Monster: Made & Broken (A Mafia Bad Boy Romance)

by Nora Ash

  “Marcus,” I called softly.

  He looked back over his shoulder at me, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly in question.

  “Come.”

  He obeyed, somewhat to my relief—I was way too sore everywhere to climb off the counter and walk over to him myself. Now that the last of my adrenaline had left my system I was all too keenly aware of the dull throbbing in every part of my body from Leo’s abuse.

  When Marcus was within reach, I put my hand on his chest and slid my palm up to his shoulder in a gentle caress before I curved it around his neck and pulled him down to me.

  He let me guide him, though from the faint resistance in his body, I could tell he wasn’t sure what I was doing. When our lips connected, however, it seemed to click.

  His hands came up to rest around my back, and he brushed his lips gently against mine once, twice, three times until I arched my neck back to lead him to the sensitive spots there.

  Marcus hesitated for just a moment, then obliged me.

  His lips on my throat sent sharper tendrils of arousal down my spine and into my thighs, causing my muscles to contract and pain from my many bruises to bloom up through them. I winced, and Marcus paused, his lips hovering just above my skin.

  “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere,” I said, sliding my hand up to his jaw to try to pull him back. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He made a rumbling sound deep in his throat and drew away from me. “It matters.”

  Irritation washed over me, dampening my growing arousal. “Why? You want a baby—this is how they’re made. Let’s just… get started.”

  Gently, he raised a hand to skim the tips of his fingers over my eye and cheekbone where Leo had hit me. “Take off your clothes.”

  Finally, we were getting somewhere. I shrugged out of my jacket, undid the buttons on my shirt, and pulled it off a little stiffly. The pants were harder, but I managed without aggravating any of my bruises too much, and after a few minutes I sat in just my bra and panties in front of him.

  Marcus reached out for me again, and I thought he was going to slip my bra straps off my shoulders—until he gently pressed two fingers against a bruise on my clavicle.

  “Ow,” I whimpered, flinching from the unexpected touch. “What are you doing?”

  “Seeing if you need a doctor,” he said calmly, his eyes fixed on my body—but there was no fire in them, just clinical focus.

  “I don’t need a doctor!” I snapped, though I wasn’t sure how true that was. I hadn’t taken much time to look over the damage Leo had done, but I figured that since I hadn’t collapsed yet, I probably wasn’t going to die.

  Marcus ignored my anger and trailed his fingers down my body, testing every inch of it with light pressure.

  I groaned in pain when he got to my stomach and hips where Leo had taken out most of his fury, but despite the discomfort, my frustration slowly began to wither. It had been a long time since anyone had taken the time to care for me like this, and there was something very soothing about letting Marcus tend to me so thoroughly. My mind wandered back to how he had painstakingly pulled every shard of glass from my raw feet when he saw the blood on my sock. Who would have thought the man capable of utter carnage, whose sheer presence spoke of danger and violence, would be so gentle with me?

  “Do you do this to all the girls you get naked?” I asked when he was hunched down looking over my shins and calves. “Because someone should have told you you’re playing doctor wrong. Just saying.”

  Unsurprisingly, he ignored me. Only when he had checked every inch of my body did he finally return his gaze to mine, straightening as he rose. “You’re very tough.”

  “Thanks?” I arched an eyebrow at him. If there was one thing I didn’t feel after today, it was tough.

  “I’ll make some food,” he said, ignoring my questioning tone. I assumed that meant I didn’t need a doctor.

  “I just want to sleep,” I said, frowning at his back as he returned to the fridge. After his thorough, but kinda detached examination, I was no longer feeling particularly amorous, but his attentiveness had soothed me so much the exhaustion finally overwhelmed my mind, numbing out all the horrors almost as efficiently as a dose of endorphins could have. All I wanted was to pass out in a soft bed and sleep for as long as humanly possible.

  “When did you eat last?” he asked without looking away from the fridge.

  “This morning. But I’m really not hungry. Could you please just help me down? I don’t want to land on my feet.”

  Without looking at me Marcus pulled an assortment of food from the fridge and then proceeded to retrieve crockery from the cabinets.

  Apparently, I was eating whether I wanted to or not.

  * * * *

  Chapter 11

  Marcus

  “Marcus.”

  My cocoon of all-encompassing darkness rippled at the sound of the female voice, calling from somewhere beyond the monsters circling me.

  I spun, searching frantically for the source of it, but all I saw were bloody entrails and brain matter. I looked down at my hands, already knowing what I’d find. They were soaked in blood, a knife clutched in one of them.

  I am the monster.

  Terror lanced through me and I roared in anguish, my voice no longer human. I was changing, becoming part of the monsters lurking in the shadows around me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  “Marcus! Wake up. It’s just a dream. Wake up!” The darkness rippled again, more violently this time, and then a pair of warm arms closed around me in a protective circle of light. “Wake up.”

  I came to with a gasp as the nightmare’s death grip finally released me. Unexpected brightness made me squint, my eyes struggling to adjust even as I scrambled to sit up. Breathing deeply through my nose to try and calm my racing pulse, I buried my face in my hands and let the horrors of the dream slip away.

  “Are you okay?” The unexpected sound of a female voice made me jolt and spin around, only to come face to face with a concerned-looking Evelyn.

  I blinked, my heart rate slowly settling again as I took in her messy hair and green eyes lined with dark circles. She was the one who had called for me, had broken through my nightmare to wake me up, just as she had the night before. A rush of longing swept through me as I looked at her sitting in my bed, wearing one of my much too big t-shirts. Without pausing I reached out and pulled her against me, reveling in her feminine scent and softness.

  She made a startled sound, but didn’t struggle as I laid back down with her sprawled across my bare chest.

  She felt just as perfect in my arms as she had the first time we’d shared a bed, and just like it had then, I felt all the tension in my body drain to the beating of her heart.

  “What did you dream?” she asked, tilting her head to look up at me.

  I never spoke about my nightmares. I never spoke about any of the things that twisted in my broken mind. But…

  “I was turning into a monster.”

  “Oh.” Evelyn was silent for a little while, then added, “And it scared you?”

  I grimaced at the ceiling. “Yes. I killed someone.”

  “Killing scares you?” she asked, the note of incredulity unmistakable. Not that I could blame her. She’d seen me after the monster had taken over.

  “Someone innocent,” I said, burying my nose in her hair to inhale her scent when the sick, ghostly vestiges of the dream threatened to wrap around me again. “It’s always someone innocent.”

  “Oh.” Her small hand came up to rest against my chest, and I closed my eyes and pretended like she was caressing me when her fingertips brushed over my skin in the process. Right now, I didn’t care that I knew I couldn’t trust her. All that mattered was that holding on to her made my broken mind stop its spiral.

  “Do you have that dream often?”

  “Every time,” I said. The softness of her hair against my face felt so good. I rubbed my nose into it.

&nbs
p; “Every time you kill?” The quaver of her voice betrayed her reluctance to bring up the subject of my nature. But I knew now that she was not as innocent as I’d thought. She knew about the world I lived my cursed existence in, had been part of London’s underworld long enough to understand true darkness. She knew about violence and she knew about murder. She knew about me.

  “Every time I lose control.”

  Evelyn didn’t answer, but from her stiffness I knew she remembered what had happened in the basement I’d found her in, even if I barely remembered myself. There was only the black rage when I saw that filthy bastard try to force himself on her, the satisfaction of ripping his body apart and the absolute terror in Evelyn’s eyes as she watched me do it. I had regained control sometime after that and found Liam and Louis waiting outside the door for me to calm down. The twins, like the rest of the Family, knew to keep their distance when the monster was in control.

  “Sing to me,” I said, finally lifting my nose from Evelyn’s hair to let my head sink back into the pillow. Tonight was not the time to mull over the implications of Brigs’ betrayal and Leo’s death. Tomorrow would have to suffice.

  Evelyn hesitated, and I could practically feel her urge to ask me why. To my relief, she didn’t. “What do you want me to sing?”

  “Don’t care,” I said, closing my eyes against the dim light. “I just want to hear your voice.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, her breath ghosting across my chest.

  I fell asleep to the sound of a lullaby I hadn’t heard since my mother was still alive.

  * * *

  When I woke up the next morning, Evelyn was gone.

  Anger and betrayal welled up within me like a sour flood as I sat up and looked around for some trace of her. There was none, save the ruffled bedding next to me.

  Had she played me again? What was it about that woman that made me such a fucking fool? She had already proven she would lie to get what she wanted from me, and still I’d expected her to keep to our deal. Stupid!

  I tore out of the bed, intent on hunting her down and bringing her back. Fine. If she wanted to be locked up like a prisoner, that was exactly what she was going to get.

  It took me less than ten seconds to throw on a t-shirt and pants, and I stalked out of the bedroom with dark anger bubbling in my chest. I was so intent on my purpose that the scene that met me in the living room didn’t register until I was halfway to the door.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Evelyn looked up from her perch on the sofa, a spoon of yogurt halfway to her mouth. She was still wearing the t-shirt I’d given her to sleep in, and my flat screen TV was turned on, though the volume was off. She was watching cartoons.

  Something settled inside my chest, the anger evaporating and leaving an odd feeling of contentment in its place.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you? I kept the volume off because I didn’t know if the sound would carry,” she continued, putting down the bowl of yogurt as a small frown formed on her face. “Is something wrong?”

  A small pang of longing curled in my gut. This was exactly the kind of scenario I wanted to wake up to more than I wanted anything else. My own little family enjoying breakfast, a woman who loved me and a child no one would ever take away from me either growing in her belly or sitting on the couch next to her. Seeing Evelyn still disheveled from sleep and wearing my shirt, on my couch and eating my food, was so close to what I yearned for with all my body and all my soul that I could nearly forget she was only here because of our agreement.

  I took a step toward her, wanting more than anything to join her on the couch, but the look of alarm on her face stopped me cold.

  “Marcus?”

  I clenched my hands hard to stem the wave of bitter disappointment threatening to crash over me. I was being foolish. I knew what effect I had on people—I scared them just by being there. And Evelyn wasn’t here because she could eventually come to love me. No one could. She was here because I could protect her.

  “How are your injuries?” I asked, managing to force a neutral tone.

  Evelyn shrugged, grimacing as she did. “I mean, I won’t be doing any wild gymnastics anytime soon, but I’m still not dying, so… I’d class it as a win.”

  “Your feet?” I glanced down at the bandages.

  “Pretty sore,” she said, stretching her legs out a little and flexing her toes. She winced, that little experiment clearly having pushed her body too far.

  “I’ll look them over again,” I said, turning around to fetch the First Aid kit from the bathroom.

  She made noises behind me about it not being necessary, but gave up when I disappeared from view.

  When I came back with fresh bandages and more ointment, she didn’t bother to protest and obediently held out a foot as I shoved the coffee table out of the way to kneel in front of her.

  The sole was still raw, but there was no sign of infection. I rubbed more salve on the multitude of cuts, being careful not to be too rough, and then put on a fresh bandage. With a little luck she should be back to normal soon.

  “How do you know how to do this?” she asked as I began to unwrap her other foot. “I mean… I kind of assumed you were like Brigs. Mafia. Not someone who knows how to take care of injuries like this.”

  I breathed in deep to control the burst of anger at being compared to Brigs. I may be a monster, but I would never let a woman be tortured to death, nor would I ever hurt one. Even if she had betrayed both me and the Family, it would seem. I knew what my father would do, should he ever find out I had spared the life of a woman who would steal information from us. Which was why he could never know.

  “My family is in the same business,” I said as I rubbed ointment into a cut that was slightly deeper than the rest. Evelyn flinched, her foot spasming from the pain, but she didn’t try to pull away. “We have to do a lot of patching up on the job.”

  Her nose scrunched up and her mouth pulling into a line from the pain of my care. “I suppose that makes sense.”

  Without answering, I grabbed the fresh bandage to re-wrap her foot. For someone who had been working as a honey trap, she seemed more disturbed by the realities of living in the underworld than she should have been.

  When I was done I wiped my hands in my jeans and got up, intending to leave her to her breakfast and cartoons.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, offering me a tentative smile. “You’re really good at that.”

  I grunted dismissively—I’d had plenty of practice. But her smile warmed something inside of me, and I felt the urge to sit by her side again, just so I could be near it.

  “Marcus… do you think it would be possible to drive by my flat and pick up some things?” she asked, pulling my attention from her smile. “I need my clothes and shampoo and stuff.”

  “No. We can get you new things. Brigs will know what’s happened to his nephew by now—he might keep tabs on your flat.”

  Her smile faltered. “But.. I don’t want new things. I want my things. Please, I don’t want to lose everything I own to that creep on top of everything else he’s done to me.”

  I frowned. Why was she fighting me on this? I was simply trying to hold up my end of the bargain—protecting her. “They’re just things.”

  “Have you ever heard of sentimental value?” she huffed. “I want my things. I’m sure you can keep me safe for the ten minutes it’ll take to get in and out.”

  I gritted my teeth, my own irritation rearing its head. It was a somewhat uncommon emotion for me—I was used to anger, but frustration? Less so. Probably because no one ever dared to argue with me about anything.

  “I said no.”

  * * * *

  Chapter 12

  Marcus

  I was still irritated an hour and a half later after having driven Evelyn back from her flat and carried her bags of clothes and books and God-knew-what-else that she’d deemed “absolutely vital” up to mine.

  I still had no idea how the fuck she had made me give i
n in the end, but I suspected it had something to do with how she had batted her eyelashes and gently touched my arm.

  Yeah, she was a honey trap, all right. I’d seen countless men fall for women with an agenda before, but being part of the experience was entirely new to me. The women who wanted something from me bad enough to pretend like they weren’t scared of me had never been able to lure me like Evelyn.

  It had to be that underlying attraction between us I’d been unable to ignore since the first time I saw her. I’d wanted her like I’d never wanted another person before, and even now, when I knew what she was capable of, every part of my body longed for the sweet relief of her closeness.

  I clutched the steering wheel of my Porsche as the agitation warred with longing somewhere deep in my chest. Right now was not the time to think about Evelyn. I had a meeting to prepare for, and if I wasn’t in the right headspace, things were going to go south very quickly.

  The twins had informed my father of what I’d done to Leo, but had been wise enough to leave out the few details I’d shared with them. I was going to have to explain that someone we’d thought was our ally had tried to steal from me, without letting him know what he had tried to take. If my father ever caught wind of the existence of what was on that pen drive, I knew I was dead—and no one would be left to protect my remaining brothers from him.

  * * *

  My father’s house was as gloomy as always, with its dark wooden panels and memories I’d rather be without lurking in every corner.

  Wesley, my father’s most trusted man, nodded at me as I walked into the drawing room where my family waited. If I hadn’t seen Blaine’s Jaguar and Liam’s Land Rover in the driveway, I wouldn’t have known my brothers had arrived yet. There was usually lively chatter whenever the twins were present, but today I was met by eerie silence.