Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark) (40 page)

Tess lifted her glass. The alcohol brushed her lips. Her eyes locked with mine, refusing to answer.

I balled my hands.

But then she lowered the glass without drinking. “Because I sensed you needed to be pushed. I sensed your unhappiness. I know you’re only truly happy when you let go.”

Goddammit, I’d been afraid of that. She was way too reckless—always giving me things she wasn’t strong enough to give.

“So you tied a bow around your pretty fucking neck and threw yourself into a life where I could do anything I wanted?”

She glanced quickly around the restaurant, eyes burning with heat. “Yes. And you know why? Because I need pain like you need to inflict—you taught me—”

“Taught you or
made
you?”

She planted her hands on the table, trembling with temper. “You didn’t
make
me anything, so get off your ego trip and listen for once. I learned about my dark desires way before you. I stayed with a boyfriend who I loved as a brother because I was too damn afraid of being alone again—but I always knew I wanted more. Needed certain things. If anyone used each other in this scenario, it was
me
using
you
.”

She slouched back in her booth, taking a gulp of alcohol.

Franco pulled the curtain aside, revealing his table and his cocky smug-ass face. His eyes darted between us, mirth glowing in his green gaze. “Not that I mind listening to this, but keep your voices down.” He winked at Tess. “For the record—you’re doing a damn good job getting answers I’ve been wondering about, too. Keep it up.”

Pointing a finger at me, he said, “Don’t make me hit you for swearing at your fiancée.”

I snarled, reaching to smash his face, but he jerked the curtain back into position, chuckling at my fucking expense. Bastard. Absolute bastard.

Needing to do something with my hands, so I didn’t sucker-punch my head of security, I drank. The swallow was small—I’d finished my second whiskey.

Exchanging the empty for a full one, I nursed it. Looking at the man alone in his booth, I tried to calm myself, noticing he’d ordered and nibbled on a breadstick.
See? Nothing to worry about.

I risked a glance at Tess.

Her eyes were down; her glass also empty. She looked up, catching my eye. Giving me a tentative smile, she whispered, “I don’t think I want to play anymore.”

But I didn’t learn anything new. I hadn’t got nearly enough out of her. She started this—I’d say when we finished.

Pushing the new martini toward her, I muttered, “It’s not over until I say it is.”

She shifted in her seat, picking at the grey netting on her dress. “I don’t think this game is meant for people like us.”

My eyes narrowed.
“Des gens comme nous ?”
 People like us?

“People with too much darkness—too much to hide.”

My skin bristled. My mind filled with images of every dark thing I wanted to do. How could I want to do such god-awful things to her, when I was madly fucking in love? How could I sit there and argue when every protective instinct was focused on threats I couldn’t see but knew were coming?

I sighed. “You wanted to play, Tess. So play.”

Her blue-grey eyes met mine. “Fine. I can’t remember whose turn it is.”

“Mine.” Was it? Who cared—it was now. “Do you have a middle name?”

Tess paused, stunned at my seemingly innocent question. “Um, Olivia.”

My heart thawed, letting go of the lacing anger. “Olivia. Tess Olivia Mercer.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “Not yet…but I hope—soon.”

I let a tight smile spread my lips. “Sooner than you think,
esclave
.” Two days to be exact. Two days before I could relax, knowing she would be cared for for the rest of her life if anything happened to me.

For some reason, I liked her not knowing—creating the surprise. Fuck, I still had to call Suzette. I’d shoot her and bury her in a shallow grave behind my garage if she so much as invited one person I didn’t know. And Franco’s entire team of bodyguards would have to restrain me if she’d invited camera crews. This was private, and I wouldn’t share my life for no amount of money, company promotion, or sick human curiosity.

“Do you have a middle name?” Tess asked. Ah, so her ploy was to parrot all my questions. I’d have to stick to basic rapid fire, lulling her into a sense of normalcy before sneaking in what I really wanted to know.

 “No. What was your favourite movie as a child?”

Her eyes filled with innocent happiness. She laughed. “It’s a little ironic—but
Beauty and the Beast.”

I had no idea why that was ironic, but I let it go. She asked, “Who’s your favourite band? I know you like music—you played enough when I first arrived.”

The question was more loaded than she thought. I had a favourite singer—who happened to be a good friend and Tess would meet her soon. “Yes. Most of the songs I played were originals by her.” Taking a sip, I mulled over another question. “What are you most afraid of?”

Tess blushed. “You’re going to think I’m an idiot.” Twirling her glass, she admitted, “Crickets.”

My eyebrow rose. “
Crickets
. Out of every single venomous, eight-legged, sharp-toothed ferocious carnivore, you’ve decided to be terrified of a bug that doesn’t have fangs or a lust for human flesh?”

She squirmed, flushing redder. “Yes. Don’t mock me.” Her eyes flashed. “Do you have any siblings?”

My world screeched to a halt. The beast inside tucked its tail between its legs, howling at the crack in my carefully fortified cage.

The one question I would
never
answer—even on my death bed. No one knew. Not even Frederick, who knew most of it. This game was over. I was done.

I drank the entire glass. The whiskey hit the back of my throat with a hot knife, licking my stomach with sickening heat. The alcoholic fumes shot up my nose, making me a menace to anyone who came too close.

Tess’s eyes shot wide, very aware what my answer meant. Denied a response but ultimately given one at the same time. “Oh, my God. You have a sister or brother?”

Had.

And I’d refused to think about her for so many fucking years. But the pain hadn’t lessened—the nausea hadn’t faded.

My voice dripped darkness and warning. “Don’t,
esclave
. That one is completely off limits.”

My sister’s green eyes consumed my thoughts, begging me, streaming with tears.

I was five when I first saw her—she was my earliest memory. I didn’t even know her name. But she was my sister. I would’ve known even if
he
hadn’t told me. We looked the same—matching jade eyes, identical dark hair. I found out later she was fifteen when I was five.

Taken and demoted from daughter to whore by the man who’d given her life.

The memory took me by the balls, hurling me back into filth.

“You little shit, what are you doing in here again? I’ll fucking chain you to your bed if I catch you lurking where you don’t belong.”

I turned to run, but he grabbed the cuff of my collar, hauling me backward. “Where do you think you’re going?”

My eyes spilled with useless tears as he pulled me backward. Back toward the girl I was fascinated with, hanging from the ceiling. Something caught my attention; I whipped my neck around, horror making me freeze. A man slouched against the wall, a lewd sneer on his lips. He was huge, hulking, evil.

“I think you need to see what happens to members of this household who don’t fucking obey their father.” My tyrannical
père
threw me to the floor, kicking me firmly in the ribs. Before I could scream, he caught my chin, angling my face toward the beautiful, crying girl.

She shook her head, jangling the chains around her throat, sending saliva dribbling on either side of the ball-gag in her mouth.

She was an angel. So pretty. So gentle. So endlessly sad.

“This is your sister, Quincy. And it’ll be the first and last time you’ll see her.”

I squeezed my eyes against the horror of what came next. I was young but not young enough. Her image haunted me for the rest of my life.

The nameless sister who died two months later by my father’s hand.

He was right. I never saw her again
.

I growled under my breath, desperate to hurt, throbbing with the need to tear men like my father apart. I’d only found out her name when I inherited the Mercer estate. Birth records at the local hospital claimed she’d died when she was ten, due to pneumonia. Her name was Marquisa Mercer. And she no longer existed. Thanks to
him.
The fucker.

“Q—Q—” Tess leaned across the table, shattering my black-riddled world, slamming me back to the present. “Are you—”

I was done before. Now, I was completely and utterly ruined. Hurling myself to my feet, I grabbed her wrist, yanking her from the booth. “We’re leaving.”

Franco scrambled out from his table. Taking one look at me, he gritted his teeth and went to settle the bill.

The man in the suit didn’t look up. My worries about him were unnecessary. It didn’t mean I felt any safer. Especially now. I couldn’t stay in public when I felt this way—this sick and twisted way.

“I’m sorry, Q. I’m truly sorry if I upset you.”

Swallowing back the rage, I locked away the memories where they belonged. Acting my fucking ass off, I jerked her against me, murmuring, “You didn’t upset me,
esclave
. I’ve just had enough of Truth. It’s time to Dare.”

Pushing Tess roughly into the bedroom, I slammed the door.

The security of a lock and walls did little to calm me. I couldn’t deny the icy warning growing more and more prevalent in my blood. I wanted to ignore it but it lived on the edge of my brain—taunting me with…
when.

Franco had dropped us off at the hotel, and I’d barely waited for him to pull to a stop before yanking Tess from the BMW and into the foyer. I needed to use her. I wanted to pour the darkness out of me and into her light. I needed
something
to get rid of the disease inside—the disease of wanting to hurt.

Balling my hands, I advanced on Tess. My cock, sensing prey, leapt to attention, punching against my belt with lust. “I need to take you fast, dirty, fucking hard,
esclave
. I’ll hurt you—if that isn’t okay—
tu dois fuir.
”  You need to run. My voice thickened as my vision clouded. The beast stretched, sensing violence in its future.

Her spread over the bed.

One droplet of crimson on the white carpet.

Her with my belt around her neck.

Her screams as I drove relentlessly into her
.

Her tears as I licked her cheeks.

Tess spun to face me, her body quivering in the grey dress. My teeth ground, hating the material for hiding what was mine. I wanted to tear it into pieces. I wanted to destroy it.

Tess’s face paled, her feet propelling her backward. “Q—I.” She held a hand to her chest, drawing my attention to the swell of her breasts, the soft fragility of the woman I wanted to ravage. “What—what are you going to do?”

I laughed darkly. “Don’t ask me that. I won’t fucking bullet-point it.”
I need to give you pain
—
just like you gave me by reminding me of Marquisa.

Her lips parted as a rush of terror painted her cheeks. “Wait—what happened to dare? Dare me, Q. Don’t just take, give me an option to say no.”

I shook my head, hunting her toward the bed. “Don’t tell me to wait. You don’t tell me what to do. That game was utterly ridiculous. I don’t want to play anymore.” My neck ached from the overloading of tension; the back of my eyes sprang with a headache—all warning signs I was losing control of the monster living inside.

“Get on your knees.” I sidestepped, blocking her dash for the bathroom. I gave her the option to run. But running would only make it worse. She pirouetted, heading toward the thick curtains hiding us from downtown Rome.

Her hair was wild while the skirts of her dress kicked up with her panicked steps. My heart changed from thundering nastiness to fracturing with a small smidgen of restraint. She was mine. I couldn’t destroy what was mine.

Shaking my head, I pinched my brow, forcing the headache to simmer.

A gentle thud made me look up. Tess bowed forward on her knees, her curls mixing with the grey of her dress.

Ah, fuck me. Seeing her so submissive—ready for me—made the headache roar along with a howl from my soul.

The huge curtains behind her looked like a silver waterfall, constantly shimmering with the illusion of liquid thanks to the lamps around the room.

My earlier threat of taking her in full view pressed against the glass filled my mind. She’d be fucking perfect, splayed and on display. My cock twitched at the thought of driving into her while people watched. The knowledge they’d want what I had would twist my mind until I rode the fine boundary of sanity and monster.