Sick Twisted Minds (Cruel Black Hearts Book 3)

by Candace Wondrak

  All of this, everything that’s happened…was because of me.

  And for that, I’m so sorry. I’m sorrier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. The regret I feel, I’d never thought I’d experience. I wish I could say this to you. I wish I could make you understand those last moments, that I never wished you harm. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. It just did, and I know that’s no excuse, because there is no excuse. What I did was inexcusable. Unforgivable. Terrible and inhuman. I never knew what cruelty I was capable of until that night.

  I know it doesn’t mean anything now, but I am sorry. I am so sorry my heart hurts. A physical pain to go hand-in-hand with the mental anguish I feel. Yes, this is a confession. It’s also an apology.

  And, as much as I hate to admit it, this is goodbye. I know you’ll never read this, and that it’s my fault. I know that you deserved better, and I wish I could’ve given that to you. But I can’t, and now I’m just rambling, so I’ll leave it here.

  Goodbye. I’ll miss you.

  This was Stella’s goodbye note to Callie. I would agree with Perry, it read very odd and had nothing to do with serial killers or the Angel Maker, and given her past blog history, it is suspicious, but she said nothing outright. Perry had nothing. That man was just grasping at straws and hoping, praying he found something worthwhile.

  If that fucking FBI agent wouldn’t leave her alone, I just might have to take care of him in the only way I knew how.

  I’d make him my next angel.

  Chapter Sixteen - Stella

  The days passed in a blur. I really hoped Killian was keeping track of the days, otherwise I had no clue when my sister’s rehearsal dinner was. All I knew was that I had the dress and I’d told my mother—those were the only two things I needed, and the former I didn’t need to wear to the practice run. Only the real thing. At least there was that.

  I stared at the ceiling as Edward tied me up, but my expression must’ve been far-off, for he paused, glancing back at Lincoln, who stood back with his arms crossed over his chest. We were all naked, and they were raring to go. To go at me, I should say. I was…well, I was here. I wasn’t certain if my vagina was ready for them, but at this point, it was too late to turn back now.

  I was…out of it. Taking my meds nightly now, but still out of it. Not because my brain was my enemy, but because of what I did. I still couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe what my own hands did, how my own mind had betrayed me for months. I couldn’t believe Killian had discovered it first, and I definitely couldn’t believe he had her in his basement.

  Would it be weird if I asked to see her? I kind of wanted to. I wanted…well, I wanted to see her, wanted to apologize. Writing that blog post to her today hadn’t been enough. Hell, I should’ve written it days ago, right after I first found out the truth, but I kept it back, held it in, all bottled up.

  Stupid.

  I was stupid. I was an idiot. I’d killed my best friend.

  I hated myself.

  Maybe that’s why Edward paused as he was tying up my other wrist. Maybe that’s why his blue eyes met mine, a look of concern clouding over the lust-filled gaze he’d been giving me prior to now. Why he said, “Are you sure you’re okay, Stella? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  Behind him, Lincoln muttered, “Fuck me, then. My dick is hard, and I’m not leaving this room until someone sucks it dry.” Edward threw him a glare, to which Lincoln just shrugged. He was not the kind and loving boyfriend of the bunch.

  Killian was, strangely enough, but I shouldn’t be thinking about my third boyfriend right now.

  “I’m fine,” I said, even though I really wasn’t. “Just start. Make me forget.” I focused on the blonde man above me, on his body, lean and strong, on his cock, erect and ready for action. “Please,” I added. “Make me forget it all.” Make me forget that I killed my best friend and buried her in the backyard.

  “Okay,” Edward said. “I’ll make you forget.” He leaned down to my neck, swiping my hair aside as he kissed my collarbone. He wasn’t so dominant tonight, probably because he knew I was out of it.

  Was it wrong that I wanted them to use me how they used to? Was it bad I wanted to forget it all and act like it never happened? Honestly, I was lost. Lost in my head, lost with my memories, lost in the truth. It was a sea I hadn’t been prepared for. I was on a rowboat when I should’ve been on a cruise ship. It was only a matter of time before the sea swallowed me up whole and spat me out.

  But Edward and Lincoln would help me forget. They’d fuck me, use me, make me feel pain. They would do what they had to, and I would take it all, not once complain. What I really should have them do is bring a knife in here…

  No. No knife play. We all knew what happened with me when a knife was brought into the situation.

  Edward’s mouth traveled lower, down my stomach until his tongue toyed with me in a way that made me close my eyes. He was so very good with his tongue. But all too soon his face was torn from my apex as the other man pulled him back.

  “She said she wants to forget. Why don’t we just fuck her into oblivion?” Lincoln growled, positioning the tip of his dick at my opening, hesitating not even a second before pushing himself inside, his length so long and thick the suddenness made me cry out.

  Fuck me into oblivion. That sounded like a plan. A good plan. No knives involved. No blood. Nothing but body parts mashing together.

  Okay…that didn’t sound too sexy, but oh, well.

  Lincoln’s body was wider than Edward’s. Stronger and harder. He was more well-built, the jerk of his hips faster and rougher. It was exactly what I wanted. So wild I could not stop to think, so rough I could barely fill my lungs with breath. Lincoln’s love was unforgiving, violent and carefree. If this was what I wanted, he’d give it to me, no questions asked. He wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings, or to ruminate about my own.

  Good. I needed his beast, and I needed his dick.

  “You like it hard, don’t you?” Lincoln growled out, his chest covered and glistening in sweat. “You like it when I take you while Ed watches.” Grunts came from deep within his throat with every hard thrust of his cock, filling me up to my core.

  Unconsciously I found myself tugging at my restraints. I didn’t want to get free; just a bodily reaction, trying to shy away from the harshness of this particular sexual encounter. Still, in spite of it all, I nodded along with him, agreeing with whatever he said, my wrists and ankles bound and spread.

  Edward had long ago given up playing the nice guy. He stood beside the bed, his brilliant blue stare glazed over as his fist pumped along his length, watching Lincoln take me, ravish me in a way that would make me sore tomorrow. I didn’t care. If I couldn’t walk tomorrow, I didn’t give a single shit. His hips swayed and bucked every now and then, and I could tell he was trying to last, because his rhythm would match Lincoln’s for a few moments and then slow. The tip of his cock dripped in precum, and I imagined it inside me too, maybe my mouth. My mouth would make him erupt within seconds, especially since he was so worked up.

  But now wasn’t about head. It wasn’t about pleasing each other. It was just about sex. Vicious, animalistic sex that blocked out all thoughts. No more Callie. No more wedding. No more regrets of any kind.

  Lincoln’s shoulders tensed, and I felt his body shudder above mine. He let out a low groan as he thrust once more, as deep and as far as he could go. He arched his back; he must’ve been enjoying the feeling of coming inside of me, spraying my inner walls with his white, sticky cum. Marking me. Taking me. Claiming me just as he had so many other nights before.

  Beside us, Edward orgasmed at the same time. Cum shot out of the tip of his cock, landing on my side, some of it on Lincoln’s left arm. His eyes squeezed shut, his body caught in its own pleasure. When we were together like this, it was a cacophony of sounds, a swimming pool of juices. The amount of cum that could come from these two was legendary, and at the end of the night I always
wondered how I could get so full, why I always wanted more.

  Lincoln was unhurried in pulling out of me, and his exit left my core empty. I wanted him back, wanted him to keep going. The rough, wild animal had not nearly fucked me into oblivion—but I knew the night wasn’t over yet. We were just getting started tonight.

  Edward pushed him aside, much in the way Lincoln had done to him earlier. He ran his hands along my inner thighs, causing my flesh to tremble and my sex to ache with a wanton need that could only be filled with the still-erect dick between his legs. His fingers gripped the sensitive skin around my apex hard, digging into my body and only stopping when I cried out.

  I wanted the pain. I wanted it more than anything.

  A smile crept over his lips, a dimpled smile that held no warmth. This was my cruel monster. This was my cold beast. This was the owner of my body and my soul. All of us, we were too alike. So alike it was frightening. We were all sick and twisted, our minds depraved and black, darker than the blackest black hole and ten times more destructive. We were fire and ice, light and dark, people who were not whole without the other.

  These were my monsters. My pretty, beautiful, handsome freaks. I would not let my past break me. After tonight, I would forget. After tonight, I would not think of Callie again, unless it was to discuss what to do with her remains. She would dominate my mind otherwise, and I would not let myself wallow in constant regret. It was no way to live my life. I would try to be better. I would be better.

  Edward positioned himself, and before I knew it, my core was full once more, my inner walls constricting around his length as my body got used to the feeling of his cock inside me and not Lincoln’s. My wrists tugged at the ropes tying me down as Edward fucked me. Whatever rope burn I got from this would be so worth it. I didn’t care. I wanted my skin to peel and crack. I wanted to cry out, not knowing whether I cried out in pleasure or in pain.

  Edward was a taskmaster, and tonight, he would use my body however he wanted. Which, I realized, wasn’t too different from a normal night. Me wanting a little pain mixed in with the sex was nothing new. I was always more turned on when pain was involved; that, or the threat of death. The things that heightened my senses were not what other people enjoyed, I knew. Most people wouldn’t find attempted murder sexy, but here I was. Here they were.

  I would get through this. With them. With Killian. Together, we were whole. I needed them, and I sincerely hoped they needed me. We would get through this, somehow. We would find a way to deal with this problem, with the body in Killian’s basement.

  We’d be alright.

  Chapter Seventeen - Killian

  My hair was coiffed back, a bit of gel used to keep its red lengths combed back and out of my eyes. My shoulders were snug in a black suit, my tie the same color as the maid of honor dress Stella would wear for the wedding: a hideous floral orange. It kind of clashed with my hair, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t wearing any of this to impress anyone. No one but Stella, I should say.

  I stared at myself in the mirror for a few moments, double checking to make sure nothing was out of place before I left my house and got in my car. I checked on Callie earlier; she’d definitely looked better. After all of this wedding shit was done with, all four of us had to sit down and decide what to do. Maybe frame it so that Stella reported Callie missing first. Of course, before any of that happened, I would have to comb through her house and make sure we left no evidence of her disappearance, including her phone.

  I didn’t play the radio in the car as I drove to her house. I was too lost in my own thoughts. Honestly, Stella had seemed a bit off the last few days, and I couldn’t blame her. She’d just found out she’d murdered her best friend and her brain blocked it all from her memory. Something like that was bound to fuck with your head when you came face to face with the truth. Today she’d acted relatively normal, but it was hard to say if she was only trying to put on a brave face, so to speak.

  We’d both left work a little early to get a jumpstart on getting ready for this rehearsal, since it was so far away. Two and a half hours, based on my GPS. It was going to be a long night, but at least I’d get to spend it with Stella. I would do anything, brave any social situation that might otherwise make me want to kill a few people, for her any day.

  I pulled into her driveway, straightening my suit after getting out of the car. Was it conceited of me to want her to be speechless at my appearance? Maybe, but I wondered if she felt the same about me. Would she try to look good for me, to make my jaw drop and my words die in the base of my throat? I’d find out soon.

  I started to the door, completely lost in the possibilities when I heard a car door slam on the road. I didn’t think much of it, mostly because I had other things on my mind. The last thing, the absolute last thing I wanted to deal with right now was the fucking FBI—but that’s exactly who strolled up the driveway and called out to me as I reached her front door.

  “Killian,” Perry spoke, shoving his hands in his pockets. His suit was nowhere near as new as mine. I looked a hell of a lot better than him, that’s for sure. “What are you all dressed up for?”

  I turned to him, giving him a smile that I hoped he believed but knew he probably didn’t. This man…he knew something was off with me, with Stella. He was sniffing around the right people, but I wasn’t going to give him any more reason to suspect us.

  It was time to be honest. Not totally honest, but mostly.

  “Stella asked me to be the date to her sister’s wedding,” I said, not even bothering to greet him. Perry was obviously not a fan of small talk, and neither was I. I much preferred to get straight to the point.

  This guy…he was really getting on my nerves.

  “Really?” Perry gave me a closed-mouth smile, the thing he was famous for. It was annoying as shit. “I wasn’t aware you two were that close. Is there anything you perhaps forgot to mention about your relationship? I know I asked you if she was seeing anybody. That should’ve been when you told me she was seeing you.”

  I did not enjoy being talked to like I was five years old and in trouble. I was a fucking serial killer. I was the goddamned Angel Maker, not some brat who didn’t do as he was told. This guy could go fuck off.

  But I held back all of my annoyance and my anger, praying that Stella did not decide now was the time to come out of her house. The last thing this situation needed was Stella, no offense to her. With what happened at that dinner, she wasn’t in the right mindset to talk to any police or FBI agents.

  “It’s a new development,” I said.

  “Really? She just decided, out of the blue, to take you to her sister’s wedding?”

  I nodded. “She had no one else.”

  “Funny, because the detail I put on her the last few days reported that she’s currently seeing two men from another city, spends the night over there…” Perry trailed off, his wrinkled gaze studying me. “And that you’ve come here before, and spent quite a lot of time in that house with her.”

  Fuck. He did say he was going to keep an eye on Stella, didn’t he? Why didn’t I pay closer attention? My eyes scanned the area, not finding any cars parked on the road, other than Perry’s.

  “They’re not here now,” Perry said. “I am. I’m what you should be worrying about.”

  “And why,” I spoke slowly, “should I worry at all?”

  “Because I know something doesn’t add up with you, and I know Stella’s involved. I might not have the evidence I need yet, but I’ll get it. No matter where you go, I’ll find you, so it’s best to come clean now. Save us all the hassle and the time. How about it, Killian? Anything else you want to admit now, while we’re on the subject?”

  Was this bastard saying he knew I was the Angel Maker? Sure, he might have a suspicion. Sure, the bar owner might’ve seen Sandy and I leave at the same time, but that meant nothing. I left with a lot of other people around the same time, too.

  He was threatening me, threatening Stella. The latter was not somet
hing I could ever forgive. Sandy had paid for it, and this prick would, too. Perry would die by my hand…just not tonight, because I had a wedding rehearsal to get to.

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” I told him. “But whatever it is, I think you’re going to leave this encounter a bit disappointed.”

  Perry chuckled. “Everyone makes a mistake sooner or later. A hair follicle, a fingerprint. No one is perfect; not even you.” He was about to say more, but his phone rang, and he held up a finger between us as he reached for it in his pocket. Answering it, he said, “This is Perry. What—” He was cut off by whoever was on the other line.

  I watched as Perry’s stance changed. The man became tense, the hand hanging at his side fiddling with the sleeve of his suit. His eyes became unfocused, until they settled back on me.

  “Send me the coordinates. I’ll be right there. You’re right, you never know. This could be the lead we need.” He hung up and gave me an appraising look. “Enjoy the wedding,” Perry said, adding nothing more as he spun on his heels and walked away, back to his vehicle on the road. He got in, typed something on his phone, and sped off.

  I watched him go with a sinking feeling in my gut. Why did that not sound good? What could he possibly think would let him find me? What evidence was there that could—my thoughts froze as I remembered dumping John’s body not too long ago.

  Had someone already found the body? Did he think it was connected to the Angel Maker? Either way, if my gut instinct was right, and this was about John’s body, it was only a matter of time before he identified the body as John Woods and connected him to Stella’s roommate and therefore Stella. He’d come knocking to talk to Callie, and what would Stella say?

  What could she say?

  Fuck.

  I went inside the house, finding Stella standing in the hall, working on putting earrings in. My worry vanished the moment I saw her. She was…drop-dead gorgeous in a form-hugging orange dress. Her maid of honor dress, with flowers sewn into the bodice, its length stopping just above her knees. Her hair was curled and done up, makeup lining her eyes and making their two colors pop. Nothing about her screamed abnormal. She looked…she looked like the most beautiful woman in the world. I didn’t deserve her, nor did Edward and Lincoln. She was a cut above us all. We were worms compared to her.