Page 38 of Soul Of A Villain

The single-word command stopped her. She froze, still on her stomach, damp, thick hair tumbling down her back. It was so pretty, like a mass of dark ink spilling across a cream canvas. Oliver wanted to grab handfuls of it. Let it sift through his fingers like reams of silk and bury his face in the fragrant waves. Instead, he raked his fingers through it, separating it into three sections. He braided her hair into a single, thick plait with quick, efficient motions. Then he ripped a string from one of the blanket’s tassels, tying off the braid to secure it.

“Stay where you are, Londyn. Don’t fucking move a muscle unless I say so.”

A tiny whimper indicated she understood the growled order. Before leaving her, Oliver again swiped fresh droplets of blood from her back with the ruined towel. He traced the wounds with the pad of his thumb. Fucking hell, seeing her marked like this made his cock rock hard.

He planned on giving her more of those lines; only these orgasms would happen while his dick was buried deep in her virgin cunt. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he covered her with the blanket. She would bleed for him, and he would enjoy every second of it.

And if she expected mercy from the Devil, she would be very disappointed.

When Oliver returnedfrom the kitchen, he discovered Londyn had obeyed him. She lay on her belly, face turned toward the headboard, and her cheek pressed to the coverlet. She was so still, so silent, that for a second, he worried he might have pushed her past the point of no return.

But then her legs shifted slightly, and he huffed a sigh of relief. Sitting on the bed, he spread out the items he’d gathered, then pulled the blanket off her. He slid an arm beneath her stomach and tugged her upright so that she leaned against him for support.

“Londyn,” he said softly, watching her gray eyes grow less hazy with every passing second. “I want you to eat this for me. Open your mouth.”

Her brow creased with a frown as she obediently closed her lips around the small bar of mint chocolate. It wasn’t fancy or gourmet. Hell, it wasn’t even very good chocolate. Hotels routinely used candy for turn-down service, but it had been his favorite since childhood. On the rare occasions he had traveled with his parents, his mother always ensured he got the little treats on his pillow. It was one of a few positive memories he’d retained.

After she swallowed the chocolate, Oliver held an open bottle of water to her lips, waiting patiently until she drank her fill. Pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her head and stared into her eyes. The gray depths were less unfocused now, but her eyelids drooped heavily. Her small body was succumbing to exhaustion, instinctively curling into him and seeking warmth.

Oliver hesitated before chucking the towel still tucked around his waist. Pulling the covers back with one hand while keeping his free arm wrapped around Londyn, he maneuvered her beneath the cool silk sheets. Settling beside her, he propped himself up against the mound of pillows and dragged her closer. She resisted at first, but his hold was unyielding until she gave up, sagging weakly against him.

“I can’t sleep here,” Londyn murmured, her long, thick eyelashes fluttering closed.

“I want you to. For a little while, it’s okay.”

“But only for a little while?” she questioned as his arm tightened around her.

“It isn’t safe,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I might hurt you in my sleep, and that’s a problem.”

Londyn made a little sound in the back of her throat. “Why?”

Oliver’s mouth tipped upward in a smile. “Because I want to be awake and in full control of my faculties when I hurt you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Londyn grumbled, tilting her head so she could study him. “Why would you hurt me in your sleep?”

He was silent for a moment, then bit out, “I have nightmares.”

She lowered her head once more before whispering, “What kind of nightmares?”

Oliver picked up the braid he’d woven her hair into, winding it around his wrist. The idea of anchoring her to him was appealing.Or you to her…something inside him slyly suggested. “The kind that doesn’t end well for women who spend the night in my bed.”

Londyn huffed out a breath of exasperation. “I have them, too. Everyone does at some point. Tell me about yours. It might help if you talk about them.”

His laughter was cruel. “Trying to psychoanalyze me, little killer? Won’t work. Besides, I guarantee the things haunting me are far more violent and depraved than anything you can imagine or have experienced.”

She shrugged. “What would it hurt? It’s not like I’ll tell your secrets to anyone. Once you’re done with me, anything you say goes with me to my grave.”

Oliver did not respond. Being reminded of the day he would end her life did not sit well with him, especially when her soft body was warm and pliant beside him.

“I woke up once with my hands around a woman’s throat,” he said slowly after several minutes of silence.

Londyn snuggled closer, her voice sleepy. “That doesn’t seem out of character for you, to be honest.”

“Her face was already turning blue. My hands were scratched from her nails. I don’t even know why I woke up when I did. It wasn’t the first time something like that happened, but a few seconds more, and she would have been dead.” His voice turned husky. “I was dreaming… reliving an incident with my father. A flashback to the first time I hurt a woman. He told me what to do, but first, I had to watch him and my half-brother so I wouldn’t fuck it up. Kingston hated it as much as I did but telling my dad ‘no’ wasn’t an option. I wanted to kill him for making me make her scream. “

“Your dad was not a nice man.”

Oliver chuckled at her naivety. “He was a fucking monster. Evil incarnate. An abuser. A cold-blooded murderer. And he passed all those wonderful attributes onto his children. He killed Kingston’s mother. Well, kill is too mild a word for what he did. He fucked her to death and left her to bleed out from a miscarriage when he was done with her. A few years later, he married my mom. After she had me, it only got worse. And when he found out that his firstborn was fucking his stepmother, that’s when the crazy really got out of hand.”

---