Page 68 of Psycho Sinners

"Is that all that different from your past already?" He arched a brow as he still held his empty glass up, and my heart skipped a beat.

Did he know…

No. He couldn't. Maybe he'd dug up the files or reports on my parents, read about how fucked up they were. But he wouldn't know the other stuff, the only person who knew that shit was Noms, and she'd carry that secret to the grave for me.

There were reasons people became who they were, things that shaped them, molded them into the messes they were.

I slid my gaze to Cristian. So Tess had been a factor for him, his ex. But how did she fuck him up so much? And surely there was more to why he was such a sadistic bastard.

"Finish your food, then go to your room." Tyrone's voice was flat as he rose from the table and headed to the kitchen, where he poured himself another drink.

Whatever moment of civility he'd granted me was over. He'd spoken too much in his mind, and he wanted me gone.

I wasn't about to try my luck any further, not with his threat. I'd almost thought he was a normal guy I could talk to.

Almost.

22

CRISTIAN

She looked so peaceful sleeping, her face content, her chest rising and falling gently.

I sat at her desk, my gaze roaming over her body. She wore a set of clothing my brother had provided her, this time, it was some boxer briefs and tee, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say she looked fine as all fuck in them. Those slender legs were draped across the bed as she cuddled her blanket, oblivious to my presence.

My new pet. She had been so wild that first night, and ever since then, she tested me, so defiant despite the situation. Just thinking about how she fought me so hard had my dick rock hard.

The wicked little thing had even stabbed me. I smirked as I touched my pec, the wound covered. She was a survivor, a fighter, someone who burned brighter than hellfire.

My smirk faltered as the image of her in the bathroom flashed through my mind, the shard of glass to her throat.

Maybe I had been too much for her, pushed her too far. But I had to know if she could handle me, the real me. The one who was so twisted and messed up, the part that had come about after that fateful day.

I rubbed the spot on my head, just within the hairline over my left temple. Everything had changed after that, my needs had grown darker, my logic less steady, my mind… chaotic.

Scarlet held the same darkness in those defiant blue eyes that I carried in my own, someone who had experienced tragedies in their life, had been fractured beyond repair, and yet we’d somehow glued ourselves back together.

I wanted to know exactly what she’d endured, what hell she’d walked through and come out the other side, bruised, battered, but not completely broken.

I hadn’t seen that kind of familiar darkness since Tess.

I closed my eyes, the agony over her death flaring in my chest. She’d hurt me, done the unthinkable, and then left me alone in this world.

Sure, I had my brothers, and they did their best to understand me, but I knew they merely tolerated me, my chaotic side, the darkness that I could barely control.

Tess had embraced it, even adored that side of me, her own schizophrenic mind just as wicked as my broken one.

But she’d gone too far, those voices of hers, the ones she’d told me all about, had made her do unforgivable things.

I opened my eyes, focusing on the sleeping brunette, so full of peace. A peace that would vanish as soon as she was awake.

My little Scarlet, my wicked kitten with claws. She’d burrowed under my skin like a damn scarab, promising to unravel what was left of me.

I could feel those same things blooming, the old feelings I’d once had for Tess. But it was different with Scarlet, somehow. Her mind, although fractured in its own way, was steady. As far as I could tell, there were no voices or demons haunting her mind, urging her to do despicable things.

Things that I couldn’t stop myself from doing.

I tapped my finger on the stab-wound from her.