I stare at my bloodied hands and the weapon that fits so neatly between my fingers like it was made for me and me alone.
But it isn’t. This is his weapon I’m holding. His gun that I shot that man with.
I look up at the body in front of me. The man once named Ferry, now a hollow corpse, blood spraying from his forehead, eyes dull and lifeless.
I killed a man.
I ended someone’s life.
And I can’t. Fucking. Breathe.
Ares spins me around and places me down on the table, my ass still hurting from the way he just invaded it.
“Look at me.”
His voice sounds distant, like a jumbled mess.
“Crystal. Look at me.” He grips my face with equally bloodied hands, but it’s his lips pressed onto mine that finally manage to pull me out of this shock.
I tear away from him and stare up into those soulless eyes, which suddenly don’t look as demonic as I remember them being, and for a second, it’s almost as if there’s something else behind them; pride.
But the moment vanishes when I slap him. Hard.
A vicious smirk spreads on his cheeks as he refuses to let go of me.
And fuck me, the way he just tore his way through my ass makes me feel like I want to tear him a new one too. He was too huge and thick for me, but I still did it.
He leans his forehead against mine. “Didn’t it feel good?”
I suck in a breath, the red droplets of blood slowly rolling down his skin drawing my attention, like raindrops pitter-pattering on a wet canvas, slowly revealing a new painting.
And for some reason, I feel the need to kiss him back, so I lean in and plant my lips onto his. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t fight as I kiss him and let go of the anger and violence that just coursed through my veins the moment I shot that man.
Absolute power.
Bottomless lust.
All melding into one as my tongue twists around his and my arms wrap around his neck, desperate for another hit of whatever kind of hellfire I’ve walked into. But the flames no longer burn as they lick at my skin, coaxing me to turn into something else … a monster of his making.
His groans send electrical currents down my spine, and his fingers digging into my skin almost make me forget I just took a man’s life. But those fiery eyes of his … that’s what ultimately made me crack.
I pull away and look at him, wondering how I let it get this far. How I slipped down into this hellhole so effortlessly … how I let this vile boy destroy me so easily.
My eyes travel down his face as my hands unravel from behind his neck, my fingers slowly sliding down his chest, but I stop the moment I spot something hiding behind his unbuttoned white shirt. An obvious scar, like something carved into his skin.
I touch the mark, attempting to push away the fabric of his shirt to see more, but he immediately grabs my wrist, eyes darkening insanely fast. And I feel like I just got caught looking at something I shouldn’t have.
He pulls me off the table and sets me down, then opens the door with the key card while I bend over and pick up my knife.
But the longer I stare at it, the more I realize how futile my attempt was.
I didn’t even come close to killing him.
“What now?” I ask, slipping the knife back in my dress.
He grabs his gun and tucks it away. “We leave.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me through, then we run back through the hallway.
“What about the body?”
“When they find it, we’ll be long gone,” he says as we head through the crowd toward the exit.
But the moment fresh air hits my lungs, it only truly dawns on me what happened in there.
During the whole ride back home, I sit in silence, constantly aware of the knife poking into my breasts.
He didn’t even blink an eye at me picking it up again. Like he didn’t even care that I could still try to kill him.
Or maybe he’s waiting for me to try again … now that I’ve finally had a taste of death.
I swallow away the lump in my throat and keep quiet, following him as we make our way back inside the Tartarus House.
But as I walk in his shadows, my thoughts keep tapering off to that moment of me shooting that man … the sound it made when the bullet penetrated his skull … and just how good it felt to have Ares there filling me to the brim as I came so hard I saw nirvana.
It’s wrong for something to have felt so right, yet …
“You’re back.”
Blaine’s chirpy voice pulls me from my thoughts.
Ares closes the door behind me, and I feel like I just floated inside without any recollection of walking here.
“Holy shit …” Blaine’s eyes widen as he sees me, and I look down at my dress, realizing I’m caked in blood. “You guys had some fun without me, I see.”
“How is he?” Ares asks.
“Every time I check on him, he keeps throwing shit at the door to make me leave.”
“At least he’s alive,” Ares says, clearing his throat.
“Where is he?” I ask.
“Upstairs, to the left of the balcony. The door is painted black. You can’t miss it,” Blaine answers.
I nod a few times, then look at my own hands which don’t look like mine at all. Someone else’s blood is on me. “I … want to take a shower now.”
Ares’s eyes narrow. “Fine. Go on, then.” He nods at the stairs. “I’ll be right there.”
He’ll be right there?
“What did you do to her?” Blaine whispers behind me.
“Someone got what they deserved …” Ares responds. “And now I need a fucking drink and a smoke.”
I head upstairs, still feeling like my own feet aren’t mine. I don’t want to go back to the guest room. It doesn’t feel like mine. Doesn’t feel right.
So I knock on Caleb’s door, hoping he’ll be my salvation.
I can’t be alone right now.
I can’t be with my own thoughts, or I’ll go mad.
Ares left me with such a destructive wantonness that I don’t want anything anymore except more blood and cum. Death and desire have been forever interlaced.
And all I want right now is to lay down my head and forget.
Caleb
“Leave me alone …” I groan.
I don’t want to eat more of Blaine’s awful cooking. Besides, I’m not in the mood to listen to his endless stories either.
“It’s me.”
Crystal’s squeaky voice instantly makes me jump out of bed. I run to the door to open it up, but my whole body freezes to the ground at the sight of her covered in blood.
What happened to her?
“Can I come in?” she asks.
I pull open the door farther and let her step inside, but I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s covered in splatters of blood, and judging from the shell-shocked look on her face, I’m pretty sure she didn’t just witness a murder … she took part in one.
She steps inside my room, looking around at my decorations and furniture, all in black and red with as little light as possible as I like to keep the windows shut and the curtains closed.
She picks up a skull lying on the cabinet and stares into its eyes.
“He made you kill, didn’t he?” I ask, swallowing.
She places the skull back and sits on the bed, staring at the floor like she’s seen ghosts talk.
I sit beside her and softly caress her hand, but she pulls it away.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.
“What are you sorry for?”
Tears well up in her eyes, and she leans into me, swallowing them away, refusing to let them fall. And I’m torn between loving her and hating him. Even though I was the one who wanted him to ruin her, destroy her … I never realized it was only because I wanted her so badly I couldn’t stand her.
But now all I feel is regret.
“I’m the one who should say sorry,” I mutter, gently caressing her back. “I was blinded by my own rage.”
“Everyone in this house is.”
I’d disagree, but I know she’s right.
Even she’s been corrupted, her heart poisoned with hatred.
All because of us.
Crystal
A noise downstairs makes me look up, and I immediately run to the door before Caleb can stop me.
“Crystal, wait!” Caleb says, but I’ve already opened it up, and I peek through the gap.
A guy with flowy dark brown hair downstairs is yelling at Ares.
“What the fuck have you done, Ares?”
I clutch the door to get a better look at the guy. Something about him feels so familiar.
“Hello to you too,” Ares grits.
“Are you insane? That’s fucking Bonesmen territory you just barged into.”
Bonesmen?
“Why do you fucking care what I do?” Ares quips, casually drinking alcohol from a glass. “When have you ever cared?”
“I’ve always fucking cared, dammit.” The guy slams his fist onto the table next to the door. “This ain’t no fucking game, Ares. You murdered one of their men in cold fucking blood.”
Ares narrows his eyes. “And you know this … how?”
“Who the fuck do you think told me?” the guy replies, running his fingers through his dark hair. “You know he does business with the Bones Brotherhood.”
“Bones Brotherhood …” I mutter.
“Traffickers and drug dealers,” Caleb answers, scaring me a little because I didn’t even realize he’d creeped up on me.
The symbol of bones flashes across my mind again, and my stomach instantly squeezes together.
Only when I take a closer look at the guy yelling at Ares do I realize why he looks so familiar.
“Wait … is that Kai?” I whisper. “That’s Nathan’s friend from the Phantom Society.”
“Yes.” There’s a hint of disappointment in Caleb’s voice.
“You know both of them?” I ask.
Caleb sighs out loud. “Unfortunately.”
“I don’t fucking care,” Ares tells Kai, stoically drinking more alcohol.
“I don’t understand you,” Kai replies. “All this time, you’ve been fighting him, and now you just go around murdering anyone you set your eyes on.”
Ares sets down his glass before eyeing him. “I murder those who fucking deserve it. And don’t fucking pretend you don’t kill whoever you want to kill. I’ve seen you sneaking off with your friends.”
Kai’s jaw tightens. “Whatever. He wants you to come to the casino.”
Ares snorts. “Of course, he does. That’s what you came to tell me, busboy?” He grunts. “Get out of my fucking house.”
“Ares …” Kai growls.
“GET. OUT.” Ares points at the door.
“Fine,” Kai says through gritted teeth as he walks back to the front door. “Don’t say I didn’t fucking try.”
Before he pushes down the handle, he looks up, and when his dark eyes settle on mine, I panic and pull away, hiding behind the door.
“Shit,” I mutter. “He saw me.”
When I hear the front door close, I peek again. With clenched teeth, Ares picks up the glass and chucks it at the front door, roaring out loud.
I swiftly move back into Caleb’s room, and he follows me inside, shutting the door.
“Someone’s not happy Ares and I killed that Ferry guy …” I say.
“That would be Mr. Torres,” Caleb replies. “His father.”
My eyes widen as I look up at Caleb. “Wait … Torres? But that would make Kai his—”
“Younger brother.”
