Vicious Hearts: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

“Do you know why I am in here, little bird?”

I nod. “Yes, Papa.”

But he’s going to tell me again, anyway.

“I’m here,” he growls, shoving his fingers through his long silver hair, “because the world is full of sinners and monsters, Una. And to kill monsters, you have to embrace the darkness. To kill monsters, little bird, you have to be one, too.”

Across the room, Dr. Thompson sits with two of her assistants. I like Dr. Thompson. She’s always so nice to us—to Finn and me.

It makes me happy when people are nice to Finn.

Currently, she’s watching Finn draw a picture of the minor league baseball game our group home went to see the other day.

“Look at me, Una.”

I start, pulling my eyes back to my father. He gazes at me steadily.

“Somehow, in that shared womb, you took all of it, my girl.”

I frown. “All of—”

I cry out, wincing when he smacks the top of my hand.

“Do not interrupt me when I am speaking.”

I nod, pulling my hand back and rubbing it with my other one.

“Power, Una. The ability and drive to be brutal. That is what you took all of. Your brother?” He scoffs. “He has none of that. Finn will never be a monster.”

I resist the urge to smile.

Good.

“But you, my daughter. You have that monster inside of you. You will be an avenging angel for God when the time is right.”

When he sees the question in my eyes, he smiles.

“You may speak.”

“What would I be avenging, Papa?”

“Sin,” he growls. “You will be punishing the wicked for their evil ways.” His eyes narrow. “You will punish the monsters who put me in this place.”

The sound of a chair scraping back across the floor has me turning to see Dr. Thompson and her assistants standing.

“Well,” she smiles at me, my father, and then at Finn. “We’ll take a short break from observation to give the three of you some time alone.”

I wish she wouldn’t. I know she does it because she thinks she’s being nice, giving us time alone with our father, without being watched.

But those are the times I fear the most.

That’s when he teaches us his lessons.

Metes out his punishments.

But she doesn’t see the unspoken fear on my face as she smiles again before leaving, closing the door behind us.

Instantly, my father’s eyes land on Finn.

“Boy.”

Finn stiffens, his face paling as he sits up and stares straight ahead.

“BOY.”

Finn turns to look at our table. My father smiles a mirthless smile. “Come. Show me what you were drawing.”

Finn swallows, standing slowly and picking up the drawing. He shuffles over and lays it on the table.

“It’s a baseball game, sir,” he says quietly, biting his lip. “We went to one last week with—”

“And what is this, on the back—”

“It’s nothing,” Finn blurts, slamming his hand down on the edge of the paper.

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Our father’s eyes flash with anger. “Lift your hand, boy, or I will lift it for you.”

Finn’s eyes, already brimming with tears, dart to mine in appeal.

“Papa,” I say. “Look at the baseball—”

Finn winces as our father yanks his hand away and whips the paper over.

Oh God…

His eyes narrow to slits, his lip curling as he looks at the picture Finn has started on this side. Slowly, he smiles horribly at Finn.

“And what have you drawn here, boy?” he says quietly. “Describe it to me.”

I want to scream at Finn. I want to ask him what possessed him to draw such a thing. But I’m silent, helpless, as I stare at the drawing of what is clearly a jail cell, with a man behind bars.

A man with a silver beard and long silver hair. A man snarling in rage, with angry red eyes, a red pointy tail, and pointy red horns.

The room is silent.

“What is this, boy.”

Finn swallows nervously.

“I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!!!” Papa bellows, making us both flinch.

“It’s a jail!” Finn blurts.

“And who. Is. THAT.” His finger stabs the drawing as Finn shrinks.

“I—”

“Is it me?”

Finn pales. “I—it’s only a drawing, Papa—”

He shrieks as the back of our father’s hand smacks him across the face, sending him sprawling on the floor. I scream and jump to my feet. But our father whirls on me, snarling.

“SIT DOWN.”

He spins back to Finn, his mouth a thin line, his eyes filled with malice.

“Honor thy father, boy.”

“Papa! Please!” I scream. He ignores me.

He walks over to the corner of the room where Dr. Thompson keeps art supplies, kids’ books, and some toys for us. His hand clasps the thin, pink rubber jump rope I’ve gotten fairly good at. He pulls it from its hook , gripping both plastic handles in his fist and coiling the cable once around his hand.

“If you think I am the devil, my son,” he rasps, “then I will beat the devil from you.”

Finn scrambles to his feet and tries to run. But Papa is too fast. He grabs him by the back of his shirt, yanking him to the ground before slamming him into the wall. He raises his fist, and I scream as loudly as Finn as the pink rubber jump rope sings through the air and whips across Finn’s back.

“NO!”

No. Not this. Not to Finn, who’s so kind and sweet it hurts my heart. Before I realize it, I grab a pencil, rush my father, and don’t even blink as I stab the point into his shoulder. It stays lodged in there. Oh God, what have I done.

Papa roars, whirling with rage in his eyes. He hisses, letting go of Finn and reaching up and back to yank the pencil from his body. He tosses it away, his eyes slowly lifting to me as I stand there, petrified with fear.

Then he smiles.

“The will to be brutal. To kill or be killed.” His eyes flash. “There is my daughter.”

The smile evaporates from his face.

“Do you think I’m wrong for punishing your brother?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s just a picture.”

He shakes his head. “Wrong. Because when you let them hurt and betray you in small ways, they will come back and do it two-fold the next time. Now, shall I continue correcting him?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“The punishment must come, Una. If it doesn’t come for Finn—”

“I’ll take it.”

Finn stares at me in horror.

“Una—!”

“Be silent, boy,” my father growls, still staring right at me. “Finn, sit in that chair. And then I want you to watch, and to see what a true O’Conor is prepared to do for family.”

“Papa, please don’t—”

“SIT IN THE CHAIR!”

Finn starts to cry, but I nod reassuringly at him. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s okay—”

“Turn around, Una,” Papa growls. “And lift up your shirt, so it does not tear. This is a lesson you will not soon forget.”

All through the screams, and the feel of fire ripping across my back, and the wet tears dripping hot down my face as I grit my teeth, with each blow, I realize he’s right.

I will not soon forget this.

But whatever lesson he wants me to learn, the one I will take from that day along with the marks on my back that will never fade is that I will never be him.

I will never be a monster.

Ever.

When the door is securely locked behind us, Cillian moves across the floor of the penthouse, turning on a few lights and shrugging off his black suit jacket.

I can’t move. I just stand motionless in the front entryway, my arms limp at my sides.

My stomach is knotted, my heart frozen, and the voice of a dead monster is still snarling in my head.

Everything hurts from when Cillian tackled me to the floor. There’s bits of frosting, cake, and blast-soot still in my hair, on my face, hardened onto the dress.

“There’s not much in the fridge,” Cillian mutters from the kitchen area. “But I’ll have someone go out for—”

He turns, and his face hardens.

“Una.”

I don’t respond, staring at an invisible spot on the floor five feet in front of me. Hearing, but not. All I can really hear is that snarling, biting, vicious voice of the devil I once called father snapping at my heels.

“Una.”

Cillian’s directly in front of me, but I still can’t answer. Or even look away from whatever the hell spot I’m staring at on the floor.

“You’re safe,” he growls quietly. “Nothing is going to—Una!”

I don’t even realize I’m falling until he catches me. It’s like my legs don’t work anymore, along with my voice.

Cillian’s strong, muscled arms go around me, and suddenly he’s lifting me up and cradling me in those arms against his chest, like I’m a small child. I’d protest, if I had a voice. I’d hit him, if my arms worked.

But I can’t, so I just stay still as he marches down the hallway, into his bedroom, and then into the ensuite bathroom. He storms right into the huge, glass-walled shower, using his foot to kick on the overhead rainfall showerhead.

I gasp, jolting and shivering as cold water pours down on both of us—clothes, shoes, and all. But quickly it turns hot and steamy, melting away the chill and the tension.

Cillian lowers me to my feet, keeping a firm hold on my arms as I find my balance. I still can’t talk, and I’m still staring blankly at the wall. But I’m aware of him kneeling under the rush of the water and slipping off my heels.

Then of him standing and pulling the zipper down on the dress until it slips off my shoulders and drops to a black puddle at my feet. The hot water runs over my body, turning my bra and panties transparent and pasting them to my skin.

I’m dimly aware of Cillian undoing his shirt and tossing it aside before stepping out of his trousers.

I shiver from something other than cold when his arms surround me, cocooning me in his strength and his warmth. His lips touch the top of my head as the water pours over both of us, steam filling the shower.

And slowly, I uncoil.

Slowly, all the tension, the torment, the anxiety, and the ghosts of the past leave me. And as I unclench, I’m finally fully aware of the muscled body and the power surrounding me.

“Why are you doing this?”

He turns me until I’m facing him, one hand cupping my chin and raising my face to his.

“What?”

“Why…” I swallow, feeling so…weak. So fragile. So close to breaking. “Why are you helping me?”

“You’re my wife.”

“Cillian—”

“This might all be for show,” he growls, his hand cupping my cheek as the other arm circles my back. “And you might have fucking stabbed me, and there might be an expiration date to all this.”

I tremble as green fire ignites behind his eyes.

“But I will never let anything or anyone hurt you.”

“I—”

“Ever.”

His mouth suddenly crushes to mine.

Brutally. Viciously.

Consuming me.

I shudder, whimpering as his lips sear mine, and his tongue slips between them. I moan as he kisses me deeply, and when his hands slide down to my hips, I gasp as he suddenly lifts me into his arms as if I’m weightless.

My own arms slip around him, my pulse thudding with fear and excitement—with lust and an explosiveness that both terrifies and electrifies me.

I moan into his mouth, whimpering at the brutality of the kiss as he storms from the bathroom, both of us dripping water as he moves into the bedroom.

Adrenaline and desire sizzle through my veins, and my pulse lurches as he suddenly drops me—letting me free-fall until I land on my back on the soft warmth of his bed. Without even missing a beat, he’s on top of me, crushing his mouth to mine again and kissing me even more viciously than before.

His lips and teeth move to my neck, biting hard and making me cry out as the pleasure shivers through my core.

“I only had you for a moment that first time,” he rasps into my ear as I whimper and cling to him. “This time, you can be sure I’ll be taking my fucking time with you.”

“I—”

“And don’t worry, little rabbit,” he growls thickly. “I’ll be sure to make it hurt.”

Oh, fuck yes.

Snarling, growling desire explodes inside of me as he bites down even harder on my neck, making me cry out in a sinfully delicious mix of pain and pleasure.

“Will you be my good girl and beg for it harder?”

“Yes!” I choke.

“Yes, what?”

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

If I wasn’t already a freaking puddle, I am now.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

I shudder as he bites me again, mauling my fucking neck as my legs wrap around his muscled hips. I can feel him there—right there—the pulsing thickness of his bulge pressing against my pussy through the sheer, wet panties between us.

Cillian moves lower, biting and sucking at my breasts as he rips off my bra and tosses it aside. His mouth closes around a nipple, and I prepare myself for the attack, but still it hurts so fucking good when he bites hard on the tender pink nub and growls into my skin like an angry beast.

He moves from one nipple to the other, before he slides further down my trembling body. My pulse hammers like a drum in my ears as he drops to his knees on the floor, yanking me toward him with my ass on the edge of the bed. He peels the wet panties from my body, and I shiver with heat under his piercing gaze as his eyes land between my legs.

Slowly, a low growl rumbling in throat, his eyes raise to mine.

“You do know I’m going to ruin you, don’t you?”

“Please do, Sir.”

The look on his face when I say it is pure, violent lust. And suddenly, I’m crying out as his mouth descends between my thighs. His tongue drags slowly over my pussy, and I gasp when his powerful hands grip my thighs and hike them up over his shoulders.

He plunges his tongue deep inside, fucking me with it as I shudder and writhe under him. He turns his head, biting down on my tender inner thigh, making me squeal in pain before he suddenly assuages it by taking my aching clit between his lips and rolling his tongue across it.

Then he bites my thigh again, before going back to my pussy.

My whole body shakes. My head spins. It’s like going from ice water, to a scorching hot tub, then back to ice, then back to heat again. My senses are overloaded and near the point of short-circuiting. The way he plays my body like a virtuoso musician has me losing any grasp on reality.

Then his hand slides up my body. His fingers wrap around my throat as he devours my pussy. And when he starts to squeeze, hard, the final missing piece of my depraved puzzle clicks into place and ignites me as I rush toward the explosion.

Danger.

The feeling of his hand squeezing off my air as he wrenches and rips the pleasure from my body with his tongue snaking over my clit has my back arching from the bed, my eyes bulging and my face turning red as the sinful pleasure sinks its claws into me.

“I hope you remember our safe word.”

His hand starts to squeeze harder.

A lot harder.

My throat closes as Cillian completely shuts off my air supply.

And it’s so fucking good it scares me.

“Say the word, Una,” he rasps, devouring my pussy as my eyes roll back. “Say the fucking word if you need it.”

I don’t remember the word.

And it’s that extreme fear—that knowledge that I don’t know the word that would let me breathe again—that suddenly takes me from losing control to outer-fucking-space.

Black spots swirl at the edges of my vision. The room spins. The only thing I can feel is his hand on my throat and his tongue dancing over my clit.

I don’t remember the safe word.

I don’t remember the—

Blue.

The safe word from the night at Club Venom is blue.

…But I don’t say it. And he doesn’t let up. And suddenly, my entire universe catches fire as I positively explode.

“BLUE!!!” I scream, choking through his grip on my throat as I come harder than I’ve ever come before—even harder than the night he pinned me against the wall and rammed through my virginity.

“Blue!” I choke over and over. “Blue! Blue! Blue…”

I collapse, dragging in rasping, choked breaths of clean, fresh air as his hand leaves my neck.

And then suddenly he’s covering me with his body, cocooning me in his warmth and his strength again…cupping my face as he kisses me. I kiss him back, winding myself around him and eagerly tasting myself on his lips and tongue.

Cillian strokes my skin gently as my breathing returns to normal and the spots leave my vision. Slowly, he pulls back, his eyes locked on mine.

The front of his boxers obscenely tented.

The promise of much, much more written hungrily all over his face.

My pulse quickens and my eyes widen as I slowly nod. Cillian’s thumbs hook into his boxers, sliding the waistband lower down his grooved hips until I can see the thick base of his huge cock.

This time, he’ll fuck me for real.

Last time, it was only one thrust—one first thrust that had me exploding…right before I stabbed him and ran away.

He slips off his boxers, and my mouth drops open in shock as his thick, large cock springs free, bobbing swollen and heavy between my thighs, inches above my slick opening.

No, this time, it won’t only be one thrust.

Cillian’s eyes blaze with green fire as he wraps a hand around his cock and lazily runs the head over my lips. I whimper, shivering in pleasure before suddenly, the reality of it all hits me as he eases himself against my opening.

“Remember that safe word,” he growls as his hand slides up my body to pinch one of my nipples, making me quiver and whine as he starts to push his hips.

“Just…” my brows knit, my lip catching in my teeth. “Just…”

He frowns, waiting.

“Just…go slow?”

He starts to smile sadistically. But suddenly, he stops. His brow furrows, and I shiver as his eyes stab into mine.

“Una.”

“I want you to do it,” I hiss. “Fuck me. Just, when you do, go—”

“Una.”

My eyes slide up to his and my lips quiver as my pulse roars.

“Jesus Christ…”

“No, Cill—”

“Tell me that wasn’t your first time.”

I stiffen, blinking as my breath hitches.

“Una,” he hisses quietly, his brow furrowed deeply, a look I can’t quite place on his face. “I need you to fucking tell me—”

“I can’t do that.”