Chapter 22
Heath
The blood gushing from Henry’s putrid face has my adrenaline rushing through my veins.
I should have killed him years ago. Spending my life in jail would have been better than knowing the horrors Kat has gone through at his hand.
His screams of pain vibrate down the beach as I jab my knife in his abdomen and stick my finger in the wound.
All I want to do is make him suffer for hours under intense torture.
“Heath, stop,” Kat’s voice diminishes to a faint echo under the blood lust my brain is demanding.
I push her voice aside, not wanting anything to distract me from the bloody mess lying before me.
I know I should stop. At this point, there’s no fun in beating a broken man on the cusp of death, but this wasn’t just any man.
Henry was supposed to be our brother, but instead, he was our tormentor.
I don’t want to give him any mercy. He deserves to be conscious as I cut up his body piece by piece and show him each and every part.
I found them just in time. He was straddling her, naked. She was screaming. He was trying to force himself on her. The memory makes me clench my teeth to the point of pain, and I wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until his eyes roll back in his head.
There’s a tug at my arm. “Heath, please.”
I turn on her, knife in hand. “WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO STOP? He deserves it. Why do you want to protect him?”
Tears stream down her face. “I don’t give a damn about him. I’m trying to protect you. This rage in you, Heath. If you don’t get a grip on it, it’s going to destroy you.”
“I am destroyed, Kat. I was destroyed ten years ago. This is who I am now, baby. A killer. A criminal. I’m the man who makes anyone who touches what’s mine pay the ultimate price.”
Not that anyone will ever find Henry’s body.
He’s a degenerate drunk who wasted every cent left to his ungrateful ass.
This moment would never have come if Henry’s wrath was only directed at me.
I would have taken all the abuse and hatred gladly and left him to live out his miserable life, but the moment he hurt my Kat was the moment he guaranteed his own end.
I want him to feel every slice of pain I endured.
“Please, Heath. Look at him. He’s done. There’s no coming back for him.”
My eyes narrow and focus on Henry, his chest rising ever so slowly, his eye sockets transformed into tiny, busted slits, blood leaking from them like ruby tears.
His fingers twitching. He’s so near death already, a mere moment away from the grim reaper ripping back his blackened soul and damning it straight to hell.
Warm hands frame my face and yank me away until the only vision I can see is Kat’s angelic face. “Focus on me. On us.”
She crushes her lips to mine. Cinnamon and chocolate mixed with the taste of blood invade my mouth. Kat is a conqueror hell-bent on bending me, molding me, making me feel her instead of the rage of hate festering in my being that’s telling me to annihilate Henry.
“You don’t want me like this, Kat. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.”
Her hands work at the hem of my shirt, fisting it in her hands as she tugs it up and over my head, letting it fall to the ground.
“I don’t want you to pretend for me. I want you, Heath, all of you.
I want to give you what you need and I want you to take it with no fear.
Let me use my body to bring you back to me. ”
My hand grips her jaw, my lips a force of nature, not just wanting to kiss her but to get so lost in her that I’m transported to something deeper, better.
Kat screams as my teeth crash into her flesh, sinking into her skin, needing to inflict pain. I expect her to pull away from me, to acknowledge that I’m a monster, for her to run, but she doesn’t. Kat’s nails dig into my back, her body flush to mine.
“I won’t be able to stop, Kat. I won’t be able to stop, and the idea of harming you could be my undoing.”
Her gaze burns into mine. In her eyes, I see the past, the present, and the future.
In all of those visions, I picture her laughing under the brightness of the sun.
“Take what you need. You could never hurt me, but right now, I can help you. Let me be there for you like you’ve always been there for me.
Love isn’t just sweetness and romance. Sometimes it’s about sacrifice, about pain and hurt.
No matter what, I know I love you and I want it all.
I want the pain. I want the torment, too. I want you, all of you.”
My hand grips her throat, pushing her back on the sand, where Henry’s blood creates a dark halo around her pretty head.
I know I’m a sick man for what I’m about to do, but I don’t care.
The darkness that’s driven me for so many years is in the driver’s seat.
Ready to take what he needs and what he wants from the woman I love.
She’s still handcuffed to our dying brother, and we ignore his ragged death rattles as we make short work of our clothing.
With the collar of her white shirt in my hand, I tear a simple line. “You want to tame the monster, Kat? You think once I start, I’ll be able to stop?”
Her gaze holds mine as her words come out in a breathless whisper. “I don’t want you to stop.”
The way she looks at me fuels my rage, so I keep pushing. I want her on the brink of madness with me, so we can fall off the cliff together.
So I dig my fingers in and claw at her throat.
The thrill of her helpless body beneath me, a poisonous vein arching in my body, demanding to be ten feet tall.
Her free hand grips mine, using all her force to get them off her fragile throat.
The last time we were in this position, she was begging me to numb her pain, to extinguish her pathetic life.
This time she’s hoping to tame the monster, reel him in, control him.
To control me. She still doesn’t believe I’m evil, but she will.
If the mighty Katelyn Shaw wants to see me at my worst, then the only chivalrous thing is to indulge the princess.
My eyes wander down to her tits, where my initials stare back at me, scabbed over just like my heart after she broke it into a million pieces.
I trace the jagged lines. The eighteen-year-old in me would be appalled that I marked her perfect flesh.
But the monster, he wants more—more pain, more passion, more blood.
If she wears my marks on her skin, then she’s mine.
She won’t leave me again. She’ll stay with me. Be mine forever.
Her breath hitches as I grab her breast with vicious force. “Pretty fucking tits. I think they’ll look better once I’m done with them.”
Fear flashes in her eyes, thickening my cock. Her body stills and she stiffens. “What do—”
I silence her words with more pressure on her throat, rendering her incapable of speech.
She tries to scream, but the only sound coming from her mouth are gasps for breath.
I suckle her like a baby famished for food.
Some twisted part of me feels like if I take enough, I’ll somehow connect her to me.
“You’ve made me go mad, Kat. Some days I wake up and think I’ve lost all touch with reality, consumed with a desire only you can put an end to. My love for you isn’t pure anymore because I don’t know how to show it to you without causing you pain.”
I yank down her jeans and cup her panty-clad pussy, pushing the fabric into her slick slit. “Already wet for me, Princess, aren’t you?”
Moving down her body, I leave a trail of teeth marks on her skin, one on each breast, and between them. On the left side of her stomach, then the right until my eyes feast on her pussy. She moans when I lick her through her panties.
“Aren’t you a horny little slut? Are you hoping your brother will get you off while covered in your other brother’s blood? Is that what you want?”
“You’re not my brother,” Kat croaks.
“But I am Kat. When your father took me in as his son, I was there. I felt the shame of loving someone in ways I shouldn’t have.
It was like a dull blade scraping against my young, foolish heart.
The humiliation of standing there while I watched other boys flirt with you while feeling impotent, unable to do anything about the feelings I had.
That’s a memory that’s burned into my brain.
I’ve always been your brother, Kat. I just never wanted to be.
God knows I never felt like your brother. ”
With my trusty knife, now saturated in Henry’s blood, I take a stab at his wrist while I hold his hand steady, pushing it into the sand with my own.
Kat screams and jerks away, trying to cover her face, which yanks Henry toward her, due to the handcuffs.
“For Christ’s sake, Kat, hold still! I’m getting the cuffs off!”
“By cutting off his hand? You’re going too far,” she sobs.
“Fuck that! He went too far. Henry went too fucking far. He killed our family. He raped you, Kat. He ruined us all!” I hock up phlegm and spit in his face. “He’s lucky I’m not cutting off his fucking dick and balls or severing his head!” I yell as I stab repeatedly into Henry’s wrist.
I must stab twenty times before the goddamned thing gives way. The tendons and ligaments are gristly and tough as I twist his hand three-sixty until it finally pulls away. The cuff slides off and I toss the hand into the surf while Kat rolls away and groans in disgust.