Page 96 of Monstrous Urges

“There’s a problem.”

I frown. “Go on.”

“Security breach.”

Shit.

I stand abruptly, crossing the room to my desk. I wake up my laptop, already open to the cameras in every corner of my house. There’s only one I look at.

Annika’s room.

When I see her sleeping peacefully, I glance back at Milos.

“What sort of breach.”

He frowns, nodding his chin at the laptop, which is facing away from him. “What did you just look at?”

“Nothing,” I growl. “What’s the security?—”

“Drazen…” he mutters quietly.

Only Milos can talk to me like this. We’ve known each other since we were kids going on raids together during the wars. We were a sniper team at one point, perched up in the ruins of some building with one of us on the rifle, the other on the binoculars. His father worked for mine for years until the night of the death and blood on this very island.

I glare back at him. “It’s nothing.”

“I say security breach, and your first concern is her?”

“She’s important to our plans, Milos.”

“Well, this concerns her,” he says grimly.

I glance back at the cameras, then back at Milos.

“When I say breach, I don’t mean someone got in,” he grunts. “Someone got out.”

My brow furrows. “Who?”

“Your wife,” he mutters dryly.

Annika stirs as I look down at her sleeping form. She’s only in a thin nightgown with a sheet over her, the warm Mediterranean air coming in through the open balcony doors.

Part of me thinks she looks so soft and innocent.

Another part of me wants to wake her with my cock down her throat and her hair in my fist. With every inch of my dick buried in her tight little cunt, making her scream into her pillow. That’s the part of me that wants to bruise her. Mark her. Ruin her.

Not because of any sort of revenge anymore. But because that’s the messed-up way my desires work. That’s my fucking “love language”: violence and monstrous brutality.

And the reason I feel those things when I look at her is that I know I’m not the only one with those types of urges and screwed-up wiring.

She’s the same.

But that’s not why I’m in her bedroom right now, watching her sleep. So instead of letting my eyes wander over the bare shoulder, imagining gagging her with a pair of her panties before I work my dick into her tight little ass, I let my gaze slip down to my feet.

Then I crouch down and touch the rug.

It’s dirty, and a little wet.

Shit.

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