Page 45 of The Devil Within

“I’d like that,” I manage to mumble before I fall into the darkness of sleep.

TWENTY-SIX

Luke

One for the Money by Escape the Fate

Ihate leaving my girl. I absolutely detest having to leave her when her warmth is wrapped snugly around my cock. Her soft and steady breaths falling so gracefully from between her plush red lips. Just like when she’s awake and writhing in excruciating pleasure beneath me, she’s a fucking vision when she sleeps. My girl needs the typical eight hours. I, however, do not. Most nights I lay awake for hours, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest in rapt awe that this stunning creature is allowing me to share a bed with her. Other nights, I have to remain close by her side, holding her hand while she has one of her nightmares. The fitful whimpers of her bad dreams make me want to hunt down whoever hurt her in her past and eliminatethem. Tonight she’s resting peacefully, wrapped safely in my arms.

I flip between watching my one girl in my arms and the other on my phone. Olivia is also sleeping peacefully, but in her own bed. She should be here with me—withus. To have both my girls here with me, in my bed, sleeping soundly next to me … the thought has my cock twitching inside Celeste’s warm cunt. She feels so good, I’m remiss to leave this bubble of warmth and comfort. But I have to.

I glance down at my phone again.

Garett: SOS. My place ASAP.

Fuck.

If it were literally anyone else in the world I’d tell them off. But I can’t ignore Garett. Especially if it’s an emergency.

Easing from Celeste’s warmth, I shudder at the cool night air. It’s late—or early, depending who you ask, so I should be able to sneak out and back before she wakes. She thinks I’m a demon with a morally gray soul but a heart devoted to her. But the truth is, if she knew the true monster inside, if she knew what Garett and I were truly capable of, I’m not sure she’d continue to love me like she does, and I can not—will not—have her look at me differently. She’s my fucking soulmate, my sweet and soft love; I can’t have her hate me.

I slide my legs into my discarded black sweatpants and throw on a tee shirt and hoodie, dressing as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her. She looks so peaceful right now; every piece of me begs to return to the warmth and comfort of laying beside her, but instead, I close the door and head downstairs.

Slipping on my shoes and grabbing my keys, I take one final glance down at my phone. I open the app that brings me to my cameras and make sure Liv is also still asleep. The steady riseand fall of her chest on the small screen is a comfort for me. I’d do anything for these women. They’ve both snaked their way into the pits of my soul and wrapped themselves around my heart. I don’t just want to fuck them; I want to keep them, both of them. They are mine. Even if it means risking everything else.

I close the door behind me and make sure it’s locked, checking three times to be safe. The red Audi would be too flashy for a late night covert mission, so I grab the keys to my blacked out Range Rover. It’s dark and rainy tonight, and Garett’s place is so far off the main roads that the SUV is the better choice anyway.

As I drive across town into the dark and dense woods to the north, my mind keeps wandering back to everything I need to do. I run through lists in my head constantly in order to stay focused and grounded. A well prepared man should always have a Plan A, B, and C for every scenario. I am not the type to leave anything up to chance; I learned long ago that I make my own fucking fate.

The further I drive into the woods, the lights become fewer, the trees become denser, and the darkness becomes more oppressive. My house is secluded, sure, but Garett lives practically in the middle of nowhere. His land is expansive, running right up against the Canadian border. I suspect he secretly owns the land across the border as well, but I’m sure he has ownership set up under one of his thousands of false identities. If my brain is organized in a never-ending series of lists, his is creative chaos. He’s a genius, there’s no doubt about it, but he has one of those neurodivergent minds that is incredibly gifted, just not exactly linear. He jumps from thought to thought in a way that makes my head spin, but the results speak for themselves. He owns and operates one of the most successful cybersecurity companies in the country.

I turn onto the nondescript dirt road nestled between two trees. If you didn’t know they were there, you’d be obliviousto the many cameras swiveling to watch the road. No one approaches this house without being seen. In the middle of the forest is a huge gate attached to a massive black iron fence. I stop in front of the gate and push the button on the speaker box.

“Who is it?” Garett’s voice growls from the speaker box.

“You know who it is, asshole. You’re the one that demanded I drive all the way over here in the middle of the night. Now let me in,” I huff before a loud buzz sounds from the speaker box and the gate begins to swing open.

I can practically hear Garett’s smirk.Fucker.

When the gate is open wide enough, I floor the Range Rover and cruise into his driveway. The dirt road continues on a long, winding path. The rain is really coming down now, leaving rivulets rushing down my windows. It’s so dark and desolate out here, I wonder, not for the first time, how my best friend copes with the solitude.

Finally, the lights of his house appear. It’s a modern style mansion. The entire three-story front room wall is one giant pane of glass looking out into the woods. I have to admit, it’s a pretty cool fucking house. My girls’ style is more in line with our antique and quirky gothic mansion, but I’m sure his will love this when he finally brings her here. She loves to paint, write poetry, and all that artsy shit, so he built a house with as many windows as he could. He told me he wanted her to always be inspired by the nature around them. He’s such a fucking sap for her, but it’s not like I have room to talk, I’m wrapped around the manicured little fingers of not one but two women.

As I park in front of his circular driveway, I can immediately tell something is wrong. All the lights in his house are on. Usually that means he’s been up, pacing his house in anger. I sigh as I step into the cold night air. I’m going to have to talk him down from whatever is bothering him. Swiftly climbing the massive front steps, I don’t even knock as I push open the frontdoor and let myself in.

The inside is equally impressive. It’s all open concept and sleek. Neither one of us is hurting for money, but he must have spent a fucking fortune on this place. A palace fit for his princess.

“Garett?” I yell into the foyer. “Brother?”

I kick off my muddy sneakers and pad further into the house, stuffing my cold fingers into the pocket of my hoodie as I go.

“In here.” His deep voice echoes through the cavernous expanse of his home.

I walk across the amber-colored, wide plank floors and into his front room. There, in front of the massive gas fireplace, is my best friend. His shoulders are slumped forward and his hands are cradling a glass of amber liquid as he sits on his brown leather sofa. Rounding the couch, I go to stand in front of him. He’s shirtless, the light from the flames leaving dancing shadows across his muscled shoulders and dark hair that’s fallen in front of his downturned face. The ink sprawled across his skin appears to swirl and twist in the light of the flames.

“What’s going on man?” I prompt as he continues to stare at the floor.

He brings the tumbler to his mouth and downs the rest of the liquor in one long gulp.

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