Page 8 of The Devils' Darling

The anxiety is back, too. I bounce on the balls of my feet and shake out my hands, trying to rid myself of the nerves nipping at my skin. I grit my teeth and tell myself this is temporary. This pain will pass, and so will this sense of panic. It continues to claw through me, though, until it threatens to overwhelm me. Jesus Christ, I can't be about to have a panic attack. Not now.

When Dom feels like this, he has his cutting to help him cope. What do I have now? Kenzie is gone, and she was the only thing that made me feel better, other than the drugs. I can't fall back down that dark rabbit hole again. What use would I be to her if I let myself do that? I wouldn't be able to make strategic decisions. Out of the three of us, when my head is in the right place, I believe I'm the one who can make the best calculations. Kirill can be too hotheaded, and as for Dom, well, he's more than a little messed up.

He went to speak to his father last night, to ask for his help. Kirill said he'd messaged his father, too. Although what good that will do is questionable. Kirill’s father is a flat-out psychopath. I feel sorry for Kirill having to grow up with that man's influence looming over him. I imagine it would be like being brought up by the devil himself. There aren't many people in this world who truly scare me, but Kirill’s father is one of them.

Glancing at the bathroom, I imagine a cabinet full of lovely, calm-inducing medications.

I can't resort to taking the meds again, though, and Kenzie isn't here, but there is something that might make me feel better.

Guilt and sticky shame crawl all over me as I open my laptop. This is so twisted when she’s missing, but right now it's the release I need. I'll go insane if I don't do something.

Bringing up the video, I watch as Mackenzie’s perfect body fills the screen. Her tits are gorgeous, and then, onscreen, I turn her around, so the camera gets a perfect view of her firm, full ass. Her pussy is bare and on display, wet and ready. She’s delectable, and I’m hard as fucking nails.

I push my boxers down, and, using my hand without the split knuckles, I grab my aching dick. I take it slowly at first, enjoying the show as I watch Kenzie onscreen from that first time we were together and I filmed her without her knowledge. But soon, I need the release far more than I need the tease. I increase my speed, my fist moving fast over my swollen length. I smear around the pre-cum at my head, using it as lube, and jerk myself harder.

My grip is almost painful, and I don’t know if this is still a distraction or a form of punishment. I grunt, and my back bows as my orgasm hits me. I shoot jets of cum through my fingers and onto the bedspread, staring right at her flushed face on the screen as I do.

When my orgasm subsides and sanity rushes back in, I slam the laptop screen shut. I’m disgusted with myself. Jesus, what sort of a freak am I? I always thought of myself as the saner one out of the three of us, but I bet Kirill and Dom aren’t jerking off to videos of Mackenzie while she’s missing and in mortal danger.

I wipe my hands on a tissue from the box by the bed and head to the shower. I need to wash the cum and the shame away and get dressed. Today, she needs us, and we can’t let her down.

Once I’m showered, I’ll go find Dom and Kirill, and we can make a plan.

Chapter 5

Mackenzie

Standing at the locked door, daylight and freedom tantalizingly on the other side, I struggle to compute what I'm seeing. This can't be right. Deep down, I had assumed Paxton had taken me, or had paid some men to do his dirty work for him. At the very back of my mind, there was the fear that perhaps this was unrelated to anything, and I had been unlucky enough to have been grabbed by strangers intent on finding a girl. Any girl. Maybe I'd even considered the possibility of this being related to my father.

Never once had the man in front of me crossed my mind.

Six and a half feet of pure muscle stares me down. This man has a classically handsome face, but it's hard and savage. All the boyish charm his son still manages to retain has been battered out of this man and erased from his features. Short ash hair, olive skin, and striking blue eyes. He's the sort of man any woman over the age of thirty would fall on her knees for if he turned up to a blind date.

Unfortunately for me, this is no date. Even more unfortunately for me, below his handsome exterior beats the heart of a truly evil man. I know this because I saw what he did to his son.

What he did to Kirill.

“We meet again,” Grigoriy Stepanov says. “You look even more beautiful now than you did the first time I saw you.”

“Screw you.” I sniff. “Kirill is never going to want anything to do with you ever again when he finds out what you’ve done.”

I angrily brush the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared and upset.

He chuckles. “Oh, he’ll find out. Don’t you worry.”

What does he mean by that? My heart lurches in fear for one of the men I love. Kirill’s father might be the one responsible for taking me, but I still don’t want Kirill involved. I want him to stay as far away from here as possible. Kirill’s weakness is his father.

“Now, you seem to have escaped your cage, little kitten,” he says. “How about we get you settled back in?”

Fear kicks in and overrides any sense of self-preservation. As he grabs me by the ring in the collar around my throat, his finger hooking into it, I whirl around and punch blindly in his direction. I can't face the cage again. It’s too terrifying.

Small.

Cold.

Alone.

“No,” I shout. “I won't go back there.”

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