Pernicious Red (When The Wicked Play Book 1)

by Natalie Bennett

  “Yeah.”

  I hadn’t known his family owned the old farmhouse that set at the edge of the county. It made sense.

  There was nothing but long, barren road ahead of us then. The woods surrounded the area as well, but even without the stupid rule in place, I wasn’t confident in my ability to navigate them.

  It was a huge risk to trust my gut and assume Alice would be safe, but it was a risk I had to take. Both of us being caught was not going to do us any special favors.

  Channing was in the middle of saying something when he slowed at the next stop sign.

  Ensuring my car door was unlocked, I yawned and pretended to stretch while leaning forward.

  Grasping the thick rounded end of the iron bar, I pulled it out and wildly swung.

  My wrist was caught mid-swing.

  Channing squeezed hard enough to make me yelp and let go of the tool.

  Leaning in, I sunk my teeth into his fleshy wrist. He grunted in pain and let me go.

  The seatbelt almost ruined everything but I managed to slip beneath it and dart out of the car. I heard him curse and call my name but I continued to run, hopping across a ditch so I’d be away from the road.

  Running in the cold was a problem all on its own; running through snow amplified that by a thousand. I glanced over my shoulder and almost fell.

  He had ditched his jacket and left his car at the stop sign. He was running after me, and fuck, he was fast.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rosalie

  He didn’t simply grab hold of me from behind; he tackled me like a linebacker.

  A second before we hit the ground, he twisted his body to take the brunt of the fall. That didn’t stop me from getting a mouth full of snow.

  I didn’t let him carry me off like some damsel in distress; I fought against him as hard as I could until I felt a sharp prick in my neck.

  My hand immediately flew up in search of whatever he’d just done to me. He’d given me something and the effects of it were instant.

  “I didn’t want to do that to you, Red. I really hoped you wouldn’t try and attack me.” He cradled me against his chest, my back held firmly to his front.

  “You knew what I was going to do,” I tried to say, but it came out slow and almost inaudible.

  “Come on.”

  The last thing I remembered before I blacked out was him scooping me up like I was a precious doll.

  The sight that greeted me when I woke again was unfamiliar.

  I was beginning to really miss waking up in my bed. Regardless of how much sleep I’d been getting, I still felt exhausted and worn out, and I never knew where I was.

  Warmth enveloped me beneath a suede comforter. The fuzz in my brain vanished the second I realized my jeans were missing; I sat up and took stock of my entire body.

  “If you’re wondering if I fucked you, the answer would have revealed its self the minute your eyes opened.”

  As he seemed to have a habit of doing, Channing stood in the doorway, shirtless. My eyes took a slow steady path down his body, drinking in defined abs and perfectly sculpted muscles partially covered in dark expressive ink.

  My mouth dried when I saw the imprint of his cock beneath the white towel wrapped around his waist. The visual was much larger than the one I’d had in my head since the first time he had pressed it against me.

  I couldn’t stop my body from responding to what was essentially bait—everything I had been imagining for years now. It was almost as if he knew about the secret obsession I harbored for him.

  Something about Channing made me want to throw all caution to the wind and accept things as they were. The game he insisted on playing was meant to fuck with my head, the complex puzzle that came with him made it impossible to figure this situation out.

  “On a scale of ten to ten, how bad do you want me inside you, Red?”

  “I don’t.” The lie slipped out like I’d rehearsed it for this exact moment. His blue hues watched with amusement as a knowing smile spread across his face.

  “You’re scared.”

  “I’m not,” I protested, shaking my head from left to right. “And where the hell are my pants?”

  “You know, once I’m inside you, you’re going to lose the last pathetic piece of resistance you’re barely holding onto.”

  Kicking the comforter off me—aware he’d already seen everything I had below my waistline—I swung my legs over the side of the large bed and stood to fully face him, planting my bare feet on the hardwood floor.

  My equilibrium was thrown; the side effects of what he’d given me weren’t fully out of my system. I clenched my jaw and acted like I was fine.

  “You’re a lot of talk and I’m far from impressed. Just because you have a big dick and a pretty face doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten who you are and what you’ve done to me.”

  “That’s two compliments at once. Be careful, it almost sounds like you care. And you should really be thanking me for all I’ve done for you, but I guess you haven’t worked it all out yet.” He gave me a cocky wink and strolled across the room, pulling the towel loose as he went.

  I gaped at his perfect, tanned ass before turning away so I wouldn’t be forced to get a complete visual of what hung between his thighs.

  He apparently didn’t like that, because in four short seconds he was in front of me and his body was forcing mine to step back towards the bed.

  “Is this your macho show of dominance?” I snapped, keeping my head turned, continuing to walk until the back of my legs met the comforter again.

  “I don’t need to fuck you to dominate you. I’m already in your head.” He grabbed hold of my chin so I was looking at him, making me bend back until I was on the bed with him practically on top of me.

  With one hand, he grabbed my throat, applying enough pressure to threaten my air flow.

  Maneuvering himself between my legs, his hard cock brushed against the thin fabric—the only barrier stopping it from sliding inside me.

  I knew he could feel how wet I was; my body made sure to send a message that it wanted to be broken apart.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said softly, leaning down to press his mouth on mine. His free hand went between my legs where he stroked up and down my slit with the head of his cock.

  Something between a groan and a sigh slipped through my parted lips. Taking advantage, his tongue darted inside, skimming across the roof of my mouth, exploring until it met with my own.

  His kiss was hard and demanding, just like him, siphoning away all common sense. I arched my back, widening my legs so I could feel more of him. My hands found their way to his dark, damp hair, threading the strands between them.

  “Tell me,” he rasped, demanding I give up a major shard of my façade.

  My brain must have misfired because I found myself responding. “I want…this,” I breathed, rubbing against him like a feline in heat.

  “You know what I mean, Red.” He pulled away from me and stepped back. I pushed up on my elbows and stared at him.

  He stood in front of me with his erection visibly throbbing, unabashed by his nudity.

  “I don’t know what you want because you won’t tell me!” I rolled off the bed, frustrated and pissed at myself for needing—craving—a man who was determined to fuck my mind just as hard as my body.

  The slickness between my thighs was an uncomfortable sensation, a reminder of what I wanted. Channing was two steps ahead of me, circling around and shoving me with enough force to send me stumbling backward. I bounced on the bed and glared at him.

  “You know what I want. You just want to draw this out and play stupid with me.” I could see the mask he was so good at wearing beginning to slide back into place.

  “I want you to fuck me. I’ve wanted you for a long time,” I openly confessed with a sigh. My anger left just as quickly as it’d arrived; I didn’t have the energy to continue the lie.

  His silence had the needle-like sensation of rejection seconds
away from piercing my spine.

  Just as I began to reprimand myself for being bold, he grabbed me by the ankles and pulled until the soles of my feet were balanced on the end of the bed.

  “That’s good enough for now.” Re-gripping my throat, he shoved me down so that I was flat on my back, spreading my legs so wide the muscles began to burn. Without preamble, he removed my underwear and grabbed my hand, placing it on the hard base of his cock.

  “Put me inside you and I’ll give you what you want.”

  Attempting to nod, I eased the head in and let out a shaky breath. There was so much left I was suddenly nervous. Keeping his eyes locked with mine, he flexed his hips and buried himself all the way inside me. A breathy scream was torn from my throat as he filled me entirely, forcing me to adjust around him.

  He eased out and repeated the same motion, earning another loud moan from me that drowned out his satisfied groan.

  “Look at this.” Lifting my leg by the back of my left thigh, he bent it up towards my chest, enabling his cock to be planted deeper inside me.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, placing a hand on his hard stomach to try and ease him back, looking down as he directed.

  “Look how good we fit together.” He began to move at a slow pace, burying himself to the hilt with each thrust. I drank in the sight of our bodies joined together: a perfect fit.

  I tried to meet his thrust but with the angle he had me positioned in, all I could do was lie there and take what he gave me.

  “Harder.” I grasped the wrist around my throat and stared up at him.

  Giving me a smile dipped in devilry, he obliged my request. His thrusts started to come hard and fast. He began fucking me like his intent was truly to split me in half.

  The mattress squeaked and rocked on its frame as he pounded into me, never letting go of my neck. His balls made a steady slapping sound as they hit my ass.

  His muscles flexed in rhythm with his movements. I’d never come with a man inside me; the slow burn that began to build was a climax I desperately wanted to experience.

  Proving he was disturbingly in tune with me, Channing let go of my throat and looped both my thighs over his forearms, bending my legs up as far as he could. His cock began to hit a spot inside me I’d never been able to find. I clenched around him, loving the way he sounded when he groaned.

  I tried meeting his body with mine but couldn’t keep up with his brutal pace.

  “Channing,” I moaned, unable to articulate that I was about to come. When the orgasm finally hit, I shattered apart, digging my nails into his shoulders. He continued to fuck me, putting me back together and pulling me apart again.

  Unintelligible sounds poured from my mouth. He made sure he showed me all the ways he liked to fuck: forcing me onto my stomach and teasing my ass with his fingers, placing me on top of him and controlling my movements from the bottom, and bent over inside the shower.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rosalie

  He spent all night and day with me, bringing us tomato soup and grilled cheese during one of our intermissions.

  We didn’t do much talking. We spent all our time learning about each other’s bodies. I slept better than I had in months with his arms secured around me.

  The soft sunlight filtering in through a partially shuttered window and the coldness of the empty space beside me had reality giving me a harsh slap in the face.

  We weren’t here to play house; we were here because of some goddamn riddle I couldn’t figure out. A riddle I no longer cared to solve because it wasn’t directly about me. Channing had all but admitted that when he’d brought up my last name.

  I didn’t regret the act between us—he’d given me nothing but euphoric pleasure with small amounts of pain. I was mature enough to admit I liked him. He made me feel a level of comfort I never had before, a security I’d lacked in my daily life.

  He was fully aware I’d bashed my mother’s brains in. He didn’t bat an eyelid or condemn me for the lack of remorse I felt, but we couldn’t thrive or go anywhere like this, and I didn’t know what to do or how to handle this revelation. He was a different kind of killer than I was…but why? And why didn’t that bother me like it should?

  “Damn it, Channing,” I searched the room for my discarded clothes and saw they were gone. The red cloak was now hanging on the back of the door. Some invisible force compelled me towards it, urging me to put it back on. I knew this is what Channing wanted.

  Hopping out of the bed, I slightly winced at the tender throb between my legs and padded into the attached bathroom.

  “Jesus,” I muttered to a foreign reflection.

  My face still had a tinted flush spread over pale cheeks, my hair looked like something out of a punk rock band, and the little bruises on my neck and thighs just added to the look.

  After rummaging around in the bathroom, I realized no one actually lived there. There was a single neatly folded towel and matching washcloth that had purposely been left for me. The black rose on top of the bundle gave that away.

  All the rooms still held furniture, but the items were covered with sheets to protect them. It seemed the bedroom I had stayed in was the only room Channing had brought up to livable conditions.

  With the red cloak wrapped around me, and now freshly showered, I slowly made my way to the first floor. The sound of a girl whimpering reached my ears at the halfway point.

  Skipping stairs the rest of the way, I followed the noise, quickly passing through an oval foyer.

  I crossed the threshold for the kitchen and was rendered motionless by the sight of an open door that led down to a basement. The whimpering had ceased altogether, and a faint light glowed from below.

  “Channing?” I was already descending the stairs, using the wall to guide me along. The steps made a swirl shape, opening up at the very bottom.

  I didn’t need to step off the last stair to see the four unconscious redheads chained to the grungy walls.

  Channing looked away as I stepped off the last stair, an empty syringe in his hand. The women were dirty—two sat in their own feces. All looked to be in the beginning stages of emaciation.

  My foot stepped in something wet and sticky. I looked down to see a small puddle of blood.

  Jumping back onto the creaky wooden step, I smacked a hand over my mouth and fought to keep the bile in my stomach down. The smell bothered me more than the imagery, though that was disturbing as well.

  “W…what is this?”

  “It’s the completion of the twelve,” he answered without looking at me.

  “And the roses?”

  “Not my idea, but they were a nice added touch.”

  Not his idea?

  “How many people are helping you?”

  “I already answered that a while back.”

  His voice was flat and he had yet to turn and face me.

  “I don’t understand you and I really don’t understand this. Twelve girls? Roses? None of this makes sense, Channing.”

  Wanting out of his basement of horrors, I spun on my heel and made my way back upstairs.

  “Hey,” he called from behind me.

  Ignoring him, I speed walked through the kitchen and back into the foyer. As I went, I took in little details of the house. There was a suffocating melancholy that hung in the air here. I wondered what had happened to the last occupants.

  Reaching the living room, I saw a large octagon window free of any blinds or curtains, giving a clear view of outside.

  The snow had everything outside blanketed in white. The beauty of it was mesmerizing, giving a feel of old elegance to the neglected farm.

  “You’re standing in the spot my grandfather was killed,” Channing announced from across the room.

  I looked down as if his body was still in the room, and for the first time, noticed the brownish mark discoloring the wooden floor.

  “You saw it?”

  Moving far away from the disturbing stain, I went and stood near him.


  “I did; it was a little before my dad had his…accident.”

  “But it wasn’t an accident…was it?” I checked.

  “See, you can read between the lines.” He beamed at me—the first legitimate smile I’d received from him. It transformed him into even more of a contradiction.

  Channing’s father was similar to my mother. Both were hardcore addicts who had amazing support systems they chose to screw over and take advantage of.

  He’d supposedly passed out from being high inside his garage with his car still running.

  I wouldn’t be going out on a limb if I said the man was more than likely dead before he was placed inside the car. There were many similarities between Channing and I that I’d never stopped to truly consider.

  “He sold drugs to a woman who lived a few towns over,” he continued.

  I swallowed, instantly knowing that the woman he was referring to was my mother, and that the voice I’d previously thought was his actually wasn’t.

  “I’ve met you before,” I stated, moving closer to him.

  He looked surprised for once at my words.

  “You remember that, huh?” Now I was right in front of him, he pulled me into his arms and began walking me backward.

  I knew what he intended to do and that encouraged me to keep talking. Without meaning to, I’d begun to mold certain pieces of the puzzle together.

  “I was drunk—always drunk. I think my friend left…me,” I grunted mid sentence as he pushed me against the wall and spread my legs.

  “I wasn’t supposed to let you see me but you were almost crawling into my lap,” he added, unzipping his jeans and freeing himself.

  “You took me.” He hooked one of my legs over his hip and pushed himself inside me without foreplay.

  I cried out as pain and pleasure assaulted my senses and dug my fingers into his forearms.

  “I took you, and I never ever let you go.” He flexed his own fingers, digging into my flesh and grabbing my ass with his other hand, holding me firmly in place as he fucked me against the wall.