Of Sins and Psychos (The Beautiful Monsters Series Book 1) Page 5

  “I get her first,” a man says with white spikes framing his skull. His tongue is as white as his skin and eyes. It’s an appearance of frost kissing his flesh. A jagged scar that arches from his shaved head to the middle of his chin only tells me that no one here will challenge his claim.

  I mean . . . except for me.

  “You’re not even in line!” I roll my eyes at him. “Do you have no time management skills? Get in a single file line, and we will all get through this as quickly as possible . . .” I pause then as a new process flits through my mind. “Or should we go biggest to smallest . . .”

  The crowd has grown silent, and several of the men are now openly passing nervous glances at one another.

  “Drop ’em, boys and we’ll settle who is to go first.” The confidence ringing thorough my manic voice isn’t at all like the nerves that’s skittering around at the back of my mind. The darkness in this world changes us entirely. I’m not that girl calculating which man in my life might hurt me at any given minute. I’m a girl who wants—no—deserves respect as well as revenge when it comes to the opposite sex.

  I eye them one by one, but they only shift awkwardly.

  Sure. Sure. Everyone wants to use their dick, but no one wants to slap it out and show me what we’re working with.

  Typical.

  “Never mind. A line is fine. Single file.” I jerk my head at old Scar Skull as if to indicate where the front of the line obviously is, but no one dares come closer to me as if my crazy might be contagious.

  It is. All crazy is contagious. One person wakes up one day and decides that normal doesn’t really fit them very well. And they all realize how mundane normal really is. Out with the old and . . . in with the crazy.

  “You’re a strange one,” the beautiful man with the cosmos eyes whispers in the silence.

  “Thank you.” My sultry wink only makes his smirk grow wilder.

  “Take her boots off,” Starry Eyes commands.

  The two brutes from earlier stride toward me, but the one who’s nipple I maimed so cruelly with my tongue keeps his distance. He tugs off my boot and tosses it somewhere behind me. The hard bang of the metal floor is the only indication where my dirty boots now reside.

  “Pants too,” Starry Eyes adds.

  “Ooo,” I taunt without making a sound across my invisible ohs.

  Because deep inside, past my deranged mind, is logic. And logic tells me that something very, very bad is about to happen to me. My stomach turns sickly as I continue to tilt my head this way and that, swaying my hips to the soundless song that is spinning right round in my thoughts.

  Taut Nips is the lucky bastard that strips off my tight leggings.

  “It’s harder than it looks, huh?” I ask as he struggles with the tight material at my thighs. “I’m just happy someone else has to deal with them today instead of me.” I fake my confidence. My hands strain with pain along my wrists as he jerks them all the way down. “Had to lie flat on the bed this morning just to wiggle them on. Not easy being a whole snack sometimes, is it?” I smile at his glare and shake my head at his lack of decent conversation skills as he chucks my pants somewhere to join my lost boots.

  The platform turns. As does my stomach.

  The mantra of “just breathe” is really too little too late at this point, and my rational mind is telling me to brace myself for the worst.

  But I already survived the worst. And that’s how I know I can survive this.

  I stand, strung up in nothing more than my black panties and black cotton crop top. It crosses the back of my mind that the few thin pieces of fabric I’m wearing can easily be taken away from me.

  Everything I have can be easily taken away.

  The Sand Man proved that to me years ago.

  The night is a passing blur behind the man who appears more like a fallen angel than a monster. The dark smile on his lips isn’t angelic though. His footfalls are soundless as he takes the space between us. He claims it all. Until the edge of his boot is skimming my glossy black painted toes. My neck angles up at him as his breath crashes down on me. His unkempt hair veils above us while he studies me. Only the edge of his thumb brushes my skin, skimming along my bottom lip. My teeth drag over the spot his digit barely touched.

  The light feel of him is firing all my senses at once. My tongue rolls across my lip, and I swear I can taste his touch. My breath catches on the crisp air where he once was. It’s an addiction now.

  I have no idea why.

  “Who are you?” he whispers like a confession of love between us.

  My smile tilts hard.

  “I’m the girl you shouldn’t have fucked with,” I whisper right back to him, my humming laughter crawling up all around me.

  A strong hand snatches around my throat, and those starry eyes turn black. The light glints of silver snuff out into deep, inky wells of total chaotic sin. He turns my chin to one side as his lips ghost down the curve of my neck before hovering over my ear.

  “You’re bad for your own health.” His whispered words dance across my flesh, raising goosebumps in their wake.

  And he’s right. Damn, is he right.

  But I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. I try not to struggle. I try desperately not to make a single sound. Until it’s all too much, and the choking of my own distress sputters across my lips. My lashes flutter as I try to make hard eye contact with the most beautiful gaze I’ve ever seen. If I can just hold his attention, my magic will come out.

  I hope.

  His fingers tense against my throat little by little, his frame leaning in nice and close. The softness of his lips brushes along my cheek as he speaks.

  “You think this place is all a game of fun. It’s not. You’re nothing more than a captive to the King.” His breath fans across my jaw as his grip turns painful and spotting behind my eyelids. “You’re ours to play with like a pretty toy. And I’m about to make you remember that.”

  The rigid tightness of his palm releases suddenly. Air swoops down my throat in big gulps. Then the roughness of that palm is trailing down my shoulder. The heat of his hands can be felt near the curves of my breasts as he toys with the collar of my shirt.

  “If you were smart, you’d watch your mouth around us. You could say nothing, and I’d walk away, take these Carnals with me, and just leave you stranded here like a half-naked joke to be seen in the morning.”

  “That’s a terrible joke,” I say rather breathlessly.

  “But you just can’t help yourself.”

  My head tilts at his challenge. Is this his misogynistic way of telling me I should just shut up?

  Yes! The little logical voice at the back of my crumpled mind yells. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

  “Why would I help myself when I have you to take care of me?” I look up at him through thick, innocent lashes, my magic bubbling within me with each passing second.

  But then he looks away. His head shakes slowly like a disappointed father . . . Daddy. Sorry. Daddy?

  Jesus Christ, stop it!

  He holds my stare once more. My magic is forgotten as heat flashes between us in tingles of nerves and anticipation. Because that’s all my fragile heart ever wanted in this hellhole: the excitement of the unknown. An adventure. A love to outshine all lust.

  Or maybe I’m just simply crazy.

  The press of his smooth chest against mine is a buzz of adrenaline that spirals deeper inside me as his hands slide down to my hips. His head lowers. His wicked eyes shift across my features, skimming right over my birthmark and pink scar like my eyes and my lips are the most captivating part of me.

  My thighs brush as I unsteadily shift from one foot to the other. My body is strung up before him like an idol ready for worship. Time sparks with everything we put into this moment. All the banter and all the taunting has collided into this single second: when his sinful gaze lifts slowly, and his eyes meet mine, it’s all ablaze.

  He searches my features. It’s a beat of uncertainty, and it occurs to me that he might not have ever intended to touch me. Hesitation catches on his every move as I rethink what led us here. He ordered the others to do his dirty work. He had them tie me and strip me and now . . .

  The coward.

  “You don’t have the balls,” I realize with a sneer.

  His eyebrows lift high.

  “You’ll regret saying that,” he whispers between us on a warm breath.

  My smile slices harder. “Promises, promises,” I coo to him.

  Big hands slide down my curves, and a shiver races after them. His calloused touch is like fire blazing over my hips, ass, thighs. And then he’s kneeling at my feet. I feel like a goddess. I brought him to his knees with ease.

  In the end, he’ll be the one filled with regret. Even if I can’t seem to reach the dark magic inside myself, I’ve already loosened my bindings enough to form a plan.

  His mouth is just a hot breath away from the lace of my panties. Dark, devious eyes peer up at me, blocking out any other person or sound or thing. For a tension-held moment, it’s only me and this mysterious Carnal. He’s as captivating as the faint magic that lives inside of me. His gaze is as lost as that magic too.

  And he’s all I think about as his lips part, and his mouth covers my sex from over the thinnest layer of black lace. Heat explodes across my sensitive skin, and the press of his tongue rolling over my mound is enough to tear the gasp from my throat and steal away all of my air as well as my thoughts.

  What are you doing!? My logical, exasperated mind yells.

  But I don’t hear it.

  Waves of sensuous tingling glides through my core, my very soul. It’s a consuming command like he himself could make me cum with a single press of his dirty mouth against my body.

  I’ve ne
ver felt like this. I’ve never been so lost in the touch of a man.

  The moan that shakes over my lips is uncontrollable. But it does cause realization to strike. My eyes flash open wide, and a wicked smile curves his lips as he laps over my clit once more.

  A shudder of a breath slips out, but I have to remember the objective here. Even if he is really, really good at distracting me.

  My legs shift around him as he works his talented mouth. When my thighs press around his head, he only smiles harder, his lashes closing as if he’s enjoying the way he makes me squirm. But I’m focused now . . . entirely . . . fuck, he’s good at that . . .

  Focus!

  My thighs clamp firmer around him. I’m locked in against him. Rough stubble meets my smooth flesh. And then I tighten my legs even more.

  Around his neck.

  Wide eyes flash open. The firm press of his hands becomes a frantic clawing. He can’t breathe. My thighs tighten. His sputtering gasp is warm across my damp pussy. Those dark, chaotic eyes are no longer sultry but vengeful.

  He isn’t afraid. He’s furious.

  And I know, when he wakes, he’ll want me dead.

  Just one more name to add to my list of who to watch my back around in this vicious kingdom.

  But it’s him or me.

  And it’s not going to be me.

  With one more quick press of tension, his lashes flutter. And then I part my legs and let him drop with a heavy thud. My feet fling up, and my ankles catch me on the highest part of the pole. My fists flex, and my arms break the bindings holding me hostage at my new spider-like position.

  I crawl backward to put more space between me and the dozens of surprised onlookers.

  “If that one’s your leader,” I shout to them over murmuring voices, “you should really look into getting a more competent leader of hazing. If its leader of orgasms you’re looking for, then yes, I agree, he is definitely your guy. But very poor hazing skills. Two out of ten. I’ve had better.” A few of them look up at me with angry scowls, but for the most part, confusion seems to be their emotion of choice.

  I just don’t care. Especially as I fling myself out into the cool night air, leap away from the carousel, and stride quickly from their little party.

  Their leader will find me again when he comes to. I’ll be ready . . . As soon as I find my pants.

  But more importantly, I’ll never let him lay a hand on my little sister.

  No man ever will.

  I’ll protect her.

  I’ll protect her the way I wish someone would have protected me.

  Unless I die trying . . .

  Chapter Seven

  Synder

  Bellatrix Cuore is a dead woman walking.

  The sun rose on my hungover face, and I found myself alone on a spinning ride from the most depraved part of hell. But unlike some of my trysts, I remember last night. Vividly. And I’ve spent the last six hours since then digging into a rather mundane past for a woman who likes to suffocate men with her thick thighs and devious lies.

  And what did I find out about this mystery girl?

  She’s basically a fucking human.

  My jaw clenches hard just thinking about what I let her do to me in front of the others. I let my guard down. She distracted me.

  And it won’t happen again. Especially after finding that other kingdoms have an interest in her as well.

  A human girl. The Fae are suspicious of the human girl. Which makes her monotonous existence very, very interesting.

  A heavy, black cloud hangs over the afternoon crowd as I stare a hole through her shiny, black locks and straight through her twisted little mind. Sharp, catlike green eyes look back at me. An amused pissed-off smile tilts her cherry lips, and a line of fucking fire blazes between our gazes.

  But she turns away like I’m nothing.

  “Ahhhooohhh, your supernatural dick is so hard for Miss Thigh Master, huh, Syn.” Benton’s laughter shakes through him and across every nerve I possess as I think about the irony of that little nickname.

  “Not exactly,” I tell my little brother.

  “Think she’ll take King Leavon’s bait?”

  I consider the speech that I know is about to ring out over this crowd of newcomers. It’s the same one year after year. The King is wise to present it to them while their rational minds can think it over.

  But he knows well enough to set the deadline at midnight. When all rationality goes out the hellacious window.

  “She’s smarter than that.” I know she is. She might be a bitch, but she’s a clever bitch. She won’t sign her life away to a man like Leavon.

  Even if he is just as much of a clever bitch.

  “Good afternoon, Newcomers,” Leavon’s smooth, confident voice greets the crowd like a god come to life. Come to save us all.

  Or sacrifice us many.

  I’ve been a part of the Brotherhood for a few years. Just long enough to hate the man I’m supposed to consider a brother. But I have a brother. The only family that I’ve got, but it’s enough to know family doesn’t use you. And Leavon, he uses everyone.

  “I do hope my home of like-minded Carnals have shown you that there is a place for those who do not belong. The others—the Pure, as they’d like to call themselves, they may not understand us, they may cast us out, but we are not animals. We are not the beasts the High Fae like to refer to us as. We’re not the sign of times as the mortals may claim. We’re beings just like them. Our hearts all beat the same. People like to throw stones at those they do not understand.” His tone grows generically gentle, and the crowd of Carnals eat that shit up. The newcomers, the humans especially, nod at his last line of remorse.

  No one likes a Monster. And no one likes to feel like a Monster.

  And Leavon sells that fact hard.

  These people will buy it all up in droves.

  Except her.

  My arms fold, and I leave my brother’s side as I stride quietly through the crowd like the beast I know I am. I don’t sugarcoat it like my Brotherhood. I’m a monstrous fuck in my natural form. The magic of the darkness makes my life easier. It aids me in an appearance of normal. Beautiful even. Over the last few years, my magic has blossomed in this shithole.

  That’s how I know I’ll never leave.

  And it isn’t because of our king’s pretty words.

  I glance at him high on his golden balcony once more, and the wind sweeps away particles of his flesh in the breeze. From this distance, his features are hard to make out, but the sand will always show.

  The people I pass instinctively step aside while others aren’t nearly as Carnal as their heritage might allow them to think. My shoulder hits theirs steadily, and I hear a few murmurs as I brush on by them one by one. When I’m just behind her, shadowing over her slender frame, her posture tightens. Her shoulders straighten like she might assassin kick right off the ground and smother me with her sweet thighs once more: a death many men have dreamed of, but only few know the reality.

  It’s fucking bullshit is what that reality is!

  But she’s one of the good ones, more Carnal than her human heritage might seem. She’s an equal to myself. I can tell by the way she senses me without even seeing me. Evil knows evil.

  Villainous, pussy-suffocating bitch!

  “Can I help you?” she asks flatly, never once taking her eyes off of something in the crowd.

  I clear my throat to reply, but she rudely cuts me off once more.

  “Perhaps you’re confused. I’ve read that concussions like you suffered often cause confusion.”

  My gaze narrows on her shiny black hair once more.

  Fucking claustrophobia-inducing cunt!

  “It’s not a concussion, actually,” I tell her as smoothly as the man speaking out to the crowd. “I just had some terribly bad pussy last night. So bad it put me right to sleep halfway through.”

  The chuckling laughter from behind me tells me that Benton has followed me. He always does.

  At the moment, I appreciate it.

  My soaring confidence falls slightly when she nods in agreement.

  “I know what you mean.” She tilts her head to look at me, her illuminating green eyes catching the sunlight through the thick clouds. “Have you ever had head so bad, you’d rather kill the person than tell them they’re nowhere near your clitoris?”