Page 31 of Unleashing Mayhem
Nightmare nodded.
“One that will make me feel better?”
Nightmare couldn’t promise that. “One that will assure you I am here to stay,” he said instead.
Some timelater Matteo emerged from the steam-filled bathroom. He wore black sweatpants that hung low on hisslender hips and a damp towel pressed to his chest, covering most of his skin.
“I left my shirt in my bag,” he told Nightmare, doing a strange sort of side step to his bag, one that kept him facing toward the room.
But when he bent to grab his shirt, the towel shifted, revealing…
“Stop,” Nightmare ordered.
His shadows were out before he could halt them, blanketing Matteo’s torso like a protective covering. Nightmare peeled them away with great effort.
He needed to see.
Nightmare stalked toward his summoner. “Dominico?” he asked, voice deadly soft.
Matteo nodded slowly, letting his towel fall now that he was caught out. “The punishments,” he explained dully. “He always preferred knives.”
That fact was clear enough. Matteo’s chest and back were a network of crisscrossed scars, raised white lines shocking in their number. They stopped at his neckline and arms, a deliberate choice. There was nothing anyone would see when Matteo was clothed.
And so far, Matteo had always been clothed with Nightmare. His top half, at least.
Something cold and dark and vicious snaked through Nightmare’s veins as Matteo turned to show Nightmare his back, seeming to sense Nightmare needed to see all of it.
Nightmare stepped closer, his shadows swirling in agitation.
One death hadn’t been enough for Luca Caruso. One death wouldn’t be enough for Dominico either. The man deserved an eternity of punishment. An eon of pain.
Nightmare found himself tracing his talon along the white lines. Matty stood still, allowing Nightmare to look and feel his fill.
“Kind of ugly, huh?” Perhaps Matteo was trying to be flippant, but there was a vulnerable edge to his soft question.
Nightmare scoffed as he followed another line. “I already told you: Every bit of you is pretty, Matteo. Even these.”
He was so beautiful, Nightmare’s summoner. Slight of build and tender of heart, with eyes a demon could get lost in. The scars only added texture, rough patches over distressingly soft skin. Nightmare could choose to despise them, evidence as they were of the pain Matteo had suffered. But they were a part of Nightmare’s summoner, and as such they weren’t something Nightmare could ever hate.
Nightmare placed careful hands on Matteo’s shoulders and turned him around.
“I’m not ashamed of them,” Matteo told him, though his large eyes were shining with unshed tears. “It’s just—people always have questions.”
Nightmare laid a hand on Matteo’s cheek, coveting the way his human leaned into the touch. “So beautiful, sweet.”
A bright bit of lemon blossomed in Matteo’s soul piece, and he rose onto his tiptoes, tilting his head in clear invitation.
Nightmare had been holding himself back, demonstrating immeasurable restraint when it came to his sweet summoner. He’d been concerned that if he broke that last barrier between them completely, he’d lose sight of much-needed vengeance.
But a kiss, sweetly asked for—Nightmare couldn’t deny Matteo that.
Nightmare lifted Matteo from the floor, taking his mouth. He kept his sharp teeth to himself, but soon Matteo’s tongue was at his lips, begging for entry. Nightmare blunted his fangs and lethim in. He was rewarded with a soft sigh, Matteo’s legs wrapping around his middle, immediately rocking against him.
There was such hunger there, in the way Matteo ground against him. Nightmare knew the feel of such want. It matched his own, an insatiable craving that only grew and grew.
When Matteo’s became more urgent—his hard cock pressing again and again against Nightmare’s belly— Nightmare hissed, halting Matteo’s movements with a hand to his hip. “Patience, sweet.”
Matteo leaned back, glaring at Nightmare with the same fierceness he’d shown their fellow bus passengers. “I’m twenty-one years old, and I’ve never once been touched in the ways I want. And now you’re here, and you think I’m beautiful, and I wantyouto do the touching. Why am I being patient again?”
