Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(54)

I wanted to scream: ‘whoever you see in your head—they’re dead. I slaughtered them. Their blood stains my hands.’

But I didn’t. She had to believe this was true. She had to give in completely.

Now. Do it now. I didn’t know how long the pill would last. I had a lot to accomplish before it ended.

With trembling hands, I reached above and undid the fastening. I’d strung her from a low hanging chandelier—deliberately drawing all the curtains and turning on no lights. I didn’t want Tess to see the room until I was ready. Once she returned to me—then she’d understand.

I pulled the cord around her wrists; she stumbled forward. Her body landed on mine and I groaned as her breasts squished against my chest. So soft. So pure. So f*cking perfect.

My heart bucked with need. I would’ve given anything to be able to tackle her to the floor and drive myself inside. To take and give and consume and adore.

I swallowed hard as my eyes landed on her *. My mouth watered to taste her—to dip my tongue inside. She’d been wet, soaking before.

I’d wanted to make her come. I’d wanted to give her one burst of pleasure before the drugs stole her, but I’d been too slow.

Now, it was up to me to be a bastard all in the name of curing her. I had one chance at breaking her nightmares, and I refused to f*ck it up.

Yanking the rope, I dragged her forward. She moaned in pain as blood rushed back from having her arms up for so long.

“Stop bitching.” My cock ached. Fuck, it ached. Everything about what I did called to the monster. Tess’s fear clogged my nostrils, making it so damn hard to remember I was doing this for her. Not for me.

“So you’re the master who doesn’t let himself play.” Smith’s voice slammed into my head. It didn’t matter I’d stolen his heart—he’d come to destroy me.

My back locked straight as I growled under my breath, repeating what I’d said to him that night. “I’m the man who knows right from wrong.”

“No, you live in denial. One day you’ll see the truth. It will happen. You can’t ignore who you truly are forever. One day the decision won’t be yours anymore, and when that happens operations like ours will be your saving grace.”

Fuck.

I couldn’t live like this much longer. I couldn’t live so torn.

I clutched my head, sucking in greedy breaths, forcing my mind to fill with images. Images I deliberately blocked from my past.

“Do you want a taste, Quincy? You keep sneaking into rooms you’re forbidden to f*cking go, all because you want a piece of *?” My father motioned me forward with his free hand, while his other thrust thick fingers into a screaming blonde.

My ten-year-old stomach threatened to evict the cherry pie Mrs. Sucre had made me, but if my father told me to do something, I had no choice but to do it.

Inching across the carpet, my eyes fell on a tangled mess of hair and limbs. A girl. Skin that should’ve been dusky and pink was now grey and lifeless. Even her blood had turned from bright red to brown.

My feet reeled backward, faster and faster. “No!” I screamed. “I’ll never be like you. I’ll never touch a girl like you!”

My father laughed. It started as a chuckle but grew and grew until it felt as if the entire room shook with corruption. “You’re wrong, boy. You have my blood in your veins. You’ll grow up needing exactly what I need. And there’s nothing you can do to f*cking stop it.”

Hitting the blonde so hard she fell onto her knees, he held out his hand again. “Now, come. Take your place as my son and heir. Come and play with your subjects like a good Mercer boy. I’ll even let you f*ck one of them.”

I ran.

I ran away from my father. I ran away from any hope at having a mentor in my life. I ran to my mother, only to find she’d drunk herself into a stupor.

I found out later she drank to drown out the screams. She committed suicide by alcohol all to forget what her husband did down the hall. Leaving her son to fend for himself.

The memory shattered, and I stumbled to the side. I’d never had a flashback—such an intense recollection come to life. I f*cking hated it.

But the glacial disgust and hatred I’d felt that day lodged itself in my chest, granting me a defence against the dark whispers in my head. I didn’t need to make an oath not to hurt Tess. Sheer repugnance of what lineage I’d come from would do that.

Tess kept her chin down, either accepting her fate or acting like the docile prisoner. I didn’t trust her one bit. Not after her strength in the hotel. Fuck she was wild. And beautiful, so mouth-wateringly beautiful.

She’d fought me like I’d always wished to be fought. With the abandonment of sheer survival. She would’ve gladly taken my life—or given up her own in order to win.

Was she strong enough to survive this? Was I strong enough to step into the role as trafficking * and come out on the other side intact?

The questions were irrelevant. I had to be.

I am.

“Come,” I growled, tugging on the binds.

Tess’s head snapped up, eyes blazing grey fire. “Just kill me. I’m done playing your games. You had your fun and now I refuse.”

Hearing her strength mixed with equal terror made my heart shoot out of my chest and splat against her feet.

I wanted to caress her cheek and murmur, ‘Don’t be strong. Don’t fight. It will be easier to hit rock bottom if you just let yourself slide.’