Page 44 of Soul Of A Villain

ChapterTwenty-Six

Oliver

Fucking hell.

Oliver rubbed his hands through his hair once he was alone. His weakness was not something he planned on letting Londyn see.

But how could he not melt just a little when her pretty gray eyes searched his, hoping to find a sliver of humanity? How could he resist the tenderness that wiggled into his heart when her tight, little body gave in to his demands? His obsession was growing by the second, and damn, if he could see any way of escaping its clutches.

You’re supposed to end her life, remember? You even promised to do it quickly. Mercifully.

Fuck that.

After tasting her, using her, drinking in her sweetness and her fear until he was giddy, Oliver wasn’t so sure he could follow through on his promise. He didn’t want to kill her. He didn’t think he could endure a moment without her. She was unique in a way that didn’t make sense. His feelings for Londyn were not rational. Or smart.

Becoming attached to a woman wasn’t normal for him. He used them. Fucked them. Discarded them. That was his way. That was his life. Never get too close. Never let anyone or anything become so vital that it could be used as a weapon.

This world he and his brother inherited from their bastard of a father was cruel and unforgiving. It twisted love into hate. Acceptance into cruelty. And dependence into a curse. Loving someone could get you and that person executed.

Kingston didn’t believe that, of course. No, Oliver’s older brother had fucking rainbows and stars in his eyes, despite the lessons of their lifestyle. Because of Ava’s love, Kingston thought himself invincible. Although things had calmed down over the last year, Oliver was under no such illusions. If Kingston were honest with himself, he’d realize Oliver was right. The people you loved were never safe if you were stupid enough to claim them publicly. There was always someone waiting in the shadows. Waiting to destroy what you cared about. Waiting and watching for the moment weakness presented itself, allowing for total destruction.

Oliver wouldn’t allow that to happen to Londyn. He wouldn’t let another man ruin and tear this girl to pieces. Her fate was in his hands, and there it would stay until the day she took her last breath. He would hide his obsession from the world—keeping her for himself for as long as it took for the situation to play out. And he would harden his heart against the softening he was beginning to experience. It wasn’t safe for either of them.

Rising from the bed, Oliver grabbed the towels he’d used last night to wipe the blood from her back. He considered stripping the bed of the sheet. He shouldn’t care what his housekeeper thought of the soiled fabric, but something niggled at his insides. Shame, maybe, that he had so brutally used his prisoner, and now he wanted to conceal any evidence of it.

Crumpling the towels, he shoved them into the bathroom hamper along with the bed sheets. Miss Miller could just fucking deal with it and do the damn job he paid her to do.

Turning on the shower, he waited for the water to heat before stepping into the grotto. Some of Londyn’s blood was smeared across his groin, and faint traces of it still stained his cock even after he’d wiped himself. Placing a hand against the stone wall, he leaned forward, watching the water rinse it away until it flowed down the drain in little pink rivulets. His body hardened as he remembered placing Londyn on her hands and knees on the shower bench. His entire body throbbed with savage hunger at the memory of her sleek body shaking while his fingers thrust into her. He couldn’t wait to fuck her in that same position—on her knees and with her ass in the air.

Fuck. He needed to come again.

While it would be ideal if Londyn were there handling his current condition with her sweet mouth or tight cunt, Oliver realized he should curb his appetite. Taking her again so soon would likely hurt her. That left him with the option of jacking off alone. It might temper his hunger for a while. With a low groan, Oliver took himself in hand, gliding a palm over his rigid length until he finally came in a rush.

The release felt strangely empty. Unsatisfying, although his cum splattered across the stone walls. It wasn’t good enough. Hell, jacking off would probably never be good enough again. He doubted he’d be able to fuck another woman for a while after his prisoner was gone.

Rinsing the shower wall clean, Oliver cursed his own goddamn weakness. And his stupidity. He was doing exactly what he promised himself he would never do. He wasn’t the type to get attached. He wasn’t a man who cared. But everything was changing. Dangerously and recklessly, things were becoming different.

He was addicted to Londyn. She was all he wanted.

Oliver undid the tie,tossing it into the passenger seat of the black Mercedes S580 with a grunt of annoyance. He always wore a dark suit and matching tie when undertaking business on behalf of the family, and he hated the constrictive nature of the clothing. It was fortunate that recently, the jobs Kingston tasked him with were usually very easy to complete. Securing and arranging transportation of women that Winter Enterprises selected for rescue and dispatching the men who abused them while the law looked the other way was one of the relatively simple aspects of what he did.

Pulling away from the tarmac at the small regional airport, he considered the fastest route available to get back to the cabin when his cell phone chirped.

The caller was listed as unknown. Very few people had this number, and Oliver knew every single one of them. He clicked the call with a frown, waiting for it to connect to the car’s Bluetooth. Whoever it was, he didn’t have time for their bullshit. He wanted to get back to Londyn and resume where they’d left off.

“Yeah.”

“Winter? Lee Barlow here.”

Oliver’s jaw clenched with annoyance. “How did you get this number?”

“Doesn’t matter-”

Oliver cut the man off with a growl. “The fuck it does. Who gave it to you? Because I sure as fuck didn’t.”

Barlow paused and then said smugly, “You and I know that anything can be bought for the right price. Tell me, are you tired of her yet?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Oliver’s hand curled into a fist. One of the Russian owners of Diamond Lake Ranch was the likely culprit in passing along his private cell number.

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