Page 60 of Pretty Little Psycho

A flicker of light swirls around his pupils. “We can drink, fuck, read poetry under the stars, fall in love… whatever you want, Firecracker. I’ll give you anything you want.”

I lick my lips and swallow hard. My heart races under his seductive gaze. “Yeah, I want to stay.”

He smirks and leans back in his chair. “Good. Let’s finish this wine, so we can open another bottle.”

Valentin

I’ve never brought a woman here before. I was on my way up here when I decided to stop and let my uncle know I was going. He always worries about me. I needed to get the fuck away to deal with my demons alone. But when I saw Maureen’s mother smack the shit out of her, something protective and possessive came over me. It triggered all those memories I had of me cowering from my father when he was on one of his rampages. The look in Maureen’s eyes, the fear mixed with rage and hate… it was like looking into a mirror from the past.

She sits across from me now in my family home, which no one except Riot and Atlas are privy to. It was an impulsive decision, but I couldn’t let her go back to class after that humiliation. A switch ignited at that moment. And now I can’t stop looking at her and seeing how fucking beautiful she is. With her bruised cheek now turning a shade of yellow that matches the gold flecks in her eyes, she is addicting to look at it. To be around. I don’t want the moment to end yet. And I want to show her how she can move past the pain. I want to show her dark and dirty things that lessen the ache in my chest.

I open a third bottle of wine and gaze in amusement at her lopsided grin. She’s giddy and relaxed. Most women aren’t that way around me. I make people nervous and keep them on edge. But not this one. Even when I’m at my most brutal, she’s not afraid of me, and it’s fucking refreshing.

When I roll up my sleeves, I watch as her gaze lands on my sigils. “Go ahead, ask me anything you want.”

She curls her legs up underneath her. “What are those markings? Riot and Atlas have them too. Why do you have them?”

“They’re alchemy symbols. They offer the bearer great power. Riot is the conduit. The cursed one. So he marks our flesh during rituals, and we are granted new abilities from the ravens.” I watch as her eyes widen and then come to the realization that she probably already knew.

She nods. “That’s how you locked my dressing room door… I’ve seen your eyes glow before. Riot’s too. And you all drink poison… Is Nocturnus a cult? Or are you like a coven or something?”

I chuckle. “All of the above. Neither. I don’t know. Something like that, yeah. There is no definition that can be explained with words. It just is. And we exist in it. The more sigils we have, the more powerful we become.”

She looks even more beautiful as she tries to wrap her head around the truth about us. The fact that she hasn’t bolted for the door, lets me know I was right to bring her here. And that she’s ready to fall even deeper into our dark void.

“And you need me for more power? To break the curse?” she asks, her voice breathy.

Smart girl. Now she’s starting to get it. “We need you to be the fourth. So there’s balance and strength from the blood bond of four of the most powerful families in all of Melancholia. Erebus, Thorn, Graves, and Blackwell. I’m air, Atlas is earth, Riot is water and you’re—”

“Fire,” she murmurs.

I nod. “We don’t know if the curse can be broken but the more sigils we have, the more power… the less hold the ravens have on us. So maybe one day we’ll be free.”

Maureen fidgets with the sleeves of her sweater as she looks down. “You know it was all a mistake. A misunderstanding. Jessamine told me. Her death was an accident.”

Ah. I suspected she’d latch onto Maureen. They are blood after all. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Firecracker. The Blackwells have hated the Graves for too long. It’s become part of their DNA. Atlas and I are guilty by association. Our families have abandoned us too now. Raven’s Gate may be cursed but we’re in charge here. So they can all go fuck themselves.”

She lifts her chin and almost looks like she might cry. “Well, I hate them too now. I don’t want their name anymore.”

Her admonition sends a spark straight to my core. I want to hold her in my arms until I almost crush the breath out of her. She invokes a different emotion from me every second. She’s mine. Fucking hell, she’s perfect and she’s mine.

“You can take any name you want, Firecracker. Erebus, Graves, Thorn. All three. But the pain and agony of what has happened to you never goes away fully.”

“How do you deal with it?” she asks. “How do you keep the pain from eating you alive?”

She leans forward and I realize that we’ve been talking for hours, and I haven’t even touched her. But I catch a whiff of her sweet scent and my hunger for her kicks in. “Sensory deprivation.”

Her eyes widen. “Like breath play?”

Fuck, I can’t wait to show her everything. “That’s one aspect. But I have other methods that I prefer more… would you like to try one tonight?”

The base of her throat bobs and a tiny trickle of sweat runs down her forehead. “I think so. Yes. Show me.”

I pull her up from the table and resist the urge to bend her over it. “We’re going to go to a really dark place tonight. Are you sure?”

Her eyes light up as she nods but her fingers are trembling in mine. “I love the dark,” she whispers.

As we stand in the cold crypt underneath my house, in front of the open coffin, Maureen’s face pales. “You want me to get into that?”

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