Malevolence (Dahlia Saga Book 4) Page 7

  “I’ve known about this for a long time. I wasn’t the one who couldn’t handle it.”

  His words weren’t accusing like mine had been, but they were wrong. At least, regarding the person I was today. I stared at him seeing who he was for the first time. He’d been here before, many times probably. All those late nights at his clinic. This man did terrible things, just like all the others who frequented the Dahlia.

  I didn’t care about that. To call him on it would be introducing the pot to the kettle. I cared that I’d trusted him for so long, counted on him for all these years and he’d taken a crucial part of my life away based on what he thought was best.

  “How would you know if I could or couldn’t handle it when you never told me who I was?”

  He remained silent just long enough that I thought he wouldn’t answer.

  “I guess you’re right. I didn’t tell you who you were, but it was only because I thought the truth would do more harm than good. Happy people don’t kill themselves, my darling girl. Or their husbands.”

  His last words were like an electric jolt to my system. I’d tried to kill Julian. I knew it was true when the sadness in my chest expanded like a balloon. It doused the flickering flame of arousal like a bucket of ice water.

  This sadness was something I’d been carrying around with me for all these years and never knew why, weighing me down like a pile of bricks. The regret was just added weight to a sinking ship.

  The door swung open and the man of the hour appeared, wearing his classy ensemble again. I swallowed repeatedly and focused on my nails.

  “What did you say to her?” he asked Nester.

  “Nothing that she shouldn’t know.”

  He appeared at my side, his palm intercepting my line of vision. “Let’s go talk over dinner.”

  I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed his hand and held onto it after he helped me from my chair. I had to look at him then, it was as if he silently commanded it and I had no choice but to obey. His face showed no signs of how he was really feeling, and I wished more than ever that I could read him like he so easily could read me.

  “I would like a word with her,” Nester’s voice came from behind me.

  Still staring at Julian, I shook my head.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you. But you and I will be speaking later,” he directed at Nester as he led me from the room. It was one thing I was beginning to remember about him.

  He would always lead, and I loved to follow him wherever he decided to take me.

  This time we wound up back in his study. A small table had been set up, a silver pallet of food already waiting with a bottle of wine beside it. I thanked him when he pulled out my chair, the first words I’d spoken since we left upstairs.

  “Are you ever going to speak to me again?” he asked once he’d loaded the dishes between us and filled both our glasses. From removing someone’s eyes to drinking wine and eating spaghetti. It sounded like the start of a bad joke. The food looked amazing, but my appetite was diminished.

  I took a sip of my red, letting the flavor seep into my taste buds. “I hurt you,” I blurted out after another elapsed minute of quiet.

  “Hm,” he hummed, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin after swallowing a bite of food.

  “We did a pretty good job of hurting each other. But I thought you were upset over the show.”

  “She already knew about the shows.”

  “She?”

  Realizing my slip-up, I drank even more, nearly emptying my glass. Julian refilled it without comment.

  “The old me. It didn’t surprise her she…I mean I…”

  “You liked it,” he filled in without missing a beat. “You’ve always liked it. But I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you close to admitting that.”

  This is where things got complicated. I didn’t know how to explain that the old me wouldn’t have. Her demons were bigger than she was. They dominated her mind. I’d only figured that out minutes ago. The new me was somehow surer of herself. I tried to convey this to him as best I could.

  When he didn’t say anything, I gave up and made myself start eating.

  “You think of yourself as two separate people,” he stated after another minute.

  “Not exactly. I have flashes of her memories and all she felt, but its my mind. I know we’re the same person, but I feel like this side of me is more level-headed. I guess having my head split open rearranged some things. I used to think my memories spilled out and not all of them got put back.”

  He lowered his wine glass, and I realized how clinical I sounded.

  “I’m sorry. I‑‑.”

  He waved me off and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “There’s no need to apologize. I was there too.”

  I toyed with my fork, swallowing a bite of food. “What did I do?”

  “You drove my car off of a cliff with both of us inside of it.”

  And there it was. Stated in a way a news anchor announced a potential storm. I sat my silverware down and went for my wine again before asking the next question.

  “Why?”

  “Your mind has always been a Battlefield and I stupidly thought I could stop the war going on inside it.” He refilled his glass this time, and his mask slipped just a tiny bit. This wasn’t as easy to talk about as he was making it out to be. It was hard for me to hear and obviously it affected him too, but this conversation needed to be had.

  “On top of everything else you had going on inside your head, you hated that you liked what went on here and the man responsible for it. And you didn’t want our son to be like us. You wanted him to be normal.”

  I couldn’t swallow another bite of food. At risk of expelling it all back onto the table, I reached for my wine glass again.

  I didn’t feel any of that now. I had no desire to destroy him or myself because of who he was or the malevolent urges we harbored.

  “Who would have taken care of Mason?” I nearly whispered.

  “Dakota and Luca,” Julian laughed bitterly. “She had a hand in your downward spiral as well. My brother will never forgive her for it. And I must let her live because she’s my nephews’ mother. Even if he can’t stand her.”

  I wondered if he felt that way about me too. I stared down at the ivory table linen feeling so ashamed. I was going to leave our son an orphan. I tried to kill the father that loved him, and me, to prevent something that happened anyway.

  Needing to say something, I cleared my throat to remove the invisible blockage clogging it.

  “Sorry will never be enough. Even saying it to you now I know that word could never make up for what I did, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry I hurt you, that I tried to throw all of this way,” my voice cracked, but I continued. “I don’t feel that way anymore. I hate that I ever did.”

  His heavy weighted stare felt like a hot iron on my chest. The silence that met my apology lashing at me, screaming it meant nothing. It was just words. On the verge of having another break down I excused myself. I stood from the table to flee anywhere but this room and his cold green eyes, but before I could go anywhere, he was there.

  “Look at me,” he demanded, standing a hairs breadth away, blocking my exit.

  “Julian.”

  “Morgana,” he commanded.

  I lifted my head like a scolded child and looked him in the eye once again.

  “Don’t ever hide yourself from me. Don’t ever run. I’ll always drag you out of your comfort zone or back to my side, whichever the situation calls for. I live to push you past all your limits.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I found it hard to believe after what I’d done and all this time that he still wanted me. I reached for him. I don’t know if I did it because I needed contact or because I wanted to feel him against me, either way, I reached.

  He was sure of his movements, like he’d been since I first met him at a summer barbecue. The memory floated to the front of my mind as his
mouth lips pressed against mine. He crushed me to him as if he wanted me to sink into his body. Unlike earlier, all gentle pretense was gone.

  His hand tangled in my hair, something like a growl spilled from his mouth and his grip tightened. He pulled my head further back. Our teeth clashed as we moved back.

  He tasted of red wine and sorrow and everything I’d been missing in my life. My backside bumped the table hard enough that something went toppling to the floor. Not a second later something else joined it and he lifted me up, sitting me down on the edge.

  Hand still knotted in my hair; nervous energy zipped through my veins. My heart pounded against my ribs as emotions fought for precedence in my head.

  Julian was eerily silent, his cool breath skating across my neck now that he’d pulled back. He reached down and sound of his zipper going down seemed to echo in the room. It was a gut instinct, an intuition of sorts that told me this was not going to be a gentle round of fucking.

  He freed his cock and tightened his grip on my hair to the point my scalp began to sting. Parting my legs, he stepped between them and pulled my underwear to the side.

  The bulbous head of his cock ran up and down my slit. He kissed me again just before he forced himself inside where I desperately needed him. My body knew exactly what to do. The wetness between my thighs helped with the intensity of being stretched after all this time. There was a delicious burn as he withdrew and slammed back inside me, rocking the table so hard his glass of wine teetered onto its side and spilled across the linen, soaking my ass.

  He did it again. Pulled all the way out and thrust back in before I could take my next breath. I clenched around him and grabbed hold of his shoulders. He dropped one hand to my thigh, right over where his name was engraved.

  “I remember this like it was yesterday,” he rasped, beginning to fuck me earnestly now. “I wanted to leave you with a permanent reminder that you were mine.” He dug his nails into my flesh.

  I hissed in pain, and a gush of arousal flowed around his cock. He thrust into me so hard, going so deep that his balls started to smack against the lower lips of my pussy.

  “There we go,” he groaned, jerking my head back and causing another rush to come from between my legs. “You haven’t forgotten this at all have you? Your body remembers. The cunt drenching my dick remembers.”

  I could no longer form a coherent sentence, all that came out of my mouth was screams and moans. The louder I got the harder he thrust. When he picked up his pace, I didn’t think I could handle much more.

  It’d been so long I felt as if I would explode at any minute. My breaths came labored and the pain in my hip sent a burning sensation coursing up the side of my body. With him inside me, it felt good.

  The climax hit me like a freight train, suddenly and hard. His name came spilling from my mouth as I dropped off a dangerously high precipice. He buried himself to the hilt and followed me, his cock pulsing as he came.

  Still inside me, he leaned back slightly and brought the hand that had been tangled in my hair to the side of my face and gripped my jaw. “You didn’t hurt me. You fucking wrecked me.”

  This was the cold hard truth.

  And it didn’t hurt.

  Hurt was a simple four-letter word.

  Destroyed. Shattered. Obliterated.

  That’s what it did.

  Once he withdrew and tucked himself back into his slacks, he turned away. “You should head up to bed.”

  I watched him walk away from me again I wanted him to stay, but there was so much hurt between us it thickened the air.

  So, I let him go, silently screaming another apology at his retreating form. I knew he’d said we’d both hurt each other, but I knew to the very bottom of my piece of shit heart, this man would have never tried to take my life.

  Chapter Eleven

  There’s pain in love.

  So much more than in hate.

  Hatred was easy. If I didn’t like someone, I had a few constructive methods for remedying that.

  Love. That wasn’t something I gave freely or came easy to me. When I did care about someone, I would go through hellfire for them.

  It struck me as ironic that I could feel this much agony over a single fucking person when my hands were stained with the blood of so many others.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have left her like I just had, but I couldn’t stay either. I wanted to lash out, and I refused to hurt her intentionally, not in that way. Instead, I found another outlet using the contraption Luca had shown me the day we left my office.

  I went into the playroom a few doors down from my own. The mess was worse than the last time I was here, which was to be expected. I’d induced vomiting and he had a nasty case of diarrhea. There was old shit and new shit all over the chair. Sunken eyes watched me, jaundice making him look more zombie than human.

  At this point he was probably ready to die. I’d only kept him around because he’d had information I needed.

  Once I’d gotten it, he’d taken so long to speak I figured I was due some delayed gratification. I sat Luca’s newest device on the ground and got all the kinks out. With those out of the way I just had to connect everything. I considered leaving the man’s balls intact, but what can I say? I was curious. I lifted the shriveled things up and placed them were they were supposed to go.

  After I was done, I could see the appeal in why Luca liked this thing so much. He was always inventing one torture device or another. I dosed the man with the same thing I’d given the woman from earlier.

  I didn’t want his screams tonight, just his suffering and his inevitable end. Ignoring the smell of him, I thought of something more pleasant. Morgana had smelled of vanilla, just like she used to. Being inside her again, being able to touch and taste her, the feeling was indescribable.

  Her easy re-acceptance of Dahlia was another matter entirely.

  I turned the dial on the bottom of the contraption to fifteen minutes, and then sat back in a chair to watch it work. Fifteen minutes was all I needed to clear my head. Nine hundred seconds and steady decapitation.

  It was rather fitting considering that’s what it’d felt Morgana had done to me time and time again. Every time she tried to reject me. Every time she hurt herself. When she told me, she loved me minutes before driving us off a fucking cliff.

  Through all of that I loved her anyways, obsessively. Sometimes cruelly. My life was always carefully controlled chaos aside from where she was concerned. She would always be my one exception for the simple fact she was my one and only.

  She was fortunate to not have been one of the women that came before or any of the ones I’d toyed with to pass time after.

  They all fell for me, and they all died with the same foolish hope that one day I’d love them back. A few were nothing but pawns, eliminated or used for my family and I to get what we wanted. The rest were all meaningless bags of flesh. They all believed they’d hit the jackpot with me. I was wealthy, attractive, and could charm the devil into sucking my dick if I really wanted her to.

  The Dahlia was like a palace and here, in this town, I was king. Everyone wanted to be queen, but that spot was taken. Morgana had claimed it long ago when she became the other half of me. I knew I had another chance with her, but right then I needed those fucking minutes to let my emotions fester and boil over so they could simmer and then cool the fuck down.

  So, I settled into my chair and watched the device began to work. Gears turned, clunking rhythmically as they pulled the man’s restraints in a counterclockwise motion. His right knee went first, the leg twisted, and the bone came tearing through his flesh in a mess of blood and cartilage. The left arm went next.

  With the special anesthetic flowing through his veins all he could was watch on with eyes so wide they looked about ready to pop out of their sockets. I glimpsed the veins in his balls turning a deep blue as they were twisted in a knot. It was then that I decided I didn’t care to see a man lose his nuts, so I leaned back and closed my eyes, cou
nting down the seconds in my head.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was waiting outside his door to tell him dinner was ready. He’d been so adamant about me accepting my role at Dahlia, and I was honestly doing the best I could, but I was a terrible cook.

  “Come in!” he called from behind the door.

  I took a deep breath and then went in.

  “Dollface,” he grinned at me.

  My heart flipped in my chest. We had so many issues, but I could not deny that I loved him with every part of me. When I noticed the second monitor on his desk was on, I knew he was watching one of the shows.

  “Supper is done,” I said quietly, already turning away to block out the low, agonizing screams coming through his speaker.

  “Stop.” His command sliced through the air with unmistakable clarity.

  I paused, swallowing inaudibly.

  “Come here,” he commanded again, much more gently. I knew better than to fall for his soft-spoken words. Julian was the perfect kind of predator. You knew he was dangerous and capable of destroying you completely, but none of that mattered once he caught you in his web.

  I turned back around and went to him.

  I always went to him, like a pigeon that returned to its pigeoneer no matter the distance or the weather.

  He scooted back from his and looked up at me, a cool smirk giving tilt to his lips. Without needing him to say anything I sunk down on his lap, looping my arms his neck and leaning into him.

  His cool breath fanned over my skin when he laughed, wrapping one arm around my waist so I was snugly against him and placing a hand on my thigh.

  If I could burrow into him and just stay there I would. We all needed a safe space from the world. This was mine. He was a ruthless man who did whatever he needed to get his way, and I almost felt sorry for anyone who did find themselves caught in his wicked weavings, but I knew I couldn’t be anywhere safer.

  “Look,” he said softly.

  I readjusted my head on his shoulder so that I was staring at the screen. Luca was there, standing behind a man that was tied belly down.