Fear The Reapers: A Dark Mafia Romance (Lovesick Villains Book 1)

Why the fuck was she still here? Giving me some sob story about her fucked up childhood, to what end? So we can trade horror stories about the shit we went through as kids? So we can be fucking best friends and share our deepest, darkest secrets?

Pulling the door open, I watched her body fall back at the sudden loss of support. I latched onto the collar of her sweatshirt, inches before her head crashed to the ground, and lifted her to her feet. She quickly wiped the tears from her glossy eyes and looked up at me expectantly. Like I was the one who was supposed to come in and make it all better.

“Go back to your fucking room.” I ordered, blocking her from moving any further.

“No.” She whispered, jutting her chin out with defiance.

She was as stubborn as a fucking mule. She wanted somebody to lick her wounds and make her feel better. But I would never be that man.

“What do you want, huh?” I asked, looming over her. “S… sympathy?” I hissed, inhaling her intoxicating scent. “I’m a beast in every sense of the word. I can’t give you gentle or s… sweet.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be sweet.” She challenged, pushing her curvy little body against mine to get in my face. “Maybe I don’t want anything from you.”

The intimidation tactics she was trying were laughable considering her glossy eyes and shaky voice were dead giveaways of her fear.

“Bullshit.” I said, sniffing the air for emphasis. “I know a lie when I smell one. You want s… something. You’re just too afraid to fucking admit it.”

She trembled beneath me and fuck if that didn’t bring out my beast.

“I’m not afraid of you.” She stammered, her breath leaving her in a rush as loomed over her.

“Is this what you want?” I growled, hiking her sweatshirt up and grabbing a fistful of her pert ass.

Her body went stiff as I squeezed and slapped the soft flesh.

“What about this?” I asked, pushing her out into the hallway and pressing her body roughly against a wall.

She still didn’t give me an answer. Poor girl was shocked into silence.

I slipped my hand down her ass, hooking my finger under her white thong, and gently slid it to the side. I took my time, giving her plenty of opportunity to stop what was already starting. We were in the middle of a well-lit main hallway and at any moment one of my brothers could come through and stumble on what was happening, but she didn’t make a move to stop me. My fingers explored her folds, circling and gently nudging her sensitive little bud just enough to drive her body mad with lust.

“You’re so wet for me.” I hissed, biting hard into the nape of her neck.

A throaty moan escaped her lips and her back arched instinctively, pressing her delicious ass against my lap. My cock painfully throbbed in my pants. I could have her. Could strip that ugly fucking sweatshirt off her, lay her down on this floor, and feast on the fucking offering she was presenting me and she wouldn’t utter a single word to stop me.

But I didn’t want to take her like this. When I fucked Stevie, I wanted her to beg for it. I wanted her body to writhe against mine and to hear the need in her voice. To see the desperate plea in her eyes.

“Fuck,” I chuckled darkly, releasing her from my grip, “you weren’t kidding about your mommy issues, pet.”

She looked as if she wanted to cry. Maybe a different man would have felt bad about his words, but the world was cruel and it was about time she realized it. She couldn’t live in her fucking fairy tale land forever.

“Get out of here.” I said, nodding my head towards the door. “You had no business coming here to begin with.”

“I only came to say thank you. No one has ever done that for me before.”

“What,” I spat with a scowl, “hurt s… someone for you?”

She shook her head in response and turned away, stepping back into her room before she spoke again.

“Cared.”

◆◆◆

If anyone would’ve asked me if I thought I’d be pacing outside of some girl’s room at one in the morning, I would’ve laughed in their fucking face. Yet here I was. Feeling like a sack of shit for being cruel to a woman I knew everything and yet nothing about. I was tormenting myself, but the sick masochist in me craved the punishment.

After she left, I laid in bed and shut my eyes. I tried to fall asleep, but no matter what I did, my mind wouldn’t stop racing. I just kept thinking about what happened. The feel of her wetness gliding against my hand, her deliciously sweet scent filling my senses. I assumed she was bluffing. She didn’t want me; it was just another way for her to prove her strength in a world that would eat her alive if she didn’t. But I felt the heat radiating off of her body and the electric current flowing between us. She wanted me and I was a stubborn dickhead about it.

I needed to get my mind off of her, so I grabbed my phone for an easy distraction. As soon as I unlocked the screen, I saw eight text notifications and three missed calls. Sliding open the group chat, I checked to see what I missed.

Ezra (7:47 PM): Where the fuck is everyone? Our kitten isn’t playing nice.

Cyrus (7:47 PM): Looking for T. What’s up?

Atlas (7:48 PM): Already OMW

Ezra (7:48 PM): Sending a video. Kittens got claws. 😉

The video’s audio was shit between all the screaming and music pumping through the speakers, but the visuals were clear as day. The video showed Stevie in a blind rage, straddling Melanie as she punched her in the face over and over again. The camera zoomed in on Stevie’s face just in time to catch a menacing smile form across her lips. The entire crowd continued to watch, enamored by the tiny girl with a taste for violence. If I listened hard enough, I could pick up bits and pieces of what the crowd was saying. The overall consensus was that Stevie was now the craziest bitch in Caspian Hills.

Cyrus (7:51 PM): WTF?

Atlas (7:52 PM): Got her. Heading home now. Ez, give the twins a ride.

Ezra (7:54 PM): Np

Cyrus (7:54 PM): We’re down the block. T’s blowing off some steam.

I’d made assumptions about Stevie that were unfair. The Malcolm shit had blindsided me. We all assumed he was her pimp, not her fucking step dad. Apologizing wasn’t something I did freely, but if anyone deserved one, it was her.

“Stevie…” I called out, racking my knuckles against her door.

If she didn’t answer, I wouldn’t push her. I’d done enough tormenting for the night.

“What do you want Tristan?” She asked, her voice clear as day. She couldn’t sleep either.

My pulse intensified at the sound of her gentle, melodic voice. I didn’t think she’d be able to decipher my voice from Cyrus’ that easily. Even our own brothers had a hard time telling our voices apart, but it shouldn’t have surprised me. In the little time I’d known her, Stevie proved to be observant as hell.

Pressing my forehead against the door, I ransacked my mind for what to say next.

“You fought Melanie.” I mused before immediately cursed myself for making such a dumb observation. No shit, asshole. I had seen the video and the cuts and scrapes on her face.

“I did.” She responded cooly.

“Why?” I breathed.

It was a loaded question if there ever was one. Stevie seemed like a smart girl. Every move she made with us thus far was made with extreme caution. When I left them, their petty argument could’ve ended right then. Something Mel said pushed her into violence, and I needed to know what it was.

“You know why.” She hesitated, “you heard what she said. She deserved it after the way she spoke to you.”

“I s… see.” I said, at a loss for words.

“Did you want to come in? Or…”

“No.” I cut her off, more harshly than I intended.

“Oh.” She murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

Fuck. I was fucking this up already, and I hadn’t even told her why I came.

“My s… stutter.” I stammered, grimacing to myself. “It’s easier to control when I’m alone.”

I could hear the sounds of her settling herself just beyond the door, and the tightness in my chest eased. She was willing to hear me out.

“I’m s… sorry about earlier.”

She’d shared shit about her ugly past and I toyed with her. Treated her like shit because of my own insecurities. Because I didn’t want to believe that she actually gave a fuck.

“Okay… ” she said, her voice slightly louder than a whisper, “I won’t say it’s okay, because it wasn’t. But I understand that you probably don’t trust me.”

Stevie perpetually threw me off axis and whenever she was around, I tried to grasp onto the cold disposition I wore like a shield. With every gentle word she uttered, I could feel it wearing thin. She was right. I didn’t trust her. I didn’t trust anyone except my brothers. But she was the only girl I’d ever met that made me want to change that.

“You aren’t wrong.” I offered, sliding down to lean my back against the door.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she added, “I don’t trust you either.”

I had to laugh at that admission. Smart girl.

“Why’s that?” I grinned, closing my eyes to focus on the sound of her lyrical voice.

Because I rarely used my own, voices naturally stood out to me. As I grew older, voice analyzing was a natural progression that I sort of picked up along the way. You could tell a lot about a person by their voice. Stevie’s voice was soft and sweet, but not in a weak way. There was power behind her words and it took strength to emanate that with such soft tonality.

“Because I don’t know you. This is the first time you’ve talked to me without a threat in your tone.”

She wasn’t wrong. It was also the first time I didn’t feel the need to fight whatever was happening between us. She offered a piece of her past; it was only fair that I offered her some of mine.

“Could I…” I winced, hating how weak it sounded. “I’m going to share something with you.”

“Okay…” She trailed off, waiting for me to speak.

“Our parents died too.” I blurted, then immediately knocked my head against the door. This sharing shit was so fucking stupid, but I couldn’t stop now.

“Cy and I were s… six when it happened, Atlas was eleven, and Ezra was nine. We had no immediate family, s… so we went into the system.”

I paused, debating if I should go further. Anyone armed with google and our last name could find the admission I gave her, but what I was about to share went much deeper. It was something we rarely spoke of, even to each other.

“We got s… separated when Cyrus and I got fostered. Ez got fostered a few years later while Atlas s… stayed in the group home until he was sixteen.”

“At first our foster parents, Ryan and Joanne Kincaid, s… seemed like the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, all American couple. Cyrus and I, with our dark hair and p… perpetual frowns didn’t really fit in with that image, but we agreed to try, anyway. We missed our b… brothers, b… but we thought The Kincaids were going to be the normal parents we’d always wished we had.” I said, releasing a deep exhale and knowing just how wrong we were.

“It d… didn’t take long for Ryan to discover my s… stutter. He was a very particular man, and he hated the attention and pity my s… stutter would draw when we were in public. He genuinely believed he could beat the s… stutter out of me and when that didn’t work, he started beating Cyrus and I for s… sport. Whenever I could, I’d force Cyrus to trade places with me s… so I could take the brunt of his abuse. I figured, my brain was fucked, anyways. What kind of damage could another couple of hits do?” I asked, laughing darkly at my ignorance.

“As it turns out, a lot. After Atlas got us the fuck out of there the minute he turned eighteen, all the doctors, therapists, and s… speech pathologists he forced me to see confirmed what we s… suspected. My s… stutter could’ve gone away on its own with time and therapy, but thanks to the s… severe brain trauma I endured at the hand of The Kincaids, all I could do now is try my best to not trigger it. Our childhoods weren’t very different, Stevie. Maybe our paths were d… destined to cross.”

“Yeah. Maybe…” She trailed off, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Thank you for listening.” I quipped, stretching as I rose to my feet.

I had enough kumbaya time to last me a lifetime. Stevie didn’t sound like she hated me, and I could live with that. I turned to leave, then paused. Realizing I forgot to tell her the best part of the story.

“My story has a happy ending.” I admitted, trying to choose my words carefully. I was going to reveal something to Stevie that no one but my brothers knew. It was pertinent information that could get us in a lot of trouble if it fell into the wrong hands, but I had an overwhelming urge to trust her. “Cyrus and I killed Ryan Kincaid the second we had a chance, and we’ve never regretted it.”

“I hope you get yours one day too, pet.”