Violent Heart: A Dark Reverse Harem (A Death So Sweet Book 3)

by Candace Wondrak

  But, back to what Maddox was doing between my legs.

  He’d flipped the steel, so that the non-sharpened end touched me, and he moved the knife against my slit. Slowly, carefully, black eyes watching me all the while. I breathed hard behind my mask, but I didn’t want to take it off. For some reason, I wanted it to stay on, maybe because, in a way, being with Maddox so near to my brother’s corpse was like killing him all over again.

  He’d wanted me above anything else in this world, but he couldn’t have me, and now he was dead, never to touch me again.

  Maddox breathed out a harsh breath, smirking evilly as he murmured, “You want this?” This, meaning the knife he was currently toying with between my thighs, near my pussy.

  God, I could not say the word fast enough: “Yes.” Yes, I wanted it. Yes, give it to me. Fuck me with that knife, let us make more of a mess in this room. Maddox and I could lose ourselves in each other for hours at a time easily, but right now we were pressed for time. Right now, we couldn’t play games.

  He was well aware of the circumstances too, which was why he didn’t try to taunt me or go back and forth with me more. Maddox moved the knife in his hand, gripping the steel edge—I had no idea if he was being careful about it or not, I was too busy inhaling as much as my lungs could take when I felt the knife’s handle press against my entrance.

  Maddox lowered his top half as much as he could above me, that smirk still caught on his face as he pushed the knife handle deeper into me. A stiff thing, but not too thick. I could feel it slid in, knew when he was hilt-deep because I felt his fingers stopping the sharp part of the blade from going inside.

  I wasn’t afraid of pain. Oh, no. My view of pain was askew thanks to the body on the bed, but kicking Bianca DeLuca’s ass with a cut-up va-jay-jay was not on my list of priorities. No, for that, I needed an injury-free kitty, thank you very much.

  And then, God, it was the most wonderful thing: Maddox started to fuck with me with the knife, his hand pulling it out before shoving it back in. Over and over, gazing down at me as he did so, blood all over his face, and I couldn’t help but let out a muffled cry beneath my mask every so often.

  It didn’t feel as good as a thick cock, of course, but it still felt pretty damn good. Maybe it was because it was the same knife I’d used to cut into Aiden, the same knife that dripped with his blood. It was like me telling my brother he could never have me again. It was fucking nice, let me just say.

  As if knowing I was already close, Maddox’s other hand moved to my clit as he fucked me with the knife. He started applying pressure, pinching it, rubbing it, which only further served to make my blood run hotter.

  Fuck. I felt like losing it. I felt like losing it, and we’d hardly just begun. Maybe executing my brother, butcher style, was more of a turn-on than I’d thought.

  I might’ve said something like “Oh, yes,” but honestly, I didn’t know. I was hardly in my own mind enough to hear what I was saying, mostly because with the knife and his fingers assaulting my clit, everything was a jumbled mess in my head.

  My breathing hitched, my back arching of its own accord. My fingers clenched into fists the moment I lost it. Hot, searing pleasure swept through me thanks to Maddox’s hard work, and I cried out loud and hard, coming with a vengeance. Every single nerve in my body was touched by the orgasm, and I never wanted this moment to end.

  This… this was life. This was perfect. Maddox and his wild ways were home.

  Maddox pulled out the knife, tossing it aside as he got up. His cock pressed against his pants, the monster hidden by fabric, but not for long. “Take off your shirt,” he instructed, “and bend over the bed.” A rough, husky order from the man who was about to fuck me silly.

  I got to my feet, stripping off my shirt and bra, tossing them on the floor, away from the mess oozing off the bed. I could feel the warm blood smeared on my ass, and I couldn’t help but smile behind the mask as I watched Maddox take off his clothes. Piece by piece until that impressive, tattooed body was free and that monster of a cock was in sight. Its tip dripped precum, and I knew he was dying to shove it in me.

  So was I, I mean. A gal had wants too. It wasn’t just men that liked to fuck. I used to think it was a good stress reliever, that no one could ever take away what you gave out for free… but I was wrong. So wrong.

  Some people still took what wasn’t theirs, but I shouldn’t be thinking about that now.

  Once he was as naked as I was, I bent over the bed, my hands digging into the bloodied sheets. My eyes roamed to the peeled-open corpse, to the fleshy skin pulled back and held aside by other knives. My brother hardly looked like a human being; he looked like an alien. A messy, disgusting, very dead alien. It was marvelous.

  Maddox slapped my ass once, and I jerked forward, not expecting it. He stood behind me, spreading my cheeks. I leaned over the side of the bed, but my feet were still on the floor, and when I felt that bulbous, veiny cock push into me, I could not take my eyes off the gory mess before me, could not look away from my brother.

  As that thick cock withdrew from me, beginning a rough and wild fucking—which felt so much better than the knife, honestly—everything felt right. We were two fucked up individuals to want to fuck a few feet away from my brother’s corpse, but that shouldn’t surprise anyone. This… I wouldn’t change a single thing. After all these years, I’d finally found where I belonged, who I wanted, and I would do my damnedest to make sure we would have all the time we could.

  Fuck Bianca. Fuck Daddy Luciano. Fuck them all. I wouldn’t bow down and let him kill me without a fight, not anymore. That was the Lola of the past, and she was gone, just as Aiden was.

  Maddox’s hands found my sides as his thrusting grew wilder. Harder and harder he pushed into me, filling me up to the brink, so much so that I felt like my stomach was about to explode. When you were filled with a giant schlong, you see, sometimes your body never got used to it. Every time he pulled out, you felt its loss, but when he pushed back in and reminded you just how big he was, how much girth he had, your body went, oh, shit.

  Not that I was complaining, though. I wasn’t. I really wasn’t. I would never dream to complain about Maddox, his cock, or how violent his fucking tended to be. It made me feel alive, made the heart in my chest beat a bit faster.

  My face was hot, undoubtedly due to the mask I still wore, but I dared not take it off. My eyes lingered on my brother, on the mess near his midsection. The air smelt of metal and blood, the room full of slick sounds and accompanied grunts, and I couldn’t get enough. My tits swayed back and forth, weighed down by gravity, smeared in the mess on the bed.

  I imagined Maddox behind me, the unhinged look in his dark eyes, the blood lining the cut down his cheek, and I clenched my inner walls as hard as I could around his cock, causing him to moan behind me and squeeze my sides harder.

  We went on like this for quite a while, the two of us lost in our own pleasure, fucking like animals while my brother’s body sagged as much as it could on the bed, given its multiple restraints. Everything in me was on fire, and when Maddox came, he pushed himself so hard into me, my top half fell onto the bed, my arms giving out.

  Blood. More blood. So much fucking blood everywhere. It was beautiful.

  Maddox’s cock twitched inside me, his balls slapping as he pumped his length in a jerky motion, hands holding onto my sides in a death grip. He emptied himself into me, and even though my face had fallen onto the bed—and into the blood—I smiled.

  Oh, yeah. This was nice. I could stay here forever, in this room, covered in blood and fucking. What a life it would be.

  Alas, stay we could not, so as Maddox pulled out of me, my core instantly feeling the loss, I straightened myself up, glancing down at my front. I laughed. I couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up inside me.

  I was literally coated in red. Like, in all my life, I didn’t think I’d ever worn so much blood before. Holy shit. I wished I could take a picture or two. Like, damn. M
y skin wasn’t white; it was stained maroon. My hair wasn’t blonde; it was red.

  Maddox had grabbed our clothes, bundling them in a heap. He was nowhere near as bloodied as I was; it was mostly just his feet and his hands, along with the cut on his face—which must not bother him as much as he’d pretended at first. Must not be too deep. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s hit the shower and get out of here.” He started towards the door, and when he realized I wasn’t coming, he paused, glancing back at me. “Unless you’re not done with him yet?”

  Oh, there was hardly anything left of my brother intact. I was quite done with him, rest assured. It’s just… leaving this room would be like saying goodbye to him. As ready as I was to forever block him from my mind, to never think of where I’d come from ever again, a part of me grew wistful.

  I knew my past. I knew what it held, the horrors hiding there. What I didn’t know was my future, if I truly had one with these guys, if any of us would make it out of this turf war alive.

  Eh, well, there was no use in worrying about it now.

  I pushed off the bed and followed Maddox to the shower, where we both rinsed off at the same time… and maybe did a little bit more fucking. The cut on his face wasn’t deep, so by the time we got out, it had already stopped bleeding.

  I rinsed my mask and patted it dry, hoping the metal wouldn’t rust. I’d never gotten it so wet before. Some blood had gotten on it, of course, because when you killed people with close and personal weapons, like knives, blood tended to splatter. But there’d been more than a drop or two. Almost the entire front of the metal mask had blood on it, and wiping it wasn’t getting the red out from underneath the metal fixtures on it—the flowers and such, I meant.

  Because, yeah, it was a kick ass mask made by a somewhat crazy and terrifying man, but it was girly all the same. I loved it. I did. I guess if it rusted I’d just have to have Fang make me another one.

  Sylvester was waiting for us in the living room. He’d turned on the television, propped up his feet, and had clearly gone through the food my brother had in the place, for a bag of chips sat beside him, open. His blue eyes turned towards us, and he asked, “Are you two finally done? Can we get out of here, or do you want to fuck some more?”

  Maddox scoffed. “As if you weren’t wishing you were in there fucking her yourself.”

  Blue eyes glancing at me and the mask I’d put back on—had to walk out of this place with style, you know—Sylvester mumbled, “That’s beside the point, Maddox. We came here to kill him. The longer we stay—”

  “The more danger we put ourselves in,” Maddox cut in, waving an annoyed hand through the air. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. We’re done now, okay? So you can stop worrying your balls off.” His words made his brother angry, but I could only laugh.

  They both looked at me, and I shrugged. “What? You’re both hilarious, you know. So grumpy.” I pointed to Maddox. “And such a party-pooper.” My finger turned to Sylvester. “How were you two raised with each other?”

  Sylvester scowled. “I wonder that exact same thing all the time.”

  “As do I,” Maddox mumbled as his brother got up, leaving the TV on.

  They both walked toward the door, and I glanced down at myself. Their clothes weren’t too bad, but mine? Mine were stained in red, still wet from the blood, too. Anyone who saw me would know this wasn’t paint or ketchup—but, you know, I walked all through town covered in blood before and no one bothered me, at least not for a while. Tonight should be no different.

  I met the guys near the door, and together, we left the room, closing the chapter of my life that revolved around my past and my brother. Goodbye, Aiden, I thought as we headed to the elevator. It was almost a wistful thought, but I was too content now that he was dead. I’d never take it back.

  On our way down to the lobby, some people tried to hop on and catch the ride down, but they took one look at us—okay, mostly at me—and froze up. Needless to say, no one got on the elevator with us, and when we walked out of that hotel, we held our heads high. Heads turned in our direction, the people currently walking into the hotel lobby literally jumping out of our way, eyes wide. No one stopped us.

  I laughed quietly to myself. People. You’d think they’d never met a killer before, but odds were, they had and just didn’t know it. Fools.

  Before exiting through the glass door, I held both hands in the air and flicked the entire place off.

  Chapter Nine – Viper

  I sat with my brother for a while after the doctor was finished with him. Mike had been hooked up to an IV for a few hours now, the liquid not only hydrating him but also giving him some pain medication. The doctor had given some antibiotics too, which he’d have to take for a while afterward.

  I’d stayed out of the way, watching silently during the whole thing. The doctor was on the younger side, maybe only a few years older than Mike and me, but he seemed to know what he was doing, as if bullet wounds were something he was very used to. I didn’t know the whole story about him or the guy he’d come with, Lincoln, but I didn’t need to. All I needed to know was that he was good, and he was.

  Mike actually woke up once the last bullet was taken out, but he’d been incoherent and passed out shortly after. The doctor said it was normal, and to give him some more time. Multiple bullet wounds were not something to laugh at; the trauma on the body took its toll. I knew the doctor was right, but I couldn’t help but feel impatient.

  I wanted him to wake up, to be alright. He was pretty much the only family I had left. The Lucianos were not the only dying breed out there. We all were, whether we wanted to admit it or not.

  The fact of the matter was, the world was changing, and people like us found it harder and harder to stay afloat. No one wanted to face it, though, which was why everyone was so focused on getting back at the DeLucas.

  Fuck, don’t get me wrong. I wanted to kill every single person Bianca DeLuca had under her command, and especially the ones that had done the hit on our place. But the idea of taking back the city was almost laughable. I didn’t believe it was possible, frankly. I thought it was a dead man’s errand.

  But I would stand by them. If they wanted to go back and make their name known again, I’d help them. I’d do everything in my power to put their name on a pedestal again. The Lucianos would know fame, and the entire city would kneel as it had in the past, before the DeLucas rose to power and started a cold war between the two families.

  I did wonder if everything would’ve gotten so bad if Richie had never married Angelina DeLuca. That all happened when I was young, so I didn’t remember much… but I do recall it was like setting off a bomb. For a DeLuca to love a Luciano and vice versa, it was like a Romeo and Juliet situation.

  And, shocker, one of them ended up dead, leaving the other alone, bitter and angry.

  I stood in the corner of the bedroom Mike was in, alone with him, and as I stared at his motionless figure, I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what would happen to my brother. Even if he woke up right now, he wouldn’t be able to come with us, wouldn’t be able to help make the DeLuca army pay. He’d be too weak, too injured. If we all died, would he become a bitter old man constantly cursing the past?

  Not that I would ever say Richie was an old man, but… he was definitely bitter.

  It had gotten dark out a while ago, and I heaved a sigh. A part of me never wanted to leave this room, but I knew I would have to be a part of everything. Someone would have to stay here and take care of Mike—unless he woke up and was cognizant and alert, then maybe he could be left on his own. Still, it probably wasn’t smart.

  Then again, if we all died, what would it matter?

  I pushed off the wall, shaking my head to myself, wishing I could stop doubting everything. Lola had left with Sylvester and Maddox a while ago, back to the very city we would try to take back, all to kill her brother, who they had apparently contacted and brought here.

  I wished I could’ve gone with them. That was some
thing I should’ve been there for, but with everything else… it was a really shitty time. I would give almost anything to be there with Lola right now, even if it was just for moral support. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to confront your brother who abused you almost all of your life.

  A brother like that, he wasn’t really a brother. He wasn’t family. Family didn’t hurt each other. Family kept each other safe and secure and did whatever they could to protect one another. I’d give anything for Mike, just as I would give anything for Lola or Sylvester or Maddox or…

  You get the idea. You didn’t have to be blood to be family. Sometimes the best family was the one you found on your own. The blood of the covenant was thicker than the waters of the womb. Not many people knew the real saying; they thought blood was just thicker than water, but when you had the full saying, its meaning was reversed.

  Lola owed nothing to her parents or her brother. Nothing at all. I only wished I could be there to watch that motherfucker die, for he rightly deserved whatever pain she gave him before she ended it.

  Knowing Lola, it’d be one hell of a mess.

  I left the bedroom, heading down the hall. Lincoln was in the kitchen, where he’d been practically ever since he and the doctor had arrived. Richie was out on the front porch, staring off into the night sky. Roman and Carter stood near the couch, where Zoey sat, her arm currently being stitched up by the good doctor.

  Not sure what the doctor’s name was; I never asked. Didn’t care to, and everyone only seemed to call him Doc.

  “I told you,” Roman growled out, “I fixed it up already—”

  “Yes,” Doc spoke, unbothered by the intimidating aura radiating from Roman Russo and completely ignoring the hard glare he was getting from Carter. “I saw the stitches you gave her, and I decided to fix them up a bit—unless you’re okay with her having an ugly scar on her arm, hmm?” He flicked his green eyes to Roman, brown eyebrows raised. “They were poorly done.”