Page 24 of Deviant Illusions

Why does it sound like he’s laying claim to my soul?

He taps the cool steel edge of the knife on my jaw, whispering the same phrase he used to. “Knock.” Another tap. “Knock.” Another tap. “Ask who’s there, koukla mou.”

Strengthening my voice, I meet his eyes. “I don’t need to when I know everything about you, Asher.”

His eyes darken, the pale green violently swirling into the browns as he reaches behind his back, challenging me. “Say it again.”

“Ash—”

Something metallic is pressed against my temple. The rectangular edge of a muzzle and the circular exit is going to be stamped into my bone from how hard Kane digs the gun into my skin.

“Again,” he grits, and the click of the safety being removed vibrates through my skull.

There’s something wrong with me because I laugh. It starts off slow, but I can’t stop it from getting louder.

“Do it. I’ve never been afraid of you,Asher.” His jaw tics at the incorrect name and it bolsters me. “No one ever will be, because all you are is a pathetic little reflection of a person who will never fucking exist.”

For a brief moment, I see the boy who cared about everyone and never allowed me to put him before myself. The boy who loved so wholeheartedly that I hid him to keep that love safe, to stop anyone having the opportunity to taint it.

But he blinks and it shatters, becoming no more than an illusion built from my memories.

12

KANE

She called me his fucking name.

After everything,heis still the first fucking thought in Delilah’s head and there’s nothing I can do to remove it.

The knife in my hand burns against my palm, begging to be used to inflict her pain. I push the flat of the blade deeper against her cheek as I push the gun back into my waistband. She stops breathing as her skin cushions it.

“And,” I say low in my throat while studying the edge of the knife hugging her cheek, “all you will ever be, Delilah, is a whore.” Flicking my eyes up, I watch her dark blue irises slowly become engulfed by her pupils. “You are a filthy little slut and the only part of you that is worth anything is that vicious cunt.”

There’s no fear in her eyes. Lust is what stares back at me as she presses her face into the knife.

“You know that vicious cunt?” she asks. “You don’t even deserve that, Asher.”

I smile and lean further into her, forcing her to stretch back from the pressure of my weight as I agree. “I know, koukla mou.” Using the knife, I lift her hair and wipe my bloodied palm on the side of her neck. My voice lowers, weighted with emotion asthough the pain has removed the stop gap on the historic hurts she caused. “I. Deserve. More.”

Her jaw rolls, collecting her spit, and I slam my hand over her lips before she can do anything with it.

“You will never fucking win again. Do you understand that you’re mine to fucking control?”

She glares up at me, and I push my palm harder against her lips.

“The rules have changed, my pretty girl. And now? Now, you’re on my leash.”

The sleek, professional dress she’s wearing slows her down as she brings her knee up, giving me enough time to pull my hips back before she can connect with my dick. Using my hold on her face, I pull her forward and smear more blood across it. I could peel her skin back and she’d still be beautiful. But I have a different urge. The cream fabric of her dress soaks up my blood as I hold the collar. The sting of the fibers slipping through the cut in my palm grounds me.

“Do it,” she taunts. “Kill me. It won’t make you real or powerful, you pathetic little cunt.”

Pressing the blade to the neckline, I look in her eyes and hate how she callsmeforward. Not the version I am now, but the old one who had useless priorities like empathy.

“We both know I never wanted power, koukla mou.” I tut.

She tenses as I roughly drag the kitchen knife down the length of her dress. When I reach between her hips, she pulls back, and the silly little thing thinks she can escape me.

Delilah turns, and I don’t attempt to stop her, because she twists herself in the torn dress and trips over the fucker’s feet. I’m helpful enough to push between her shoulder blades. Her knees crack on the shitty linoleum floor, her hands whipping out in front of her, directly over the dead cunt, and I grab her hair to stop her from touching him.

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