“You’re sick,” she bites out, finding her fire, and I have to admit, even to myself, it’s an aphrodisiac. I want more. I want her to burn me right down to the bone. I want to do the same to her, I want to shatter every inch of her.
“I know,” I acquiesce with a smile. “But you know all about sick men. Don’t you, little mouse?” Guilt flashes in her eyes. She knows I’m talking about her father. But she doesn’t know I’ve seen her little online chat room. I know all about her dirty needs. I want to appease them. I want to dance with her demons.
“Let me go,” Lucy pleads with me. I want her begging, but not to be released.
Ignoring her, I grip the top she’s wearing and tug with both hands, the material making a satisfying rip right down the middle. Her tits fall out to my gaze. The mounds a handful with dark nipples that look like they’re in need of attention. Peaks of flesh have my mouth watering.
Without saying a word, she shoves her pajama pants down her thighs, and soon, she’s before me in nothing more than a pair of panties. The black cotton not what I was expecting, and I smile.
“See,” I say. “Was that so difficult?”
She’s uncomfortable. Her body trembles as she stands before me. Every inch of her is smooth, soft, and I can only imagine how she tastes.
“Is this what you like?” Lucy whispers gently. The pain in her tone gives me pause, but it only lasts a short moment before I offer her a smirk. “Do you like women being scared of you? Looking at you as if you were a monster?” Her snide remarks only seem to make me want to listen to her some more.
“I thought you liked monsters,” I throw back, arching a brow as I regard her with curious desire. I can’t fight this need I have to fuck her, but I also hate her and the blood she comes from.
“Don’t ever think you know anything about me because I can tell you right now, you don’t. You’re a little boy wanting to play games,” Lucile spits as anger drenches her words and I can’t stop my hand from moving. The slap causes my palm to sting, and a gasp of shock echoes around me. Her eyes glisten with tears and her delicate fingers reach for the dark pink handprint on her cheek.
“If you ever talk to me like that again—”
“What? You’ll punch me? Hit me again?” She spins on her heel and makes her way for the door, but I don’t go after her. Instead, I stare at the empty doorway for far too fucking long.
I’ve always been too proud to apologize; the word sorry isn’t in my vocabulary, but as she disappears from my office, I mumble, “Sorry.”
I’m still standing on the same spot when Hawk walks into the office. His gaze tracks me, then lowers to the material on the floor. When those blue eyes snap back to mine, questions dance in them.
“Take her back to the basement,” I say, before turning to my desk.
He ignores me, and asks, “What did you do?”
I don’t know what I fucking did. When I’m near her, all I want is to see her cry. I want to hurt her. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. I’ve held onto my pain for so long, I don’t know how else to survive. She can’t change it or I will lose my mind.
“Crow?” Hawk’s voice breaks through the cloud hanging over me, and I finally shake my head. “What happened?”
“I slapped her,” I admit, “I liked it. I wanted to make her cry and she did. Her eyes shone with tears, pain, grief. All the things we’ve felt for so long.”
He doesn’t care. I know he doesn’t. Something Hawk hasn’t allowed himself to do for a long time is to allow empathy into his mind. I don’t blame him. I’ve shut off my emotions as well. But the fighter in him usually takes over when we’re on a job. This is one of our most important jobs yet. “And?”
“And I want to do it again,” I confess, but my voice is free of any guilt. I thought it would be easier than this, but looking at Lucille, there’s a light inside her, one which seems to outshine everything I thought I wanted.
Hawk shrugs as he looks at me and asks, “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” There’s no doubt I do. But he’s checking up on me. It’s part of our promise, we always told each other we would do check-ups when we thought it was needed. What we each experienced in our own way has changed us. When we lose ourselves in those memories, it can take a toll, more than normal.