Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(21)

He went into the closet and pulled a box from the top shelf. From it, he took tape and a gag, and he bound the woman with her arms around her back and her ankles tied. He took the mask off her face and propped her up in the corner. As he was about to push the gag into her mouth, Raphael let himself get a good look at the woman. The club had been dark and cast in a red glow. In this closet, with the bright light illuminating her every feature, he sucked in a sharp breath. She was stunning. Pale and fair. Like an English rose. Dark-blond hair that draped the upper half of her body. Raphael closed his eyes and sat back on his haunches. He dug his hands into his muscled thighs.

He pictured her lying on the bed, naked beneath him. Petals were strewn around her head. She would reach out her hand and pull him toward her with a smile on her pink lips. He would crawl over her body until he lowered to kiss her mouth as he slipped inside her. She would moan in his ear. Raphael would keep it slow at first, moving his mouth to her neck and licking her warm skin. He would gather her hair in his hands. He would twist the lengths, twist and twist until her hair had made a rope. With her blue eyes locked on his, her cheeks flushed as he pushed in and out, pleasure infusing her body, he would lift her until she was in his arms, her breasts pressed against his bare chest. And around her neck her hair would go. Raphael would lower her back down on the soft bed, increasing his speed. With every thrust he would pull tight. Tighter and tighter, her cheeks reddening with pleasure. Her eyes would widen and her rosy lips would part. In three more thrusts, he would spill inside her, her final gasp washing over his heated skin.

He would bring her to his chest and wrap his arms around her soft body, keeping her safe. And she would never leave him. She would be that way forever.

Only ever his for the rest of time . . .

Raphael groaned, leaning forward, bracing his palms on the carpet. He gasped for breath, pulse racing in his neck. He opened his eyes and looked down at his dick. Cum had soaked through his jeans, over his groin, and Raphael clenched his jaw as he recalled the vision, so real he felt he’d been there.

Lifting his gaze to the woman, he reached out and stroked her cheek. “Soon,” he whispered, the warmth from her skin branding his finger with a promise. A promise that, someday soon, she would welcome him into her bed, of her own accord. Invite him to push inside her . . . and then her hair would wrap around her pretty little throat, and she would give him her life. Because she loved him. Because she wanted to gift him her soul.

Because he was her God.

Raphael stared at her sleeping form. He realized he had lost track of time when the bell rang out in the manor, signaling it was time for breakfast. Raphael quickly attached the gag to her mouth, covering her lips with tape. He didn’t want to mark her skin, but she couldn’t be found.

His brothers couldn’t hear her screams.

Raphael jumped into the shower, rinsing the dried cum from his dick. He didn’t touch himself. The pleasure of this kill would come from the gratification of breaking the woman down, swaying her to attraction, then controlling her every move. He forced himself to dress in jeans and a white shirt, pushing his dark hair from his face. He closed the closet doors tight, locked his bedroom, and made his way downstairs.

When he entered the kitchen, he found all of his brothers already present. Lynn, the cook, was busying herself with the food, pushing his brothers out of the way when they got in her busy path. Sela saw him first, speaking with a piece of toast in his mouth as he leaned against the counter. “Well?” he asked, crumbs spilling onto the floor. Sela’s long hair was still wet from his shower.

Raphael made himself act normal and go straight to the coffee machine. “She’s already obsessed.” Sela smiled and nodded his head in approval.

“You tie her up?” Bara asked from the table. His feet were resting on another seat as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. “Did the bitch scream your name when she came?”

Lynn, not batting an eyelid at Bara’s crude words, placed more food on the table. Raphael dropped to his seat across from Bara and met his green eyes. “Many times.”

“And what name is that?” Diel asked as he brought his coffee to the table and sat beside Raphael.

“Robert,” Raphael replied.

Laughing, Uriel kicked Bara’s feet from his seat and sat down. “Did you cause her pain? Did you make the whore hurt?” His gray eyes were lit with excitement. No one liked inflicting pain as much as Uriel. His victims were the worst off out of them all when it came to pain.

“Leather straps. Wooden canes, and the strappado.”

Uriel’s nostrils flared as he nodded in approval.

“When will she die? This a long game, or short and sweet?” Sela asked. Michael took a seat beside Raphael and stirred his coffee, his eyes focused on the table.

“Soon.” Raphael shifted in his seat. He saw Bara frown and knew his brothers would question why he was being so vague when he normally explained and relived every single detail.

“Morning.” Gabriel entered the room. He was dressed in his usual black shirt, white dog collar in place. He wore black jeans, and his blond curly hair fell over his forehead. His brothers began talking among themselves. Gabriel sat down at the head of the table with his usual morning meal of toast and coffee.

“Raphael,” Gabriel said, smiling when he saw Raphael watching him. Raphael wondered what Gabriel would do if he knew he had a woman tied and bound in his closet. A woman he intended to kill on Fallen territory. Raphael tried to muster up some shame, a feeling of guilt. But he had none.