How the Mind Breaks: A Dark Psychological Romance

by Dani René

  “I’m not telling Braxton.” It’s a promise. I can’t tell him. I don’t wait for her response; instead, I walk out of the warmth of her office and into the stark, chilly hallway.

  He’ll never know. I can’t lose him. I’ll lose everything.

  My sanity. My man. My love.

  Tia

  The Past

  My gaze meets his. It’s dark. Something feral in the way he looks at me has my head spinning ever so slightly. My body quakes, and my heart rate increases. “Why are you here?” Backing away slowly, I don’t allow my gaze to stray from him. He doesn’t answer me; he never does. I’m afraid that if he stays, I’ll hurt him. She’ll hurt him. She always hurts them. Men.

  “I came to see if you’re okay, Tia. You can’t live like this.” He gestures around him at the vile apartment I’m currently sleeping in, but it’s his fault. He found me, and I can’t run. My gaze darts around, but there’s no way out.

  Turning from his intense, almost-black eyes, I watch the sun setting on the horizon. I can’t do this anymore. Every time I see him, it’s the same thing. I hate him, and he wants me back home.

  He’s going to pay.

  No. Please.

  “Get out of my home,” I tell him adamantly, but he doesn’t listen. They never do. It’s as if I’m the one who calls them and begs them to stay. But I don’t, she does.

  “How about we try it another way?” His words are close, and they fan over my neck in a warm breath. Shutting my eyes, I will myself not to respond, for my body not to betray me. “Come on, Tia?” he pleads, his hands on my hips, pressing my ass against the thick erection that’s filled me so many times. All those times it’s been her, not me. He convinced me, and I allowed it to happen. He broke me, tore me apart, and she let it happen. Only when I finally turned eighteen did I finally walk away, but he found me.

  But before I can refuse him this time, he’s on top of me. Pressing me into the sofa. A sleek, steel blade comes from nowhere, and he presses it against my neck. Hate burns my veins, coursing through me along with fear.

  My muffled cries are drowned out by the music that suddenly blares through the speakers.

  Loud. Heavy Metal. Raging music.

  I’ve been here before.

  Do you remember? she taunts me.

  How could I forget?

  Then do something. I taught you how.

  She did. Everything I know is because of her. My skin-tight yoga pants get ripped from my body, and tears fall from my eyes, soaking the material of the sofa with my pain and agony. “Look at that pretty pussy. Come on, Tia. I know you like when we do this, when I fuck you hard and raw.” His deep growl is venomous. It shudders through me. It’s fierce, feral, and it makes me want to rip the skin off his bones. To see his blood stain my hands.

  My skin alights with the knowledge of how to stop it, but if I do, he’ll never breathe again.

  Can I do it?

  Yes, do it.

  Why? Why doesn’t he stop? I question, but she’s gone. Leaving me to fend for myself. His hands grip my legs, wrenching them apart.

  “Look at you, baby girl, such a sweet little cunt.” Before the searing pain of his fingers engulf me, I manage to push off the cushions as the adrenaline courses through my veins. His body jolts upright in shock, and when I meet those dark, animalistic eyes, I see it.

  “Fuck you!” I lunge at him; my nails claw the skin of his face, ripping down his cheek as red spills. Thick, coppery scented. I revel in the way it seeps from the wound.

  His hands grip my wrists, but I don’t give up. Spitting in his face, I see the rage darkening his eyes further. It’s as if I’m staring at the Devil himself. “You’ll fucking pay, little bitch.” He hisses as my knee comes up, but he anticipates my move, blocking it. He releases his grip on one hand, and without warning, backhands me across the face.

  The sting on my cheek burns, blood dripping from my mouth. Another whack, and I’m dizzy. He’s too strong. One hand grips my neck, tightening painfully. My body flails in his grasp as he lifts me in the air. The dark cherry red lifeforce trickles from my lips and onto his cheek.

  He looks like a warrior in battle, with his opponent’s blood adorning him like a victory mask. “How are you so strong, and you’re only a waif?” he quips with a sadistic grin. “That’s okay, you don’t have to answer me,” he responds. My choking sounds, mingled with the music, all make for a grim symphony.

  Lowering me, he holds me inches from his face.

  The face I used to love and trust.

  The face of a man I thought I knew.

  Now when I look at him, I see evil.

  He releases me, and my lungs pull air in sharp bursts. When I drag my gaze to his, I choke out the vow I will keep until I’ve fulfilled it. “I’ll kill you one day, Father.”

  Jolting upright, I pull in one breath after the other, deeper and deeper, but it feels as if I’m drowning. “Baby?” a voice murmurs from behind me, and a scream is ripped from my throat, but when I turn to see where the rough baritone comes from, I find Braxton, with his sleep-mussed hair and caramel eyes staring back at me.

  “What . . .? I . . .”

  “You were mumbling in your sleep, and then suddenly, just jerked up. Was it a nightmare? Talk to me, baby?” He reaches out, and instinctively, I pull away, not wanting or needing a man touching me. But when I turn my attention to his face, that handsome face that was buried between my legs only hours ago, I realize he isn’t the monster. The pain I’m causing him, the agonizing expression and the wariness he regards me with, cracks the murky, detached shell that is my heart.

  “I . . . I need water,” I mumble, earning a scowl from him, but I can’t tell him about my nightmare. There’s no way he’ll understand.

  “I’ll get you some, baby,” he soothes, his words calming my erratic heart.

  The fact that my nightmare wasn’t only about the last time I saw my father but was also the day I became a person who uses my body to get the answers I need, sent me into a panic.

  I went into a depression that I don’t think I ever got out of. I did anything and everything I could to find out where he went. He left the apartment I was sharing with some friends and disappeared.

  He’s coming for you.

  No, shut up.

  Brax returns carrying a pitcher of water and a glass. “I figured you’d need more than one glass. That scream could have woken the dead.” He settles beside me with a calm expression, but in those honey eyes, I see everything playing out like a movie. All his questions and all the concern for a girl he thinks he loves. It’s only been a month, but I can see the way he looks at me.

  Ryker was different, so vastly different that I couldn’t compare the two men. He was never this attentive, and as much as Brax acts like an asshole, I know he’s not. Something in his eyes tells me there’s a man hurting in there, and I wish I could fix him. But, fuck, I can’t even fix myself.

  Brax has told me about the snide comments coming from my ex, the man who was fucking me over for far too long. And now that I’ve moved on, he’s angry. Deranged almost. Thankfully, he hasn’t come near me. Fear of that stays with me daily, because I know if he was near me, I’d hurt him. More than I’d like to let on.

  “Are you okay? Please talk to me?” His questions sound quietly in the dim light streaming through the window. I normally leave my curtains open, but tonight they’re drawn, leaving only a sliver of light coming through. His soft voice is filled with concern. I don’t want him to worry about me. He’s giving too much, and I’m just taking, grabbing and holding on with both hands. I don’t want to let him go. At this point, walking away from Braxton Carter may kill me.

  There’s no way I can tell him about the nightmare, so I shrug it off and swallow the water he brought. Hoping with everything I am that he’ll drop it, but I know he won’t. He’s stubborn like that.

  “Are you always going to ignore me when I ask you something personal?” His murmured question sounds like an
alarm in the silence. I chose this apartment because it was private. No other people can get close to me, nor me to them.

  “Yes.” I turn to place the glass on the nightstand. I shift deeper under the blanket and pull it over me. His silhouette blocks the minimal illumination, which in turn makes him seem as if he were an ethereal being.

  An angel.

  My savior.

  No one can save you, Tia.

  Braxton

  The Past

  “Let me take you out?” I ask, sipping the beer she’s just poured for me. It’s been two long days where work has kept me from her. Phone and text messages don’t compare to being in her presence or looking into her eyes.

  “On a date?” she quizzes in amusement, and I nod. “And where would you take me?”

  Sitting back, I regard her through narrowed eyes. “The fair, this Saturday.” I shrug, watching shock paint her face with a gorgeous, teasing smile.

  “Really?” I nod. “And what makes you think I’ll want to go to a fair?”

  “From what we confessed the other day, I feel like we need to unwind, just act like teenagers having a laugh and not talk about anything serious. Let’s be normal,” I offer quietly. My heart leaps into my throat, waiting.

  “Okay.” She smiles, walking off to serve one of her customers. Her hips sway, taunting and teasing me. She loves to entice me and she does it so fucking well that I’m salivating, aching to drive into her body and show her how much I care for her.

  Finishing my beer, I pull out my phone and text Grant. Tomorrow, we’re hitting the club and making our move. I want to take that fucker down so fast his head will spin.

  “You want another one, Brax?” I’ll never tire of hearing her say my name. It’s better when she’s screaming it, but we’ll leave that for later.

  “No thank you, Vixen, I need to meet Grant for a quick meeting. I’ll see you later?” Meeting her ice-blue gaze, she nods with a smile. Leaning in, I plant a long kiss on her lips. “And I would prefer you in those red lace panties,” I whisper along her lips. With that, I turn and leave her staring at my back.

  The warmth of Tia’s body wakes me, and as I roll over, I glance at the beauty beside me. I shouldn’t have stayed with her tonight, because as I look at her, my heart fills with emotion.

  Jesus, Brax you’re turning into a pussy.

  Her long, flowing hair fans on the pillow, and those thick eyelashes flutter as she dreams silently.

  I must watch her in the darkness for far too long because when I take note of the time, I realize I’ve been watching her sleep for at least an hour. Her eyes flutter, and she whimpers. It’s a soft sound in the room. It’s so quiet I could have missed it.

  My heart races when she pleads to no one in particular. It’s a soft plea to leave her alone. To stop torturing her. If I can find out who haunts her, I can help. If only she’d open up to me. Trust me. Closing my eyes, I lean back on the headboard and calm myself. I try to breathe deeply, allowing my blood to cool.

  My nerves are frayed for this woman who has a hold on me.

  She consumes me.

  Days, weeks, and fucking months, I’ve wanted her.

  Ached for her.

  Somehow, I don’t know if I can ever let her go, and the thought scares me. I’ve been in love once. Sure, I’ve fucked women, but this . . . this is different. I don’t consider myself a manwhore because I don’t even stay for one night, and I’ve never considered myself ready for a wife, a family. It’s never been in my plan. Sleeping beside a woman is not something I’ve become accustomed to. The first and last time I did before Tia, it ended in me almost killing her.

  I woke from a nightmare of my time in Afghanistan and opened my eyes to find my hands wrapped securely around her slender neck. The same place I had spent hours devouring with my teeth, tongue, and lips. From that day, I vowed never to spend the night beside anyone.

  I decided to focus on what I wanted since I arrived back. My plan was to find the man who killed my parents. Or had them killed.

  Then Tia walked into my life, crashing into me with her own storm burning in her big blue eyes. A hurricane that I found myself drawn to. I craved to get caught in it and feel the agony and pleasure she promises. She rages and I fight, we fuck, we scream and shout, but through all that, I want to break down those fucking walls.

  I push off the bed and take quiet steps into the hallway and listen. I can see the living room from here, and the bright red numbers on her sound system tell me it’s two a.m. I follow the lights, hoping to find something while she’s still asleep.

  I don’t want to do this, but I don’t have a choice. I find her purse on the sofa and unzip it slowly. The hiss echoes through the cavernous space, and I wait a moment before opening the leather. A small wallet sits inside, beckoning me, and my curiosity wins out.

  Opening it, I find her driver’s license. The photo is my girl, Tia, but the name on the card is not the one she told me. The name on the card sends me into panic, spiraling into a dark memory.

  “Dad, Mom, I’m home!” I call out, dropping my rucksack on the floor in the entrance foyer to my childhood home. I’ve been released from service because of an injury, and all I’ve been looking forward to is my mom’s homecooked meals and my dad’s advice on what to do now.

  He’s been there for me through everything, and I know he’s been trying to get me a job with a security firm since I told them I’m coming home. The house is silent as I stalk my way around the lower level. Frowning in confusion at the lack of response, I head upstairs and push open the familiar door at the top of the landing.

  Everything from my teenage bedroom greets me. I should’ve figured Mom wouldn’t give anything away. Perhaps they’ve gone out, but I decide to check the rest of the house before heading back out. “Mom? Dad?” I push into the bedroom, and everything I’ve had in my stomach comes flying out.

  Blood.

  Red.

  Everywhere.

  The iron stench burns my nostrils; tears sting my eyes as their lifeless bodies blur. My heart aches. The agony leaves me breathless, and I drop to my knees. Gripping the carpet beneath my fingers, I fist my hands, tugging the soft gray wool, ripping it from the floor. A loud, agonizing cry is torn from my throat. Not one, not two, but three screams later, my throat burns as if there’s a fire blazing through it.

  I don’t know who did this, but they’ll pay. With their own fucking life.

  I will find them, tear them to pieces, and watch as their blood stains my hands.

  They’ll beg and cry for mercy, but I’ll show none.

  Shoving her wallet back into the small leather bag, I swallow the anger that seems to be bubbling up inside. My blood heats as my mind tries to make sense of what I’ve just found out. Alvarez, not Nunez. Why would she lie? Why would she change her name?

  Unless she knows who I am, my past?

  Possibilities run rampant as I reach for the alcohol and tumbler. Pouring a double shot, I quickly down it and refill my glass. The burn of the amber drink alleviates the frustration, but it doesn’t stop the rage that burns, licking at me like a flame, threatening to engulf me.

  I head toward the large windows that overlook the city, taking in the bright lights below. The darkness steals its way across the buildings, and the silver illumination of the full moon hanging in the sky is the only thing that offers natural light.

  I’ve spent many nights wondering what I’d do when I found him—the man who killed my parents. It was something I’d vowed to do and seek revenge for what he did.

  After the fateful day I found them, we discovered my father had turned down an offer to pick up a case where the felon was facing an attempted murder conviction. The lawyer in my dad didn’t believe in the case and didn’t want to represent someone he felt was guilty.

  We didn’t think anything of it. My father had turned down many cases in the past, but this particular one was what changed our lives. The man in question, Miguel Alvarez, had been released
on good behavior. Now we can’t find the fucker. All these years I’ve searched for my parents’ killer and always come up emptyhanded.

  “You okay?” Tia’s sultry voice comes from behind me. Her bare breasts press against my naked torso as she snakes her arms around my waist. I need to play this right. She can’t know that I know who she is. I need to figure out how to get into her head and find out why she’s here, in my life.

  She’s the key to her father, so I twist in her arms and down my bourbon, setting the glass on the table at the window. Encircling her in my grasp, I tug her body against mine, feeling the stirring of my cock when her nipples pebble against my chest. “I’m fine. Just thinking about how I’d like to fuck you next. Maybe I should tie you to your bed and have my wicked way with that sweet little pussy.” Her eyes glow with something other than desire.

  “No. I don’t like being tied up.” She tries to step away, but I hold onto her.

  “Then I’ll just bend you over and eat you out from behind. I’d lick my way from that tiny clit all the way to your sexy ass,” I growl in her ear, and the responding shudder makes me smile.

  “I can handle that,” she murmurs playfully, but something about this demure side of her makes me wary. As if she’s two different people in one beautiful, supple body.

  “I know you can, Vixen.” I lift her in my arms and carry her back to bed. If I’m going undercover, I might as well enjoy the perks.

  Tia

  The Past

  His body always molds to mine. We’re one. Fixed as an entity. As soon as we’re connected, all my demons slink back into the dark. Vivid images of living a life without them tease me, as if it’s just out of reach. “Brax,” I whimper on his deep thrust into me. My nails claw at him, needing to feel some sort of control. How is it that one man can make me so out of control, yet so powerful at the same time?