The Devil's Dream: A Dark Romance (Dark Romance Novel Book 1) (21 page)

I look at myself in the mirror.

“And what about Ms. Agnes? What about getting the office space that you need?” she says. “You’ve more than outgrown that broom closet at the community center. Focus on the goal.”

A knock at the door startles me.

“You all right in there?” Devlin’s smooth voice, and the image of his tall, handsome body leaning against the door, coming to check on me, cause the flutters return as though they’d never been absent.

“Why does he keep being so nice?” I whisper to Monique.

Devlin knocks again.

“Ayron,” he calls.

“He’s outside of the door,” I snap into the phone while searching through the small space for a window, porthole, trap door or something. “I can’t face him again, Mo.”

“Do I need to call an ambulance?” he asks.

“I’m all right, Devlin,” I squeak.

“You can do this, Ayron,” Monique reassures. “The ends will justify the means.”

Ending the call with Monique, I open the door to Devlin.

“Is everything all right?” He examines me, his gorgeous brows furrowed. He places a steady hand on my cheek. “I thought you may have done a disappearing act on me, until coat check said they saw you slip in here.”

“I’m fine,” I stutter, lost in the feeling of his caress.

“I wish that I could say the same.”

“What’s wrong?” It is my job to worry about him, to comfort him.

“I need you. This—” His mouth is against mine before I can speak.

If my mind would have allowed me to protest, I would have, but not telling myself the truth is futile. I want him.

His skillful tongue breaches the cavern of my mouth, mapping the precise route to elicit moans. Heat courses through me. Devlin had skyrocketed me to a new place of pleasure with just the tangle of his tongue against mine.

In a swift motion, he hoists me against the wall and releases my breast from the strapless gown. His hot tongue trails kisses down my neck onto my chest until capturing my hardened nipple. Each suckle lulls me further into a dream world. His world, and I am ready to sign up for citizenship, allow him to plant his flag in my fertile soil and claim me.

Locking my legs around him, I feel the full rise of his hardness between my thighs, and I water at the thought of how good he could make me feel with other parts of his body if he works his tongue this well.

I give in to the indulgence, a scorching shot of desire for this model-built man damaging my self-control.

He tastes as good as he looks, and feels even better. Our tongues collide, and I am at a loss for words. I can only moan.

Devlin moves his zipper loose and sanity begins to seep in.

I tear my face from his.

“I can’t,” I pant. “I can’t do this.”

His ragged breaths fall against my neck as he nuzzles the crevice.

“No worries, babe,” he whispers between kisses. “I’ll take care of you.”

I wiggle and motion for him to let me down.

“This isn’t right,” I say.

Devlin helps me to my feet and I fall against him, resting against his heaving chest and thumping pulse.

He encapsulates me with his arms.

“I’m not out to just hit it and quit it,” he explains, placing a kiss on my head. “I have never met a woman as caring and wise and as beautiful as you.”

I look into his eyes.

“Then there is no rush,” I remind him. “Good things come to those who wait. You agreed to my thirty-day trial period.”

He punctuates his compliance by drawing in a long breath.

I step out of his embrace and fix my clothing. He tucks and straightens his clothing as well.

“If that’s what it takes, then I’ll wait,” he exhales with a shake of his head.

I gather my emotions and willpower before exiting.

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Entitled: A Bad Boy Romance

Excerpt from
Colin: A Serial Killer Romance
:

“What is that on your arm?” I asked after ten minutes of eating in silence. We had barely spoken since we sat down at the table, but my eyes kept going back to her forearm with the design burned into it. The dots were starting to heal and fade, but today she was wearing a t-shirt and they were clearly visible.

“Nothing, really,” she said as she put her fork down and rubbed her right hand over the area.

“It looks kind of like a tattoo. Is that what it is?”

“No. Well, it’s not permanent, but I guess it’s kind of like a tattoo since it’s a design.”

“Did you do it yourself?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

She didn’t answer right away and I imagined that she was uncomfortable talking about it. I had started feeling a little bit better after we sat down and began eating and I really wanted to talk to her about it. I felt like it was something we had in common, in a way. And as I waited for her to respond I realized another thing that seemed really similar. It was a hard thing for her to talk about.

“I’ve watched you,” I said, knowing I was headed down a dangerous path, but for some reason not able to stop myself from saying it. This hadn’t even been my plan, it was just happening and I didn't want to stop it. I wanted to talk to her. And I wanted her to know exactly how I felt about her, even if she never wanted to see me again.

“What do you mean?”

“I watched you do that to your arm, for over an hour. You sat in your window seat in front of a candle and you heated a pin and burned your skin, one dot at a time. When I finally saw it up close I was … mesmerized by how intricate and how beautiful it is.

“Then why did you ask me what it was?”

“Because I wanted you to tell me.” I didn’t know where all this was coming from. Maybe I had made an unconscious decision that I had to do something. I had to stop being a total wuss and tell her how I felt, no matter how idiotic it all seemed.

I kept my eyes on her and waited for her response and she didn’t look away. It felt like a full minute went by before she started talking and in that time we just looked into each other eyes and I swear she felt the same way I did.

“I guess I do it so that I don’t feel so sad sometimes.” She finally looked down and when she did I got up and walked around the table and sat down in a chair that I had moved right next to her.

“How does it make you feel less sad?” I asked as I reached out and ran my fingers over the design.

“I don’t know. Maybe the pain takes my mind off of my sadness, or maybe it makes me feel something other than sadness. It feels like relief afterward. Like I’m floating and peaceful and at ease,” she said as she closed her eyes, like she was trying to feel those feelings right then.

“What does it feel like while you’re doing it?” I was holding her arm with both of my hands now, looking at her arm, then up to her closed eyes, then down at her arm again. When I looked back up she had opened her eyes and was looking at me.

“It’s exciting. It feels like I’m actually doing something. Like I’m creating something that’s all mine. Just for me and no one else,” she said as tears started to pour over the edge of her lower lids.

I was stunned. I couldn’t even speak, I just stared at her, holding her arm in both of my hands with my mouth hanging open. I wanted to wrap my hand around her head and kiss her. I wanted to devour her and make her part of me so that we would never be apart again.

I had just listened to her tell me exactly how I felt when I was taking the parts off the girls and using them to create the faces on the mannequin heads. How I had always felt. That it was my secret, my thing. It wasn’t for anyone else and that made it feel special to me. It made them mine.

I showed them to Landen after years of avoiding the subject because I felt like I had finally found someone else who might appreciate them. But it was something completely different to hear Avery say that exact same thing I had been feeling right back to me. She was somehow experiencing the same thing as I was, only she was doing it without killing people.

“Is that how you feel too?” she asked.

“How do you know?”

“Because … I don’t know what it is … you seem so … familiar to me somehow. I don’t know why but I almost feel like I understand you in a way. I don’t understand the killing and the bloody girl in the basement at all, but there are other things.” She stopped talking and reached up and touched my face and for a moment I couldn’t see anything else but her. It felt like the room, the whole world, was melting and moving around us, revolving around us.

“Can I ask you about it?”

“Yes,” I said. I hadn’t told anyone about anything I did except Landen, and I was incredibly lucky to have him. I couldn’t imagine trying to navigate through all of this without having someone to talk to.

“How many people have you done that to? Like the girl that was coming up the basement stairs.”

“A lot. I’ve never counted. I’ve been doing it for about ten years now and sometimes I’ll bring a girl home once every two weeks for a while. But then sometimes I will go for six months without bringing anyone back here.”
“Where do you find them? The girls you bring back here.”

“The salon. I have a system that I use to find girls that no one would look for right away. College girls that need money or aspiring actresses usually.”

“Do you do it for sex?”

“No. I don’t ever have sex with the girls I bring home.” I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, but I wanted to keep talking to her so I took a few breaths and tried to relax.

“And you always kill them?”

“Yes.”

“If it’s not sex, what do you want from them?”

“I want … the beautiful part of them. The part that’s perfect.”

“So, you kill them to get it?”

“Well, yeah … that’s pretty much the way it works out,” I said as I leaned back a bit. I wanted to talk to Avery, but I didn’t really want her to know all these horrible things about me. It felt like as I was getting closer to her I was being pulled further away by because she was finding out what a truly disgusting person I was.

“Why haven’t you killed me? Why haven’t you taken any part off of me?”

I looked up into Avery’s eyes; at the most genuine look of sincerity that I had ever seen. She wasn’t mocking me or laughing at me. She was just interested somehow.

“Because you’re perfect. I wouldn’t have to change anything about you at all,” I said as I reached up to touch her cheek but then stopped when I realized what I was doing. I immediately stood up but it all happened too quickly and the chair behind me fell backward.

“I … have some things I need to do now. You should probably to go back to your room.”

“Wait, Colin …”

She just sat there and looked up at me while I waited for her to get up and when she realized that I wasn’t going to say anything else, she stood and walked ahead of me out of the kitchen and into her room.

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Colin: A Serial Killer Romance