Malice (Dahlia Saga Book 1) Read online

  I blinked at him. Was he fucking with me? A man as arrogant as Julian had to know the effect his looks had on other people.

  “That isn’t exactly a secret,” I murmured.

  "This town has a lot of secrets, Doll-face. You shouldn’t let your guard down for just anyone. You don't know who’s safe and who isn't."

  I angled my body towards his and stared. What had I said to warrant this response? Why did he even say that? "What about you? Are you...safe?"

  "Tell me how you define safe."

  He pulled past a row of houses that had their porch lights on. Their hazy glow illuminated the inside of the car. My eyes swept over his physique, drinking in the outline of his toned body. I bit my lip and refrained from fanning myself like a hussy.

  Without so much as a glance in my direction, he pulled to the curb in front of my Dutch Colonial and stated casually, "You shouldn't look at me like that."

  "Like what?"

  "Like you want to fuck me,” he answered smoothly.

  "I don't want to fuck you. Release some of the air in your head, Jules," I huffed and re-crossed my arms.

  "No? I think you realize that you wouldn't be able to handle me." He finally glanced over, giving me an ornery smile.

  "How many times have I heard that before?"

  "The correct answer would be zero." His voice went flat.

  I remained quiet. One minute he was playful, the next he wasn’t. I didn’t know him well enough to assume why. The notion that it was because he wanted me was asinine. If anything, I was probably some type of a challenge on his end, and dominant men loved challenges.

  "Have dinner with me."

  "Julian." His name spilled from my mouth on a sigh and my eyes rolled. He posed this as a statement not a question.

  “What’s the issue? You just said you find me extremely attractive and deny all you want but I see the way you look at me, Morgana. The way you’ve always looked at me.”

  This conversation—this entire car ride had been teetering on the brink of awkward and uncomfortable. For me at least. He was right, I didn’t know how to handle him.

  When I didn’t say anything, he nodded to himself as if confirming something and shifted his car into park. "I'll ask you again on a different day." His voice was full of pure determination. I was beginning to think I was wrong about the conclusion I’d made just a few minutes ago.

  He climbed out and came around to open my door, standing by patiently as I did the same. I quietly bypassed him, making brief eye contact. The front door swung open, garnering my full attention. Before I completely moved away, he spoke loud enough for my ears only.

  “Keep running if you want to; I have good stamina. What you should worry about is what happens when I catch you."

  Chapter Three

  My brothers looked at the manila folder I had placed in front of them, momentarily silent and unbelieving.

  "You came up with all this during a car ride?" Porter's blue eyes flickered up and met mine.

  "What do you think?" I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the oak desk in front of me.

  "This is brilliant. You're a genius," Luca grinned.

  "There are still some kinks to work out, but my father, Gareth, was ecstatic." Having him on board with my plan was a bonus, but I would have moved forward regardless. I was tired of waiting for what should have been mine.

  "You're really doing this?" Isabelle asked.

  "We're doing this," Porter corrected her.

  "Julian, I think Morgana might be crazier than you are." Belle moved to the side so she could see my face. As if that would influence a decision I had already made.

  "I highly doubt that. She's lived here a while now and hasn't had any incidents," Luca pointed out. Though he didn't need to. Morgana may have had some issues, but where Belle fucked up was that my family wasn't crazy. It was almost insulting to be referred to as such. There just happened to be a potent strain of madness that ran in our blood. Nothing we couldn’t keep under control.

  "Her file is sitting right in front of your face. I know you've talked about this before, but not with any real consignment," Belle continued with a whine.

  The sound made me want to drive my precision scissors into her goddamn face.

  She was one of few women we allowed to question us, but this was her jealousy speaking, and it was pushing a patience button I didn't have.

  "We need to do this right if it’s going to work." I ignored Belle and got right to the logistics.

  "I'm in," Luca said, giving me a shit-eating grin.

  "I was in the second you said her name." Porter crossed his legs and glanced at Belle, letting her know she didn’t have the option of declining.

  "Okay. Then what are we going to do with her?" She pointed to the brown-haired woman in the corner of my office. My latest acquisition. Her bruises were starting to fade, and dried blood was encrusted around the flesh wounds that were trying to heal.

  She had eye-fucked me the second she saw me at Cleo's, the bar Luca and I frequented.

  Poor girl didn't know she was inviting a monster into bed. I should have killed her by now, but I knew we could get one more round out of her…or use her for a show.

  "I know what we can do with her." Luca stood from his chair and went towards the leather sofa.

  Leah watched him approach, a weary expression on her taut face, her blue eyes wide. I had broken her a few days ago, but she was still worth something since she was still breathing. Not much excitement left to her, though.

  I would love to find a woman who challenged me and fought back. They all tried. The longest one had held out was four months. She was rotting away somewhere in a septic tank, but it had been fun while it lasted.

  I listened to Luca tell me his plan and stared at the picture of Morgana in front of me…her full lips, flawless caramel skin, and her long, silky hair, the color of milk chocolate with toffee highlights. Her skin had a lingering scent of warm vanilla sugar. I could still smell it in my car and craved to have it all over my bed sheets.

  I’d begun to wonder if she thought that this was some sort of cruel joke on my behalf. Could she really be that naïve when it came to what I wanted?

  Well, when I considered who she was I supposed that made sense. I’d been giving subtle hints for quite a while now, which wasn’t my usual M.O. The only reason I took a brief hiatus in my pursuit was for her safety. I had to take a step back to stop myself from crushing her throat with my bare hands and then dumping her body in a river.

  No one rejected me. Usually, my bedroom voice and blessedly good looks were enough to spread legs on the first date. We would have our fun, and then I would let them go—straight into the ground, a lake, or an incinerator. It didn't matter. When a heart stopped beating, it no longer held any meaning.

  What made her think she was so special? Well, fuck me, she was special. The instant her father 'introduced' us, and her round eyes looked up at me, she was mine.

  But everyone had a place on my game board, and she was no exception to the rule. I was not the type of man who would rethink all my decisions because of a beautiful face and a tight pussy.

  A doorbell resounded in the room, jarring me from my thoughts and alerting me that the night's spectators had begun to arrive.

  "Let's see how our newest recruits do tonight." Retrieving my remote from the top desk drawer, I turned on the large flat screens hanging on the far office wall and settled in to enjoy the show.

  One screen showed the new moderator, Zach, escorting the patrons to the showroom located in the back of the Chateau. The other showed Isaiah prepping the Red Room.

  "Where did you find him again?" Porter asked, watching Isaiah move with quick efficiency, setting up the camera and organizing tools.

  "He was pretending to be asleep in the park and tried to rob me,” I answered, not taking my eyes off the screen.

  "And you took him out the kindness of your usually cold heart?" Belle scoffed. I reached back and tugged
her around to my front, forcing her to her knees. She moved her hands to my zipper, sliding it down and taking out my flaccid cock.

  My brothers didn't bat an eyelid, not caring and too focused on the woman being dragged into the Red Room.

  Luca had brought the skinny blonde back two weeks ago. Our time was limited at the moment, and she wasn't making any progress in her training. That meant I couldn't sell her, and if I couldn't sell her, she was taking up valuable space.

  She was dragged to the modified exam table by the root of her hair and began to restrain her. The gag in her mouth prevented us from hearing whatever she was trying to say. Begging, no doubt, pleading for the life she knew she was about to lose.

  The boys finished setting up and exited the room, flipping a switch that dimmed the fluorescent light to a faint red on their way out.

  Glancing at the other screen, I saw Zach had almost all fifteen patrons seated and was taking his place near the chat screen.

  Considering they had all paid a nice four grand to be here tonight, it was a definite profit for the Chateau. Giddy, excited whispers filtered into my office from the television's speakers until Phillip entering the Red Room had all conversation lowering to a near mute level.

  He had on his usual attire: a wolf mask and plastic coverings. Not only was Phillip one of our highest rated 'butchers,' but he also owned half of Chateau Dahlia. There were three original founding families; Dahlia had never, and would never, belong to anyone outside our inner circle. Sacred, private, and morbidly intimate, it was a place to have your dirtiest, most depraved fantasies brought to life.

  For a price, of course.

  Phillip put on his voice modifier, and then his specially made gloves. They weren't necessary, but it was one more precaution he took to keep his identity hidden.

  He removed the gag from the blonde woman’s mouth and walked to the metal table to get his scalpel. I had seen him do this so many times, I could narrate the scene with my eyes closed.

  "Please don't hurt me," the woman began to beg as soon as she was able to speak openly. Her voice scratched across my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. I could almost hear her dry lips crack as her mouth moved.

  Phillip ignored her, unaffected by her pleas. One time, he told me he had a permanent soundtrack in his mind. His torture was coordinated with whatever beat was in his head.

  He returned to the blonde and cut the cotton underwear off her body with two quick swipes of the scalpel, dragging it along her skin in the process. Sharp metal met soft flesh and created a beautiful river of red.

  Her cries of pain reverberated in the room but did nothing for me as they once would have. I’d been so bored lately. The shows were simply business transactions these days.

  Nevertheless, as Belle stroked my cock trying to coax it to life, I kept my eyes on the screen, watching rivers of blood run down the blonde's creamy thighs. Her bra was cut off next, exposing her small, perky breasts. Commands began to drift across the screen, all the things the viewers wanted to witness in green text.

  Phillip glanced at the screen he had in the room with him, trying to choose a prompt to start with. When he decided on one, he moved to the end of the table where the blonde's legs were restrained in stirrups and spread them as far as they would go. Her labia was hidden beneath a mound of curly pubic hair.

  Phillip started at her right ankle, dragging the scalpel back up in slow motion, stopping at her lips. Her screams rang out, begging him to stop. The skin on her legs was split open on both sides as she choked on sobs; her sandpaper voice was starting to give me a headache.

  Belle slipped my cock into her mouth, taking it all the way in, coming up, and repeating the motion as Phillip raised a hand for the camera; showing that the chain-mail material of his glove was covered in blood.

  Taking the scalpel that I was suddenly envious of, he began to flay the blonde's most private area, curving the handle and swirling it around as if he were a fucking artist. He dug the blade into the tender mound of her pussy, switching hands on the forty-eighth jab.

  Satisfied whispers could be heard from the showroom. I didn't think it was possible to hear the woman scream louder, but she did. I wished I were the one wielding the surgical knife. So many ideas circled in my head. Remove her clit, fuck her with the knife, and taste her.

  There was so much blood between the blonde's legs that it was impossible to see anything but the dark liquid coating the table and dripping onto the concrete floor.

  Her screams trickled off slowly, the pain making her shut down. Phillip wiped his scalpel on his overalls and went to get the smelling salts.

  Just as I was starting to get hard, my phone began to ring. My finger went to hit ignore, and then I saw the name. Grabbing the remote and shoving Belle off me, I turned the volume down on the television and answered.

  "Morgana.”

  "Uh...is this a bad time?"

  She must have heard the huskiness in my voice.

  "I'll always have time for you." I told her truthfully. Belle glared up at me. Without giving her the chance to open her fucking mouth and say something incriminating, I wrapped my hand around her throat. Morgana laughed in my ear, oblivious to what was happening on my end of the line.

  "I wanted to say thank you for the other day. You didn’t have to go out of your way to do that."

  "Julian?" She called my name when I didn't answer. My eyes had gone back to the screen, where Phillip was smearing the blonde’s blood around her mouth and unbuckling his pants.

  "You can thank me by coming for dinner.” I let the double meaning carry clearly.

  Belle clawed at my arms, her eyes watering. I squeezed harder. She knew better.

  "Jules, seriously?” Morgana sighed.

  The first thing my brain registered was that she called me Jules for the second time. This pleased me. This was progress.

  "Have dinner with me."

  There was a pause on her end of the line. I could almost hear her trying to think of an objection.

  "Fine, if you let me drive your car." She sounded smug, thinking I would give in. Luca gestured to the folder on my desk, saying everything without saying anything.

  It was too soon. We were not ready yet.

  "I'll take an I-owe-you." Before she could object, I hung up and watched Belle pass out. She would get over it. I let her slump to the floor, keeping my eyes glued to the screen, watching Philip fuck the dying blonde.

  A fantasy began to take shape, one where it wasn't Philip in the room in front of the camera. The woman in the chair was Morgana, and the man wielding the scalpel was me.

  I couldn’t recall the last time I had been so excited.

  Chapter Four

  I shut the door softly.

  I didn't want to alert my father and whoever his guests were that I was just getting home. You would think I was a sixteen-year-old girl who’d just snuck out for a night of raving, not a twenty-one-year-old young adult.

  The grandfather clock in the foyer let me know it was a quarter past midnight. Though I was no longer a child, I normally avoided disrespecting my parents by coming home at all hours of the night.

  Had it been up to me I’d have gotten in hours ago. Slipping my peep toe heels off, I crept towards the stairs. Halfway up, the floorboard that had been giving me away since we moved here decided to do it once again.

  Shit. The low voices I had heard just seconds before ceased.

  "Morgana?" my father called out; concern evident in his tone.

  If luck was on my side, I could skip the rest of the stairs two at a time and race to my room.

  "Morgana," he called out again with authority.

  Damn. So much for that. With a soft sigh, my feet carried me back down the steps, towards the formal den. It was the only room in the colonial, aside from my mother's home office, that my parents allowed company.

  My father stepped out into the hall, a look of displeasure settling on his face when he saw what I was wearing. He, of course, was i
n a suit.

  "You needed something?" I cut off whatever he had been about to say, getting straight to the point.

  Hopefully, he would skip the lecture tonight.

  "There's someone I want you to meet."

  "At one in the morning?" Under any other circumstance I would go along with what he wanted, but this was more than likely another attempt at getting me to take an interest in one of his business partners.

  Thank god the days of betrothals were long gone. Otherwise, he would have chosen my future husband for me years ago. Or, he would have tried. My mother would never go for that.

  "When is a better time than now?"

  "Maybe when I'm drunk enough not to care what they look like." I tried to be sarcastic and failed. His signature scowl slid back into place.

  "I hope I'm not that repulsive," said a familiar voice with a tiny trace of raspiness, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. The fragranced notes of his expensive cologne tickled my nose as he approached.

  Pale green eyes surrounded by lighter shades of blue, set beneath thick black eyelashes, looked back into my round, olive ones.

  "Why are you here so late?" I questioned.

  His thick brows furrowed before an unrestrained smile spread across his face, deepening his dimples and causing his tan skin to crinkle around his eyes. Those damn dimples were my kryptonite.

  From the tailored black on black suit, the dark hair tamed into a sleek but messy style, and the white gold Zenith watch on his right wrist, he screamed money.

  I hadn't seen him in nearly a month, and the last time I had was at a gala dinner where he had a voluptuous blonde-haired woman on his arm. Julian regarded me with open curiosity, and I did the same to him.

  My father cleared his throat, his scowl now a smug smile. I gave him a dirty look. Julian was admittedly sex on two legs, but I wasn't interested in him that way. At least, that's what I'd been telling myself.

  I didn't want to be set up with anyone my parents dealt with. It was a colossal error to mix business with pleasure. Looking at the man in front of me, I knew he was extremely skilled at both.