Page 29 of Bathed in Blood

I don’t.

“I’m healed. Dr. Lamaison said—"

“Don’t say another man’s name while you’re fucking looking at me like that.”

My tongue dips out, wetting my raw bottom lip, the sting a welcome distraction from the horrid smile that threatens to overtake my face. The door slams loudly as he kicks it shut behind him.

“I’m ready, Christian. I want you.”

His thick brows knit together as he drags his large hands down his face, shaking his head.

My stomach wiggles its way free from my throat, dropping down past my knees. My hands drag up to shield my breasts, my thighs squeezing tightly, like there’s any damn point in hiding myself now. I can already taste the acid like rejection on my tongue. It's only mollified by the obvious heat in his eyes, the swell of his cock pressing against his pants.

How can someone’s gaze feel every bit as exhilarating as a touch?

When his heated perusal stops, it’s not hard to guess why. His hands drop from his face like boulders, his wavy hair shifting into his eyes as he cocks his head, those damming eyes latching onto the brand on my upper hip.

His jaw clenches as he stares, like he’s waiting for it to change, like his eyes are betraying him. My hand shoots down before I can stop it, covering the brand. It was the wrong move.

When those eyes turn back on me, I remember why I thought Christian was a thunderstorm. The violent, unforgiving way he looks at me sends my heart bracketing in my chest. When he bends, scooping the tote off the ground, I actually flinch.

I’m defenseless as I stare at the bundle he pulls out, stalking across the wide room with barely suppressed rage, shoving it into my waiting hands. “Get dressed, Lana.”

Lana?

Tears spring to my eyes, my head snapping up to meet his, away from the deep green lingerie. My hair tickles my back as I take another step, this one forcing me to sit on the bed. “Don’t. Please.”

Christian’s eyes are dead, empty, from the ones I’ve grown accustomed to the past two weeks as he reaches in the bag again. “We’re on a time limit. You’re on in forty.”

Vomit surges in my gut as he pulls out my mask, tossing it beside me on the bed, emotion clogging my throat as I open my mouth, only to promptly close it.

14

Implosion

Christian

I’m a fucking bastard.

I ignore Jesse’s stare as I pace the studio, my own reflection mocking me in the wide screens that line the front wall. See, the thing that always set us apart from others in the industry was that we offer a more…interactiveexperience. The viewer chooses the angle, the zoom, the pace. It gives the sick fucks willing to dish out thousands for a seat on our docket the illusion of control. We film the violence in 4k, 360-degree views, catering to virtual reality if you're willing to dish out the funds.

She changed everything. Suddenly, our life’s work was second best. The only viewers left in our servers were loyalists who have stuck around when these videos were just my grandfather sending a message to a rival weapons dealer. That’s how it all started: first, his eighteen-year-old daughter, his wife, and then, his twin sons. Just a simple hammer and some nails. A classic.

This was long before the time of the dark web, secure servers, VPNs, and shock sites. It was a crudely filmed VHS, state-of-the art for its time. The man sent it around every circle he wasin, knowing that eventually, a copy would end up in the correct hands.

He hadn’t expected to find an entire community of sick fucks who were willing to pay for more.

There,Vengeance Vanegaswas born. My eyes fall to the intertwined Vs painted on the wall. For the first time, my pride in what I’ve grown this into pales. There’s a sick feeling in my gut I’m not accustomed to. Vengeance Vanegas was my calling from the very first life I took: my own dog. I’d vomited, sobbed until I vomited again, and then something snapped. I decided he wasn’t enough. Somehow, in my adolescent brain, it made sense. I’d lost two people I loved. It was my fault; the pain made it impossible to breathe. The weight on my chest was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. At the time, the only way to ease the weight was to share it. Take two more lives, even the odds. When my father found our gardener and then one of the night watchmen the next morning, we both knew there was no going back. No unturning the page. Nofixingme.

Vengeance Vanegas became my calling. My purpose. It was how I could serve my family after all I’d done to harm it.

My penance.

It was just a bonus that I enjoyed the line of work. I’d have done it either way. That has never been more evident than in this moment, the crowning moment of my career.Ourprincess.Myprincess.

I should be tossing back shots, giddy and rock hard, awaiting her first performance. Already, our sales have toppled their previous high. Luca, our tech guy, is nearly soaked through with sweat just trying to keep the servers up. It’s a historical moment in the snuff industry. A stolen princess. A kidnapped icon in her own right.

The confirmation of a deity.

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