Page 29 of Heart of a Devil

“Never. Next time, I promise.” He sits on one end of the couch and pulls me toward him. I squeal but don’t object as he manhandles me, settling me onto his lap like a little girl. He drapes us both in one of the blankets and snuggles me into his arms. My hands wrap around his torso, and I wriggle until I’m perfectly comfortable. “That’s enough of that, madam. I don’t want a boner right now, so keep your gorgeous arse still. Now, tell me everything—it won’t be anything I haven’t heard before, and nothing on earth could stop me liking you.”

I let my head fall against his firm chest, taking strength from the scent of him. Chanel, freshly washed cotton, Seb. His big hand goes to my hair, stroking and playing with my curls, soothing me like a nervous animal. I’m cocooned in him, and he’s all around me, filling my senses. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so completely protected. I know it can’t last, it never does, but for now I will take the comfort that this surprisingly kind man is offering me.

“So, when I was living in Florida,” I begin, gratefully accepting the wine, “I took on a case in Jacksonville.” I take a deep calming breath. “A woman who was trying to divorce her scumbag husband, a neo-Nazi prick by the name of Brad Schmidt. She’d gotten knocked up by him when she was fifteen, didn’t know any better at the time, but she hated the lifestyle. She wanted out, and I was trying to help her.” I take a sip of my wine, and my hands shakes as I lower the glass from my lips. The thing I recall most about Jennie was the desperate look in her eyes. It’s a look I’ve seen far too many times.

“She was a lot like Caroline, but with trailer parks and moonshine. I suppose I underestimated him, and he grabbed me from outside my apartment building and took me to this creepy cabin in the woods.” My heart rate spikes at the memory, and I remind myself I’m safe. I’m here with Seb, and nobody is goingto hurt me now. “It was miles away from anywhere, and he kept me there for three nights, chained up like a dog. He and his buddies took it in turns to rape me, to beat me, and to torture me.” I recall the vitriol they spewed at me, calling me all kinds of horrible names. All they had inside them was hate and violence, and I was their punching bag.

Seb stiffens behind me and sucks in a long breath. I don’t need to see his face to imagine the fury—I feel it in every tense line of his body. His arms come around to the front of me, holding me even tighter to him. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. How did you get away?”

“They got sloppy. They thought I’d run out of fight and left me unchained one night.” The memories try to pull me under, but they won’t win. I was dehydrated, half-starved, and lying in my own filth and blood, so I must have looked like I was done. But I won then, and I’ll keep on winning.

I drag in a shaky breath. “They used to take it in turns watching me, and the night I escaped, it was Brad himself. God, Seb, I can still smell him sometimes. When I’m asleep, I think I can still feel his foul breath on my face, his fingernails digging into my skin…” I don’t tell Seb that after he raped me, Brad liked to urinate on me. Even now, the stench of urine makes me break out in a cold sweat. Instead, I simply say, “He was evil. Pure evil.”

“Fucking hell. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill all of them.”

I run my fingers over his huge hands, feel the angry tremble in them. He means every word. I have no doubt this man would murder for me without a second thought. “You can’t, Seb. He’s dead. They all are. When I told Alejandro what happened, he and Jax came to Florida and made them all disappear.”

“I hope it involved a lot of fucking pain.”

I nod. “Knowing those two, yes, it did. The only one they couldn’t find was Brad Schmidt himself. They couldn’t find himbecause he was already dead—and I was the one who killed him. That night, when he rammed his filthy dick into my mouth, I bit it so hard I tore his foreskin.” I was aiming to bite it off completely, but that’s harder than it sounds. Still, it was enough. All the blood and his screams… He was caught completely off guard and fell flat on his ass.

Seb holds me tighter, his warm breath dusting over my hair while he patiently waits for me to continue. “While he was down, I pulled the gun he always carried out of his waistband, and I… Well. I failed to bite his dick off, so I shot it off instead. Then I watched while he bled out, screaming and begging for help, just like I had. It wasn’t quick and it wasn’t easy, but eventually the life just… The life went out of him. That’s another thing I still see in my sleep. His eyes, the way that they died in front of me. The way his story ended, at my hands. Logically, I don’t feel guilty about it—the man got what he deserved. In my heart? It’s not quite so clear cut. I killed a man, and you’re the first person I’ve ever told about it.”

He kisses the top of my head and tries to turn my face up to his. I struggle because I don’t want to meet his eyes. I expected to feel better after telling someone, thought it would be cathartic, but reliving it all only makes me feel dirtier.

“Look at me, Lauren,” he commands. “Now.”

I do as I am told. I seem incapable of disobeying when he uses that tone. He wipes tears from my cheeks, which is odd because I didn’t notice I was crying. I’ve kept this crap bottled up for so long I got used to ignoring it. Got used to pretending it didn’t take up a corner of my soul.

“I’m only going to say this once, sweetheart, but I need you to believe me, okay? It was not your fault. What you did was self-defense. In fact, I’d go so far as to say you did the world a favor by taking the scumbag out of play. I don’t like you any less—I like you more. You protected yourself. You survived. You did whatyou had to do. I know that killing a man isn’t as easy as it looks on the TV. It’s messy and hard and brutal, especially the way you did it. It takes a little piece of you, I get that—but you do know, don’t you, that it was the right thing to do?”

I nod, my lips trembling as I look up and see the truth of what he’s saying in his eyes. “Yeah. It was me or him. I do know that. And his wife… Well, she got away with her kids. She stayed in touch, married a dentist, and lives in Orlando. She’s on the PTA and plays tennis. Her life is completely different, and that makes me feel better. I mean, I know I can’t go around killing all my clients’ asshole partners, but it might save time.”

He laughs and clutches me tighter. “It bloody well would. We could form a hit squad, love. Take out the Volkovs and Schmidts of this world one by one. What did you do with him afterwards, by the way? Why is he still missing?”

“Alligators. Florida’s gift to the killing kind. We were out near the swamps, and I loaded him up in the bed of his own truck and dumped him. Then I set the damn cabin on fire and drove back to the city. I took off the license plate and abandoned the car in a part of town where I knew it would survive about as long as his body. When I was done, I called my cousin because I wanted them all dealt with—I knew from their fucked-up conversations that I wasn’t the first woman they’d brought out to that cabin, and there was no way I was going to let it happen to another. I never told him about Brad, though—I don’t know why. I suppose I was so used to keeping secrets by then, from everyone. Carlos trained me well. I might not have taken an active role in my family business, but I’ve picked up a few tips along the way. It’s like… I don’t know, Seb. I tried so hard to keep my distance from the Montoya world. I tried to walk in the light, but the darkness tracked me down anyway. Recently, I’ve been wondering if it’s just part of who I am—if instead of being scared of it I should just embrace it.”

He picks me up and maneuvers me around so my legs are on either side of him and we’re directly facing each other. Even now, after this ultra-heavy chat, I’m aware of his size, his shape, how good it would feel to slip my hands underneath the soft fabric of that T-shirt and touch his muscular chest. He takes a deep breath and runs his hand over his face before he speaks. “We’ve all got darkness inside us, Lauren. Some more than others. And… Fuck, I need to say this or I’m going to blow a fuse. What I did the other night—with the zip ties and the force. The way I fucked you on the back seat… If I’d known about this, I wouldn’t have done it that way. I feel bloody disgusted with myself now. I wanted to turn you on, not traumatize?—”

“Stop!” I yell, and he blinks in surprise. “Do I have your attention now, or are you still too busy self-flagellating?”

“I don’t know. What the fuck does it mean?”

“It means beating yourself up, you asshole. Look, what happened the other night—the hunt, the restraints, the game we played? I. Fucking. Loved it. Every goddamn second, okay? I’m a grown woman who knows what she wants. I had a safe word. I had choices. And what I chose was to let you treat me like prey because it was hot as hell. Don’t you dare start behaving like I’m some delicate flower now. Don’t make me regret confiding in you.”

He starts to grin, and it is infuriating. I’d like to slap him across the face, but he’d probably enjoy it. “All right, Hot Sauce. Message received and understood. You did seem to enjoy it at the time from the way you came all over me and screamed my name so loud.” He sobers and continues. “It’s just that hearing what happened to you… It made me think I screwed up, okay? That I went too far.”

I tilt my head to one side. “Truthfully, Seb, I don’t think you went far enough. I wasn’t lying when I said I loved it. But I… God, I don’t know how to explain this, but it touched somethingpretty deep inside me. It felt liberating to give up control. Like I was reclaiming something from those abusive bastards in Florida. With you, I want the darkness. I want to be tied up and spanked and whipped. I want you to abduct me and drag me into seedy alleyways and screw me. I want you to break in here and hold me at knifepoint while you fuck me in the ass. I want it all. If that makes me fucked up, if that makes me a pervert, then so be it—because a wise woman recently told me that as a feminist, I should expect nothing more than equality when it comes to orgasms.”

He raises my captured hands to his lips and gently skims them across the sensitive skin of my palms. “I don’t want to ask who gave you that advice, sweetheart. But it doesn’t make you a pervert. It makes you fucking perfect. Now, what hole would you like me to fuck you in right now?”

Chapter

Fifteen

LAUREN

My eyes widen, and I feel the outline of a rock-hard erection pushing up against my core. He listened. He understood. He’s ready.

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