Twisted Devotion: A Dark Obsession Romance (Kings and Consorts)

She got me in the fucking mouth. The taste of blood coated my tongue as I held her to the ground. I had at least sixty pounds on her but she was slippery. Quick, like a cat. I blinked in the dark, the shapes of her face and body barely visible. If I let go of her for a second, she wouldn’t just slip away, she’d completely disappear.

I didn’t expect her to come quietly but I didn’t think she’d be this tenacious.

She sure as hell didn’t get it from her father.

The sweet scent of the wine oozed from her pores, mingling with the scent that was uniquely her. I’d scented it on her pillows. On the couch. In the clothes she stripped off and left in piles on the bathroom floor after a long day spent with the dead.

Magnolia blossom, honey, and smooth musk.

In baggy sweats and a loose hoody her body still managed to be wired and electric under her clothes. I knew she’d fight me until she got away, or until she couldn’t anymore and was convinced she was the only thing truly living and vital in this place.

I held her down, fought her as her body writhed and fought for freedom beneath me. Fear radiated off of her, the vestiges of her resistance, waning with exhaustion but not gone. She shook, the breath coming out of her in small gasps. She was crying.

I gritted my teeth against the hunger.

Not yet.

I couldn’t have her yet.

I removed my hand from her mouth, looking through the dark into her eyes.

The unnaturally bright green hue was lost to me in the dark but I knew they were wide with fear. My cock filled with blood, throbbing as it thickened, making me grimace.

“Please…” she whispered, trailing off as she ceased trying to pull her arms free, her chest rising and falling so fully, so quickly, that each breath saw her nipples brushing my chest.

Unable to keep control for another fucking second, I dropped a hand to the collar of her loose t-shirt and jerked it downward. Fabric snapped and tore, exposing her to me in the dark.

She let out a cry as I circled her left tit with my hand, drawing it into my mouth to taste her. Emily gasped, bucking beneath me, her thighs pressing hard on either side of my knee between her legs.

Fuck. She tasted like honey and salt. Sweet and potent. I ran my teeth along the ridge of her nipple, teasing it, testing it, biting before smoothing my tongue over the hurt.

She let out a whimper, her body pressing into me, pulling away, pressing in again as I smiled against her breast.

That’s right, little lamb, you want this. You want me. You crave the touch of the monster in the dark.

I pulled back and she squirmed, trying to get away again, her purpose renewed. I twisted her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, just enough for her to stop jerking, to understand who was in control.

“The more difficult you make this, Emily, the more I’ll have to punish you for your insolence. And you aren’t the only one who’ll pay for it…”

“No…”

“Yes.”

“Don’t hurt my dad. Please.”

I dipped my head, nuzzling into her neck, an addict needing another fix. Her scent so sweet, edged with a sour tang of fear made my fucking chest ache.

The faster I got her to the house, the sooner I’d get to stop wondering what sort of sounds she’d make when I was inside her. How she tasted after I made her come.

She opened her mouth to scream and I pushed two fingers into it, pressing them flat against her tongue, pushing them deep until she gagged on them.

“Do not scream,” I warned, tugging my fingers free just a second before she clamped her jaw down, trying to bite me. “So feisty, Miss Snow.”

“Fuck you.”

“Keep going,” I purred, pressing the apex of my knee into her cunt. “See where all this defiance gets you.”

Taking a zip tie from my back pocket, I slid it over her wrists and tightened it. I eyed her like she was a controlled flame that might flare at any second. The hard plastic strip felt flimsy against her fierce will to escape.

Pinning her arms up above her head, I took my phone out, calling Nixon.

“Ready,” I barked, glad I’d elected to bring him.

“Who are you?”

I glanced down at her, only able to make out the shape of her in the dark, regretting my decision to cut the power. I wanted to see her.

For a girl who didn’t come easily, I knew it killed her to submit to me like this. She’d spit in my face if she wasn’t afraid of what would happen to her father.

“You know who I am.”

I let up on her wrists, leaning back to peer outside for any sign of Nixon.

She took her opportunity, yanking her hands out from under mine, ramming her joined wrists into my face. The dull thud of the heels of her hands connecting with my jaw sent a shock of pain through my skull.

She struggled out from under me, clumsily crawling for the door.

A growl tore from my throat as I wrestled her back to me, groping blindly behind myself for one of the cushions that had fallen onto the floor. She swung her joined arms like a hammer, landing shots to my face and head before I finally got on top of her and sealed the pillow over her face.

I didn’t want to mark up her pretty face. Didn’t want to risk concussion with a blow to the head.

“Shhh,” I urged her, pinning her between my legs.

The plush material silenced her scream.

Her arms jerked frantically, trying to tear the pillow from her face. She flailed, desperate for air, her body flying into panic. One hand hooked into the collar of my shirt, her fingernails scoring my skin, trying to grab onto something.

I held fast, waiting, counting the seconds.

“Just relax, baby. Sleep.”

She jerked and then stilled, the power slipping from her like turning off a switch. I slipped the pillow from her face, bending to hover an ear over her mouth while two fingers pressed to the notch under her jaw, feeling for her pulse.

It was there, weakened, but there.

Soft breaths fanned over my cheek.

She wouldn’t be out long.

I prodded my eyebrow and jaw, checking to see whether she managed to split the skin, flinching from the tenderness. I smiled in spite of it, impressed.

She’d still pay for it, though.

I lifted her limp body from the floor, tucking her into my chest, marveling at the feel of her in my arms, at her lightness.

The cabin door opened and Nixon stood there, backlit in moonlight.

“This her?

I handed Emily off to him.

“She’ll be waking up soon, and she’s a fighter.”

Nixon scoffed and squinted, getting a better look at me as we stepped out onto her porch.

“She did that to your lip?” he asked, tilting his chin up in my direction.

“Put her in the trunk unless you want the same.”

Nix laughed darkly, underestimating her as I had.

I watched him carry her easily up the rise that took him back to the front of the property where he parked.

I’d have much rather stayed with her, but I had something else to take care of before I could leave. An unforeseen roadblock I’d had to deal with earlier.

I climbed down off the patio and spotted it on the ground. The awkward, lifeless heap that was her boyfriend.

Well, her ex-boyfriend now.

The bouquet he brought her had rolled under the patio.

During my attempt to subdue Emily inside, I’d almost forgotten that he was out here.

A frustrated sigh fell from my lips.

I’d been watching her for a little under an hour when his car arrived. Coming down to her cabin with a twelve dollar grocery store bouquet. She deserved better.

I’d brushed the dark hair from her face, my thumb lingering on her lower lip, feeling the warmth of her breath as I watched his headlights bounce over the windows. “I’ll deal with this,” I’d told her, caressing her jaw in her sleep before leaving.

I did not take kindly to interruptions, and he didn’t have a right to touch what was mine.

Carlos froze when he saw me slip from the cabin, straightening my jacket. I padded down the creaking steps, stalking over to him, making his face pinch in confusion.

“Uh, hey, man,” he said, already cowering, his throat bobbing as his grip on the bouquet loosened. “You a friend of Em’s?”

“Not exactly.”

His lips parted at the sound of my voice and recognition seemed to flare in his dull brown eyes. He huffed a laugh, throwing a hand through his hair. “Great,” he said. “That’s just fucking great.”

I cocked my head at him, watching him as he tossed the bouquet to the ground. “You’re the jackass who got her into all that shit, aren’t you?” Another dark laugh, a hand swiped over his mouth as anger heated his stare. “The choking and shit. Yeah. You look the fucking type. Jesus.”

Heat ricocheted up my back and I clenched my jaw against the swell of violence in my blood, controlling it.

“You need to leave.”

I’d give only one warning.

He stared at me openly, shock slacking his jaw until his gaze narrowed, hardening. “Yeah. No problem. You can keep her. Fucking whore.”

He turned, but I jerked him back, slamming a closed fist into his face, barely registering the movement until it was done. The worthless skinbag fell to the ground, a hard knock sounding as his head connected with a boulder near the base of Emily’s porch.

“Get up,” I hissed, my fist shaking at my side, thirsty for the breaking of bones.

But Carlos didn’t get up, and as a cloud drifted away from the moon, I tipped my head back, rolling my eyes at the heavens.

A rapidly growing pool of blood spread out around Carlos’ head where it lay next to the crimson spattered boulder. His wide eyes looked out into the trees, vacant.

Now, I grabbed the body, hefting it over one shoulder, mulling over everything I could have done differently tonight.

I should have waited.

Been better prepared instead of deciding last minute to execute the plan.

I got what I came for and then some, but it’d been sloppy, protracted, and had come too close to failure for comfort.

It would all be worth it, but with her one-hundred-sixty-pound boyfriend on my back, getting heavier with each step, the end goal got a little hard to see.

My chest heaved and my legs burned by the time I got up to the undertaker’s house. I dropped Carlos on the steps and rang the doorbell. Why not give him a chance to let me in himself before I took matters into my own hands?

A thrill went through me, picturing Nixon unloading Emily into the mansion. She’d be there when I returned. Waiting for me.

The only thing that stood between me and her now was her greedy father and this corpse.

I balled my fist, slamming it into the wooden door. The light turned on upstairs. Moments later, I heard the lock on the other side of the door. It opened. The undertaker’s beady eyes squinted, then bugged out when he recognized me.

“Mr.-Mr. Monroe. Good evening. If-if this is about the money—”

For once, it wasn’t. I slammed my hand against the door, wedging my boot against it so that he couldn’t close it.

“I have a body for you,” I said, motioning over my shoulder.

He was slow on the uptake, frowning at me.

“I paid your daughter a visit. Pretty girl.”

He blanched, his frantic gaze searching for the body in question as he barreled past me.

“Oh God.”

The undertaker crouched over the young man’s lifeless body, hands fluttering just above his bloodied head.

His chin jerked up, intent on Emily’s cabin far through the trees down the path. He stumbled over the body in its direction.

“She’s not there,” I yelled after him, stopping him in his tracks, a slow grin splitting the cut on my lip.

“What did you do to her? Where is she?”

“If you want to see her again, you’re going to get rid of that corpse, gratis. And if I so much as hear about another body being turned around… If you deign to demand another fucking pay hike… I’ll kill her.”

“You took her.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t see the need to respond.

“Please. Please, you can’t hurt her. I-I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll do the work for free. Just give her back to me.”

I shook my head. “The price was already settled upon. Four thousand per disposal. No more. No less. And you’ll get your daughter if and when I feel you’ve learned your lesson.”

His stark white hair blew in the breeze as he hung his head, his shoulders shaking, sagging with defeat.

He kept his gaze trained straight down as he dragged himself back toward the mortuary, but I could see how his green eyes burned with anger.

The protective fire that men had for their children. There was more life hiding in that shell of a man than I gave him credit for.

“Where is she?” he asked.

I could tell him but it was none of his business, but that wouldn’t give me the cooperation I sought. “She’s likely arriving at my home as we speak. Being brought upstairs, to a bedroom where I’ll visit her later. What you decide to do right now will determine how that visit will end.”

“You won’t hurt her if I cooperate?” he asked, shuffling forward. I balked, thinking he might fall to his knees next and beg.

My lips twisted.

“Do your fucking job and she’ll live.”

The undertaker looked grimly down at Carlos.

“Can you—” he cut himself short when I glared at him. Averting his eyes, he quickly moved around the body, taking him under the arms and heaving him up. I watched, annoyance flaring as the undertaker struggled with the body alone.

I’d be here for hours if I planned to see this through.

I grabbed Carlos’ legs, grunting as we hefted him down to the furnace.

“It takes a while to fire up,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow as he jammed buttons, turning the enormous furnace on.

I leaned against the wall, waiting. Through the window in the door, I could see the cooling chamber in the room across from this one, imagining slabs of dead bodies, frozen like butchered elk on ice.

“Did she see him die?” the undertaker asked, sliding the watch off the boyfriend’s wrist, the rings from his fingers.

“Who? Emily?”

“Did you kill her boyfriend in front of her?” he asked, green eyes muted and cold. He looked shrunken, like someone had wrung the juice out of him.

“No,” I replied, feeling generous. “She doesn’t even know he’s dead.”

I’d tell her when I returned to the mansion.

I was curious to know how she would take it.

Truth be told, I hadn’t planned to kill the guy. Not yet, anyway.

He didn’t have to die for me to get Emily where I wanted her, but he’d put himself in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time and said exactly the wrong thing.

Don’t kill them unless you need them dead.

Thane’s voice echoed in my head.

I learned that a long time ago. Corpses drew attention and enemies were easy to make in this line of work. If someone died by my hand, it was because they needed to be dead. I didn’t target civilians and it was rare that they ended up in the line of fire.

Carlos’ family might mourn him. Emily might mourn him too but the world wasn’t going to lose out on much now that Carlos Isaac was dead.

If anything, I might’ve done it a favor.

The only regret I had was still being here overseeing the disappearance of his body instead of being with Emily.

“How do I know you won’t hurt her?”

He didn’t, and I would.

Emily would learn things about herself that no man, definitely not the incinerator bound loser, could have taught her. I would make her submit to me in ways she didn’t even think were possible. I’d give her the sweetest pain. The greatest pleasure. I’d break her and spend each day laying her shattered pieces back into place, shaping something new. Something made for me.

If Emily returned to this place, she wouldn’t be his daughter anymore, not the one he recognized. Already her past was burning to worthless ash.

I was her future.