Broken by the Monster: Dark Twisted Love Book One

by Fox, Logan

  He had to have a girlfriend. Not a wife — he didn’t wear a ring. Or maybe he took his ring off. Difficult to make a mum of three forget about her car if you were wearing a wedding ring.

  Hot, brittle anger flooded her.

  Of course he’s seeing someone. But you? You’re going to die alone, Cora Swan AKA fucking Eleodora Rivera. No one wants you; daughter of a drug cartel. Cartel princess with less life experience than a stray dog. You’d be lucky if you ever got to third base with a guy. Probably no one even calls it that anymore.

  She slid into the sleeping bag, yanking her shirt down when it gathered at her ribs. There wasn’t much padding between her and the stone floor — she shifted around to find a comfortable position for her limbs. Since she normally slept like a damn flamingo laying on its side, it was almost impossible. Despite the hard floor, and the myriad ugly thoughts scouring her mind, keeping her eyes open became more and more difficult. Orange firelight glowed as she widened her lids, faded as they fell closed.

  And then blissful nothing.

  Until those evil creatures slunk from the shadows of her mind and snatched her into their nightmare shed of pain and degradation.

  22

  No Shit, Princess

  His skin itched as it dried. He’d slung his jacket over his shoulders, but it wasn’t doing much to warm him. And whatever heat his body accumulated, the wind whipped away every time it gusted. An ache began in his jaw where he clenched it. His limbs felt thick and heavy, his exhaustion having returned as soon as he’d stepped from the pool.

  What would have happened if they hadn’t been scorched by that water? Would they still be inside the pool, making out like a couple of hormone-crazy teenagers?

  There was a soft scrape behind him. Cora, shifting in the nylon sleeping bag. The sound made him want to turn around, but he didn’t want to risk looking at her. As it was, he couldn’t get the sight of her from his thoughts. Those golden eyes, shining with moonlight. The feel of her soft skin against him.

  He had better control than this. Yes, it had been a time since he’d held a woman. A long, long time. Which didn’t mean he had to stick it in the first one who gave him the time of the day.

  And she was a client. The daughter of a client, anyway. If Swan even found out he’d even thought about touching her…

  Swan could be dead.

  Finn squeezed his eyes shut with his fingers. His muscles ached for sleep, his mind for release. The night was far from quiet — nocturnal animals moving through the shadows, the sound of the small waterfall nearby, the wind toying through the trees — but it was the kind of peaceful he could get lost in. He’d never liked the city. It had always been too busy, too crowded, too dirty, too concrete.

  He got up, ducking so his head wouldn’t hit the overhang, and moved around their campsite. It was no more than a wide shelf, some ten yards of stone and rock pools. Two sides ended in a precipitous drop, one in a cliff wall he wasn’t sure a cougar could even scale, and the last in the overhang with its slit of an opening. But he made sure there was nothing in the shadows. And then he went into the cave, shuffling on hands and feet until he was close enough to the fissure to peer through. He could see only darkness beyond. But, unless the person trying to get in was skinnier than Cora, they wouldn’t do so without making enough noise to rouse him.

  Because all he needed was twenty minutes. Enough to reset his brain, rest his muscles. To get the taste of Cora’s lips from his mouth.

  He went back to the fire. It was burning low, but there was no more tinder around. He’d have to go back through the fissure if he wanted to keep it going.

  He’d survive; this place could have nothing on the cold of a desert night.

  He lay on his side beside the fire, staring into the glowing embers as they mouthed incomprehensible truths at him with dull red mouths. His jacket became a makeshift blanket. He lay his head on his arm for a pillow and tried to even his breathing. It became harder when the shivers came.

  The fire had become sullen and cold, its warmth a mere memory. But still, his eyes managed to drift closed. They stung, eager for sleep. But those incessant shivers kept him from true sleep. From the delta he so badly needed.

  So he thought about Cora. Which made him want to go to her.

  An owl hooted. His eyes flared open, staring at the dead fire.

  The sound of nylon behind him made him stiffen.

  “Finn?”

  He tried to keep still, but his body betrayed him with another shiver.

  Fabric whisked. The sound of a zip. Bare feet padded up to him. Heat as Cora bent down behind him. A slim hand, warm from sleep, touched his shoulder.

  His jacket had fallen down. No wonder he was so fucking cold.

  “You’re freezing.”

  No shit, princess.

  She shook him, and he tugged his shoulder away from her, coming to a sit and moving closer to the dead fire.

  “There’s enough space,” she said. Her warmth mocked him. Another violent shiver tore through him.

  “I’m fine,” he said through clenched teeth. He should have warmed water on the fire before it had died out. If he’d trusted the water in the springs, he would have had some of that. Anything to bring heat back into him.

  What the fuck was he thinking? Washing his clothes so late at night? No dry clothes to wear? But he’d been able to smell himself, and Cora’s nose had kept twitching as if she could, too. The way she’d looked at his face, streaked with dirt…

  Her hand found his shoulder again. He grabbed his jacket and slid it over, knocking her hand away in the process. “Finn…”

  Don’t ask again.

  He wouldn’t be able to say no a second time. Not as fucking cold as he was. He wasn’t an idiot, but he didn’t trust himself right now, either. If he hadn’t been able to push her away before, why would he now?

  But that wasn’t what she was offering. She was offering heat. Maybe she wouldn’t even get in with him.

  Cora sighed. “Fine, you stubborn idiot. We can sleep in shifts. I’ll stay out here.”

  Thank fucking God.

  As selfish as it was, he couldn’t have been happier. “Wake me in twenty minutes.” Discarding his jacket, he shuffled over to the sleeping bag without standing and slid inside. It was like getting into the hot spring. Still warm with Cora’s body heat, the soft fabric clung to him like water. He let out an involuntary sigh, suffered through another shiver, and relaxed entirely.

  Seconds later, his breathing grew even. Long and deep.

  In the distance, a second owl joined the first. They hooted at each other from two points that seemed too far away to make sense. Why didn’t they just fly closer? Nothing was holding them apart.

  The thought disintegrated as sleep claimed him with iron determination.

  W

  Holy crap, it was cold out here. Her clothes offered virtually no protection from the wind, which kept finding its way inside their little cave. She’d grabbed Finn’s jacket from beside the fire. It helped some, but not enough. She shivered, hugging her knees hard, and glanced over her shoulder at him.

  With shadows clinging to him, he looked like a piece of the mountain. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind her wearing his jacket. He was, after all, fast asleep. She’d just take it off before he woke up. It was bigger than hers, had a thin fleece lining.

  She turned her head up to the strip of stars visible between the lip of the overhang and the top of the cliff, toying with the pendant around her neck. What was on it? Why was it so important? She opened the lid, twisting the tiny thumb-drive so it caught the light.

  Boredom set in pretty quickly. With a quick peek over her shoulder to make sure Finn was still sleeping, she began going through his pockets. Some spare change. A receipt from the rental shop. A pamphlet with crude directions to the hot springs drawn on the back. A packet of mints, the package well worn.

  Was that what she’d tasted in his mouth?

  The thought sent a delicious sh
udder through her before she pushed it away. She grabbed one of the mints and sucked on it as she went through his remaining pockets.

  The pieces of that woman’s phone. A hotel keycard. She frowned as she tried to read the name in the moonlight.

  The Elegance

  What a shitty name; the card looked far from elegant, with its misprinted scrollwork and horrendous typography. Had they been meant to stay here en-route to Texas? Finn was so convinced that it was too dangerous to go to Javier’s villa, but why? Did he honestly suspect her father’s best friend to have some kind of involvement in this whole thing? It made no sense; her father trusted Javier with his life. And he’d been willing to trust him with her life, too. Didn’t that count for anything?

  Then again, people knew she was going to Javier’s. Maybe it would be safer for her to go somewhere else. A place no one else would know about.

  Would they be alone there, her and Finn? She shivered at the thought.

  Finn’s jacket smelled like she’d imagine a lumberjack should smell. Leather, pine needles, overturned soil, woodsmoke. Or maybe it was the fire. She snuggled deeper into the jacket, rubbing her cheek against its lapel.

  Cold air streamed past her, whipping her hair into her face. The wind was growing stronger, more persistent. She shivered and put everything back into Finn’s pocket.

  “Mm.”

  Cora glanced over her shoulder. Finn had turned over, but his face was still slack with sleep.

  She took off his jacket and went to go put it close to him. Pausing for a moment, she took out the map and slid it into her jeans pocket. Another souvenir; this one from Turkey Creek. On the way back, her foot caught against a stone, sending it clattering over the floor of the cave. Finn was up in an instant. He spun to face her, shadows bathing his face, and then relaxed when he saw her. And then stiffened again. She was less than three feet away from him, on her way back to the dead fire.

  Did he think she was on his way to him? An invisible hand squeezed hard at her heart.

  Finn ran fingers through his hair, over his face. Whipped his hand away like he was pissed she’d woken him up. Her pulse pounded in her ears. The owl called again, the sound filling the cave. She jumped, still shaky from breaking his watch.

  “Owl,” he said.

  A flash of indignation sparked through her. “I know.”

  She moved to go past him, but he caught her wrist. “Thought you—”

  “What? That an owl had scared me?” She ripped her hand away from him. “I’m not a kid.”

  He made a sound, but whether contesting the fact or in agreement, she had no way of knowing. Then he caught her wrist again.

  Heat surged through her. It made her cheeks glow, and her mouth go dry. She shivered hard.

  “You’re cold.”

  “No,” she lied. “You go back to sleep. It’s only been, like, ten minutes.”

  But he didn’t go back to sleep. He drew on her wrist, urging her closer. With every inch, her pulse grew faster and faster, until blood sang in her ears.

  It was a big sleeping bag, but he had already filled it. Which meant he was getting out, and she’d again be the prissy little girl who couldn’t bear to sit in the cold for a few minutes.

  She jerked her hand away. He snagged her again, grip tighter than before. Drew her down.

  He held open the sleeping bag, shifting back a couple of inches.

  Warmth billowed up. Warmth, and the smell of him.

  Cora slipped inside, jerking when her feet brushed his legs. He wore only his trunks, and his skin was so unbelievably warm. It took all her willpower not to crowd against him. As it was, their skin kept brushing. Her t-shirt hiked up, and she put her elbow in his stomach as she tried to tug it down. Whether he was being some kind of pseudo-gentlemen or just trying to avoid her elbowing him again, he touched her ribs, found the hem of her shirt, yanked it down.

  Then he smoothed it over her hip. His touch sent electricity through her like he was brushing her with live wires. She shivered, squeezing her eyes shut and cursing her body for being such a goddamn traitor.

  Finn’s hand paused, and then he slid it over her belly and, as carefully as if she was spun glass, drew her into him. Warmth flooded over her. She relaxed against him, lowering her head. He’d bent his arm, and she lay on his bicep. It wasn’t much softer than the stone floor, but it was warm. He took his hand off her, and she squirmed for a second, wanting him to put it back.

  He didn’t. But he stayed flush against her, heat radiating from him as the owl’s mate returned its call from somewhere far away.

  Finn let out a long, slow breath. His chest pressed against her back as he inhaled, and then softened with his next exhale. Warm breath tickled the back of her neck. A sweet smell, the taste of him, spilled over her.

  Well, at least she was warm. But there was no way in hell she could fall asleep.

  23

  Terrified

  On a scale of intelligent to goddamn fucking stupid, this was downright idiotic. Yes, they were both warm. But he was a fool for thinking he could just invite her into this sleeve of fabric without their bodies touching.

  And, wherever their bodies touched, his skin pulsed like a heartbeat.

  He shifted slightly, trying to worm further back into the sleeping bag. But there was no more space; they filled it. As it was, she really couldn’t move her arms without jabbing him in the stomach with her sharp elbow.

  Maybe if it had just been the fact they were touching, he’d have been able to control himself.

  But he had other senses, too.

  And his sense of smell was in desperate need of a timeout.

  Cora’s smell invaded every breath he took.

  And, when he started breathing through his mouth so he’d stop thinking about whether every inch of her skin smelled like that… then he began tasting her in the fucking air.

  He shifted again, and she made a noise of protest like he was keeping her awake.

  Yes, we’ll keep her awake. Lick her and bite her and fuck her until—

  He shoved the thought from his mind, but the damage was done; his dick had started paying attention, and he was, of course, getting a goddamn hard on.

  Fuck.

  He moved again, trying to get some distance between him and Cora’s ass. Because the way it molded against his pelvis was doing nothing for his slowly hardening erection.

  Jesus, he had to get out of this sleeping bag. But he could feel the cold air out there, how it blustered against the cliff wall. It had to be ten degrees out there by now. The fire was dead. And his clothes were still probably wet and ice cold.

  Hypothermia or acute embarrassment? He had a feeling either would kill him before morning. Maybe she wouldn’t even notice. Her breathing had evened out. She was probably seconds away from falling asleep. He’d just lie here, desperately thinking about the least erotic thing he could think of while she fell asleep. And then, hopefully, he’d fall asleep.

  Okay — there was no way he’d fall asleep. He’d stay awake, keeping them both warm, and then, when the sun rose, he’d catch the few minutes of sleep he needed to get through tomorrow. Today. What time was it?

  She had to be asleep — her back fluttered against him as she inhaled.

  His fingers twitched. And then she made that sound again. And he realized she wasn’t asleep. Her breathing wasn’t slow and even. It was unsteady. Light and quick.

  She could feel how hard he was for her.

  She’s terrified of you, growled the beast prowling in his mind.

  W

  Why wouldn’t he stop moving? If he lay still for longer than thirty seconds, then she could fall asleep, and all of those trembling, erratic sensations flittering through her would go away. Her belly would stop squirming like she’d eaten snakes. And the heat, the tingle between her legs, would fade away.

  But she couldn’t stop thinking how perfectly they fit together. It was like the scoop of his belly had been created to fit her ass,
the curve of her back tailored to his broad chest.

  Then she felt something else.

  Her body began trembling. She couldn’t stop it any more than she’d consciously begun it. Just like her breathing, which suddenly became shallow and hot.

  Oh, God, she wanted to reach down and feel his dick in her hand. The weight of it.

  What would it feel like going in? Would it hurt?

  She pressed her eyes closed and squeezed her legs together. Which didn’t help — it transformed her tingles into an ache.

  And she was starting to feel damp down there. It could have been sweat — the inside of the sleeping bag was getting hot with their combined body heat — but she knew it wasn’t.

  That steady movement of his chest against her back changed. His breath hitched. His muscles tensed. She couldn’t stand the tension anymore. Her body felt like a violin string, and the realization she’d given him an erection just being this close to him was like the thrum of a bow against her.

  Why didn’t he grab her and kiss her like before? Instead, he lay silent and unmoving behind her, making her ache and squirm until she thought she’d burst.

  She couldn’t take it anymore. She would snap if she didn’t do something to end her own suffering.

  Swallowing hard, she turned her head.

  She couldn’t make out his features in the gloom of the overhang, but she felt his surprise when his muscles flinched against her.

  “Go to sleep, Cora.”

  She might have if he hadn’t said her name. The way it sounded with his rough voice…

  Her throat let out an involuntary sound; a whimper, a mewl.

  And that seemed too much for him to bear.

  W

  He slid his hand up Cora’s hip, his palm cupping every curve it passed. Her head fell forward again, and he burrowed his nose in her hair, inhaling her. His lips were too close to her neck; he was powerless to stop himself from tasting her.

  His lips drove shudder after shudder from her as he cupped her breast through her flimsy t-shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra — her nipples hardened at his touch. She closed her hand over his as if to make retreat impossible. It made him want to laugh; he was so far past the point of no return, he’d need a fucking telescope to find his way back.