Page 95 of Fracture

“Dylan,” I say gently, and his dark eyes move to my face. “Kill him.”

Dylan tilts his head, and pulls the blade from Iverson’s body. He spins on his back, grabbing the tufts of hair at the base of the man’s neck and yanking his head from the dust. The bloody blade flies across Iverson’s throat, and there’s a violent spray of blood across the ground.

Dylan drops his head to the ground, and the man’s body twitches for half a minute as he bleeds out all over the dirt floor. And then it’s over.

Dylan stands, his hands covered in blood, and he flings the knife to the ground. He pushes the mask from his forehead with the back of his hand, and turns to me with dark eyes filled with concern.

“Levi?” He takes a step towards me, lifting a hand then seeing all the blood and letting it drop. “Levi, it’s alright. It’s over.”

I back away, shaking my head, holding up my hands. “She knew. She fucking knew.” I meet his eyes, rage and revulsion turning to acid in my stomach. “My mother. My own fucking mother.”

“I know.”

“She helped… She helped them… Do that to Stella.” My eyes land on Iverson’s bloody body, my hands flexing as I realize I’m still clutching the gun. “She helped them.” I storm past Dylan, who stands back and lets me take out every emotion searing through my veins. I empty the clip into Iverson’s inert frame, his body rocking back and forth in the dust with every steely impact. The trigger clicks and clicks when the gun is empty, and my eyes sting with furious tears, and the sweat that’s running down my brow.

Then there’s a warm hand on mine, curling around the gun and lowering it.

“It’s over,” Dylan murmurs again, taking the gun from me. “It’s done,guapo.”

I look into his eyes, and shake my head. “It’s only just fucking begun.”

His jaw feathers, and he takes my face in his hands. His skin is tacky from blood, but it doesn’t disgust me. It’s fucking appropriate, two monsters covered in blood, their kill dead on the ground at their feet.

“I’ll do it,” Dylan says softly, leaning his forehead against mine. “I don’t want you to have to do this.”

“I’ll kill her.” I brace my hands against the sides of his neck, not a tender touch like his, but one of urgency, of rage, the need to feel and fuck and hurt overwhelming. “My mother dies by my fucking hand.”

“Levi-”

The kiss isn’t soft and sweet, it’s fire and fury, and it catches Dylan off guard for a split second, sending him stumbling long enough to have me forcing him against the edge of the rickety wooden bench behind him. It creaks in protest against his weight, his bloody hands against my chest, heavy with all the darkness we can’t escape.

It’s not me anymore, something else has taken over, like I’m standing in the corner of the room, watching this other man force Dylan to his knees. I watch as this other me takes out his cock and shoves it down Dylan’s throat. A mouth that isn’t mine curls into a cruel grin, a hand that doesn’t belong to me braces against the back of Dylan’s head.

“You sure look good choking on my cock, pretty boy.” The laugh echoes around the barn, punctuated by the sounds of Dylan’s frantic mouth, matched by moans that escape a throat that isn’t mine.

I’m a monster.

I’m nothing but a dark shadow, dimming the light in every room. I’m fucking my best friend’s mouth next to the bloody body of the rapist we just murdered.

I’m broken. I’m not normal.

And I don’t fucking care.

I look down at Dylan, my blood-soaked god, on his knees for me, sucking me down and groaning as I hit the back of his throat over and over again. He’s as monstrous as I am, the perfect match to the darkness inside me.

And Stella is the one thing that can save us from that brink, the anchor that stops our complete descent into hell.

I groan loudly as the pleasure courses down my spine, and I pump my release down Dylan’s throat. I shudder as sweat beads and rolls down my bare chest, my head tipped back, my hand caressing Dylan’s head.

He releases me with a soft pop, and traces kisses along my hips. “Better?”

Oh, that fucking voice. It’s enough to have me needing him again.

“Much better.” I gaze down at him, stroking my fingertips along his jaw. “Tell me you’re mine, pretty boy.”

“I’m yours.” He rises to his feet, brushing a kiss against my lips. “For fucking eternity.”

When he kisses me deeply, I can taste the salt of my release on his tongue.

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