I hated how she did that.
“Killian, but I’m sure you know that because you had to know who Stella was bringing for the place cards and whatnot.” Killian met my mother’s smile with one of his own. He’d play the game I was too tired for, and I was thankful for it. I’d made the right choice bringing him, I think.
“Killian. Right. Aren’t you Stella’s boss at that paper?” Her blue eyes fell on me. “How inappropriate.”
How inappropriate. As if she had any right to judge me. God, I wanted to grab her by the throat and—no, I really shouldn’t think about murder right now. No murder, no blood. Definitely no knives.
Knives were apparently my favorite.
“I don’t see how it’s inappropriate, since we’re two consenting adults,” Killian spoke with a shrug. Shrugging off my mother was something no one did. I was in awe. Utter awe. My mouth might’ve hit the floor. “But you can go ahead and think whatever you want.”
Margaret’s stare moved to him. “How charming.” Charming wasn’t the word I’d use to describe it, but it was close enough. “Your sister wants to see you. I’m sure Killian can find his own seat.” My mother said nothing else as she sauntered off, her heels clicking on the tile below as she walked, expecting me to follow her.
“I can go with you, if you want,” Killian said.
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. I’ve handled them my whole life.” It was only as I started trailing after my mother that I realized I might’ve been dealing with them, but that was before I’d started killing. Started liking the feeling of being the one in control, with all of the power.
Hmm. Maybe I should’ve taken him up on that offer.
My mother led me to a small room off the main hallway. It looked like a dressing room, where Bree sat in front of a mirror with her other friends, the ones who would be the bridesmaids. They all wore the same color dress as me, though none of theirs had quite as many flowers plastered over the chest and bodice.
Bree herself looked…pretty enough, I guess. Her blue eyes were wide and bright, the eyeshadow above them perfectly blended in a way I never could replicate. Fake eyelashes sat glued to her eyelids, making her look like a doll, almost. She didn’t wear her wedding dress—because that would’ve been too extreme, as if the rest of this wasn’t—but she did wear a white slip of a thing, all sparkles. Her face beamed until she spotted Margaret and I.
Her chatter with her friends trailed off, and Bree got up, walking perfectly in heels that were at least four inches tall. When she stood before me, she appraised me. “You look good in that dress, Stella. I picked the right color for you.”
The right color? For me? Tell me she didn’t choose this God-awful color because she thought it would look great with my skin tone, or something equally as stupid. Leave it to Bree to worry about what the wedding party would look like. Shouldn’t all eyes be on her during the ceremony anyway?
“Thanks,” I said, not wanting to say anything else. What I really wanted to do was run back to Killian, but running away from my mother was not something I could do, given the fact she stood behind me with her arms crossed. Like I was in trouble or something.
I wasn’t.
Was I?
“Mom said you needed to see me,” I said, watching as the girls behind her all shifted, trying to look like they weren’t eavesdropping, like they were too enthralled with their nails and their hands. They were all so obvious they were blatant.
“Yeah, I was wondering if Callie told you why she wasn’t coming to my wedding. A few of Brendan’s friends were asking, and she was one of my only non-RSVPs,” Bree spoke, bringing up something, someone, I really didn’t want to talk about.
Callie. My best friend who I’d killed and buried in my backyard.
I should’ve known someone would bring her up. This whole thing was a blast from the past, considering how many people were here from my high school. With Bree and Brendan getting married, I should have assumed someone would bring her up.
What the hell was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do? Panic set in, my blood pressure rising. I didn’t prepare for this, didn’t think—I didn’t think at all. If I would have, I would’ve mentally prepared myself for a question like this. I could’ve had something ready to go.
But no. Instead, I stood there staring at her, blinking in shock, my mouth hanging open like an idiot. I might’ve not cared how others viewed me before, and I still didn’t, but I knew I looked suspicious, considering Callie was supposed to be my roommate. My roommate whom I should see on multiple occasions every day. Alas, that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
“Uh, Stella?” Bree spoke. “Earth to Stella? You in there?” Behind her, her friends snickered. One of them mentioned that I looked retarded. It was like we were back in school all over again, and I was nothing but the weird girl who wore all black with greasy hair and who was obsessed with serial killers.
My blog was often the topic of teasing. Everyone made fun of it. Sometimes they even made false accounts and commented on my posts, saying mean things. Because kids were nasty, and they still were today.
“Hello?” Bree said, glancing around me at Margaret. “What’s wrong with her?”
I felt my mother’s hand touch my bare shoulder, and I immediately tensed. I was not flying under the radar right now. If anything, I was making a fool of myself, and as soon as her family started sniffing around, everyone here would recall this exact moment, when I looked guilty and red-handed.
“Honey,” Margaret spoke, sounding so nice she was transparently fake, “are you taking your medication?”
I took a step away from her, holding back my shock as I heard the telltale gasps from Bree’s friends. They didn’t know I was on meds; why would they? Why should they? That was not something my mother should’ve asked when there was a fucking audience. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. How dare she bring that up in front of these people?
How could she? Wouldn’t a nice, loving, caring mother have taken me into the hall before asking me that? Blurting it out to the world was not something I particularly cared for, and it made me want to bring my hands around her neck and squeeze with all of my might—which wasn’t much, but apparently I could hoist a body out of a window, so there was that.
“Yes,” I hissed, sounding just like Margaret: a bitch. If she wanted to play this game, so could I. “I am, thanks for checking.” I swatted her hand away when she tried to come close to me again, and I shot a glare Bree’s way. “And I don’t know why Callie didn’t respond. She didn’t tell me. Maybe she didn’t want to spend another second staring at your hideous face and listening to your shrill, annoying voice! Maybe she thought she’d go crazy if she had to sit at this wedding, to watch you marry the biggest douchebag of our high school!”
I was yelling, which was weird for me, because I never yelled at anyone. I never saw the point, never felt the emotions necessary to do something like it, but here I was. Here we were. We’d all changed. I’d found my people, my men, my killers, and they made me feel alive. They brought out a side of me I never knew existed but was always there, and now I was letting the bitch out of her cage and into the public.
These people, my fucking family, would regret making me come to this. I would make them regret it. Make them hate me and never want to see me again. I never wanted to be a part of this family, anyway. They didn’t love me, and I sure as shit didn’t love them. You didn’t have to stay with the family you were born into, not when they were so fucking toxic.
“I hope you’re happy with him, Bree,” I said, shaking my head at her flabbergasted look. “He fucked every girl he could get his hands on in middle school and high school, but I’m sure he’s changed. He can’t stay a playboy forever. I would get tested for diseases though, because you never know what that dick might’ve caught.”
“Stella,” Margaret cried, trying to hush me. “That is—”
“And you,” I whirled on her, putting Bree’s
shocked face behind me, along with her stunned friends. None of them knew quite how to respond to me, because none of them expected the quiet Stella to snap like this. “You,” I growled, “make me come to this wedding even though you knew I would want to kill myself during it. You know I hate all of these people. You should’ve let Bree choose a different maid of honor, because I’m quitting the stupid position.”
“Don’t you dare,” Margaret said while Bree shouted “You can’t quit!”
I smiled. It was a cold, calculated smile. A smile that chilled even me, and I was the one doing it. “I can do whatever the fuck I want,” I hissed, reaching for the flowers on my chest. I was at a breaking point; I never knew how close I was to it before now, and now that I reached it, there was no going back. No returning from this.
This was it.
“I’m done,” I said, tearing the flowers off my dress one by one. For how much it had cost, they came off surprisingly easy. “Sew them onto another dress, because I won’t come to the wedding. I won’t come to anything this family touches because I am done with this family. I’m done.” The flowers landed on the floor, and though they were thrown hard, they landed with a soft, crumpled grace, quiet and noiseless compared to me and the scene I was making.
The look on my mother’s face made it all worth it, torn dress and all. Shock, horror, disgust. It made me happy to have been the cause of it. I guess I’d learned my toxic behavior from them. We were all a little mad in this family, some of us more than others.
“I never want to see any of you ever again,” I said, holding my head high—not a usual stance for me, but one I felt fit the situation I was currently in. “I never want to hear any of your voices, and I never want to see any of your names pop up on my phone. I am done.” With that, I stormed around my mother, heading down the elegant, brightly-lit hall, my footsteps heavy and loud.
That…felt fucking good, probably because it was such a long time coming.
I didn’t even see my father yet, but I didn’t need to. We didn’t really talk. Never had. We’d barely said any passing words to each other when I’d lived in their house. It was all my sister and my mother, and if I ruined this night, or her wedding, then my mission was accomplished.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure why the hell I’d played nice with them for so long, considering how they treated me. How they acted around me. What they thought of me. Nice Stella was dead and the bitch was in her place.
I went to the ballroom where a bunch of tables were set up. Since it hadn’t started yet, most people were mingling with each other. I spotted Killian immediately. Funnily enough, he was the only redhead in the room, and the only one that instantly drew my attention. Everyone else here was of the normal, unspicy variety. No one else here was a killer. Not like us.
We belonged together, and we didn’t belong here.
He saw me, noticed my angry features, and quickly was at my side. “What happened?” His green eyes fell to my dress.
“We’re leaving. Come on.” I took his hand and dragged him out of the ballroom, aware that everyone nearby stared at us. Most people here knew I was Bree’s sister. The unstable one. Also the one wearing a shredded dress, but that bit was unimportant now.
“What happened to your dress?” Killian asked. “Did your sister—”
“I did it,” I said, glancing at him. “I’m no longer a part of this wedding.”
“Oh, well, I’ll follow your lead, then.”
And he did. He let me lead him out of the hotel, to where the valet stood, looking bored. He let me say “Keys” in a hard and mean tone, to which the valet simply nodded and fiddled with the lockbox where all of the car keys were. He let me take him to the car, let me guide him through the underground parking garage until we found his parked vehicle.
We got inside the car, and I was so fired up, I grabbed him when he went to stick the key into the ignition. “Wait,” I said, glancing at his seat. My heart raced a mile a minute in my chest, and I felt so good, I didn’t want the moment to be over yet. “Push your seat back.”
Killian stared at me. “Why—”
“Push. It. Back.”
My Angel Maker did as he was told, moving his seat further away from the steering wheel, which allowed me the room to crawl over the dash and sit on his lap, straddling him. My dress rode up my legs to allow them to open, and I started rocking my hips, making the cock beneath me hard instantly.
“What are you…” He let out a ragged sigh, his eyes filling with desire.
“I want to fuck,” I whispered, lowering my mouth to his neck, sucking and licking, nipping and kissing. “Right here, right now.” What had gotten into me? I was wild, I was crazy, and I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was getting his hard cock inside of me.
Killian wouldn’t argue with me. His hands traveled up my back, reaching for the zipper of the dress, undoing it just enough so it let my breasts bounce free. Since the dress was padded, I was braless, and instantly my nipples hardened into pebbles. His palms pawed at them, rolling over my nipples and sending tiny shockwaves of pleasure through my body. As I kissed his neck, I worked to undo his belt. Soon enough, his erect dick popped up, and I broke contact with his neck to move aside my panties.
I let out a low moan as I sank onto his thickness, my core taking every inch of him in. Since I was the instigator in this, since I was the one on top, I did all of the work. I rocked my hips back and forth, relishing in the feeling of him inside me, his hands gripping my breasts. To say I was wild, to say I didn’t care if someone walked up and saw us, would be the year’s biggest understatement. A fucking cop could stroll by and I wouldn’t notice. He could try to arrest us for public indecency and I would fight tooth and nail to continue this sex session.
I never had sex in a car before. I guess there was a first time for everything.
“Stella,” Killian moaned my name, his breathing hard and erratic. His hands fell to my sides, and he helped me rock along him, his dick dragging in and out of me with increasing speed. We were two animals, two wild, sensual beasts who needed our release. “I fucking love you.”
My Angel Maker, head over heels in love with me. The thought sent my mind over the edge. An orgasm surged through me, and I felt my inner walls clenching around him, milking him for all he was worth. I threw my head back as I moaned, drowning myself in the carnal pleasures of life I never knew existed before I met my killers.
When I collapsed on Killian, he kept my hips moving, doing most of the work now. It didn’t take him too long to follow my lead. A breathy groan escaped him, and his fingertips tightened on my sides. I straddled him for a minute longer than was necessary, just to make sure he was done coming inside of me. The cum would drip down and soak my underwear, but I didn’t care. Not even a little.
He helped me off him, and I put my panties back in place as I sat on my seat once again. Both of us were still breathing hard, and Killian took a moment to gather himself before he stuffed his dick back into his pants, zipped them up and redid his belt.
“I can honestly say,” Killian started, tossing me a lazy grin, “that I wasn’t expecting to end the rehearsal like that.”
“Are you complaining?”
The grin only grew. “Not at all. If we ended every outing like that, I might just take you out in public every night.”
I laughed, because I was inclined to agree. Sex was a good way to end a lot of things. I grabbed his hand. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go to your place.”
“My place?” He probably thought it was odd because not once had I ever wanted to spend the night at his house. I had ulterior motives, of course.
“I want to see her.”
Callie. I wanted to see Callie.
Chapter Twenty - Stella
Killian didn’t question me on it, which I appreciated. He only nodded and started the car. It was a long two hours to his house, and during the ride, I couldn’t stop wondering what had gotten over me. My family always brought out the
worst in me, and I supposed I just wanted to take advantage of it. Get it all done with. Get it over with.
All of that aside, I was morbidly curious as to what Callie looked like after this much time. Seeing her, I think, would help me move on, not to mention start to think up a way we could get rid of her without drawing attention to me. I didn’t want the cops sniffing around me any more than they already were.
Okay, the feds were sniffing around me. Or, technically, just one. Perry.
I would be lying if I said I never thought about killing that particular FBI agent. Things would be so much easier if he wasn’t coming around, insinuating things. I could’ve sworn I heard him talking to Killian before we’d come to the rehearsal, but maybe not. My mind and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms half the time, so it was hard to say.
Killian’s house was in the nicer part of town. His neighbors were pretty far apart, and he had an attached two-car garage, which definitely came in handy when bodies were being handled. We pulled straight in, and he led me inside. The inside was just as updated and fancy as the outside. Subway tiles everywhere. Open shelving. Basically, an HGTV lover’s fantasy. It was kind of nice, although I couldn’t imagine keeping a kitchen like that clean and dust-free. Everything was neutral in color—the walls, the carpet, the pictures hanging on the drywall. It was a pleasant, clean space. Neat and orderly. This was not the first time I’d been to his house, but it was the first time I was there and completely calm.
If one were to stroll inside this house unaware, you’d never know its hidden secrets. Never know its owner hid bodies in its walls.
“Come on,” Killian said, glancing at me. “She’s in the basement.”
I gave him a smile. Of course she was in the basement. Where else would she be? It would’ve been weird if she was anywhere else. Just plain weird. Basements were the only place in the house for bodies.
Sick Twisted Minds (Cruel Black Hearts Book 3) Page 14