Page 56 of Psycho Saviors
He was rougher, his need a fierce fire that consumed everything in its path. He bit her, his teeth marking her flesh as he claimed her with a ferocity that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. She cried out, her back arching off the cold metal, her body surrendering to his demands.
“Draw blood, kitten,” he snarled, and Scarlet obeyed as I straightened myself. I watched as her nails pierced his flesh, drawing bloody lines on his back, Cristian’s wild desire becoming feral as he slammed into her with enough force to rock the car.
“Mine, always mine,” he roared as Scarlet cried out, her beautiful face contorting into bliss as the pair of them shuddered with their shared climax. The air was charged with something indescribable, a lust and need that defied everything. Cristian kissed her forehead before he eased out of her, and she remained on the hood, drawing in desperate gasps of air.
Julian was the last, his touch softer but no less claiming. He took his time with her, as if he understood she needed something sweeter now, something less monstrous, a touch that was human. He worshiped her body with a tenderness that seemed out of place in our world of brutality and bloodshed.
Cristian and I watched on as Julian used his hands alongside his length to bring her to her final finish, holding her close and swallowing her cries in a tender kiss. He unloaded himself inside her, stroking her hair as he finally withdrew. Scarlet was now seated on the hood, and Julian kissed her cheek, letting her rest her chin on his shoulder as she tiredly looked at Cristian and I. She looked perfect like that, fucked into exhaustion, resting on my brother as he ran his hands down her back.
As I looked at my brothers, at the woman we shared, I knew that we would willingly walk through the flames if it meant keeping her with us.
How had such a witty, wicked little thing wrapped us around her finger? After my efforts to remain logical and keep her at arm's length, I'd sunk under the waves, allowing her to draw me in.
When it was over, I was the one to load her into the car, wrapping my jacket around her shoulders, her visible skin littered with our brandings. I called for my men to clean up the mess we'd left behind, my voice steady despite the uncertainty tilting in my mind.
Why had I wanted her so badly at that moment?
I hadn't just wanted her. I'd needed her.
As we drove home in silence, the city lights casting long shadows across our faces, I found myself sneaking glances at our little Scarlet. She was now stained with the same darkness that clung to our souls. Then again, she'd carried it long before she'd come into our home, into our beds.
I watched her, curled up against Julian in the back seat, holding Kenny close, her eyes closed and her breaths steady. I knew that I was in deep. Deeper than I'd ever been with anyone. It was a terrifying realization, one that could potentially unravel the careful control I'd always prided myself on.
But in that moment, I didn't care. All I cared about was the woman who had defiance in her eyes even as she fell to her knees before me, of the strange, twisted bond that was forming between us.
We arrived back at the apartment, and I carried her inside, surprised that she hadn't protested when I'd swept her into my arms. She'd just held onto me, her jaw tight, her gaze on her hands. Blood marred her delicate skin, blood that didn't belong to her. We'd gotten Angelo's blood on her in our desperate need to have her, and a glimmer of guilt ignited deep inside me, but I banished it away. She was a part of our cruel, filthy world, whether she liked it or not. There was no hiding it, cleansing it, shielding her from it. She'd been through the darkest pits of it herself. And yet, she still looked so gentle and soft in my arms, her brow slightly furrowed as we rode the elevator. My brothers had stepped closer, using their bodies to shield her still bare body, although my arms covered her fairly well, along with my jacket wrapped around her.
When the doors dinged, I carried her upstairs to my room and set her on the bed. She stared down at her hands still, and I noticed the flecks of blood on them.
Cristian and Julian had followed us, silent as they stood behind me.
I stood there for a moment, just watching her. Then, with a sigh, I turned to leave, my mind already racing with the tasks that lay ahead. There would be repercussions for what we'd done tonight, consequences that I would have to handle with the same cold calculation that had kept me alive this long.
"Julian, take care of her. Cristian, come with me," I said, pausing for a moment by Cristian, a few flecks of blood still on his face despite him having wiped it down in the car.
He nodded and followed after me without a word, and the unease within me only grew.
We were falling deeper and deeper into this risky pit, and I couldn't stop myself or my brothers.
Then again, I didn't really want to.
27
SCARLET
Istepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over my skin. Julian had offered to help, but I needed this moment alone, and he'd left me alone in the bathroom. As I stood there, the events of the afternoon replayed in my mind, the images of Angelo burned into my brain, of his gouged out eyes, the knife wounds littering his body.
His stillness.
I stared down at the red that mixed with the water running down my body. The blood. Angelo's blood. It swirled around my feet, turning the water a pale pink before disappearing down the drain. I watched it go, mesmerized by how easily something so significant could vanish.
My hands trembled as I reached for the shampoo. The scent of lavender filled the air, a stark contrast to the metallic smell of blood that had clung to me moments ago. I worked the lather through my hair, trying to focus on the simple task rather than the weight of what I'd witnessed.
I was a part of their world now. Not just a captive or a plaything, but a witness to their darkest deeds. And I hadn't run. I hadn't screamed. I stood there, feeling... what? Fascination? Pride? Relief?
The water ran clear now, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something had irreversibly changed. I wasn't just Scarlet anymore, the psycho who'd burned down her cheating fiancé's bar. I was Scarlet, the woman who'd watched a man die and felt... calm.
I leaned my forehead against the cool tile, letting the water beat down on my back. What did this make me? An accomplice? A monster?