Page 61 of Family Ties

“How the fuck did he pass vetting, Liz?” I gesture toward the door. “He has zero fucking self-control.”

“He’s fine,” she attempts to calm me. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll get him in line.”

“You’re not going to fuck him into obedience.” Edmund stares at her as he speaks. “That well-worn cunt between your thighs isn’t fucking magical.”

“Fuck, Eddie.” A flirtatious smile spreads across her face. “You know what to say to melt my panties. Keep it up and I might not even need a little sword crossing between you and Will to finally let you see how fucking magical it is—”

Will’s eyes angrily dart to Liz, and she immediately ceases her flirting with Edmund.

“Besides.” She smirks at me. “Based on Mr. Geyer’s requests for this weekend, I’m quite certain I’m going to have the option of watching one of you gentlemen get thoroughly fucked in the ass. It just happens to be the last of you I expected.”

“I have no intention of getting fucked in the ass this weekend,” I correct her and watch disappointment spread over her face.

“The lot of you are so fucking boring sometimes.” Liz rolls her eyes. “Please don’t tell me all of that is for that little blonde thing you had here last time.”

“Then don’t ask,” I gruffly respond.

“You’re ignoring all of my advice then,” Edmund questions.

“She’s different.” I shake my head, both in disbelief that I’m saying the words and that I actually believe them. “She’s one of us.”

“The fuck she is.” Liz rolls her eyes again. “She’s a fucking angel compared to all of us.”

“Lucifer was an angel once, too.”

Liz isn’t entirely wrong.

Abigail is sweet.

Kind. Smart. Funny. Talented. Agreeable.

There is a pureness about her that I have never once found a glimmer of in myself.

But there is a tinge of darkness pumping through her veins. I see it every time she leans further into my depravity, even if she doesn’t yet know it’s there.

She is drawn to my darkness, enjoying every devious and depraved act I push upon her—and they slowly feed the darkness growing inside of her.

CHAPTER

FORTY-SEVEN

ABIGAIL

I can’t get enough of the conservatory at night. This far outside of town there is no light pollution, and I can see every star in the sky above me. I couldn’t ask for a better place to paint.

Stacks of canvases are accumulating against the walls. My need to create only growing with each passing day. Looking over the paintings, I realize how much my work has changed since I met Grant—since Grant took me to be his pet.

They are darker.

Each displaying different variations of Shibari knots and bondage. Couples entwined in the throes of passion. Orgasms. Contemporary representations of the sexual lifestyle that Grant has introduced me to.

But they are rich.Deep.

And the absolute best things I have ever created.

Sweeping my brush, I glide the oil paint down the massive canvas on the easel in front of me. I’m still prepping it, spreading black paint across the entirety of it as I mentally plan the image I plan to add to it tomorrow.

“I fucking love watching you paint, kitten.” Grant’s voice startles me from the doorway.

---