Twelve of Roses: A Dark Standalone Page 7

  Chapter Thirteen

  Present

  I stared down at the phone, already knowing who was on the other line. Snatching it off the floor, I answered, and I didn’t give him a chance to start toying with my head.

  “You sick piece of shit. Why did you kill her?” I spat through the speaker. His answering chuckle had every hair follicle on my body rising to attention. I momentarily forgot how to breathe. He was really here—the proof was on the other side of this call.

  So, what kind of game are we playing now?

  “Rosie.” A soft sigh. “I missed hearing your dirty talk.”

  “You’re supposed to be in hell.”

  “I couldn’t arrive without you,” he responded nonchalantly.

  “What do you want?” It was a stupid question; I knew exactly what he wanted: his sacred twelfth Rose.

  The last diabolical link between our families and his devotion to his stepmother rendered him paralyzed when it came to letting me go. His scoff said just as much.

  “I want my wife back,” he answered softly.

  I despised the twisted organ in my chest for responding to his charm. My dark heart beat to hear his sugary words. They were always laced with bittersweet venom. This soul mate of mine had made me the worst kind of villain. He was to blame him for the ugly person I was inside—this fucking monster I was forced to hide from the rest of the world.

  I couldn’t hide the memories, though. No matter how hard I tried, my past had a way of always catching up to me.

  I shut my eyes and recalled everything he’d done to me and Molly. I remembered all the girls I’d helped lure to their deaths who’d just wanted to have a night of fun.

  “I’m not your wife. It wasn’t even a real wedding.”

  “I’m sure the dead officiate wouldn’t agree with that.”

  Scrubbing a hand over my face, I slowly made my way back through the house, double checking every window and all the doors once more.

  I grabbed the rusted poker by the closed off fireplace before heading upstairs. Con’s gravelly voice spoke in my ear the entire time.

  “How did you get out of the house?” I cut him off, needing to know how he survived.

  “Give me some credit, Rose. I’ve always known every move you were going to make before you made it.”

  Touché, asshole.

  I paused on the landing as realization dawned that he was never in danger of dying.

  “Who do you think left the grease on high?”

  “It was a test,” I mumbled, more to myself than him, cautiously peering in every bedroom.

  “It was a test and you failed. Do you remember what happens when you fail one of my tests, Rosie?”

  How could I forget? I’d strived to please him as if he were my king. I did it so Molly and I wouldn’t go hungry. I did it to keep us safe. If we failed a test, the ramifications always lasted far beyond the initial punishment.

  For the past four years, I’d thought he was dead.

  For four years, he’d had time to plan everything he was going to do to make me pay for abandoning him. I’d left him to be engulfed by flames, praying the putrid smoke would fill his lungs and kill him before the angry blaze did.

  “Where have you been this whole time?”

  “Reinventing myself,” he laughed.

  “What are you going to do?” I stopped walking, readying myself for his answer.

  “Maybe introduce myself to that cute brunette you work with. Maybe have a nice chat with Max. Maybe surprise Molly. Don’t worry; I’ll be in touch after I’m done.”

  The phone beeped, signaling he’d ended the call. I stood rigid, chewing my lower lip and clutching the poker like I wanted to mold it with the flesh of my palm.

  “Fuck.” I sank down and sat in the middle of the hall. What was I going to do? It wasn’t as simple as going to the police.

  Con thought of everything—he assumed the ball was always in his court. Rushing off to do something brash would cause a disastrous domino effect.

  I’d played with him before, but during those times I’d been prepared for whatever was coming. I hadn’t planned for this. I didn’t expect this. I could leave—move to somewhere new and start over again. A city this time, where it would be harder to find me. Going off the grid clearly wasn’t going to work.

  I was broke as hell and had no savings, but if I had to survive in my car and scrape together coins for a doughnut a day, I could get by. I’d gone without food before. Con used to chain me to a doghouse and make me sleep in the cold.

  Pushing off the floor, I stood and jogged back down the stairs, taking them two at a time. When I got to the bottom, I took a second to regulate my breathing.

  The emotions in my chest were going haywire. I looked around my house and felt a gravity defying heaviness settle on my shoulders.

  This was my home.

  The only one I’d ever had. It wasn’t pretty or shiny, but dammit, it was mine. Molly’s too. Black Pine was supposed to be a safe place. I had a job. I could make friends here. He was fucking everything up.

  All I wanted to do was live. Why couldn’t he let me do that? Why couldn’t he finally live without me like I’d begged him to?

  It was a rhetorical question, and I already knew the answer. It was the same reason I woke up thinking about him and went to sleep doing the same. Whether I liked it or not, we were tied together by barbed wire embedded beneath our skin. I had no idea how to go about removing it, but I had to do something.

  My past needed to stay in the past—even if some screwed-up part of me wanted it to be my future. He had successfully clipped and pruned me into everything he wanted.

  Darkness spilled from him. Spilled from him and seeped right into me. I stood conflicted, torn between love and hate, joy and dread. Not for the first time, I thought I might’ve been better off dead.

  Could a finger stay intact inside a freezer? That was my dilemma when Max knocked on my front door. The sound caused me to jump. In turn, I dropped the disgusting thing on the floor for the second time.

  “Rose, I know you’re in there!” he yelled.

  Shit. Did he know the killing was related to me? I contemplated ignoring him, but that would only make me look suspicious.

  After tossing the finger in the back of my freezer, I swiped the vase off my table and tossed it in the trash as I left the kitchen. I smoothed my hair and pulled the front door open just as he was about to knock again.

  “Sorry, I was using the bathroom,” I lied.

  “I didn’t want the food to get cold.”

  He walked in and made his way to my kitchen. The mouth-watering aroma of Chinese take-out trailed after him.

  My stomach chose that moment to remind me that I hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. I stared out into the dark, wondering where Con was. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were watching me that very second.

  This would enrage him.

  With a sigh, I shut the door and locked it.

  I found Max setting up the food on the table, completely unaware about who he was really sitting down to dine with.

  “You didn’t have to bring me food. It’s late, and I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

  “I can’t let a pretty lady go hungry.” He looked up at me with his signature smile on his face.

  How did he do that? How was he so happy all the time?

  I settled in the same chair I had earlier that day and picked up one of the wine coolers he’d brought with him.

  “I wouldn’t have gone hungry, ya know?” Quirking a brow at him, I snagged a pair of chopsticks and scooped up some of the lo-mein he’d just sat in front of me.

  “I know, I know. You’re a strong, independent woman that don’t need no man,” he teased.

  After he sat in the seat across from me, we ate in silence for a few minutes.

  I waited for him to bring up what happened, but he never did. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding the topic. He was more interested in my life.


  “So, where’s your sister?”

  “She had something to take care of; she’ll be back the day after tomorrow.”

  A humming sound in his throat was his only response for that.

  “Does she look like you?” he asked after another stretch of silence. I could tell he was just trying to make conversation. I was being a shitty dinner companion, but I had justifiable reasons.

  It may have seemed more logical to shove him away, to turn into a raving bitch and make him hate me, but it was already too late. He’d had his cock inside me and his name on my lips. I wasn’t sure what Con’s end game was yet, though, so I kept my mouth shut. We could cross that flaming bridge when we got to it.

  “She has pale skin and carrot-top red hair. Why? You interested in her, too?” I teased him.

  Her red hair was the only thing that had kept her alive. Con had a thing for redheads. Had she been a blonde, all the begging in the world couldn’t have saved her.

  “Nah, I’ve got my eye on this beautiful woman who lives across the street from me,” he drawled.

  I swallowed so hard it hurt, forcing my lips to tilt upward. If only his eyes saw my soul instead of my face. Then, he’d see all my dirty secrets. He’d see everything I was hiding from him.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to spill my guts and tell him I had killed before. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Eventually, I started looking forward to it. I started getting off on it, and I could be fucked right beside a corpse and still cum.

  I was not the sweet girl next door everyone always saw me as.

  “You should probably set your sights on someone a little more worth it.” I kept my tone light, while at the same time telling him the truth. It wasn’t something I did often.

  “Why aren’t you worth it, Rose? What did you do that makes you so unworthy of love?” He leaned forward, staring at me like the answer would magically show itself on my forehead.

  This man was stubbornly determined to have some kind of relationship with me beyond the realm of friendship. Why couldn’t he see that there would be no big church and wedding bells in my future?

  I wasn’t going to get the farm I always wanted, with children playing at my feet and dogs barking in the fields. Once upon a time, I thought my life would be filled with such things. I knew better now. My story wasn’t written to have a happy ending.

  I didn’t deserve to be greeted at the big white gates when all was said and done.

  “You’re a good man, Max,” I resigned, dropping my gaze to the table to avoid his.

  I wasn’t the best judge of character, but something in my gut told me Max had the potential to be pure gold, and that meant I would tarnish him. It’s what I did. I ruined everything that was good. Just like I was doing this town.

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” He sighed and looked across the room, gnawing on his bottom lip. It was the first time I’d seen him look frustrated. I didn’t like seeing him unsmiling. I never wanted that.

  I took a sip of my drink and then stood up, circling around to stand in front of him. Without saying a word, I reached down and cupped his face in my hands, lowering my mouth to his. He sat stiff for a minute, before finally melting into my touch.

  His lips parted, and I eagerly slipped my tongue between them, skimming it over the roof of his mouth.

  He tasted sweet, like the sour apple cooler I’d just been drinking. He felt safe and normal. I wanted to make him feel better; giving him my body was the least I could do. I knew I was broadcasting some very mixed signals, but it was too late now.

  His hands moved to my ass as I forced myself between him and the table. I sank my teeth into his lower lip and roughly threaded my fingers in his hair, giving it a sharp tug.

  Slow down, a quiet warning whispered in my head. I didn’t want to slow down, though. I wanted him to let go. I wasn’t a feathery touch and tender kisses woman—I was dirty, and that’s what I wanted.

  With a quiet grunt, he abruptly stood up, almost knocking me backward, separating our mouths.

  “I get it, Rose,” he practically growled, grabbing me by the shoulders and forcing me to turn around.

  “You want rough, right?” he asked, yanking my shorts down to my ankles and shoving a knee between my legs.

  “Yes,” I pleaded, catching myself on the table when he physically spread my legs wider, causing me to lose my balance.

  I felt his warm breath on the back of my calf a split second before he was dragging his tongue all the way up to my right ass cheek, drawing circles on the flesh before sinking his teeth down.

  A soft hiss left my mouth. I closed my eyes and dropped my forehead to the table. He gripped the round globe and moved his mouth to the other side, repeating the motion on my left cheek, biting down a little harder. I groaned in contentedness, pushing myself back against him.

  His lips rained down on both sets of bite marks as he gently pulled my thong down.

  “I’m going to stick my dick in here,” he breathed, spreading my ass cheeks apart and placing the tip of his tongue right above my puckered hole.

  “God, yes,” I moaned, not above begging for his beautiful cock in my ass.

  “Not yet,” he teased.

  I opened my mouth to complain, snapping it shut when he pushed his thumb all the way in instead, rotating it around to loosen me up.

  “Max,” I moaned in frustration.

  He laughed, pulled out and took hold of both cheeks, spreading them as far apart as he could, pushing his face between them.

  “Ride my tongue with your ass. Ride it as hard as you can,” he commanded.

  I didn’t need to be told twice. I eased back at the same time he eased forward.

  I fucked his face with my ass just like he wanted me to. My moans and quick pants carried around the empty house. My nails dug into the wooden table, leaving scratch marks behind. He thrust his tongue in and out, keeping up with my erratic movements.

  I reached back with one hand and grabbed hold of his hair, grinding on his tongue as hard as I could. My pussy throbbed between my legs, begging for attention, arousal dripping down my thigh.

  When I reached down to stroke my clit, Max broke free and stood up. A strong shove on my back had my chest colliding with the tabletop. Within seconds, his hard dick was driving into me without concern, tearing and burning.

  “Fuck, Max.” I moaned his name, rubbing my clit and slipping two fingers inside my cunt. He fucked my ass without mercy; just like I wanted, like I needed.

  The table rocked beneath us, beginning to slide across the hardwood floor from our violent movements.

  “What the fuck are you doing to me?” he grunted, slamming one hand down to brace himself, winding the other in my hair.

  “I’m sorry,” I breathed, feeling my impending climax rushing towards me.

  “Shut the fuck up, Rose.” He pulled my head back, forcing my back to bow and his dick to go deeper. Nothing intelligible could come from my mouth after that. I added two more fingers, shoving all four in and out of my pussy, knuckle deep.

  It was like a race to see what was going to make me come harder. In the end, I couldn’t pick; I came screaming his name, furiously rubbing my clit as he pounded into me. He continued to thrust as I tried to catch my breath. His dick swelled and he buried himself fully, coming with a different variation of my name on his lips.

  “Rosie,” he sighed, leaning over me to kiss my cheek.

  The nickname plucked at a distorted cord inside my chest. It was too much like him. I shut my eyes before Max could see the chaotic storm brewing inside them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Present

  How could she do this to me?

  I paced back and forth, balling and un-balling my fists. She was pushing me on purpose. I knew her. I broke my ribs apart and pulled pieces of me out to make her.

  Rose was mine, mine, mine. She was the altar I was forced to worship, beautiful like sunshine, but just as cancerous. She w
as a sick fucking poison invading my lungs. She was a tumor I couldn’t get rid of.

  I needed her. This life wasn’t worth living without her. Didn’t I just suffer four years for this woman? Let her have some illusion of freedom by pretending I was nothing but a crisp corpse rotting in the ground?

  Rose-Mary told me to pick her. I wasn’t going to. I was going to find someone else, but she said there would be a sign when the time was right.

  Rose-Mary was the first woman who got my dick hard and taught me how to treat women in general. She would come into my room and ride me real slow while whispering in my ear all the things I should do to her. She loved when I smacked her around and busted her lip or blacked her eye. I never had my real mom around, and she stepped up to raise us while being a dutiful wife to my father.

  “You’ll find your own Rose someday,” she’d whisper, licking my neck, and then she’d tell me how I would know which Rose was the perfect one.

  Number twelve was always the end goal. I never asked why, but my dad agreed, so I just went with it.

  I carried Rose-Mary with me in my heart while gathering up my Roses as fast as I could to obtain the one that completed the dozen.

  All until the day I saw her. That was when I saw the light. The second she smiled at me, the fixation began. None of the Roses had lasted exceedingly long, but I knew this one would be different. This one was special.

  The second time I saw her, she had tears rolling down her cheeks. I was standing in the courtroom, waiting to hear my father’s bail for running her mom off the road. His defense was being drunk. That was all bullshit, though. He knew what he was doing.

  The pretty redhead had been too hysterical to notice me right then. It wasn’t until some woman beside her leaned down to comfort her that I heard her full name for the first time.

  Roselynn.

  I knew it was fate. This beautiful girl were meant to be.

  I wasn’t losing her again. I had to finish what I started so she could come home. I stared down at my next victim, a woman sleeping soundly in her bed. She was none the wiser that I’d been in her house since she came stumbling in drunk. She forgot to double check her back door before going through her nightly routine.