Twisted Death (A Twisted Fairy Tale Book 2)

by Ace Gray

  I nodded even though he couldn’t see.

  But I still couldn’t move. I honestly didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be in this shop, with this man, erasing everything that I’d built my heart on.

  “Make a list of the equipment you need. Mickey’s waiting.”

  That pushed me off the door. Mickey had that kind of power. The threat of what might happen if I didn’t follow orders was almost as vicious a hell as living next to the ghost of my soul mate.

  I circled his workstation and I swore he watched me from under his long lashes. His head twisted back forward ever so slightly when I sat at my all too familiar stool. The station was stripped totally bare, only a blank notebook, a few pencils and a shoebox remained shoved underneath.

  When I tugged on the notepad the box lurched free and toppled. A thousand little horses scattered across the floor. Mixed in were tiny little toy cherries, some realistic, some cartoonish. I gasped as I crouched down and reached for them, turning the tiny toys over in my hand. My heart thunked in my chest.

  I righted the box intending to clean it up—then maybe shove it in Cole’s face and question him about it—when I caught the folded papers in the bottom. Thick paper mingled with thin tracing scraps but all of them were familiar. They were mine. Things I’d drawn sitting in this very seat. Takes on his artwork, scenes from the shop, doodles of him… Everything. Even the few I’d folded into little cranes.

  “What in the fuck are you doing?” Cole snarled over top of me and I twisted, scattering the trinkets even further across his tile.

  “I was just trying to…”

  “This isn’t your shit, what gives you the right to rifle through it?” There was a barely controlled temper brewing beneath his skin.

  “The sketchpad…” I was desperate to defend myself but he interrupted me again.

  “Not yours either, Elle.”

  He ripped it out of my hand and the way the cover shifted revealed filled pages. Filled pages of me. Well, naked me. Wrapped up with naked him. He snapped that shut even faster than he’d sprung after the figurines. Once he’d wrenched it from me, he tossed it onto his desk then started gathering back up the figures.

  I watched him for a moment, his shoulders heaving, making him seem even bigger, even more intimidating than usual. I couldn’t help but notice he was fucking fire like this too. And damn did I want to get burned.

  “Help me for fuck’s sake. You made the mess.” His sharp pointed words deflated my momentary lust. “You always make a mess of everything,” he added under his breath, flattening me completely.

  I choked back a giant lump of tears as I reached out to scoop toys back into the box. Mid-grab on one, he snatched my arm—my drawn-on arm.

  “Ladylove,” he said it softly and studied it.

  “You said it that night…”

  “I remember,” he snapped. “I remember everything from that night.” He raised his opposite thumb to his beautiful big lips and licked it. He brought the wet pad of his finger back to my skin and wiped. The ballpoint pen from earlier smeared across my flesh. “Thank God,” he muttered and tossed my arm aside.

  Without another word, he snatched the box from my hands and stood. He grabbed the sketchpad then in a smooth move wheeled out of the shop, both in hand. The doorbell sweetly chimed then the door slammed shut. I shot off the floor to watch him go, my heart racing for almost a million reasons.

  Cole was standing over the street side trashcan, poised to throw it all away but instead, he appeared frozen. The lid was up, the memories palmed in his hand, his furious heartbeats shaking his chiseled body, but instead of tossing them in with rancid pizza, or better yet, to the wind, he simply screamed.

  Just like before, it was a deep, gut-wrenching and tortured sound. My insides went apeshit, sure that I’d finally set Satan loose on the street outside. But then he slammed the lid without ditching the box or the pad. Those he hugged to his chest as he strode purposefully down the street, every bit the ball of fury he’d been crouched next to me.

  But in the end, he’d kept them. He’d kept us.

  4.

  Cole

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. FUCK! I was inwardly screaming at myself. She’d seen. First, Horse yesterday and now Elle today. They’d seen in through the cracks I was letting split my stony self.

  Yesterday, Mickey got under my skin but today, Elle’s body had threatened to cleave my being in two. Who fucking went around braless with a sheer shirt? Who fucking let her and her perfect tits out when they were on display like that? I had half a mind to choke Horse out. And not in a pleasurable way.

  And that tattoo? Or rather, Sharpie drawing on her peachy perfect flesh? I was relieved and torn up all at once. At least it wasn’t real. If she’d let someone else mark her skin, I probably would have disintegrated on the spot. Just seeing my love proclaimed back was enough to make my chest physically hurt.

  How was I supposed to keep up the act when she was right there each day? Long blond locks, wicked curves and the faint scent of cherries were going to ruin everything I’d worked for. Everything I’d wanted to give her far superior heart. Doing right by her meant not doing her.

  I repeated that over and over as I tossed the pile of love I had for her into the front seat of my Dodge Charger. I groaned when I had to twist completely to check behind me as I pulled out; I’d ripped my rearview mirror out after missing her so bad that it replaced the ache in my face that hadn’t gone away since that night. The memory of her masturbating framed perfectly in that mirror wouldn’t fade. Whether I liked it or not, she was everywhere, and I had to fight it.

  I had to fight something.

  Connor.

  The best part of playing a monster was that sometimes you actually got to be one.

  My body shook in time with the car but it wasn’t the rumble of my engine. It was Elle, mixed with every emotion coursing through my veins. Every. Single. One. Including fury. Well, particularly fury.

  I was mad at Connor for getting us here. For revealing our secrets and putting Elle up for grabs. And Elle for being her magical self. And her tits for standing at attention when she talked to me. Then of course, there was me, for being such a fucking sucker for it all. I could sulk or I could punch Connor’s face in. Then we’d match. And imagining him with a folded-in cheekbone revved a fire inside of me. Just like the engine.

  My new smile pulled into place and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t focus on how it felt different, how the dimple wasn’t quite there anymore. Or how it ached some days. Instead, my fists flexed and gripped around the steering wheel as I parked my car. The restaurant wasn’t open, the valet wasn’t waiting. Neither stopped me from kicking in the door.

  “Connor?” I roared. “Where the fuck are you?”

  A few of the cleaning staff scattered ahead of me in the dining room.

  “Connor!” My voice echoed through the cavernous room.

  “What do you want, Cole?” He shuffled out of the side room, polishing a glass.

  I didn’t even hesitate, I just strode toward him. He stutter-stepped back a few steps into the black room where I’d first taken Elle on a date. My conflicted feelings thumped through me even harsher now. I cocked back my elbow automatically and let it loose.

  The crunch it made against his bones was wholly satisfying. He dropped the glass he’d held a split second before he howled. Both of those sounds were even more fulfilling. He went to cover his face so I took the opportunity to sucker punch him then knee him in the groin. Connor’s screams were deep and guttural as he crumpled to the floor.

  I fucking loved it.

  He was a ball on the floor before me, holding tight to his crotch and it was almost too easy. My new, half-formed smirk pulled at my lip and a lightness filled my insides. I jerked my knee up and crushed it into his chin. He shrieked and blood spattered from his lips.

  “Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” I asked as smoothly as possible then let my elbow fly into his che
ekbone.

  He toppled further with the hit and blood pooled beneath his mouth on the floor. The broken body and the crimson puddle added to the dark motif of the room.

  “Next time remember who you’re going after.” I snarled as I kicked him twice in the ribs. “And if it’s me, you better fucking kill me. Because otherwise, I’m gonna kill you.”

  His neck was wide open and I took the opportunity to press my shiny shoe to the scruffy skin.

  “I might kill you anyway.” I shifted my weight so that my shoe sunk into his flesh.

  With barely any effort I used my stance to roll him onto his back. I pushed even harder on his throat and arched over him, hoping my amused smile filled his line of sight and etched itself into his fucking brain. Blood burst from his mouth as he coughed like little splatters of spray paint. His eyes went wide and his hands flew from his ribs to my foot, desperate to pull it away.

  I started laughing as I put my full weight on his neck and stepped over his body. He audibly gulped in air then wheezed on the floor. I enjoyed the ragged soundtrack as I walked over to Elle’s sculpture.

  The flaming sacred heart was designed from forged and welded metal but looked fragile. It embodied her. Delicate but strong. As fucking steel. After everything, she was still standing, still fighting, still loving.

  The thing that really made it beautiful was the crown. It was made of things that Elle loathed, things that had tainted her life, her love. There were items that represented the racetrack, her childhood home, her mother, Jimmy Ponies. I wagered she felt differently about all those things now. She’d wept for Jimmy Ponies when she killed him. She’d gotten the full effect of her mother’s love after her death, thanks to Jimmy and me.

  But it was the hundred dollar bills that had caught an evil eye. They were perfect replicas. They might as well have been from the US Mint.

  Without thinking it through, I wrenched it from the wall. It was far heavier than I expected and the image of her lifting it made my smile soften from sadistic to whimsical.

  God, I ached for her.

  And because of her.

  My smile fell completely as I stepped over to where Connor was still crumpled on the floor. I set the sharp point of the sculpture to his chest.

  “You can’t take that, Cole.” His words were rough and blood oozed from his mouth with each one. “It’s from the restaurant’s collection.”

  “Mickey wants it.” The lie was automatic, easy since it was a normal defense.

  “Liar. You’re grasping at straws to keep her.”

  For a second, panic welled inside me. Was I that transparent? After everything, could people see through this act?

  No.

  I’d make sure the answer was no. I pressed the edge deeper into his chest.

  “I could have her if I wanted her. I’d take her if I felt like it.” I kicked him in the kidney once for good measure. His body writhed and flexed up into the steel of the statue. I found my new painful and wicked smirk. “And you dare to question Mickey? About him wanting proof of her bill making skills pulled down? I’ll make sure he knows.”

  He groaned then added, “What am I supposed to tell the restaurant?”

  “You’re a sneaky little fuck. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” And with that, I landed one more solid kick to his face and turned to walk out.

  I slid Elle’s sculpture into the front seat next to me and let my fingers trace over it. They still remembered what it was like to run over her skin. What it was like to grab her throat and squeeze.

  Adrenaline was coursing through my veins after what I’d done to Connor. My body hummed after letting loose my inner savage. And now that I was adding the image of Elle’s perfect skin the way it sloped over her steel heart, I was getting hard.

  I thought about the way Connor’s blood had pooled on the floor. Then the way Elle’s skin would blush beneath my touch. There was the way Connor’s throat rippled beneath my shoe. The way he struggled. Then there was the way Elle’s rippled beneath my hands. And the way she surrendered to it.

  My hand slid to the front of my pants all on its own and started stroking.

  God, it felt good.

  Mostly it felt good to think about her. About how she felt against me. About how she felt for me.

  My dick twitched under my hand, flexing up into my palm as I groaned. For a moment I thought about rubbing myself right there until I came. Visions of Elle were assaulting me and I didn’t want to put my defenses up anymore. But Connor would be dragged out and to the hospital at any moment and as satisfying as it would be to see, staying at the scene of the crime never did anyone any good.

  I revved the engine and, for the first time in what felt like ages, let the memory of Elle jumping off the seat play out. The way her body had waved and arched out of pure need had me banging my steering wheel again. Even as I pulled away, I couldn’t help but rub on my cock.

  How I was ever able to keep control around her, I didn’t know.

  And the idea of controlling her again—choking her, guiding her rhythm, telling her what to do to Horse—had me swerving. I thought about pulling off the road, finishing myself off there and then, but that only reminded me of the first time I tasted her.

  I groaned as my balls tightened.

  If I weren’t so hard and in such desperate need to jerk off, I would have stopped for a fucking cherry milkshake. But I couldn’t wait. There was a chance I was going to come in my pants just at the porn reel I had running through my head.

  I slammed my car into park and whipped the keys out as soon as I was back in front of the shop. As I stood, I had to adjust my tent before I could round the car and haul the metalwork, the box of figures and the sketchbook into my arms and bolt for the stairs.

  But then I caught a glimpse of her. She’d stayed in the shop and was gracefully arced over the drawing table. Her beautiful golden hair was brushed over one shoulder and the edges danced with her tight and totally visible nipple. Her pale skin was highlighted on the other side, the graceful curve of her neck on full display. She’d found headphones and based on the adorable little crinkle of her brow, she was sketching.

  I was going to fucking burst.

  I took the stairs two at a time and all but careened into my front door. The moment that I was inside, I chucked my most prized possessions onto the bed.

  Elle was here too. The night with the frosting, her fingers tracing my tattoos in the moonlight. Her tiny body wrapped around mine whether it was as she cared for me or helped me take a piss. She was over by the kitchen island with leather around her neck and on my bed with Horse deep inside her.

  Before I even thought about it, I undid my belt, unzipped my fly and let the fine fabric of my suit fall to my ankles. I shoved my boxer briefs down but didn’t worry about getting them too far. I licked my palm fully then grabbed myself and started stroking.

  Her name thumped through me with every single heartbeat, it was timed with every single tug.

  I was rough, the way I would have been with her. Tug. Twist. Turn. Repeat. Tug on her hips, twist her nipples wildly, turn her on her stomach. Repeat. Over and over and over.

  Elle’s name fell from my lips, loud and long and ragged.

  Ladylove.

  And in that moment, I let it go. All of it. The past, the present, the future—gone. The entire universe consisted of Elle Laroux. My unrestrained love for her was the constellations filling up the night sky. They’d just been hiding during the endless wasteland of days that had been my life lately.

  Everything in me tensed and my body flexed. The tails of my dress shirt swayed at my sides and brushed my fingertips as I kept working on my erection. The wave was about to hit. She was about to wash over and drown me. I didn’t give a fuck that I’d have to wash my hands or my sheets or my goddamn floor, for a moment, we were back together.

  I cried out like a vicious animal as cum splattered on my hand then dripped down onto the sacred heart; I hadn’t even realized tha
t I’d shuffled closer to the bed. My breathing was as wild as the animal I’d sounded like a moment ago.

  When I finished, my arms and legs felt heavier and warm, like I’d started drinking. I swayed on my feet and in case I passed out, I slumped down and lay out on the bed beside Elle’s art. My chest rose and fell, my tattooed artwork rising up then falling away to reveal hers. A whole pile of her designs actually.

  I let my fingers skate down along her metal heart. I closed my eyes and let my heart wrap up with her real one. After my mind had explored the nooks and crannies of her body, I moved on to her soul. It was a maze I wanted to run for eternity, spinning in circles and getting lost was the best kind of bliss.

  But like any good mythical maze, monsters were chasing us. I couldn’t run away with her, I had to protect her. What a fucked up knight I turned out to be.

  I blew out a deep breath as I shimmied my boxer briefs back up. I had to shove her down into the depths of my soul. I had to put my defensive walls back up and seal that threaten-to-shatter-everything love behind it.

  With another heavy sigh, I sat up and shrugged out of my jacket and shirt. I rounded over my thighs and ringed the angry scar on my thigh. It was a giant knot in the middle of an odd indent. The big tattoo covering my thigh wasn’t a ship anymore. Like the ink, any hope of being with Elle had sailed.

  Eventually, I stood and grabbed Elle’s sculpture. There was an exposed nail that had been hanging above my bed for ages and it slid on as if it was always meant to hang there. I stood back and looked at it. Her heart above me was torture. The reminder of her pain though… Now that was something I could bury myself in. Well, bury away any piece of me that mattered anyhow.

  5.

  Elle

  What the fuck was the racket upstairs? I was deciding between a marching band and howler monkey but I couldn’t really tell. I turned up my music and bent back over my drawing.