Epilogue 4
Austin
I pull the gloves off and toss them in the barrel, watching them burn for a moment before I strip out of my clothes and throw them in.
The cold air makes my overheated skin pebble with goosebumps as I stand there, watching the last of the evidence turn to ash. Once it’s done, I turn to head back inside and take a shower. I don’t rush. There’s no need. Everyone will be asleep when I return.
I wash myself with the same body wash Calliope uses, loving the smell of her on my skin.
By the time I’m done and ready to head back, it’s after midnight.
I lock up and look back at the house as the moon bathes it in an eerie light.
My eyes drop to the for-sale sign, making me grin as I envision the realtor showing a couple around the basement, oblivious to what took place here tonight.
I don’t know why I get a sick kick out of it, but that’s me. I’ve always been a little odd. I can hide it when I need to. Hell, I can be the life and soul of the party if the situation calls for it, but it’s all an act. I don’t feel anything for anyone. Only, that’s not quite true anymore.
I walk to my car and lean against it, my eyes moving over the place that has sat mostly empty since I moved away. I’d sold the house, and now I was living up at the ranch. It was time for this one to go, too.
I catalog the memories made here. None of them matter to me but one. My eyes drop to the living room window. The drapes are closed, so I can’t see inside, but I don’t need to. I can picture the room as clear as day. I’m not picturing how it looks right now, but how it looked fifteen years ago.
Unable to help myself, I pull out my cock and stroke it as I flip back to the memory of Calliope beneath me, her tears soaking my skin, her blood coating my dick.
I fuck my fist as her whimpers play over and over in my head and I feel the high rush through me.
Nothing had ever tasted as good as Calliope’s innocence or smelled sweeter than her despair.
I lean forward and, with a guttural moan, shoot my cum on the ground before tucking my cock away.
An amused grin plays on my lips. It’s funny how things turn out.
When Andy knocked her over that day, and I saw the darkening mark on her wrist, I knew exactly what was happening.
I knew her father would take her just so nobody else could.
I couldn’t have that. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t turn his little witch against me.
The only way to stop that, of course, was to make sure I was immune to her.
It wasn’t a hardship, fucking her. She was beautiful even back then. I know it was fucked-up, but I’m every bit the monster people claimed I was.
I didn’t know the effect it would have on me, though.
The shit in the book was woefully understated.
After the deed was done, I felt intoxicated.
I barely managed to stumble upstairs before I passed out.
As I faded in and out of consciousness, I knew I would have to kill her, that I couldn’t afford to let anyone have this kind of power over me.
Only she woke up and crawled home, thwarting my plans.
As the days ticked by and nobody came to arrest me, I started to believe that the drugs had messed with her, making her think it was her father that fucked her.
And that was fine by me. I’d effectively killed two birds with one stone.
Only I hadn’t. If I’d known what the bond would do to me, I’d have snapped her neck in a heartbeat before it could solidify.
Unbeknownst to me, the bond I’d written off clicked into place, like an unbreakable shackle, irrevocably linking us together. She slowly became my obsession, never straying far from my thoughts. I even hired a lawyer to spy on her and report shit back to me, but she was having none of it.
It didn’t take Jen long to figure out there was some darker motive behind my need to protect Calliope. She fired me and kept my girl. If I hadn’t been so amused by the whole situation, I’d have crushed her windpipe.
I paid a few women in the beginning to take Calliope out, desperate women willing to do anything for access to the drug of their choice while they were locked inside. None of them even came close. My woman turned out to be far more formidable a foe than either of us could have anticipated.
In the end, I vowed to put some distance between us, and her being locked away for fifteen years helped.
I moved a couple of towns over and continued to build my empire, funneling money into offshore accounts for the day I would need to jump ship.
I’m not an idiot. Criminals might think they’re bulletproof, but even we can’t buy immortality.
And so the years passed, and life really did go on.
Calliope was always in my head, like a spectral presence that I couldn’t shake, haunting me until I couldn’t think about anything else.
Fifteen years she was gone, and I never fucked another woman.
I couldn’t. My body refused to entertain the idea.
It was like she cursed me right along with this town.
I was out of the country when she returned, oblivious that my obsession was back in my hometown. If I’d known, I’d never have been able to stay away. When I did return and found out she was back, I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
I pictured myself thrusting my cock inside her, my hands wrapped around her throat, choking off her air until she went limp beneath me.
Yet the second I laid eyes on her, it was like the whole world shifted on its axis.
The darkness inside her reached out and grabbed hold of mine.
It jump-started my cold, dead heart, until the thought of killing her nearly brought me to my knees.
I had no one to blame but myself, because I did this.
She looked at me with such hatred that I could feel it grating over my skin like sandpaper.
I knew then and there, I was fucked. If she’d asked me to cut my chest open and hand her my heart, I’d have done it.
Staying away from her became impossible, and being around her has only made my obsession grow in ways neither of us could have foreseen.
Protecting her and—by extension—Hannah has become this overwhelming need, something I have to rein in so I don’t go on a murder spree to eliminate potential threats.
I shake my head. “Fuck, I need a drink.”
Walking around to the driver’s side, I climb in and start her up, my headlights illuminating the property.
It always surprises me that nobody has noticed there are no flowers out here, that not a single flower has bloomed despite Calliope being my girl.
Of course, not many people come out here anymore.
Part of me assumes my immunity to Calliope’s destructive gifts means I’m immune to the nurturing ones too. The other part, though, has to wonder if it has less to do with immunity and more to do with her gift reading the wickedness inside me and my intent to harm.
As I reverse out and drive back to the ranch, I think about when she told me Andy had hurt her.
I knew then he’d need to be eliminated if I wanted to keep my secret buried.
I didn’t think that fucker would actually turn up at the ranch and fuck me over.
I never thought he had it in him. He’s always been a yes man, knowing what side his bread was buttered.
But he had to know he was signing his own death warrant that day.
They say every story needs a villain, but our story already has far too many.
What I needed was someone to blame, someone Calliope could shift her anger toward, and Andy made the perfect scapegoat.
And now my secret will die with me, just like Shepard’s will, just like Riggs’s. Yeah, I’m sure he has no idea that I know who he really is. If I didn’t think he’d lay down his life for Cece, I’d have set him on fire and roasted marshmallows over his corpse.
Though I wasn’t kidding when I said Riggs was Calliope’s heart. If I killed him, I have no doubt she’d find a way, not just to kill me, but resurrect me and kill me again.
I grin at the thought, loving the little sadistic streak she has.
What she did to Porter made me so fucking hard, it took every ounce of strength not to fuck her while he watched, chained to the wall, as I defiled his daughter.
I’m getting hard again just thinking about it.
My patience paid off when my kinky girl let me fuck her over his grave.
I see the darkness in her. It’s in there, growing every day, the shadows behind her eyes slowly leeching the color from them.
There are legends within the hunting community of witches who give themselves over entirely to the dark side, letting the power guide their actions, instead of their hearts.
When that happens, a powerful witch can become almost unstoppable, and Calliope is stronger than most I’ve encountered.
It wouldn’t take a lot to push her over the edge.
Hell, it’s only her strength of conviction that’s stopped her from devolving completely already.
And though I have no doubt she’d be the sexiest serial killer on this side of the ocean, none of us can afford to bring any more eyes our way.
Especially not from the alphabet agencies, or worse, a pack of rabid hunters.
It’s going to take some getting used to, being a good guy for a change. But I’m pretty sure we can both let our darkness out in the bedroom, where the only ones we might hurt are each other.
Hell, that’s half the fun.