“This is your fault,” I remind her. “You knew what you were doing. Just like it’s your fault we raped your aunt. And for what? To save yourself a little pride? It’s not like I even asked you to lie.”
She glares at me from the red mask of blood covering her face. She looks gruesome and terrifying. She’s never been sexier.
“Go on,” I say. “Take some accountability, or it’ll be her blood I fuck you in next time.”
“Okay,” she says quickly. “Okay, I’ll come. As long as I can bring Seeley Boots.”
“What about… That?” Duke asks, backing up from the corpse.
“We can’t carry it out, in case they’re watching. The soil isn’t good for burying a body here anyway. Too rocky.”
“We should take it out in a boat when we’re sure it’s safe, weight it, and drop it overboard,” Duke says.
“We’ll leave it here until we can come get it for disposal,” I say, picking up the knife from where I dropped it. “Too riskyto move it twice. Mrs. Darling, clean up this mess and wrap the body for us. Keep it somewhere that it won’t attract attention, a freezer or basement if you have one. I’ll be watching. If you try to go to the police, we’ll come back, and this time, we’ll fuck you with the knife blade before our dicks. Then we’ll take turns fucking your bloody hole and tearing it bigger and bigger while you bleed out. Fucking a woman to death seems like the ultimate act of a god. I’ve always wanted to watch the life fade from someone’s eyes while they died, and I missed my chance there.”
I gesture with the tip of the bloody blade toward the heap on the floor.
Mrs. Darling nods, her eyes red-rimmed and grim but filled with understanding. There’s a reason she fled Arkansas. She knows who we are, and she knows better than to disobey us.
thirteen
Duke Dolce
“I’ve got you,” I say, scooping Mabel into my lap before climbing from the car. “Just relax. You’re ours. We’re going to take care of you now.”
Something inside my chest swells with joy at the prospect.
We did it. We got her. She’s finallyours.
While Baron gets the cat carrier and the duffle of clothes she brought, I carry her inside. I don’t want to stop there, but I have to. Baron says it’s important that we give her choices, and respect what she wants, if we want her to stay. I already lost control and let the demon take over again when I was at her aunt’s. I have to tread carefully now, so she knows I can control myself too.
“Where do you want to sleep tonight?” I ask. “We each have a room.”
She just stares up at me like she’s never considered such a thing.
“You can have her tonight,” Baron says. “I already fucked her.”
She shivers and buries her face in my chest, and I hold her tighter to me. I don’t know what it says about me that right now, all I want to do is lay her down and lick every drop of blood from her skin, every drop of cum from her cunt, until she’s a trembling, sobbing, begging ruin of a girl. Until she snaps and takes over and rides my face until I can’t breathe, until shemakes a mess all over my face, and it’s her cum spreading over my tongue and sliding down my throat.
I resist the urge by reminding myself she’s been pushed to her limit tonight already.
“I’m right here, baby,” I whisper into her hair. “I’ll draw you a bath.”
“No,” she says, grabbing onto my neck and cowering closer. “Don’t leave me with him.”
My demon revels in our triumph, and I forget to be sorry that she’s so scared. If she weren’t, she wouldn’t be here. And now I get to comfort her, so it’s a win-win.
Baron sets down the carrier and opens it so Seeley Boots can get used to his new environment. He shrinks into the back of the carrier for a minute before releasing a feral hiss and streaking out of the room and down the hall.
I carry Mabel into the bathroom and close the door behind us. Inside, she starts shaking and clinging to me. “It’s okay,” I promise her, closing the toilet seat and setting her down.
The buzz of electricity inside me heightens to a roar, and I lock the door, so she can’t make a run for it. She looks up at me, her luminous eyes as round as saucers, and I swear I can see her pulse racing in the side of her throat.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Please.”
My chest squeezes and I waver, my ribs crushing in on my heart when I see that look in her eyes, the terror and hope as she throws herself on my mercy. I turn away and pull back the shower curtain, and she lets out a sharp gasp and slides off the toilet, curling into a ball in the corner.
“Oh, shit,” I say. “Sorry about that. Is this a trigger for you?”