Chapter 24 Azrael #2
I always clocked the way she relaxed when she felt my eyes on her. I wasn’t sure why. Most cringed, turned away, left the room to escape my presence. The three women my brothers had claimed proved that to be true time and time again, but not her.
That’s how I knew she could help me in my endeavors. Whatever our cracked shells were made of, hers and mine were the same.
Finally, she flexed her right hand a little and then her left. She moved her body ever so slightly from side to side before settling back on the floor, spreading her legs a little wider as her muscles forced themselves to relax for probably the first time in years.
Suddenly, a yawn cracked through her, forcing her jaw open wide, her eyes squeezing shut, her nose crinkling ever so slightly.
Her hands stiffened as she fought the urge to move too much.
I studied her face as she settled back into place, running her perfect pink tongue over her lips before stilling again.
I suppose she was the prettiest creature I had seen in quite some time.
I knew she could survive a session with me, perhaps two, but I wanted her to look me in the eyes if I ever decided it was worth my trouble to put her through that, and right now, short of stitching her eyes open, she wouldn’t dare lift them to me.
Since my true mission started just before I left the asylum, fucking hadn’t been a priority.
I had only taken what my body needed between the day I left and the day I walked through the front doors of the auction building.
After that? Nothing. My mind had needed to focus solely on my mission, but…
she truly was a pretty little sinning doll, wasn’t she?
Tick tock tick tock, our time was nearly up.
I had spent too much time studying her throughout the questions, but we were learning together.
I had a few more I wanted to ask before I left today.
“How many of the Leaders have visited you outside of this building these last few days?” I knew it was them.
They were cruel and had minds more corrupt than mine, but they were also very stupid about who they allowed into their inner circle.
I knew they had planned to go; I just didn’t know which ones actually had.
She tapped her finger twice, her shoulders tensing.
“Garrett Masters?”
Nothing.
“Kels?”
Nothing.
“Young or Edgar?”
Still nothing.
My hand tightened around my cane. I thought as much. “And Thomas’ little friends, how many?”
Three times she tapped her finger.
He had five friends outside of this church and was friendly enough with some within it. “How many outside of this church?”
Another three taps.
“Any friends from within the church?”
Her delicate throat bobbed, and she tapped her finger 18 times.
That one would be harder to solve. They had never gotten a piece of her before, so their cocks were new. I believed she was smart enough to register the different scents on each male, but I also knew there were not 18 sons among the Leaders here. That was just how often they used her before today.
My chest tightened with memories I shoved down before they reached my mind.
“Don’t worry, little sinner, the Lost Boys’ blood will be used for the roses near the shutters,” I stated coldly.
“Perhaps for the shingles too.” The whole world would drown in the blood of anyone affiliated with this church in any way. It was my only purpose.
Her thighs shifted again, a small crease forming between her dark eyebrows for less than half a second before she stilled, her face going smooth.
I studied her carefully, my own cock twitching at her reaction.
I ran a tongue quickly over my bottom lip, gripping my cane in one hand, my unblinking eyes trained on her face.
Years, I had been watching this child grow.
Grow increasingly shattered, grow only within the confines of that which the church allowed.
Never once had I ever considered her as something more than a source of information.
Not until the dear old Pastor made his little offer.
5 million seemed a steep price to pay for any human, but for the information she possessed? It had me questioning the worth of it since that day. That text message shifted my perspective on things in this room.
I stopped fucking, not because I always ended up killing my willing victims, but because I stopped feeling any interest in the act of it. All that mattered was this assignment. Destroying him along with all those who followed down this path of poisonous righteousness.
But sitting here, watching her psychosis play out in front of me, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to fuck someone like me.
It had never crossed my mind because I never considered there was anyone out there like me. The rose came close, but she was still too poetic for my taste. Here in front of me was a true carbon copy, all I had to do was unveil her.
Still, my cock could want all it wanted, but fucking someone who was stuck in the loop of unquestioning obedience was too much for me.
I was being truthful when I told her I liked a little fight.
Knowing that she would say yes to anyone who told her to spread her legs was irritating, to say the least. If I was going to fuck her, I wanted her so obsessed that she killed anyone who even suggested wanting a piece of what sat between her untouched legs.
The only way to fix this puzzle was to push her further. To test her more.
“I’ve been thinking about things that begin with the letter ‘B’,” I began evenly. “Bleak…brutal…bloodthirsty.”
Her pale throat bobbed.
The muscles in the corners of my mouth flickered.
“I’ve considered how I would kill them many times.
Saving Pastor Masters for last but taking his son first. I like watching them squirm, hearing them scream.
Perhaps I’ll have a special knife made just for this story.
One made of bone. I’d cut places on his body that wouldn’t allow him to bleed out but would cause the most amount of pain. ”
Her legs flexed again, her brows creasing.
I wondered how her mind saw things. Some read words and saw nothing but words, others read them and saw a movie play out in front of them.
By her reactions, she was watching it play out behind her closed eyelids.
I wondered how often she had allowed herself to imagine the death of Thomas, if she ever allowed it.
Perhaps that’s why she craved it so much, because she never allowed herself to imagine the day she would be free from all of this.
Or perhaps she had been dreaming of it for years and hearing it spoken out loud did things to her she couldn’t quite understand.
“Losing a limb isn’t a death sentence, but losing them all?” I shrugged, her fingers twitching. “That could prove to be fatal if not treated correctly. Can you imagine it in that pretty little head of yours, Scarlett?”
Her lips parted the moment her name left my lips. How long had it been since someone said her name? I had heard them all refer to her as ‘girl,’ ‘Chosen One,’ and ‘Blessed One’, but never Scarlett. It was a power in and of itself.
She didn’t know it yet, but the hooks were already being embedded into her flesh. I didn’t think it would be long before I could yank them up and tear her from the fly trap this church had been built upon.
“Poor little Thomas, his blood rushing from his wounds with every beat of his weakening evil heart.”
Her throat bobbed again, her hands shaking, trembling as her fingers dug into her thigh until finally, she reached for her pussy over her skirt.
She pressed down and frowned, uncomfortable.
My own heart thudded once when I watched her slide her hand under her skirt, swipe the side of her leg, and pull it out. She smeared her fingers together, that dark hum inside of me growling at the sight of the glisten of arousal dripping off her fingertips.
She lifted her fingers to her nose, sniffed it, and placed her hands back on her knees, readjusting herself, her cheeks slowly turning red, but her expression now clear.
Turned on by the thought of blood and she had no idea what was happening.
Of course she didn’t. In their way of life, women weren’t meant to enjoy it.
They weren’t meant to get off. They were meant to be slaves to their owners, remain pure until they were married, and give their husbands offsprings.
I liked to see my women suffer, but I always gave them a taste of their own orgasm before I pushed them to their death.
I suppose not all of them died, some of them went insane and had to be locked away until their inevitable end. It was better this way. What I did was not for the faint of heart, but this one? She was curious.
I pushed myself to a stand, walked over, and crouched down in front of her. I cradled her chin within my antlers and tilted her head up until her closed eyes met mine. “It’s arousal, little sinner. Blood turns you on.” The lifeblood that courses through us, I was addicted to it.
The others had their own thing; cigarettes, alcohol, fucking, but me?
Blood is what called to me. Just thinking about it used to make my cock throb with need, but it was difficult bleeding people without killing them.
It was difficult finding people who would bleed willingly without their minds cracking, but her mind was already cracked, and she craved the same lifeblood I did.
She also looked so very good in crimson.
She had been denied her whole life. A life that shaped her into a monster caged within her own bones, starving for something so much darker than she would have wanted had she been born outside of these walls.
Information is what I needed; blood is what we craved.
Perhaps this could be a newfound relationship of equal opportunity.
“Don’t worry, my darling little sinning doll, we’ll spill as much as you need to satisfy the hunger.”
The rivers would flow so full that Satan himself would vomit at the sight of all the sin we would commit.