hated the way I looked because there was no way a man like him would find it attractive, and I couldn’t understand why that was important to me. He was a kidnapper, a psychopath with stalker tendencies. Now that I knew he was responsible for my lack of a love life, I wondered about all the times I felt like someone was watching me. For all these years I ignored the prickle in the back of my skull, feeling the way my skin tingled while being watched. I ignored it because I had convinced myself it had always been my father’s men, my bodyguards. But could it have been him all along?

  Bewildered and disgusted, I pulled the baggy shirt over my head and slipped the oversized jeans off my waist. After tossing the clothes as far away from me as possible, I finally looked at my naked reflection. That was when I noticed I still had the protective wrapping over the tattoo I got the other night.

  I had completely forgotten about the tattoo. And when Neon allowed me a shower earlier, there was no time for me to take note of anything, as I was only allowed thirty seconds in the shower.

  Gently, I placed my fingertips on the wrapping. Thinking about the tattoo hidden beneath, permanently inked on my skin, made my stomach turn. God, I was such a naïve ballerina girl who had been living in her own damn bubble for years.

  With a tug, I ripped the wrapping off. There was already so much pain inside me, burning, stinging flesh was the last thing I worried about.

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at the tattoo. If only I knew then what I did now, I probably would have opted for an innocent butterfly, or something delicate, cute, and pink. Some conventional picture fitting for a ballerina who had rebel tendencies every now and then.

  Without looking at it, I straightened, moving my legs together so my inner thigh wasn’t visible in the mirror. I was nothing but a five-foot-two sack of bones. The bruises that marred my body didn’t help make the picture prettier. They really roughed me up good the other night while carrying me from my car to theirs.

  I carefully touched a bluish mark across my rib and flinched as the sudden sharp pain shot through every nerve. Maybe if I had a little more flesh on my body, I wouldn’t have bruised so easily.

  A tear slipped down my cheek, followed by another. I was hurt. I was alone. I was confused and scared. I felt…lost.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  I jolted at the sound of his voice, grabbing the nearest towel from the rail. “Oh, my God, Granite.” Trying to cover my body with a tiny hand towel proved to be tricky…and awkward.

  He shut the door behind him without taking his eyes off me. “I knew they hurt you. Your face.”

  “Get out.”

  “Jesus, Alyx. I didn’t know they hurt you that bad.” He pointed at my body, his gaze dropping to where I held the towel. “If I did, I wouldn’t have been so merciful by killing him so quickly.”

  “What?” I almost choked, my heart instantly lodged in my throat.

  He moved toward me, but he seemed to lack the confidence he always had. His footsteps were slow, hesitant, rather than assured and determined.

  “After I saw what they did to your face, I sliced my blade through the fucker’s skull.”

  A gasp slipped from my mouth, shock sending a shudder of chills down my body. “What? Why…why would you—”

  “I told you. You’re mine. No man has the right to touch you.”

  “So you killed a man? That’s insane.” I placed my palm on my forehead, feeling faint while my mind reeled.

  “My brother shot a man to death in order to protect you while you easily could have ended up in the crossfire, yet me killing a guy for hurting you is insane?” The sneer of jealousy in his voice was loud and clear, and it hit hard against my chest.

  “Granite, that’s not what I said.”

  For the first time, his expression wasn’t stone. There was
something different. Softer. Almost pained. Silence wrapped around us, and he just kept staring at me as if he was watching me break into a million pieces. His dark eyebrows gathered in before he scrubbed his hand down his face.

  “What is it you want from me, Granite? First you let it sound like I’m a pawn in some game you’re playing against my father. But then you tell me stuff like how you want me, and that I’ve always been yours. That shit is confusing the fuck out of me, and I don’t know what to think or how to feel.” My heart wanted to explode, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. I was so desperate for straight answers, it was tiring me out.

  I stared at him with desperation, willing him to give me the truth. But the pained expression on his face was gone, replaced with those familiar hard lines. “Get dressed and try to get some sleep.”

  “What? Granite—” But he was out the door before I could finish my sentence.

  My mind was reeling, and I placed my hand on my forehead, feeling faint and confused. Nothing made sense. Every second I spent with that man, every word that came out of his mouth, only confused me more.

  One thing I did know for sure—I’d be a fool to want to understand rather than fear him.

  17

  Granite

  Seeing the bruises that marred her body flipped the fucking coin. Alyx was so delicate, the thought of someone hurting her was like trying to swallow glass. And while she stood there, naked and so fragile, my chest got sliced wide open. In that moment, my main objective was not to fuck up the Pythons. It was not to finally have the girl I had been lusting after for years. But to protect her. To protect my innocent ballerina girl.

  God, I was such a fucking contradiction. Kidnap the girl. Turn into a jealous savage. And then try to keep her safe from you and the entire goddamn world.