CHAPTER FOUR
Adrian
“Strip,” I commanded. I watched her eyes dilate when I said the words. One syllable was all it took to get her at my mercy.
Oh little did she know…
She disrobed, almost excitedly. Unabashedly. Fumbling with the buttons in her haste to comply. I knew how much she wanted this.
She’d been circling me for months, leaving a trail of perfume wherever she went, brushing against me at public gatherings.
Trying to leave a lasting mark. My brother’s discards always seemed to think I’d want what he no longer valued.
She was collecting Salvatores like some would collect fine art—her fuck-trophies.
I came to her tonight and she thought she won me.
You see, tonight I decided to indulge her delusions, let her believe she has earned something rare. A privilege that I was giving to her for one night only.
When she was finally naked, she walked closer, until she was standing between my legs. She reached for me, brushing her fingers against my shoulders, trailing down to my chest with deliberate slowness.
My hand wrapped around her wrist before she could venture farther south.
“Get on the bed, on your hands and knees.”
Her lips parted with a silent, anticipated gasp. She scrambled onto the mattress to do as she was told. Getting in the position I asked.
So obedient.
So desperate.
So submissive.
Sex was supposed to be intimate.
A communion between two souls.
An act of worship.
But what I was doing to Lola Matthews at this moment was nothing but an exorcism of need. There was nothing sacred about this.
It was just fucking.
Retribution.
Lust and rage.
Something that would make the angels weep. And I had done a lot of monstrous things in my life that would make them weep endless tears of shame and blood.
I just needed a good fuck before a good night’s sleep…
No—
That was a lie.
I needed something else—something only she could offer me.
She was naked. Helpless. Vulnerable. Defenseless.
Such an easy prey.
I was still fully clothed. I only had to unbuckle my belt, unzip my pants and pull out my dick. I didn’t have the patience for anything else. She was a whore, someone who learned the dangerous art of seduction to please men like me.
My hips drove forward, my dick filling the woman underneath me in one long, hard stroke. With her ass in the air and her face buried in her pretty silk pillows, her screams were muffled.
“Adri—” she tried to moan my name. My body bent over hers, my chest against her back as I reached around, wrapping my hand around her slim throat. I pulled her head up, my fingers tightening in the slightest way.
She gasped.
“I didn’t give you permission to say my name.” That wasn’t a privilege she had.
She pushed back, grinding against me like a bitch in heat.
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
Bitter rage filled me, crawling under my flesh, burning through my veins like acid.
My grip tightened.
More and more.
Until she was breathless.
Until she started fighting against my hold on her.
She went from being a lustful whore, to a desperate little human.
Struggling to survive.
Desperate for her next puff of oxygen.
Fuck, watching her struggle turned me on more than her naked body.
My other hand let go of her hips. Her knees finally weakened and she collapsed on the mattress, still fighting against me. My dick slipped out of her, wet and semi-hard. She twisted her neck, trying so hard to loosen my fingers. But nothing could make me let go right now.
There was something so powerful about holding her pitiful life in my hand. Literally.
Her dark hair was disheveled, her swollen lips parted and trembling.
And her face…
Oh, it was the most beautiful shade of purple.
“N-no.”
It wasn’t a moan this time.
It was a plea.
A desperate, hopeless plea.
A whimper of death.
“It’s okay,” I mused aloud.
“Please…”
“Just breathe,” I said.
My nails dug into the soft flesh of her throat. Her eyes scrunched up close and her body shook violently.
“Just breathe,” I mocked.
She tried. She really did.
Poor her; silly her.
I reached inside the pocket of my black pants, feeling the coolness of the blade on my fingertips before pulling out my favorite dagger. The sharp silver edge caught the dim light.
The polished handle was smooth in my palm. It was the prettiest one I owned. New and unsullied.
My pulse thundered. An invisible fist closed around my heart.
“Open your eyes,” I muttered in her ear, my voice deceptively soft.
I wanted her to see it. Feel it.
Realize it.
That I knew.
Her ugly truth.
Her eyes snapped open, her pupils dilated and tears ran down her purple face. Her mascara stained her cheeks.
She was vulnerable. Weak. At my absolute mercy.
But the thing about me was that I never had mercy for anyone.
Not for any of the men I tortured, maimed and killed before.
And Lola, while she was the first woman…
I found myself just as merciless.
Maybe the years of killing had hardened my heart.
Or maybe…
Because her truth had cut so deep, I felt no remorse or guilt.
I pressed the blade against her slim throat, right above where my fingers strangled her.
And then…
I cut.
I dug the dagger into her soft flesh. From left to right. The blade sliced cleanly across her throat, opening a crimson smile beneath her chin. Blood sprayed across my face, warm droplets hitting my cheek like summer rain.
I didn’t flinch.
“No…” But her denial died on her lips.
The sound of her choking echoed through my ears.
It was swift and precise.
Her fresh, warm blood pooled across her mattress and beneath her like spilled wine, staining her expensive bedsheet and silk pillowcases. Staining everything with her treacherous, filthy blood.
She made a terrible gurgling sound and I finally let go of her throat.
My hand was smeared red.
Her body twitched.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
This was a sin that would make even the weeping angels turn away in disgust, but I was no stranger to depravity. My hands had carved countless sins into the flesh of people, and the stains on my soul could never be washed clean.
I pulled away.
I thought her death should have soothed the beast inside me, should have brought me some kind of peace, but if anything…
It made me furious. Frenzied.
The hunger gnawed at my insides, demanding for satisfaction I couldn’t yet provide. Demanding for more blood to fill the void.
What I needed was… darker.
But this was only the beginning.
She was the first pawn in this ugly game of deception and lies.
A pretty, bloody gift.
Her corpse; my first message to him. Artfully arranged in crimson.
So he knew I was hunting for everything he has, everything he owned, everything he ever wanted or desired.
I was going to make his life hell.