Azrael
Her bravery needs to be commended, or she needs to be committed. I’m sure she’s using this as some sort of experiment to try to dissociate her feelings toward me.
But after tonight, she will become mine in ways she never realized existed.
And I’ll never let her go.
She comes to a standstill, and I revel in the fact that she’s probably laid eyes on my gift to her.
Stefan Capri. Her ex what-the-fuck-ever. He was a jumped-up, pompous little prick with preppy clothes, perfect teeth, and not a scar on his delicate skin before he came to me.
He’s strung up naked by his wrists and ankles in the shape of an X, with blood oozing from various cuts, and his swollen face is barely recognizable.
Jensen followed through with my request to have him chained in my basement, and now I know everything there is to know about the girl who intrigues me so much.
Hevan Corbett, twenty years old, is studying childhood studies with a major in English literature. I wasn’t surprised to learn her parents are hippies who dabble in substance abuse; she’s estranged from them, making her the perfect target for fuckboys like Stefan and his pals.
She has few friends, a bookworm who spends her time studying in hopes of a better, quiet life. Nobody would bat an eye at her disappearance; she flies under the radar. But not for people like Stefan. She may be completely unaware of her captivating beauty, but others are well aware. They seek it out.
We’re the monsters in the night, baiting our prey, imploring them to step into our aura. Then we bite, taking what we want, consequences be damned. We pull them in with no escape, and for the first time in my life, I see a glimpse of something more than the evil we bleed. I want her innocence, dreams, and ambitions. I want her thoughts and softness. I welcome it with open arms, wanting an alternative life where the demons in the night plague dreams instead of the sordid reality of our worlds when they combine.
We’re the underworld, the stain on society people paint over and refuse to acknowledge until we force them to.
I want her light.
Hevan
Blood rushes through my veins like a tidal wave. The whooshing echoes in my ears like a torment.
It takes me a moment to register what the hell I’m seeing, but when I do, I’m absolutely horrified.
Stefan is strung up naked. His bruised and bloodied body is exposed, his face marred with tears, snot, and dribble, and tape is wrapped around his head, covering his mouth. His wide eyes plead with mine as he fights against his shackles.
They beg me, and my legs threaten to buckle beneath the severity of his agony.
Oh, sweet Jesus, no. What has Azrael done?
When I glance down at Stefan’s bare body, I see a device attached to his cock, then a chain leads from his cock to a long metal table directly in front of him.
What the hell is happening?
It’s some sick torture device, and I fight back the need to vomit.
The room seems to be closing in on me, and my chest tightens as I fight forair.
My mind is blank, and somehow, I have the strength to face Azrael. “Wh-what?” I have a thousand questions, and need answers, but not one of them can be constructed under his deranged stare.
Is this the man I’m falling for?
Someone so sinisterly cruel.
“This is my gift to you, Hevan.” I shudder at the use of my name. As much as I’ve hated him calling me Little Toy, it’s grown on me. But to use my true name in a time so brutal feels like a betrayal. Of all the times to show me I’m human, more than a hole for him to use, he does it now. In a room full of… Oh, Jesus, there’s a table with tools.
I squeeze my eyes closed and swallow back the bile threatening to expel.
“Shhh.” His warm hand touches my cheek, and I open my eyes to see his darkened orbs flooded with comfort. Does he even realize he’s letting his walls down, letting me see beneath his demonic mask? “You can do this,” he whispers, a complete contrast to the situation and his actions.
My eyes flit around the room, searching for an understanding of what he means. Then his hand is gone, and the warmth disappears.
