Page 35 of The Devil's Vice

“Yes, I am,” I say, stalking slowly to the head of the bed. I wrap my palm around the cuff on her wrist and pull her toward me, loving the way her eyes light up.

Though I can tell by that look on your face you’re not repulsed. So the little rabbit is sick, too. Sick, twisted, fucked in the head, demented—

“Are you going to hurt me?” she whispers, her emerald irises glinting with something other than fear. Want, want, want.

I tighten the grip on her wrist. “Yes.” But only when you ask me to.

She gulps, trying to pry her hand from my grasp, but I hold firm. “Why?”

“Because,” I deadpan, pulling it to my lips and placing a delicate kiss on the swollen flesh. “You shouldn’t fight so much.” You’re hurting yourself. Please stop, I can’t fucking stand it.

“Like you give a fuck,” she growls, her green eyes shooting fire at me. “Let me go.”

“I can’t,” I murmur, giving her one last lingering kiss before letting go. I won’t.

“Please,” she pleads, her eyes wide and innocent. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. No one has to know what you did. Just… let me go.”

“You already know the answer to that, flower,” I murmur. You’re mine now. There is no letting go, not when I’ve waited so long to find you. So long to have you. To touch, to taste. To possess.

She scurries back against the headboard like a frightened animal, her eyes crazed as she folds in on herself. I cock my head to the side and watch her take shallow breaths in through her nose, wondering what’s going through that pretty little head of hers. The right side of my mouth curves up as I lean forward, bracing my palms on the side of the bed. Her eyes follow my every movement, trying to figure out what I’ll do next.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asks, her voice cracking every other syllable. I cock my head, trailing my eyes slowly over the exposed skin on her thighs.

“Everything,” I promise, my chest swelling at the way her beautiful face pales. I move to climb onto the bed when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I freeze, a frown deepening the lines on my face as I pull it out.

Call from: John “Onyx” Wallace

I groan, shoving it back into my pocket. Onyx only calls when it’s something important to do with the club. Blowing him off to play with my toy would be careless.

Careless, but so, so worth it.

With a grow of irritation, I lunge toward her, gripping her ankle in my palm and hauling her to the edge of the bed. Her limbs flail wildly in protest, and she manages to drive her heel into my rib cage. I cock my brow at her. My little flower is ferocious when she wants to be.

“Don’t fight me, Lillith,” I order, the appreciation from earlier wiped clean from my face. “Be a good girl and get back in your cage.”

“Yeah, fucking right!” she hisses, her limbs flailing uselessly against my hold. “Let go of me!”

I sigh, my eye trailing to the ceiling as I pick her off the bed. Her tiny hands curl into fists and beat against my chest as I stalk around to the foot of the bed. Gripping her wrists in a single palm, I lower her into the cage beneath my mattress. Despite her best efforts to get free, I manage to shove her into the small space with minimal effort. She screams and bangs her cuffs against the steel bars as I click the lock into place, but it doesn’t faze me. There’s no one around to hear her, after all. She can make all the noise she fucking pleases.

“You sick freak!” she snarls, shoving her shoulder against the cage walls. “You can’t just leave me in here!”

I crouch down so only the masked portion of my face is visible, and she jumps back from the door in fright. A low chuckle rumbles in my chest as I reach out, stroking my fingers lovingly over the thick steel bars. “This is your new home, little flower. I suggest you get used to it.”

My cock throbs painfully in the confines of my jeans as I straighten and turn from the bed. Her cries follow me out of the room, weakening my already paper-thin resolve. I shake my head, slamming the door closed behind me with a growl of irritation. Stupid fucking responsibilities.

Stomping to the kitchenette, I grab my leather jacket and keys off the table and rush out of the cabin. The scent of the eucalyptus slams into me as soon as I step outside, and I breathe in deep through my nose, savoring the way the forest creaks steadily around the small clearing. No one has any idea this place exists—especially not my clubmates—and I plan to keep it that way. It’s better for everyone if they don’t know exactly what I get up to in my free time.

As I mount my bike, my phone buzzes in my pocket for the second time, and I pull it up to my ear with enough force to snap it in half.

“What?” I bark, knowing full and damn well who’s on the other end.

“Amazing. You do know how phones work.”

Fucking hilarious, John. “I’m on my way to the club. I’ll talk when I get there,” I growl, ending the call before he has the chance to annoy me further. John may be the leader, but he knows not to test me when I get like this. The fact he’s calling me thousands of times like a jealous boyfriend just shows me the lack of respect he’s gained for me recently.

With a curse, I kick off the pavement and speed off down the dirt path, my blood boiling with the knowledge it’ll be hours before I’m back. Patience is not my strong suit.

Nor is it the devil’s.

---