Page 78 of Desecrated Saints
Eight offers me a desolate look. “I don’t want to live in a world where the people that killed my family are free to do as they please. I want my revenge, Sev. I don’t give a fuck if I have to pay the ultimate price to achieve that.”
“You’d throw away everything just to hurt the people that hurt us?”
She looks down, hiding her darkness from me. With a low growl, I tug her head back up. I want to see the bloodthirst and rage swimming in her eyes. That dark, sordid place inside of her is where I found my home.
“I’m supposed to say no, right? Pretend like I’m happy with what I’ve got.”
“No,” I reason. “Maybe this is the way back.”
“Back to what? There’s nothing left for us in our old lives.”
“You said it yourself. Family.”
Blinking rapidly, Eight’s mouth clicks open. I ease it shut and close the final inches between us. She doesn’t move or fight back, content to let our destructive collision play out in real time. When our lips meet, it feels like electricity is flowing through my veins.
I push past her lips with my tongue, desperate to claim every damned inch of her. I want her breath. Her lifeblood. Her thoughts. Her pain. Her hope. All of it belongs to me now, because I can’t find it on my own. She needs to show me the way back.
Breaking the mind-melting kiss to glance up and down the deserted corridor, I check that we’re still alone. Eight is panting hard, her back now pressed against the elevator doors. Finding the soft elastic of her waistband, I give no warning before pushing my hand into her panties.
“Sev…”
“Shut up, Eight. Let me feel you.”
Her back arches as I find the soaked heat between her thighs. Jesus, she’s so damn wet for me. Circling her sensitive nub, I give it a sharp tug before seeking her entrance. Eight lets out a mewl for attention, pushing her hips forward to seek more of my touch.
When I shove a finger in her pussy, she moans again. I begin to work it in and out, watching for her reaction. I’ve dreamed of touching her for so long, staking my claim in blood and desire. I want her to look at me the way she looks at them. I need her to want me back.
“Does the idea of revenge get you all wet and worked up, princess?”
Eight’s teeth sink into her bottom lip. “Yes.”
“What about slicing the throats of our enemies and fucking each other in a puddle of their spilled blood? Does that make you hot?” I ask curiously.
“Fuck… yes, it makes me hot.”
Grazing my lips against her ear, I drop my voice even lower. “What about me bending you over Lazlo’s cold, dead corpse, and fucking your tight cunt for the entire world to watch?”
Adding another finger to her slick warmth, I speed up my movements. She’s beginning to tremble against my body, trapped in place and unable to run from me this time. Her legs spread wider with each thrust of my fingers, desperate for more. When I curl a digit to touch her sweet spot, she gasps loudly.
“I’m going to come.”
“Fall apart for me, princess. I want to see it for myself.”
Her forehead crashes into my chest as she orgasms. My cock is aching with desperation, but I won’t take her here. Not like this. Pain and suffering brought us together. Seeking vengeance for all we’ve endured will mark the beginning of our future, however long or short it may be.
“Here’s exactly what you’re going to do.” I slide my fingers from her panties and slowly lick her come from each one. “You’re going to put a pretty smile on and play the game with these assholes. I don’t give a fuck how, but we must convince them we’re the right ones for the job.”
“What job?” Eight repeats unsteadily.
Smirking, I push two of my fingers past her lips. Her eyes widen as she’s forced to taste her own release, but then her tongue flicks over my digits, cleaning up what remains. I push them further into her mouth, touching the back of her throat until she gags.
“We’re going to bring Lazlo in,” I whisper, fucking her throat with my fingers. “While they’re waiting for his worthless hide, we’re going to peel the skin from his bones and enjoy every precious second it takes for him to bleed to death.”
She gasps for air as I slip my fingers out. Stray tears mark the soft surface of her cheeks. Leaning in, I consume the salty droplets with a flick of my tongue. Her lips seek mine out with force, our teeth clashing.
When we finally break apart, darkness has unfurled in the grey depths of her eyes. It’s a welcome sight, the infection of violence and evil. Like spilled ink tainting everything around it. The person her men know—Brooklyn West—takes a back seat.
I’m left with the soulless demon that Augustus created. My equal in every sense, an extension of the sickness bred too deep into me to dig out. Patient Eight smiles up at me. My partner in darkness.