Cold Dark Souls : A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Cruel Black Hearts Book 2)

by Candace Wondrak

  She was slow to nod, and I released my hold on her head, stepping back only to shed my clothes. I was going to get in there with her whether she liked it or not. I needed to do something to get the doubt, the worry out of my mind, and feeling her wet pussy around my dick would be the only distraction I needed.

  After getting in with her, I couldn’t help but study her. Ribs poking out beneath her chest, a body that held not an ounce of fat, she looked anything but a murderer on her own. She looked helpless, like she needed someone to take care of her. And, damn it all, I wanted to be that someone. I wanted it to be Ed and I. That ginger could fuck off. This woman was ours, no matter what happened to Callie.

  I slid my hands against her cheeks, cupping them, pulling her closer to me until our wet bodies pressed against each other’s. Her blue eye looked cloudy, her brown eye hazy. I’d known from the first moment I’d met her that her eyes hid something, I just didn’t imagine what that something could be—and I sure as shit never would’ve thought what they hid was the murder of her best friend.

  But the tiny woman looking up at me, running her hands up my sides, her touch instantly hardening my cock, didn’t look like the kind of person who could murder her friend. She didn’t look like a killer. And when I’d asked about Callie, there was not a hint of malice or lies.

  Did Stella still think Callie was alive?

  Fuck.

  That made the waters I tried to navigate even blacker, because I didn’t know what to do. I was cold and dark, my heart black and my soul psychotic, but I wasn’t someone who knew how to handle mental things like this. Delusions. Or were they hallucinations? I wasn’t even sure of the difference.

  I had to talk to Ed about it. We had to figure something out. This woman…needed more help than we might be able to give.

  No more thinking.

  I lowered my mouth to hers, swallowing her up, tasting her. She might’ve been small, but her body held a fire, a passion nothing could put out. However she used to live, I wouldn’t let her live like that anymore. Stella needed us almost as much as—I begrudgingly would admit—we needed her. Ed was right. She fit with us. She was ours, and that fucking Killian would never get his hands on her.

  Usually my past times with Stella were all about control and dominance, but this was…different. Needier. Every way I touched her body now was me begging. I wanted her to be okay, to be alright. I didn’t want to lose her to whatever madness she might have.

  I was…gentler with her this time, since I knew the truth, it was almost like I was afraid to break her—and that was something I would forever hate myself for doing.

  I wanted to take this woman, hide her away from the world, protect her from its horrors and only show her the good in it. Ed and I might be killers ourselves, but we weren’t bad people. At least I didn’t think so.

  This woman needed us just as much as we needed her.

  Fuck. How the hell could this have happened?

  I slipped my tongue past her lips, tasting her hunger. My hands moved to her sides, and I moved her against the wall, away from the water. Her fingers wove through my hair, tugging and pulling, eliciting a familiar ache in my dick, a slight throbbing that told me I needed to be inside of her, to feel her all around me. Who knew burying myself between her legs would become my drug? Who knew how much I would grow to care for this woman after one fucking week?

  One week. One attempted murder. Those fucking eyes.

  I broke our lip lock as I hoisted her up, helped wrap her legs around me, tiny and thin as they were. Frail as her body was, Stella could take me in like no other. She was tight and usually dripping wet for me. She liked playing submissive as much as I liked giving orders. Not many women would want to take her place in Ed’s and my life.

  Pushing inside of her easily, I let out a groan, burying my face in her wet hair as I listened to her make a similar sound. Her moans were breathier, feminine, and they made my cock only throb harder. Hugging her to the wall, I rocked my hips back and forth, taking on an almost agonizingly slow pace to make myself last longer. Even I got tired sometimes.

  Now was not one of those times, however.

  “How do I feel?” I asked, my voice ragged and husky, coming out as a bare whisper she might not have heard over the shower.

  All Stella could do was nod, her head lolling back, mouth hanging open as little moans escaped her with each thrust of my dick. Deeper into her I went, as far as I could go, filling her up to her core, making her cry out in what I knew was both pain and pleasure. When it came to me, pain and pleasure came hand in hand, anyway.

  I wanted to make her feel good. I wanted to make her forget all about the outside world. Just me and her, my dick and her pussy. No worries, no concerns. No dead roommates. Nothing bad at all. Just us and our insatiable need to have each other’s bodies.

  My hips picked up speed, my thrusts needier. I felt the orgasm coming, and I couldn’t stop it from erupting. My dick throbbed inside her as my cum coated her inner walls, marking her as mine. I would continue marking her as mine for as long as I could.

  Mine and Ed’s, technically, but Ed wasn’t here yet, so the pleasure was all mine. Literally.

  I pulled out of her, reaching to turn the water off, holding her against my body. She weighed nothing to me. Light as a fucking feather. Keeping her close, I walked us out of the tub, leading us through the hall and into her bedroom, tossing her on the bed. Her breasts bounced as her body did the same on the bed, and I saw trails of white seeping down her thighs.

  Mine.

  Moving above her, I pushed her legs open, gazing at the pink folds of skin between her legs, flicking my dark gaze up at her, wondering if she was watching.

  She was.

  I lowered my mouth to her apex, flicking my tongue out and around her mound, stimulating her in a way my dick couldn’t. The sounds she made were even lighter, breathier, so soft they hardly sounded right coming from her mouth.

  Each time she made a sound, I knew she liked what I was doing with my tongue, and I knew she’d like it even better if I was focusing on two parts of her instead of one. I slid two fingers into her, feeling them go in with ease with her wetness and my cum. Filling her up was a job I took very seriously, and it was one I would never willingly hand over to that ginger.

  He could find his own Stella. This one already had two masters. Two masters, two monsters. Whatever the fuck we were.

  Every whimper that came from Stella’s lips made me work harder, faster. My fingers pumped in and out of her, my tongue flicking and swirling around her clit. I ignored the hardness forming once again between my own legs. I’d get my relief soon enough from that sweet mouth of hers.

  The body below me started to tense. Her fingers curled on the sheets she lay on, and I felt her back arch as a loud moan lifted from her throat, her inner walls tensing, trying to milk my fingers as if they were my cock.

  When I picked myself up, slowly taking my fingers out, I gazed at her. Her pale skin, flushed and sweaty. Her wet hair a mess, a dark halo around her head. Her eyes, crazy and almost inhuman as they were, stared right back at me, wordlessly daring me, begging me for more.

  “Now it’s time to put that mouth of yours to work,” I spoke, a smile spreading across my face as I imagined her pretty lips parting to take in my dick. I got off the bed, standing beside it. I would make her kneel. I was still me, after all, no matter what the truth was about her roommate.

  Stella got up, moving before me, not a hint of unwillingness on her face as she lowered herself, her mouth now level with my dick. Coated in her juices and mine, I knew she’d have no problem taking me in. Fuck, the first time I shoved my cock in her mouth was right after I was with another woman—a woman I’d strangled, no less.

  She took me in, and it was like I was home. Stupid thing to say when I was cock-deep in her throat, but it was true. Stella wouldn’t go anywhere. I wouldn’t give her the fucking chance to choose the ginger prick, not when I fucked her like that, not wh
en she was on her knees before me. This was how it should be, how it was meant to be.

  I dug my fingers into her hair, pulling back her head only to ram myself as deep as I could into her throat. She didn’t gag as much as she did the first time, which only made me want to be rougher. Go at her harder. Fuck her mouth like I was fucking her vagina. Seeing her on her knees, knowing she was all but helpless when it came to my cock—it was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.

  Right here, right now, she was mine. Every part of her body was mine. She’d never give in to Killian the way she did to me. Never.

  Sweat gathered on my back, mixing with the droplets of water from the shower. My muscles tensed, giving way to the pleasure that built inside of me. Balls tightening, I lurched my hips forward, thrusting deep into her mouth as I came, shooting right into her throat. I marveled at the easy, weightless feeling that swallowed me shortly after, waiting a long moment before pulling my cock from her mouth.

  Before she had the chance to say anything, I grabbed her, pulled her up as I said “Good girl” and helped her onto the bed. Beneath the sheets, even though it wasn’t that late yet. Night hadn’t settled outside yet, but I knew she was probably tired. She curled on her side, and I—I hated to admit it—cuddled with her.

  Yes, I fucking cuddled like some high school boyfriend. I spooned her like some acne-ridden virgin who didn’t know how to make a move.

  With my arm around her, I held her back tight against my chest, breathing her in. She smelled like…life. Stella smelled like home, a scent I couldn’t describe but one I found intoxicating.

  “How was your day with your mom and your sister?” I asked quietly.

  “Terrible. Speaking of which, don’t let me forget, there’s something I have to ask you and Edward,” she mumbled, fighting a yawn. I found it strangely endearing that she refused to call him Ed and always called him his full name. Ed had been Ed to me for so many years now. In fact, I couldn’t say whether or not he’d ever been Edward to me.

  “Okay,” I said, feeling her breathing steady against me. Was she really going to fall asleep? I hadn’t tired her out that much, but maybe dealing with her family had been mentally draining. I could understand that easily enough. My family was…

  Well, my family wasn’t the typical family, and their jobs were hard to explain to someone who didn’t know us. Some would call us assassins, others would call us contractors. We didn’t accept every job that came our way. I hadn’t been on the family’s clock for years now, but they still let me use Frank for disposal, because they knew my habits weren’t going to stop just because I moved out and graduated the police academy.

  I didn’t like to think of my family, obviously for many reasons.

  In five minutes, Stella was fast asleep. To fall asleep while I held her, it had to mean something. It had to mean she would choose us over him. I needed to get that ginger out of my head, but I couldn’t forget the cocky look on his face. He truly believed she would choose him once she knew he was the Angel Maker.

  I wasn’t a betting man, but it was a bet I was willing to take. And then, after Stella chose us, we’d find him, string him up in the basement, and take turns with him. It was the least the bastard deserved, after trying to kill Ed. No one attacked Ed and got away with it.

  Chapter Seventeen – Edward

  I could not get out of work soon enough. I loved my job, really I did, but days like this I just wanted to throw in my apron and walk away, because there were other things on my mind, things I had to deal with that were more important. Stella, for instance. Plus, I could not get away from the questions. I couldn’t even count the number of times I’d been asked what happened during my shift.

  What happened? Killian happened. And then, bizarrely, he walked right out of our house after dropping a bombshell. Callie was dead, he had her body in his basement, and Stella was the one who killed her.

  I…didn’t know what to think. I knew Stella was different from the moment I read her articles and her blog. I knew her mind didn’t work the way most people’s did—I saw her cut into Destiny as if it was nothing, like it was all fun and games. The evidence was there, and yet I didn’t want to believe it all the same, because if it was true, if Stella had killed her friend, it meant she had been hiding this from me the entire time.

  I wasn’t certain if I could handle knowing that truth.

  Still, I did my work, and once I clocked out, I ran to my car, hopped in, and GPS-ed my way straight to her house. I wasn’t going to bother stopping at my place first; Lincoln was already there, and I was morbidly curious to know if Killian had told us the truth.

  Ugh. That man. I couldn’t believe he had the audacity to break into my house, try to kill me, and then declare a competition between us involving Stella. The Angel Maker or not, he had absolutely no right to do any of it, and really, he had no idea what sick fucks he’d messed with. Lincoln and I didn’t take any shit.

  Although, we did let him leave, which I did spend the majority of the afternoon regretting. I didn’t know what he would do to try and get Stella to his side, but whether or not she did kill Callie, I had to trust her. I had to believe in her. She would pick us. We were so much better for her than Killian was—and a hell of a lot better-looking, too.

  It took me far too long to make the drive to her house. The moon hung high in the sky by the time I arrived, and I parked my car in the driveway beside Lincoln’s. The front door was unlocked, so I walked in, flicking the lock behind me. Not like that could keep out Killian, if he wanted to make his presence known.

  No. Tonight was ours.

  I headed into the hall after surveying the kitchen and the living room. Nothing really stuck out at me. Nothing that told me what Killian had said was true. Lincoln met me in the hallway, naked. He was far too careful in shutting the door behind him, which I took to mean Stella was sleeping.

  He grabbed me, pulling me into the bathroom, closing the door before saying, “I think he was right.” A bare whisper, yet I felt it in my bones. Fuck, I didn’t want him to be right.

  “The bleach you smelled in the garage…” I trailed off, refusing to believe it.

  “No. That was too new. I think…I think this happened a while ago.”

  “And the garage?”

  The look Lincoln gave me made my stomach twist. “I don’t know what happened in the garage, but I do think it was another…another incident. If you go into the other bedroom, there’s dust on everything. I didn’t notice it before. Her phone looks like it hasn’t been touched in ages.” He moved, gesturing to the vanity counter. “One fucking toothbrush. One towel. That ginger was right.”

  Maybe Killian found out; maybe he was the reason behind the bleach smell in the garage—or maybe Stella had killed again. Who could say for certain?

  “Did you ask her about it?” I said, meeting his dark eyes.

  “What could I say? Killed anyone else besides Destiny? Demand for her to call her roommate?” Lincoln actually looked perturbed, and he never looked perturbed. He ran his hands through his hair, sticking its black lengths straight up.

  I shook my head. “I won’t believe it until we have more proof. Callie might keep her things in the drawers. Some people do that, right?” I pushed past him, grasping at straws and knowing it all the same. The helpless feeling rising in my gut, I hated it with my entire being. I didn’t want to be wrong about this, about Stella.

  I opened the first drawer. Hairbrush, nail clippers, nothing much else. Second drawer held a blow dryer and a straightener. The bottommost drawer, the third drawer—such a tiny, inconspicuous thing—didn’t hold any other toothbrushes, either.

  But I did see something that caught my eye. Orange, round, white lid. I knew what it was before I picked it up. A pill bottle. Behind me, Lincoln only watched as I bent to pick it up. Inspecting it, I felt my stomach fall.

  Thorazine.

  I wasn’t familiar with prescribed medications enough to immediately recognize the name, but Goo
gle would. When in doubt, Google it all. I set the pill bottle on the counter, reaching for my phone in my back pocket, typing in the name with thumbs that felt far too thick and clumsy to belong to me.

  “This was prescribed a year ago,” Lincoln muttered, dark eyes looking at me, as if I held all the answers.

  I nodded. A year ago, with twelve refills that never went refilled, if I had to guess, for the bottle in Lincoln’s hand was full. She had meds, and she wasn’t taking them—and with Google’s help, I knew exactly what the medication was for.

  Thorazine was another name for chlorpromazine, which was used to treat psychotic disorders, mainly manic-depression and…and schizophrenia.

  The expression on my face mustn’t have been a good one, for Lincoln traded me the pill bottle for my phone, scrolling through the results, scanning the screen rapidly. I breathed out an erratic breath, the disbelief making me feel like I weighed a thousand pounds. Heavy weights on my shoulders, a heavier heart.

  Was Stella schizophrenic?

  And then, stupid me, I couldn’t help but wonder if her being off her meds was the only reason she liked me. Liked Lincoln. The only reason she wanted to be with us. We were the monsters she wanted to be.

  Lincoln was slow to hand me back my phone, asking, “What are we going to do?”

  What were we going to do? Good question. I didn’t know if I had an answer or not, because regardless, things had to change. It was obvious Stella wasn’t taking care of herself, and she was so far down in her delusions that she didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

  “Your family has a doctor they use, right?” I asked, clutching the pill bottle tight against my palm. If it had been sharp, it would’ve drawn blood. “Can you call him? We need…” Damn it, I knew what had to be done, and yet it hurt to admit it, for things might change for the worse. I just couldn’t take Stella like this. No matter what was going to happen between us, between her and Killian, I didn’t want her to do anything else she might regret.