Page 73 of Unhinged

As the bucket fills, I stand back and watch Taren. There’s a satisfaction in his eyes, and I realize this is him finding his peace and freedom from a woman who has done nothing but take and abuse.

“How does it feel to be the one at the end of the blade, Mother?” he spits, using that word as a taunt.

Ileana’s breathing is ragged, and her entire body is marred with deep cuts. Her eyes are dilated with pain so much they’re just black now. “Taren, please?—”

“I don’t remember you listening to my family’s pleas as they begged you to stop, including my four-year-old sister,” he growls.

My stomach rolls again. Ileana did this to a little girl. I don’t understand Taren and never will how he had the strength to remain under her oppression for so long, how he stopped himself from carrying this out for all that time until it was the right time.

Ileana’s face is as pale as ash as she begins to shake from the blood loss.

Taren watches, his jaw clenched tight. “I want you to suffer as much as possible.” He grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Your pain is my fucking drug, and I’ll drag this out as long as your body will take it, understand?”

Ileana doesn’t respond, but there’s resignation in her eyes. She knows there’s no stopping this.

He continues his torture, cutting and slicing until she’s struggling to draw breath and is on the brink of death. The bucket is almost full. I don’t see how it’s enough to bathe in, though.

Her breathing becomes rattly as she lingers between the veil. Death is merely moments away, and that’s when Taren stops. “You will die soon, but I won’t take away your pain. I won’t plunge this knife into your heart. I want you to suffer.” He discards the knife on the floor and steps back, staring at her with a hatred so dark I’m surprised it hasn’t consumed him.

We stand in silence; the only sound is the rattle of her breath until finally, she takes one last gasping inhale before falling silent. Her eyes are still open but glassy and vacant.

Taren cracks his neck and exhales deeply. “Freedom,” he murmurs.

I grind my teeth, wondering whether he truly feels free. Surely, all the trauma this woman put him through can’t even begin to be erased by this.

“Let’s go, little bird,” he says, grabbing the bucket beneath her chair. “I need a bath.”

I follow him up the stairs to his bathroom, where he turns on the faucet and waits for the bath to fill halfway. And then he adds the blood.

Taren slides into the macabre bath. The crimson liquid has dyed the clear water. He sighs with contentment and rests his head back, eyes closed as if he’s in a normal bathtub filled with lavender-scented bubbles instead of the symbol of his vengeance.

I stand at the doorway, the metallic scent of blood heavy in the air. I can’t tear my gaze away from the scene. The water is now a deep, murky red. Taren looks more like a creature from a nightmare than a man. His satisfaction is palpable, making the scene even more horrifying. And yet, I understand it. She did this to his family, and he feels the need to do it to her.

I watch Taren, his face partially masked by the steam rising from the tub, an eerie calmness exuding from him. It’s a chilling sight that will haunt me in my dreams, a stark reminder of the darkness we’re all capable of. A reminder that the man I love is twisted beyond imagination.

“The Red Queen is dead,” he mutters, eyes still shut. “I’ve never felt lighter.”

After about ten minutes, he finally opens his eyes and they meet mine instantly. “Turn on the shower.” He tilts his head. “I need to wash her off me.”

I walk toward the shower, turning on the faucet.

“Strip too,” he demands, his voice hard and unwavering.

I glance back at him as he stands in the bath, the bloody water clinging to his tanned skin. He looks like something from a horror film, yet I don’t feel horror. I’m more horrified that I’m turned on right now. And then I notice his cock is hard.

I strip off my clothes as instructed.

“Get in,” he instructs.

I step under the warm, soothing spray of the water, watching as he makes his way from the bath to the shower, bloody water dripping from him onto the cream tiles.

I can’t take my eyes off him. My heart pounds so hard I can’t hear anything above the blood rushing in my ears.

As Taren steps into the shower, the blood from his body swirls down the drain, replaced with clean water. He looks at me, and the distance between us vanishes in a heartbeat. We come together in a passionate and vicious clash, our bodies meeting in a collision of raw desire and unspoken need.

Our lips meet in a ferocious kiss, fierce and demanding. When Taren breaks free for air, he whispers against my lips. “I’ve never felt more free. Perhaps we’re both birds now.” He lifts me off the floor, forcing me to wrap my legs around his muscled hips. And then he slams my back into the wall, his hard cock resting against my entrance. “I need you,” he breathes.

I moan, digging my nails into his skin as the need to have him inside me is all-consuming. A deep ache spreads through my center.

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