35. Talon
35
TALON
I watch Lena from across the street as she speaks to David’s parents on her phone. Her performance is perfect—her voice trembling with worry, she asks if they’ve heard from him. Pride swells in my chest. She’s following my instructions exactly.
“No, I haven’t heard anything since he went out Friday night,” she says, pacing by her window. “I thought he was just staying at Mark’s place, but when he didn’t come home yesterday...” Her voice catches. “I’m really getting worried.”
I slip deeper into the shadows as a police cruiser approaches her building. Two officers step out, notepads ready. Lena meets them at the door, wringing her hands—another nice touch.
Through my scope, I watch her invite them inside. She sits primly on the edge of the couch, eyes wide and innocent, as she recounts the story we crafted. David went out drinking with friends. He never came home. There were no calls or texts after his brief text to Lena. It is so unlike him to disappear without a word.
The cops take notes and ask routine questions. When was the last time she saw him? Did they have any fights recently? Has he ever disappeared before? Lena answers each one perfectly, revealing enough anxiety to be believable while maintaining composure.
I have to stay away now. Let the investigation run its course. But watching her perform for them, I know I chose well. She’s mine in every way that matters. The darkness in her matches my own.
One of the officers places a comforting hand on her shoulder. My fingers twitch, wanting to break each digit for daring to touch her, but I remain still and patient. This is all part of the plan.
The police leave after taking her statement. Lena closes the door behind them and sinks against it, shoulders slumping. Even from here, I can see this performance’s toll on her. But she’ll endure it. She’s stronger than she knows.
I’ll keep my distance, watching over her from the shadows while she plays her part. The grieving fiancée is worried sick about her missing husband-to-be. If only they knew the truth—that she’s always belonged to me. And that sad son of bitch took his last breath while he tried to rape my precious girl and bled out on the floor of the apartment.
I text her burner phone, my fingers tapping out a quick message: “Cemetery. Midnight. Come alone.”
Her response is immediate: “Why there?”
“It’s a surprise. Trust me.”
I can picture her biting her lip, weighing the risks. But I know she’ll come. The darkness in her calls to mine.
“Ok. Midnight,” she replies.
I smile, tucking the phone away. My revenge on that piece of shit David isn’t complete yet. Killing him was just the start. He needs to understand, even in death, that Lena was never his. She will never be his.
I want to claim her over his grave, mark her as mine where his rotting corpse lies eight feet below. Let his spirit watch as I take what he thought belonged to him. The thought makes my cock throb with anticipation.
The hours crawl by until midnight approaches. I pace between the headstones, the moonlight casting long shadows across the grass. This spot where he’s buried is perfect—secluded enough that no one will interrupt us.
Footsteps crunch on gravel. Lena appears through the darkness, wearing a black dress that makes her look like a gothic angel. My angel of death.
“You came.” I reach for her hand, pulling her close.
“Of course I did.” She swallows hard. “Now tell me why we’re here.”
I lead her to David’s fresh grave, unmarked still since his body won’t be found. “Because our revenge isn’t complete yet, precious girl. Not until I fuck you right here, over his worthless corpse.”
I trace my finger along Lena’s jawline as she stares at me, shock evident in her widened eyes. Her pulse races beneath my touch, a mix of fear and desire.
“You think I’m crazy.” I press my lips to her neck, breathing in her scent. “But deep down, you feel it, too. That darkness inside you, begging to be set free.”
“This is insane,” she whispers, but her body betrays her, leaning into my touch. “We can’t—not here.”
“We can. We will.” My hands slide down her sides, gripping her hips. “Stop fighting what you are, precious girl. I’ve seen the shadows in your eyes when you thought no one was looking.”
Her breath catches as I nip at her throat. “Talon...”
“Remember how good it felt when he died? When his blood spilled across the floor?” I press against her, letting her feel how hard I am. “You weren’t disgusted. You were relieved. Excited even.”
“That’s not—” She starts to protest, but I silence her with a kiss, rough and demanding.
“Don’t lie to me.” I break away, staring into her eyes. “Don’t lie to yourself. The darkness has always been there, waiting. Just like I’ve been waiting.”
My hand tangles in her hair, tugging her head back. Her resistance wavers, and her body softens against mine. I can feel her walls crumbling, that carefully maintained facade of normalcy starting to crack.
“Let go,” I whisper against her skin. “Let me show you how beautiful the darkness can be.”
She shudders, fingers clutching my shirt. “You’re insane,” she says again, but there’s less conviction now, her voice breathy with need.
“Maybe.” I slide my hand under her dress. “But you’re just like me. Two broken pieces that fit perfectly together.”
It’s time for her to accept what she is—what we are—and embrace the darkness that’s been there all along. I need to mark her with my initials so everyone knows she belongs to me.
“Take off your dress.” My voice is a command, brooking no refusal.
She looks at me, eyes flicking to the knife in my hand, and obeys. Slowly, teasingly, she peels the fabric away, revealing her body to the night. The moonlight makes her skin glow silver, accentuating her curves.
“On all fours.” I gesture to the ground above David’s grave. “Over his dead body.”
Lena bites her lip, a mix of apprehension and desire flitting across her face. But she complies, getting down on all fours, ass raised invitingly.
The knife glints in the moonlight. As I step closer, she tenses, anticipation and fear dancing in her eyes. “Trust me,” I whisper, carding my fingers through her hair.
My free hand slides over her ass, caressing the soft skin. Then, with the tip of the blade, I begin to carve. Slowly, meticulously, I etch my initials into her flesh — TV, for Talon Voss.
She gasps as the blade bites but doesn’t pull away. Instead, her body relaxes into the touch, accepting the pain. I carve deeper, ensuring the mark will scar, wanting everyone to know she’s forever mine.
“Do you see how good it feels to let the darkness out?” I murmur, trailing kisses along her spine.
“Yes.” Her voice is hoarse with desire.
“Tell me how much you’ve been craving this?”
“So much,” she breathes. “More, please.”
“Your wish is my command, precious girl.” I set the knife aside, positioning myself behind her.
With a sharp thrust, I enter her, claiming her body as my own. Lena moans, her head falling forward as she pushes back against me. “Fuck, yes,” she breathes. “Harder, Talon.”
I grasp her hips and thrust again, deeper this time, relishing the feel of her tight heat around me. “You like it rough, don’t you, princess?”
“Yes,” she pants. “Always knew I was a little fucked up.”
“Not fucked up, beautiful.” I nibble her shoulder, then bite down gently.
“You wish I hadn’t killed him.” I grip Lena’s hips, pulling her back to meet my thrusts. “Don’t you, baby? You wanted to watch him suffer while we fucked.”
“No.” Her breath comes in short gasps as I pound into her. “I—I mean, yes. Fuck, Talon.”
I lean down over her back, my mouth close to her ear. “Admit it. You wanted to ride me while he watched, helpless to do anything. To see the fear in his eyes as I made you scream.”
“Yes,” she moans, her body moving in rhythmic circles against mine. “God, yes.”
Pulling out, I grab her and push her against a headstone beside us. “I knew you were a freak like me,” I growl, plunging back inside her. “I should’ve let him live long enough to see it.”
Lena’s head falls back against the stone. Her eyes are closed, lips parted as she pants my name.
“You wanted to watch him bleed while I made you come, didn’t you?” I grip her throat, squeezing lightly, as I slam into her.
Her nails dig into my arms. “God, Talon, please. Harder.”
I groan, the pleasure curling through my body. This is what I’ve fantasized about for years. Her begging for it. Me, giving it to her.
“You want me to mark you?” I bite her ear, sucking gently. “Make it so everyone knows you’re mine?”
“Yes.” Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. “Please, mark me. Everywhere.”
“Only if you promise to be a good girl.” I ease out of her, stroking her slick folds with my thumb. “If you let me take you wherever and however I want.”
“Yes.” Her voice is a desperate plea. “Anything, just don’t stop.”
“That’s my girl.” I thrust back inside her, setting a brutal pace. “Remember this moment, right here, right now. The moment you became irrevocably mine.”
Lena’s back arches, her body tense as she rides the wave of her orgasm. I spill inside her, groaning her name. We’re both breathless for a moment, our hearts pounding in unison. Then, gently, I lower us to the ground, pulling her onto my lap, her back against my chest. She shivers in the night air, and I wrap my arms around her, feeling a sense of possessiveness like never before.
“Are you cold?” I murmur, kissing her neck.
“A little.”
I hand Lena her dress, watching as she slips it over her marked body. The moonlight catches on the fresh cuts—my initials forever etched into her skin. Pride and possessiveness surge through me at the sight.
“Ready to go?” I ask but pause before we leave. “Actually, there’s one more thing I want to show you.”
Taking her hand, I lead her to three empty plots beside David’s grave. “See these? I’ve already reserved them.” My fingers trace through the air, mapping out the spaces. “One for Jamie, one for Mr. Wilson, and one for Mrs. Wilson. A family reunion of sorts.”
“No.” Lena’s grip on my hand tightens painfully. “You can’t hurt Jamie.”
I turn to face her, surprised by the steel in her voice.
“He protected me when you weren’t there, Talon. Multiple times.” Her eyes flash with determination. “And Mrs. Wilson—Jamie needs some family. You can’t touch her, either.”
The fierce protectiveness in her tone catches me off guard. I hadn’t expected her to defend them, especially not after what we just did over David’s grave. But there she stands, chin lifted defiantly, daring me to argue.
“Jamie showed me kindness when no one else would,” she continues. “He doesn’t deserve to end up here.”
I study Lena’s face in the moonlight, processing her fierce defense of Jamie and Mrs. Wilson. My jaw clenches.
“What about Mr. Wilson?”
Lena’s shoulders tense. She stares at the empty plot I indicated for him, a slight tremor running through her body. After a long pause, she gives a single nod.
“He deserves it because...” Her voice trails off, hands twisting in the fabric of her dress.
“Tell me.” My tone brooks no argument. “What did he do?”
Lena wraps her arms around herself, taking a shaky breath. “After you left—when he caught us and threw you out... he...” She swallows hard. “When everyone was gone, and he was drunk, he... he raped me. Two times.”
White-hot rage floods my system. My fists clench at my sides.
“Jamie stopped him other times when he tried,” she continues, voice barely above a whisper. “If Jamie hadn’t been there...”
A growl rips from my throat. The world takes on a red tinge as I imagine that bastard touching her. Hurting her. My Lena.
“When?” I demand through gritted teeth.
“A few weeks after you left.”
My chest constricts painfully. If I hadn’t left... if I’d stayed...
I clench my jaw, fury and frustration warring inside me. “He would have made sure I rotted in prison,” I tell Lena. “A troubled foster kid against an upstanding member of the community? The cops would’ve laughed.”
Mr. Wilson had connections throughout Salem—the police chief played golf with him, and the DA attended the same church. Meanwhile, I was just another damaged kid with a record of fighting and “behavioral issues.”
“That bastard probably saw something he liked and that’s why he kicked me out,” My fists clench at my sides. “He could have done it years before, but after seeing you in that way he wanted you to himself.” The rage I feel is impossible to tame.
I remember the look in Mr. Wilson’s eyes that last evening—cold calculation. He knew exactly what he was doing when he caught me with Lena. If I hadn’t left, he would have found a way to get rid of me permanently anyway.
“One phone call to his buddy at the precinct,” I continue, “and I’d have been charged with assault or something worse. My word against his about what really happened.”
Lena’s fingers brush my arm. “You can’t blame yourself for his actions.”
“But I can destroy him now.” I meet her gaze in the moonlight. “I’ll ensure he’s eight feet under, just like his no longer future son-in-law.”
The rage still burns hot in my chest, but it’s focused now. Controlled. Mr. Wilson’s time is coming, but it has to be perfect. Calculated. I won’t let him get away with what he did to Lena.