Chapter 26 Kateřina
He’s going to kill him for sure.
Maybe he even deserves it.
Does that make me as twisted as Cain? Maybe I am.
I pace my room up and down, unable to calm down.
Then, there’s silence. A haunting silence that makes my spine crawl.
The door slams open with brutal force, making my eyes blink fast. I thought I’d locked it.
He storms in like a savage animal, blood dripping from his fingertips and splattered across his chest and face. His gaze lands on me, and I already know. He’s past reason.
Bruce’s severed head is in his grasp, dangling by the hair. I choke on my breath.
He tosses it across the room. It meets the floor with a horrendous smack and rolls until it sits on its side, staring with dead, bulging eyes.
I stagger back. My spine hits a wall. I can’t breathe.
His rage-filled eyes fix on me.
“You let him fucking touch you.”
“I didn’t—I didn’t want him to—”
He grabs my face and slams my head against the wall. His grip on my jaw is like iron.
“You didn’t tell me!” he yells close to my face. “You let that piece of shit put his hands on you, and you said nothing.”
“I was scared you’d kill him.”
“You think you get to protect people from me?” he hisses, his breath hot and harsh. “You think your silence is mercy?”
His other hand is already tearing my dress, not caring about the seams, not caring about my shock.
“I kill for you,” he growls. “I kill because of you. And you hide shit from me?”
He spins me around and shoves me against the wall—hard.
My cheek scrapes the paint. My pulse pounds in my ears.
But why am I so aroused? I don’t care about the blood on his hands as they roam my body, nor about the fact that there’s a fucking head right next to us.
Maybe I’m too far gone to care what he destroys to keep me.
He unfastened his belt, and his pants hit the floor. I feel him behind me, hard and harrowing, dragging wet fingers through my pussy.
“I fucking knew it,” he spits. “Scared little whore is soaked for me.”
“Yes,” I breathe without thinking. “I am.”
“Let me hear how filthy you can get.”
He doesn’t wait. His cock slams into me with such ferocity that it makes me cry out. My hands claw for something to grab, but there is nothing. There’s just him.
He’s savage. Ruthless. Like I’m just a hole to take his rage. But I want it.
I push back into him, moaning louder with every thrust. My body knows him.
“Say it,” he growls. “Say who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” I pant. “Yours. It’s yours—”
His hands grip my hips like he wants to break them. His cock slams into me, primitive and brutal, ripping the moans from my throat with each thrust.
“You think you can lie to me? Keep secrets?” He’s panting, rasping against my neck. “You’re nothing but a tight, filthy hole for me to fuck when I’m done spilling blood.”
He grabs my hair, yanks my head back, and keeps fucking me like he’s trying to split me in half. “You like this, huh? My cock splitting you open while that dead fuck watches?”
And I can’t stop shaking. I can’t stop moaning. I clench harder around him.
“You’re sicker than I thought,” he snarls. “And you’re mine.”
“Yes,” I choke. “Yours.”
He fucks me harder, faster, using me like a thing, like a hole that exists to take his rage. The wall rattles. My legs shake. My whole body screams from the inside out.
I want to say stop. I want to say more. But I can’t.
The pleasure hits too hard. Too fast. My whole body tightens, then lets go.
I come so hard I see white. My legs give out. My ears ring.
Everything spins.
His hand wraps around my throat, bringing me back to reality. “Passing out from a little orgasm, baby?” he hisses as his lips brush against the shell of my ear.
“Only you can make me fall apart like this,” I pant, my voice coming out broken from the pressure on my neck.
He spins me around and pushes me back against the wall, my back slamming against the paint.
“Kneel.”
Without tearing my eyes from his, I obey, more aroused by the second.
He savagely grabs my wrists and pins them against the wall above my head. Then he takes a fistful of my hair and pulls me onto him without warning. His cock hits the back of my throat on the first thrust.
“Fuck yes.”
I gag as tears run down my cheeks.
He doesn’t ease up. His grip tightens as he thrusts into my mouth, rough, relentless, fucking my throat. They get faster, more desperate. I feel him twitch in my mouth, his body straining. I moan around him as my mouth clenches. He shudders and lets out a sharp curse.
“Shit. You’re fucking perfect like this. On your knees with your mouth full of my cock,” he growls lower, his defenses dropping. “So fucking powerless.”
My own arousal is dripping down my thighs, and he knows it.
He releases my wrists. “Rub that dirty clit while I fuck your face. Now.”
I obey. My fingers slide between my thighs, and I rub furiously.
I moan around his hard length, gagging on him as he grabs my head and slams into me one final time.
He groans, long and low, as he comes hard, spilling down my throat while I fall apart on my fingers, shaking and gasping around his cock. I swallow all of it—every drop.
He finally pulls out, drool and cum smeared across my mouth. He wipes my chin with his thumb, then licks it clean.
“You exist to be fucking mine, my beautiful, fucked-up masterpiece.”
I nod slowly, looking deeply into his eyes.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, we stopped fucking, because one round wasn’t enough for him to release his anger—not that I can complain.
As time went by, I realized—and probably accepted the fact—that I am sick.
I didn’t push him away when I should have.
I didn’t scream when he walked into my room holding a fucking head.
Hell, this thing is still right next to the wall, staring at us, and I simply ignore it.
It’s not that I don’t feel my spine crawl when I think of it.
I just feel safer around him, after all.
He’s lying on his back on my bed, still covered with blood, smoking quietly, his dark green eyes nailed to the ceiling.
I’m lying right on top of him, studying every detail of his face, trying to comprehend how a man so devastatingly handsome, so seemingly complete, can carry enough darkness inside to snuff out someone else’s existence without a second thought.
How much pain must a person go through to become this cold, this destructive, this lethal?
“You’re too quiet,” I say.
“I like it. This calmness. It’s too peaceful,” he mumbles, the cigarette dangling from his lips. I hum softly. He’s right. This silence that surrounds us isn’t awkward at all. “You never cease to surprise me, little rose.”
“Why?”
He takes the smoke between his fingers, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “You’ve started adapting to this new reality faster than I thought.”
I let out a bitter scoff. “Not that I had anywhere else to go.”
“You do. A bright future awaits you outside these walls.”
He doesn’t believe these words, but he says them anyway. Maybe I don’t believe them either. And that’s my greatest sin.
“It’s not the life that I want.”
He inhales the cigarette slowly. “What you want is love, and I can’t give that to you. All I carry inside me is darkness.”
“I doubt that.”
“Then you’re a fool, baby. I’m not capable of loving anyone.” He inhales the cigarette. “Love dies. Obsession survives. That’s my gift to you. With me, you will never be alone or unwanted.”
I exhale slowly through my nose. I don’t have anything to answer. Deep down, I know he’s right. Although I believe in love, I understand that obsession can be a stronger emotion.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“I would kill him anyway. It’s just sad you had to go through this before I did.”
I rest my chin on my hands and stare at him. “But then the monster of the story saved the princess.”
He chuckles lowly, revealing his gorgeous smile, but still doesn’t look at me. “Monsters don’t save princesses. They keep them for themselves.”
“That’s right, too,” I chuckle. My gaze darts around the sheets and the floor. Bruce’s blood has dried almost on every surface. “I need to change the sheets and clean up this mess.”
“I’ll have Eleanor do it.”
“What will you say about the blood?”
“She won’t ask.”
I guess she has done this many times in the past.
Slowly, he pushes me back and stands up. “Get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
He holds my face carefully, almost tenderly, and presses his lips on my forehead, planting a soft kiss. “Good night, Kate?ina.”
He turns his back and walks away without waiting for my answer.