Echo (Black Lotus #2)(69)
I ring the house as I head back to the hotel for some much needed sleep. It’s late, and I’m at my end.
It feels strange to have Elizabeth in my home, as if she’s more than just a houseguest. She has me on mental overload. There are times I see her and I want to smash her face against a wall because my anger is too much to contain. And then there are times I look at her and I wish it could be like before with us. In those moments, I want to touch her and inhale her soft scent. I want to feel her, lick her, taste her, f*ck her. I want it all, but my heart refuses to get too close to her.
She’s the devil’s angel.
The moment I start crossing lines, I shut down. It’s not even something I consciously realize I’m doing, it just happens. One moment, I want my tongue tasting her sweet mouth, and the next, I want to rip more of her hair out.
Fucking her outside against my house yesterday was a twisted delight I selfishly indulged in. When I saw her from my office window, sitting on the ground, I saw someone so broken that I doubted her malice. In that moment, I let my guard down and got tangled up in the moment. And nothing can deny the solace that consumed me when I sunk my cock inside of her sweet *. Having her snug around me, Jesus, no woman has ever felt as good as her. But her warmth and comfort are merely an illusion. She’s a magician’s ruse that I stupidly fall for repeatedly.
She’s evil and duplicitous, and yet a part of me wants her—a very disturbed part of me. Because no one in their right mind would want anything to do with the widow who injects her poison with self-serving motivations. For some reason, in knowing what a con she is, I don’t want her to leave. A part of me feels sorry for her. I pity her. I’ve never seen a person at a lower point than she is at right now. This has to be her rock bottom because I’d hate to see what would happen if she got any lower.
Her body is branded in self-inflicted abuse. She craves the moment that she can hurt herself. I know Elizabeth is a sick woman who needs help, and the dark part of my soul wants to be the one to offer it. It’s screwed up, because I also want to punish her.
When I told her to strip down last night, my plan was to humiliate her by having her perched on the ground as I had instructed. I left her to grab some rope because I had every intention of punishing her. I was walking around the house with a hard-on just thinking about it. My mind was consumed with visions of her tied up while I slapped her * and tits until they welted up red, picturing my cock shoved down her throat, gagging her, just so I could see tears fall down her rosy cheeks.
Even now that I know about all that she endured as a little girl at the hands of her foster dad, I still wanted to debase her like that. It’s wrong; I know it, which is why I didn’t return to her. I couldn’t allow myself the pleasure that would just solidify the savage I fear I am—the savage she groomed me to be. But I hurt her anyway, and when I went to her room and saw the mortified look on her face, I hated myself in that moment.
There’s no answer when I call, so I hang up and dial my home again.
Nothing.
She’s probably outside.
I pull up the security app on my phone to log into my home system. Once it’s connected, I tap on each camera to view the rooms in the house. From the kitchen to the library, atrium, bedrooms, dining room, office, roof . . . nothing. I then flip over to the outdoor cameras and check the grotto, backyard, and various cameras that overlook most of the grounds. No sign of anyone. When I tap to view the garage, I notice my Mercedes roadster is missing, which explains why she’s nowhere to be seen. Irritation scathes me, not knowing what she’s up to or where she is.
I hate not knowing details, especially when it comes to her. I know I’m controlling and overbearing, but it’s the only way I know how to function without losing my shit.
She no longer has her old cell phone, and I haven’t seen a new one, so I don’t have a way of contacting her.
I decide to call Lachlan. I told him to stop following her because I didn’t like how involved he was getting in her life, but I swallow my pride, and call him anyway.
“McKinnon, how did the meetings go?” he says when he answers.
“Good,” I snip. “Look, I’m trying to get ahold of Elizabeth, but she isn’t at home and I don’t have a cell number for her.”
As soon as I have her number, I hang up and dial it.
A SUBTLE VIBRATION is all it takes to rouse me from my restless exhaustion. My mouth tastes metallic from the blood I consumed when Richard punched my face. I shift off my side and onto my back. The arm I’ve been lying on tingles and aches painfully. Looking across the room, I see Richard slumped back in a chair with his eyes closed and a hand on his gun.
My body alerts when the vibrations return. My thoughts are hard to grab on to with the multiple strikes to my head and the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on since Richard appeared in front of Declan’s home. I focus on the faint buzzing sound, and my stomach clenches when I remember my cell phone. My body went numb a while ago, so it’s hard to pinpoint, but I know I shoved the phone in the pocket of my pants.
I look back to Richard; his eyes are still closed. My heart begins to race as I shimmy to try and move my arms as quietly as I can. With my eyes locked on Richard, I make attempt after attempt, but it’s no use. I can’t get my hands to my pocket. I know it’s Lachlan calling me because he’s the only one I ever gave that number to.