Chapter 18 #2
"Should you even be moving around? Pretty sure she's given you a concussion, and your nose looks crooked, cunt.
" I take immense pleasure when Damon stumbles over to her dressing table, and takes a good look at his reflection in the mirror.
At least the cut over his brow, and his nose, have stopped bleeding, but he's a fucking mess.
He looks like he went toe-to-toe with a guy his size, not a little five-foot-nothing purple fairy.
"That fucking bitch has a mean right hook. I wonder where she learned to fight like that? Someone hurt that bitch for sure," he muses, as he presses on the black eye that’s already forming and grimaces.
"I'm going to kill that motherfucker!" Cross shouts and punches the closest wall, leaving a visible hole in the plasterboard. Well, shit, that won't be noticeable at all, when Livy decides to come home. Unfuckingreal, I’m surrounded by savages.
"Who?" Damon questions, totally ignoring Cross' unhinged response, and swatting at some invisible force in front of him, before taking one of Livy's perfume bottles, pulling out his semi-hard cock, and rubbing it all over the bottle, before he does the same thing to her hairbrush.
I shake my head at his gross antics; we have to get this guy on some meds.
I wonder, if I crushed them up and made them look like Coke, would he snort them?
Maybe I could lace one of his blunts, and he would never know he was on some antipsychotics.
It might be worth a try before he sets a building on fire filled with people.
I sigh with exhaustion, pressing my body against Livy's massive bed, and getting more comfortable.
Chances are, we won't be leaving here for a while.
I pull one of her pillows toward me, wrapping my arms around it and taking a deep inhale, when I smell her shampoo on the surface.
"Sim, who else? Weren't you paying attention, Damon?
He was there with her, knew her somehow, was willing to stand against us, and left the underground with her. "
Out of the corner of my eye, I observe Cross yanking on his thick strands with frustration.
"How the hell did they know each other? She's new to town, and has been here for less than forty-eight hours.
Shit, we didn't even realize she knew how to fight like that, never mind where our exclusive underground fights are held. Someone’s opened their big mouths and fed her information.
" He stops before the bed and stares down at me, the vein near his temple throbbing with his fury, and the desire to lick it rises within me, but I force myself to ignore it.
Now is not the time to test Cross's patience.
"I want whoever told her about those fights found, and their tongue cut off.
Then, I want you to round up everyone who allowed her to get inside, and have their arms broken, to teach them a fucking lesson. "
"Oh, goodie, play time for me, thanks, bro," Damon chuckles.
"What about Sim?" I question, knowing full well I'm poking the crazed bear, but it's aggravating me as much as him that she left with that over-muscled motherfucker.
"I say you let me stab the cunt, rip open his stomach and pull out his innards, and choke him with them, while I shove my cock up his ass," Damon responds with vehemence, as he strokes his hardening cock, and dips the engorged, mushroom head into one of Livy's facial creams before Cross can utter a single syllable.
Both Cross and I turn our heads to stare at each other, and then Damon, who is now using one of Livy's red lipsticks to paint a smiley face on her mirror, while his cock bobs up and down, smeared with white cream.
My mouth opens and closes, but I don't have a response to that very detailed description of the way that Damon would like to punish Sim, for taking off with our new plaything.
"Uh, maybe we could take it down a notch?
He's one of our top fighters, and makes us a shit ton of money?
" I query, as I watch him now use the same lipstick to draw smiley faces on his length.
The darkness inside of Damon scares the fuck out of me sometimes.
There is no doubt in my mind that he would actually do everything he just said, and probably with a deranged smile on his face.
I watch as Damon takes the same red lipstick, and uses it to paint a grotesque, ragged 'Joker' smile across his mouth and then uses his fingers to smear it, until it looks even more frightening.
"Who the fuck cares about money? We have more money than any of us can spend in this lifetime.
I say we fuck the cunt up for good, then dismember his body, and leave it for the wildlife in the forest around Soule," Damon curses as he swipes all the makeup off Livy's table, causing a further mess on the floor, and I feel one of my eyes beginning to twitch.
"My father, for one, dick. Your father too. We need to contain this shit before either of them gets news of what happened tonight, and then we need to ensure that Sim learns his lesson, and that Mayhem owns his ass for good," Cross growls, his hands fisted at his sides.
I want to point out that, so far, we haven't been able to get anything on Sim that would force him to do our bidding.
The asshole is very careful about what he's willing to participate in.
The only illegal activity we have on him is the underground cage fights.
Even then, he never loses control; he'll beat his opponent bloody, but he's never killed anyone in the ring.
I bite my tongue, though, knowing that Cross doesn't want to hear that shit.
I replay the image of Sim's arms around her, as he forced her to leave the underground fighting area, and how she didn't shrug off his embrace.
My stomach coils tightly with fury, as my mind relives his fingers splayed across her silky flesh, pressing and touching what doesn't belong to him. I’m going to chop off every digit that touched her, and make him swallow them.
I'm so lost in my thoughts that I come back to myself with the realization that Cross is shouting again, frothing with jealousy, spitting Sim’s name like a curse.
Damon is once again ranting at shadows only he can see, bruised pride bleeding into madness, as he destroys more of Livy's stuff.
Me? I'm just unraveling, torn between rage and hunger.
I want to punish her for leaving. I want to worship her for daring to thwart us.
I need to destroy her for these ugly, dark feelings crawling up inside of me and threatening to choke me, and at the same time, I desire to hold her. God, I am so fucked right now.
I’ve never been rejected before, none of us have, and it burns like acid in my gut, this new kind of wound, one I don’t know how to close, it makes me want to smash my head against the wall but also kiss her, even now, even after she spit me out like I was nothing…
fuck, I still want her. "What about your stepsister, hmm?
You can't exactly dispose of her, Cross.
I don't think your new step-mommy would approve.
" I force myself to sit up, releasing my hold on her pillow, and for some reason, it causes a bolt of sadness to rise within me that I immediately revolt against.
"She just became prey. It's time Olivia learned to play by Mayhem's rules.
She's about to learn that we own everything, and everyone, in this town.
She's no exception, and to stand against us is a huge, deadly mistake.
" Cross picks up one of the other side tables, and throws it at the large television mounted on the wall above her stone fireplace, shattering it with the impact.
"I'm going to make her beg for my forgiveness and mercy, as I tear her limb from limb, and make her scream," he roars, and the sound of his phone vibrating loudly gets my attention.
He pulls the phone out of his pocket and stares at it, a slow smile beginning to form across his face. It immediately puts me on edge, knowing that whatever he's reading can't be good. Shit, someone is about to die, I just hope it isn't my Hellstorm.
"I want to fuck something up, Cross. I... I need it, brother," Damon demands as he heads in Cross' direction, his whole body seeming to vibrate.
Cross turns and stares at Damon, appraising his battered body, and whatever he sees must reassure him that although Damon is in rough shape, it's not enough to stop him.
"You're about to get your wish. One of my father's distribution partners just brought us a present.
He found the mole, and has him waiting at the warehouse.
" Cross turns and stomps out of the room, without a backward glance in our direction.
"Fuck, yes!" Damon crows and comes to a sudden halt, turning his head to stare back at me over his shoulder, his painted lips looking like something ripped out of a nightmare.
"Riv, do you think he'll let me fuck her skull before we dispose of her?
My unhinged princess has got such a pretty mouth.
It really would be a waste if I didn't," Damon inquires as he makes his way toward the bathroom door.
"Where the fuck are you going, Damon?" I question with confusion.
"I'm going to piss in her shampoo and body wash, so that she'll smell like me," he utters over his shoulder, already more than halfway into the bathroom area. Of course he is.
Fuck. Here's hoping Livy decided to run tonight, rather than hold her ground and fight. Damon is correct; her death would be a waste.