Chapter Twenty-Eight
MALICE
“Come here.”
Those two words make me flinch, my eyes hazy with the rush of adrenaline that’s running through my veins like knives slicing through silk. I’m vibrating with need, with a desperate pull to unleash the energy trying to rip me open.
She should run. Even though I can’t promise I won’t chase her.
Monroe pulls her shoulders back, steeling herself as she closes the remaining space between us. I focus on the pretty blue of her eyes, trying to reel myself in. She’s not going to hurt me. I can’t hurt her. This is Monroe. The love of my life. My queen. My old lady.
Blood rushes between my ears, my heartbeat a heavy thud against my ribs.
The crack of my neck is audible through the quiet space of the dungeon as I stretch it side to side.
I want to kill. I want to fuck. Pillage.
Ravage. Harm. Ruin. That’s what I do. Killing Garrett wasn’t enough.
It just built the pressure inside me, and now it’s overflowing with nowhere to go.
I’m destruction. She’s creation.
“You should have run, pixie.”
I lift my hand, fingers gripping the fabric clenched in front of her, tugging until it releases. The sheet falls to the floor, revealing her pure, untouched, naked body underneath.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
I slide my blood-coated fingers across the fine line of her collarbone, then dip over her sternum, leaving a trail of crimson in my wake.
Monroe shudders, tears trickling down her freckled cheeks.
My hands clasp her breasts, rolling her pretty, pert nipples between my fingers.
Her breathing hitches, that plush bottom lip sitting tight between her pearly white teeth.
Monroe doesn’t shy away, and I don’t sense any fear radiating off her. In fact, she stands in front of me like the goddess of the underworld, her spine straight, shoulders back, ready to handle the beast she’s hitched herself to.
Her hands reach out, running delicate little fingers across my chest. Her touch feels so warm, so soft, and soothing. This is Monroe. I can’t hurt her. I can’t treat her like everyone else. This is different, and she’ll never forgive me.
“Crew, do you trust me, baby? I want to take care of you.”
Do I? I don’t know anything right now. I can’t fucking think straight with this boiling pressure inside me.
I’m overflowing with it. The rage palpable, my veins bubbling with the urge to move.
I’m just . . . terrified to. I can’t hurt my sweet girl.
And I refuse to tie her up and spend hours using her body for my own selfish needs. I have to be better than that.
I just don’t know if I can.
Her hand reaches for mine, my heart stumbling in my chest at the contact. She lifts my hand and rests it flat on her chest over her heart. My eyes flutter closed involuntarily, her steady pulse beating under my palm.
Thump Thump
Thump Thump
Thump Thump
I sway on my feet as I breathe to the soothing beat of her heart. The heart that belongs to me, that she’s willingly handing over.
Thump Thump
Thump Thump
Thump Thump
Her soft fingers run small circles across my skin, and I take a deep inhale, breathing in the sunshine scent.
It’s faint, mixed with the metallic scent of blood and death permeating the air around us, but I can still smell her.
She’s so soothing and calm. I swallow down the bitter taste of malice like shards of glass, pushing away the urges that are clawing at my insides like demons trying to escape the underworld.
Thump Thump
Thump Thump
Thump Thump
Monroe takes my other hand and urges me forward a step and then another. I follow blindly.
“Trust me. I’ve got you. You’re safe. It’s just you and me here.” God, that voice. The only voice that’s ever meant something to me. The only one I want to hear. Light and melodic, like a lullaby, her voice guides me forward.
When I open my eyes, we’re in my bathroom.
She’s kept the lights off, a low light peering in from the open bathroom door.
Hot water fills the tub, but I don’t hear the noise; all I hear is her.
She whispers softly, reminding me that she’s here, that she’s not going anywhere, that I’m safe, and it’s okay.
Reminding me to breathe and to focus on her. On her heartbeat.
She’s the light in my darkness, pulling me out.
Monroe turns off the water and starts to strip me of my clothes.
She dips a washcloth into the water and begins to clean the blood from my skin, and when the majority of it is gone, she climbs in the tub and settles her back against the edge.
She holds out her hand to me, and I join her, squeezing in so I’m lying between her legs.
Monroe wraps her arms around me, holding my head to her chest. Fingers comb through my hair in tender strokes, her chest rising and falling under me. I lay on my side, wrapping my arms around her waist to hold her tight, that precious life of hers beating rhythmically in my ear.
Thump Thump
Thump Thump
Thump Thump
“I’ve got you, baby. Just relax.”
The tight clench in my jaw starts to ebb, my molars aching like I was chewing on gravel, my hands releasing their tight fists. That boiling sensation starts to cool to a simmer, where I can breathe just a little easier.
The world starts to become clearer, as if I’m regaining consciousness after being held underwater for too long.
Monroe’s hands move over my body with the washcloth, scrubbing the remaining blood from my skin. I let her, not wanting to move, not wanting this to end.
When she’s finished, she holds my head against her chest, her fingers running through my hair. She’s tender, and sweet, and so . . . loving. I never knew touch could feel this way. So soft and delicate, but so deep and consuming at the same time.
I count her heartbeats, letting the rhythm of her life calm the storm inside me. She’s pushing it back by just existing, by just wrapping her powerful arms around me and holding me close. This little pixie of a woman is the strongest thing in the world.
My eyes burn as clarity returns, tears spilling onto her chest. I grip her tighter around the waist, holding on for dear life as everything inside me releases, until I’m empty and spent, and there’s nothing left but us.
When the water runs cold, we climb out of the tub silently. She dries us both and then pulls me to our bed, where I lie on my back, and she falls down next to me. Her fingers trace delicate lines over my tattoos, her fingers so purposeful and meaningful.
“Thank you.”
“You never have to thank me for being there for you. Especially when you need it most. I won’t abandon you, Crew.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“I disagree, but I’m choosing you anyway.” She says the words as she kisses the top of my hand she’s holding, then my wrist. She moves slowly, like she’s afraid to spook me, scooting down the bed so her head is near my chest.
Her mouth makes contact with my skin, and I shiver in response.
Her hair is like silk as it slips through my fingers, her lips trailing across my abdomen with reverence.
My cock hardens rapidly, and when she sinks lower, her mouth wrapping around the head, my mind goes completely blank.
All there is in the world is this little pixie who just handled the monster inside me like she was made to.
Her tongue tentatively explores my tip, flicking over the piercings that are so sensitive. It feels so good. She doesn’t go any further, and I don’t urge her to take more. But then she sits up, straddling my waist.
No words are spoken as I grip her hips, lifting her up as she notches the head of my cock at her entrance. So slowly, she sinks down, and inch by glorious inch, my length disappears inside her body. Her pussy envelopes me in wet warmth, her tight, velvety walls fluttering around my length.
I’ve never given much thought to sex outside of the feeling and the release, but watching a part of me slide into her like a fucking puzzle piece does something to my heart. Just like yesterday, when she gave herself to me for the first time. What I have with Monroe is different.
“Are you sore?”
“Yes. But I’m okay. You feel good inside me, Crew. You make me feel good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, baby.”
She takes all of me, and I’m so proud. Monroe St. James was made for me. She’s the only person who could tame me, and now she’s healing me, when I thought I was a lost cause.
She leans down, ghosting her lips over mine as she braces herself on my chest. “I love you, Crew.”
Her words momentarily stun me. I’ve never let myself dream of hearing those words from someone. Even if my club brothers have reminded me they love me once before, this is different. This is everything. Monroe loves me?
I cradle her head between my hands, her crystal-blue eyes holding me hostage. “Fuck, pixie, I love you. I’ve never said those words to anyone.”
She starts to rock back and forth, pulling my cock deeper inside her wet channel.
“I know. I feel it.”
“I don’t deserve you, Monroe. I’m not good for you. I live in the darkness, I’m broken.”
She sits up on my dick, looking down at me. She continues to rock slowly back and forth, finding a rhythm that makes her feel good. It’s so sexy.
“I’m joining you in it, Crew, and I’ll love all your broken pieces for as long as you’ll have me.”
I sit up quickly, wrapping my arm around her waist and threading my hand through her hair to cup her face. “You’re it for me, there’s no going back from this. I told you before, I can’t let you go. I won’t.”
“Then I better hold on.”
We rock together, our lips brushing as our breathing picks up. I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror, her flawless, freckled skin, pink hair, and the undeniable light she exudes. Then there’s me, my dark obsidian eyes, my tattoos, scars, and marred skin.
An angel and her demon.