Dark Desires (Dark Romance Boxed Set)

by Cerys du Lys

  “No!”

  Everything happened in a confusing blur of images and sounds. I was shoved down a staircase leading to a steel door that groaned when it opened. I smelled blood saturating the air but I could see nothing and with a small push right in the center of my back I flew forward and landed on concrete. My last glimpse of them before I was shut in the darkness burned in my mind for hours afterward.

  CAIN

  “Your toy is here.” Crash’s voice was impatient.

  A flicker of something, it might have been happiness, sparked in my chest. “Great. I’ll be right there.” There were few things in life that made me more excited than a human being completely at my mercy.

  “Just make sure the bitch suffers.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  Crash knew full well that I killed my victims to end their suffering. After breaking them down to a huddled, obedient mass, I had no use for them anymore.

  I already reaped my reward by hearing their screams stabbing my ears, by breaking them down so that I could shape them back together like wet clay. Their identity destroyed, I moved on to the next phase. The kill. It served two purposes. One, it satisfied my bloodlust. Two, it ended their suffering. I was not completely incapable of compassion.

  I was a god.

  The memories of all those quick, painless deaths made me swell with pride. I was good at what I did—sophisticated in my craft.

  I didn’t understand the anger in Crash’s voice. I knew that he was close to Ace, who died of a heart attack last year, but what did the bitch have to do with it? I tried to remember what Crash told me about her—that she was a junkie, a thief, and a liar.

  I don’t give a fuck what she’s done.

  It was a private thought, one that I would never share with anyone else, because they wouldn’t understand. I long since discarded the effort to understand why stealing was wrong.

  What the hell was right and wrong? If it was a feeling, then I lacked it. I finally decided that right and wrong were only rules established by the most powerful people.

  My motorcycle roared along the highway as I left my apartment for the club, the glorious excitement I felt so rarely ramping up in my abdomen. I weaved through the seedy streets of Victoria, and biked up the brown hills towards the pasture that held our clubhouse. It was a semi-removed location, which was strange because it was headquarters. One didn’t expect peace and quiet for a clubhouse with whoring and drinking, but it certainly had its uses. Really, it was a great place for me to train my subjects. A smile hitched on my face.

  The gates opened for me and I parked my bike along the others, flashing a grin at the curly-haired prospect who crossed his arms at me.

  “Spike,” I said as I cut the engine. “How’s it going?”

  He shrugged with a smirk on his face. “Oh, you know, just busy being the Dragon’s new bitch boy.” A limp, greasy rag hung from his pocket. I realized that my bike kicked up dust all over the bikes he just finished cleaning.

  “Sorry, bro.”

  “Next time, I’ll kick your fucking ass.”

  Coming from Spike, it was like a puppy showing his teeth.

  I raised an eyebrow at him, but Spike only laughed and stared back at me. I had to admire the balls on him. No one ever talked to me like that—like an equal. But I wasn’t one of those idiots who flipped the fuck out at every perceived slight. I liked the fact that he never tried to suck my cock. He was just an honest kid.

  Tank, the sergeant of arms, shoved Spike’s chest hard. “Show some fucking respect!”

  But Spike wouldn’t be humbled. His mischievous eyes danced to me as he raised his arms as if saying, “Who, me?”

  “Just leave the kid alone, Tank.” A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as Spike’s ridiculous face grinned at me. He was really the most annoying person in the world, but I liked him. I saw a bit of my fearlessness inside him.

  The clubhouse was in full swing as I walked inside. Club whores wearing nothing but pasties and G-strings eyed me hopefully, but I ignored them as I always did. Truth be told, I only fucked to alleviate the boredom in my life and to convince others that I wasn’t a faggot. Pussy did nothing for me most of the time.

  Crash sat on a barstool, sipping whiskey. When he saw me, he slid off the stood and threw his arm over my shoulders. “Cain, we shoved that little bitch in the cell for you—in the dark, just like you wanted.”

  Another flurry of excitement inside my stomach caught me by surprise. “Good.”

  “Listen, son. I don’t want this to take too much of your time. The Tigers are giving us a lot of problems.”

  I’m not your son.

  It was hard to tell what I felt for Crash. He recruited me when I was a kid, when Christ’s Cross brought us to a charity event. When he found out about my nasty habit of slicing open live cats and dogs to see how they worked inside, the habit that got me in that stupid rehab center in the first place, he adopted me. Instead of trying to constrain the sickness inside me, he built it up like a fire. He coached me in the ways of violence and taught me to redirect my energy on to more useful things. Crash raised me into the man I was today and somehow that made him think that I owed him something. He mistook my loyalty to him for affection.

  Could I kill him, if I had to?

  Doubt fogged my mind. Yes, I was loyal to him—as loyal as lion to his master. So far he taught me well—he taught me all the tricks I needed to survive. I knew how to beg to get a juicy morsel of meat, and how to play dead, to smile and shake hands, even if I didn’t understand the purpose in those meaningless gestures. But even a lion could turn on his master with the slightest provocation.

  “I’ll handle them. Don’t worry.”

  Crash gave me a fatherly smile and patted me on the back. He was proud of the beast he created.

  Unable to wait another moment, I descended the stairs in the back of the club with a duffel bag in my hand and peered through the darkness. Quiet. I flipped on the light-switch and the harsh, yellow light flared on a crumpled figure balled on the floor. She lifted her head and a long cascade of golden waves spilling down her head shifted aside to reveal an elfin face with almond-shaped blue eyes and small, red lips. A slim neck led to a pair of huge tits that looked like a schoolboy’s fantasy. For the first time in a long while, blood rushed into my face.

  She is beautiful, that’s for sure.

  Aside from the desire stiffening my cock, I couldn’t really feel anything else. My mouth watered as I imagined myself breaking this woman into a tool for me to do anything I wished, to see her dropping to her knees to zip open my jeans and wrap her pretty little lips around me. It would be so satisfying to see this gorgeous woman entirely bent to my will. Now excited beyond anything I could have ever imagined, I reached for the door and my fingers slipped on the cool steel. I opened it again and stepped inside.

  She looked at me like a frightened bird and uttered a small squeak. Her eyes kept darting to my face. Does she like the way I look? How amusing. I thought of the broken bodies I disposed over all the years and wanted to laugh at the hope blossoming on her face.

  “You’re Cain.”

  It wasn’t a question. Her voice was lower than I thought it would be and extremely calm. I didn’t expect that.

  “Yes. Surprised?”

  Her shoulder lifted. “Someone with a reputation like that, I expected them to be…” her voice trailed off.

  Less blonde? Taller? Shorter? Angrier?

  “Ugly,” she said.

  I smiled and walked closer to the woman on the floor who might as well have been my possession. There was nothing in the room, save for a toilet and a bed. There were no objects that she could use to defend herself.

  Did that explain the calmness in her eyes? I expected her to scream and plead for her life. Although the crying and screaming got tiresome, I enjoyed the begging. It was incredible to strip a human being down of all of their fucking pride or whatever and reduce them to the most basic human inst
inct—survival. It was fun. Even she would be reduced to a sobbing, begging, pathetic mess. The defiance in her eyes meant that she definitely wasn’t going to submit to me immediately.

  What should I do with this one?

  I never enjoyed violence on the weak; it just wasn’t a challenge. Anyone could tie a woman up and rape her or beat her into submission. No, that was too pedestrian for me. Too easy. I had to instill fear in her, yes—but there were other, more challenging and rewarding ways than inflicting physical pain.

  “What’s your name?” I said quietly.

  “Julia.”

  “Julia,” I said slowly, liking the way the name rolled off my tongue. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets. “What did you do with our money?”

  Her eyes trembled. “It’s gone. I tried to explain that earlier, but listen—I can get it back. I can work for the club. I’m really good at hustling—”

  I made a sound of disgust that made her shudder. “Don’t bargain. It’s such a bore.”

  She bit her lip violently and I waited for the torrent of tears, the screaming. She must know that she’s going to die. All I saw in her eyes was a sullen resignation. Did she want to die? I made another sound of disgust. Suicidal people were not fun—not at all. There was nothing you could do to make them care. I needed to find out whether she still had life inside her.

  She got up to her feet and dusted herself off coolly. The strangest sensation twitched in my chest. It was similar to being surprised, but not quite. I never understood the phrase, “breathtakingly beautiful,” until now. Julia reached up and pushed her hair behind her shoulders and I noticed the way her tits moved up and down. I wanted her and I was fascinated by my desire. I imagined myself slamming her against the wall and tearing off her clothes.

  Her beauty was only slightly marred by the red mark burning on her face. I wanted to touch her. She was like a beautiful painting that I wanted to run my fingers over to feel all of its contours and study each color. I could do it. I raised my finger and stroked the red mark on her face—she didn’t even flinch. The kidnapping probably traumatized her. Maybe that explained her unnatural demeanor.

  Her hip bumped into me and her fingers slightly stroked my thigh.

  “Isn’t there a way we could settle this?”

  The suggestion in her voice made me smirk and I finally saw the fear stirring in her eyes. “What, you mean like you fuck me and I’ll let you go?”

  “I—I meant—”

  “You’re mine and I’m allowed to do whatever the fuck I want to you before Crash decides to kill you. I can fuck you whenever I want.”

  My hand shot out and grabbed her wrist when she backed away, finally giving in to some of her fear. And I was so close to giving in to the strange desire that leapt inside me. I wanted to fuck her on the floor where I dispatched so many of my playthings and I wanted her screams echoing around me. Her skinny wrist twisted inside my hand.

  “Let me go! Where’s Ace?”

  Did she already forget that he was dead?

  I love her spirit. I held her against me, smiling as she cringed from my touch. “Oh, I suspect you’ll see him before long.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I shoved her hard when her knee shot up, aiming for my groin, and she sprawled to the ground. She looked up at me under her hair with a look of hatred that interested me. Even though she knew she was going to die, she hadn’t gone berserk. How interesting.

  “If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”

  I stooped down slightly to grab the duffel bag. “Where’s the fun in that? No, Julia…I like to take my time.”

  She flinched as I unzipped the bag. I watched her round eyes stare at the bag, perhaps wondering what sort of medieval torture devices were inside. All I took out were handcuffs and large pieces of foam, a blindfold, and noise-canceling headphones. I smiled at the confusion on her face. She didn’t realize that when combined, these innocent-looking objects would create the worst hell she ever experienced.

  “Get on the bed.”

  Julia hesitated before walking to the bed and sitting on the mattress. She sat like a trained bird as I approached her with the handcuffs, her heart beating so fast I could see the vein jumping in her neck. I gently fastened the handcuffs to her wrists and pinned them over her head. She was so compliant that I rewarded her by stroking her hair. I used to do this to the animals I tortured to make it better. I would pet them as they howled and screamed in pain. Julia’s wet, blue eyes slid over to mine.

  After I handcuffed her feet to the posts, I began wrapping her hands and feet with the foam. It was so she would be completely sensory deprived. Without light, sound, and touch, her mental state would deteriorate. Rapidly.

  It was then that I noticed a small diamond ring on her left finger. I twisted it off. Julia moaned in protest as I held it in front of her terrified face.

  “Do you belong to another man?”

  “You bastards killed him. You killed my husband.”

  “No, Julia. You killed him.”

  The ring fell to the floor with a tiny ping and I let it roll away from her until it stopped on the edge of the drain in the middle of the room. I kicked it inside the drain and it tumbled down.

  “Fuck you!”

  I swept to her supine body and wrapped my hand around her jaw. I squeezed hard until I heard a squeak of pain.

  “I do not tolerate disrespect, Julia. You are mine, now. You’ll do exactly as I say. You may have belonged to another man in the past, but he is dead.”

  Releasing her jaw, I looked towards my feet, at the headphones and blindfold. Julia trembled as she tugged hopelessly at her restraints. Her body was spread out in front of me and I couldn’t help but admire the way her tits sat on her chest and her golden hair splayed over the mattress. She jerked violently when I laid my hand on her stomach and it swelled up and down. I smoothed my hand over her body soothingly. Underneath her ruined blouse was a lean abdomen. My fingers paused at the button on her blouse.

  I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so badly in my life. Part of me wanted to savor this feeling. I swept my hand up her body, over her ribcage and just under the swell of her breast. I squeezed her, dying to slip my hand under her bra to feel her naked flesh in my hand. Marveling at the desire heating my balls, I pulled away with great difficulty, seized by a strange desire to thread my fingers through her hair and kiss her open mouth.

  I want her. She’s going to be hard to give up.

  Perhaps I could persuade Crash to keep her around for a few more days. I grabbed the blindfold and slipped it over her eyes.

  “The CIA calls this, ‘white torture.’ It turns out that you don’t need thumbscrews or knives to drive someone completely insane.”

  “Is that what you plan to do to me?”

  Her voice was too calm. I frowned. “I am going to break you. You’ll never be the same again.”

  She said nothing. I could feel the doubt emanating from her. She didn’t think it was going to be a big deal. I wanted to laugh.

  After a couple days of this, you’ll be begging for me. All I’ll have to do is point and you’ll suck my cock.

  “So you like to destroy people?”

  I didn’t like the judgment in her voice. “I like to manipulate people into what I want them to be. It makes my dick hard.” I stared right back where I imagined the two angry blue eyes were. “Sweet dreams, Julia.”

  “What are you—wait!”

  I slipped the noise-canceling headphones over her head. She wouldn’t even be able to hear the sound of her screaming. She was blind, deaf, and unable to feel anything. I switched off the light as she struggled in the restraints and left the room. I climbed the stairs and blew a frustrated sigh. What’s wrong with me today?

  Meeting my new toy made me a lot more agitated than usual. There was excitement, yes, but also frustration. I thought I would fuck the first club whore I saw, but unfortunately Crash slid off his stool and made a beeline for me.

&n
bsp; “Cain, I don’t want you to mess with her for too long. You can have a couple days to play with her, but that’s it.”

  “I need more than a couple days.” No, you just want more. “Plus, I really want to fuck her.”

  He groaned as if he knew this would happen. “Of course you want to fuck her. But don’t let her get under your skin, or you’ll be like Ace and you’ll be eating out of her hand.”

  The idea that I could be manipulated by the girl I was trying to break made me laugh out loud. “I just want to fuck her. It’s not complicated.”

  Crash appraised me for a moment and grinned, clapping my upper back. “All right.”

  He turned back to the bar and poured a couple shots of whiskey. He gave me the tiny, amber glass and I immediately downed it. The whiskey went down my throat like a sweet flame.

  “I’m going to go for a ride.”

  The road called to me like a Siren’s song. There was nothing like the growl of a motorcycle and the wind whipping through my leather jacket. I liked to take rides through our territory to remind people about our presence. With a shotgun strapped to my bike, surrounded by a team of other ravenous beasts, I was fucking invincible. Every time I went out there, I prayed that we would find Tigers, our rival MC in Victoria. They were easy pickings the few times they braved through our territory, but those opportunities were becoming less and less. I was getting bored.

  A few years ago the war between the Dragons and Tigers was at its peak. I earned my name by slicing off Tiger heads and sticking them crudely on their bikes for cops to find. I tagged every scene with our insignia. Crash loved it. After those little displays, our protection money was always paid on time and our gun shipments always prompt. It terrified the people of Victoria and I found myself never having to pay for a meal in a restaurant again.