Chapter 23

Strauss

" W alking is good for the pain."

"You know nothing, old man."

My feet almost stumble over a rock at her snarling insult. Old… "Yes, I guess everything to a child is old ." Grimacing, I tug her over a branch, careful that she doesn't trip. She lets me hold her hand. I don't think I've ever held hands with a girl before. The feel of her delicate palm in my rough one makes my body fill with warmth despite the frigid air of winter.

"I do feel a bit better." Her blue eyes dazzle me in the white sunlight as she glances up from where we're connected. "I like hiking with you. For-for the soreness, I mean. It helps the cramps."

"I thought you said my dick made your cramps go away this morning."

Hauling her into my body, I help her through a deep thicket as she sighs. "They came back."

"But then you said my cum helped an hour ago, too."

Her jaw tightens as she grits out. "It did…" She walks in front of me, dragging my arm with her.

"So what you're saying is, you need to be fucked again already." Blood gushes to my cock as it stirs, and I smile. I've never met a woman with as high of a drive as my own. "My perfect angel. Who knew you'd be such a filthy slut for me in addition to being my war machine."

Blonde hair gets caught in a wayward branch as she whips her head to face me. "I'm not a war machine. I'm not like that. I-I… I just killed the men who took my family away from me. And the women who took—" She stops, and I pull the hairs carefully out of the twigs, loosening it of pine needles.

"Took your man away from you?"

She grimaces, and an involuntary laugh tumbles from my belly at the sight. The harder I laugh, the more her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Yes. Fine, yes . I hate putting it that way."

"Oh…" I have to pause in order to gather some breath between chuckles. "You mean your husband or the love of your life instead?"

One of her mittened hands presses into my chest to get away from me, but I gather her up into my arms and brush my lips against her cold forehead. The mist of our breaths swirls around our heads, holding us together like our own ice cave. Her eyes gaze into mine for a long moment.

With a bashful blink, she looks down for a moment. "I used to have nightmares of the white walls and what my father's eyes looked like. My mother's mangled body beneath his on our striped sofa… They've gone away since I killed those women. It's like, maybe the blood of that massacre washed away my guilt. I was shut up tight for so long, trying to escape the thoughts, pushing them into as small a space in the hallways of my brain. When I used those machetes?—"

" Danced ," I interrupt. "You danced with those weapons, and it was glorious."

"Whatever you want to call it. I think I embraced who I am."

I pull her figure closer, our bodies only held apart by the thickness of our coats. My lips press against her head as I say, "I love you."

Though she doesn't say it back, her arms grip my waist tighter. Her voice is muffled when she murmurs something to me, head bowed into the thick wool of my coat. "What was that?" I ask.

She plants her chin on my chest. "But I deserve punishment for what I've done." Her lips form a solid line, as if she's finished talking, but I know what she's not saying.

"You don't. It wasn't your fault, you were a child…" Pausing, I swallow and tilt my head. "But you'd like for me to punish you."

Refusing to look at me, her eyes dart to the side before she gives a slight nod. The dead leaves crunch beneath her boots when she steps back from me, but she doesn't let me go. "Vincente…I think you're angry about, uh, what happened to you. And that's why you like to dish it out."

My brow furrows, but I walk with her back toward the garden where we married. The arbor looks more brown than white, covered in dead rose thorns.

The corners of my eyes tighten to contain the emotions threatening to spill out. Maybe I understand what she wants me to say. There's a deeper meaning to her words. But I don't speak them. Instead, I give my answer I have prepared.

"Who wouldn't be angry? My name is tarnished, and my reputation destroyed. Those secret organizations survive off power and the blood of innocence. They've destroyed years of my life. Everyone knows I'm a monster. That, I don't care about. But using me, making me a prisoner for things I never did…it's infuriating."

Beneath the archway of our matrimony, she gathers both my hands and faces me fully. The sun glistens against one tear that trails down her cheek, which reddens with emotion. Her fingers squeeze mine.

"It wasn't your fault."

Shaking my head rapidly, I fire back with fury. "I know , little girl. That's what I just said."

"Vincente! Stop! It wasn't your fault. I will slay demons with you, but you have to know them. You have to see them. Name them and say who they are."

My vision clouds with rage. I can't look at this woman in front of me. If I do, it'll be like facing the darkest parts of myself. Ones other people whisper about behind my back. Things I never saw as a problem until they said they were. That I'm tainted. Rancid. Rotten inside. A corpse walking like the living.

Can anything good come from spoiled fruit?

Perhaps it's because of this angel, the one who has more strength than I ever did, that I can't avoid the pain. No longer a vampire prideful of never having to see my own image in a mirror, I have to confront my past now in order to have a future. However short it may be.

I stare over her head, murmuring the words to the wind. "The truth is, the woman who was supposed to care for me as a mother didn't. She used me in ways that a boy never should be. How do I justify her doing something wrong when all I wanted was to love my mother? Wires got crossed until I was trained to please her to keep her affection, knowing it could be ripped away at any moment. No one else loved me."

I was born to be the villain of my own life.

Tilting my head back to the sky, I scream, "It wasn't fair! It wasn't right!" It doesn't answer. Tears seep from my squinted lids. Even the howls of my sorrow are silent. No one cares.

"It wasn't. What she did?—"

Lowering my head, I grasp her chin before she speaks further. "I thought I loved her."

She nods, breaking from my hold. "You did."

"No. I didn't. And I know that because…because now I understand what love is." We gaze into each other's eyes, not speaking, but letting the flames between us burn hotter.

There aren't words that can be said. Nothing can change the past, no matter how much I wish for it.

"Sir, your meal is served," one of the chefs interrupts us from the kitchen door. Hurriedly, I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

The little angel stops me and delicately places her mitten against my cheek to gather up a droplet that's fallen. She smiles slowly and says, "Will you take me on another date to the dining room, Consort Strauss?"

The corner of my lips jerks up into a sad smile. "Of course, my queen."

Inside, we're served hearty bowls of pasta e fagioli. Halfway to her mouth, her spoon stops midair. "We eat a lot of Italian."

Waving my utensil at her face, I encourage her to eat instead of talk. "Yes."

"Those songs you play on that ancient record player have Italian names."

I don't look at her and take a swig of my water. "You're very astute, my pure angel."

"But your name is not Italian."

My fingers crawl over the lace tablecloth to hers and snake through them until I grasp her hand and hold it on my thigh. The soup is delicious, hot, and much needed. "My mother's roots were an act of defiance, according to my father. The music she danced to, her choice of menu, the name she called me… Vicenzo . It was all to put him on tilt. Consort Strauss was arranged to marry her for mafia connections. Neither wanted it. And they held silent battles until the day he murdered her."

Clearing my throat, I study my reflection in the bowl. I don't look like I did back then. And it's not because I've grown older, though the lines across my forehead do tell a story.

It's because I'm not the same.

"While she was in my bed."

The girl's eyes take me in, burning a hole in the skin of my face. I don't dare look at her. If there's pity there, I won't be able to contain the wrath it causes. She stands, never letting my hand go, and slips onto my lap, her thighs wrapping around my waist until she lifts my chin to gaze into her eyes. But instead of sympathy, glowing embers of simmering indignation light up her countenance.

When you're not sure of who the real enemy is, everyone looks like they're out to get you.

She presses her lips to mine, then grips the back of my neck and forces her face into it. Heat from her breath moistens my skin as she mumbles, "I think we should make shepherd's pie."

My arms embrace her as I spoon some of the soup. "Here. Bite." Slotting the utensil between her plush lips, I smile. "Is that what your mother made you?"

The tip of her pink tongue darts out to capture a wayward dribble, and she nods, wiping her mouth with her finger and licking it. With a dot of a cloth napkin, I clean her lips.

"Then that's what we'll have tomorrow. I'll tell the cooks." Slapping her thigh, I spoon more up for her. "Eat so we can waltz." This week, I've spent time in the evenings after dinner teaching her some dances. She's awkward and a bit clumsy, but nothing I can't work with.

"What about our study session? You were going to show me where the city cameras are and how to operate them."

A fervid idea generates in my mind. "Hmm, yes. Let's do that first. Come on, angel."

I toss the cloth on the table and grip her hand, pulling her toward the dungeon control rooms.

"What's in there?" she asks as we pass one, heading for another.

"That's something for another time. This is the one we want."

My surveillance room used to be manned by a full staff. But they were either traitors or killed by Maximillian Freidenberg. It's a full apartment set up for dirty brutes who lived mainly in the three rooms provided here. The main focus is a wall of monitors and large screens showcasing various destinations around Gnarled Pine Hollow.

"Oh my god. This is the city?" One of her fingers trails across the overview from a tall tower in Center City.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, my eyes lower to her plump backside. I adjust my thick dick as it fills with need. From her writhing across my lap to now, I think she doesn't know what she's doing to me.

Or maybe she does.

After I grab a remote, I choose the loveseat across from the pictures of people going about their daily lives and stretch my arms along the back of it. Flicking through the images, I choose one of the voyeur rooms at the Crimson Angel. Astrid straightens up as the image comes into view on the largest TV. My fingers dig into her hip to pull her backward, and she stumbles a step between my thighs.

Without removing her eyes from the happenings in front of us, she seems caught in a trance at the woman splaying herself for the crowd. My fingers work to unbutton her jeans, then slip them down her thighs as she stays enraptured by the scene playing out before her. She's adjusted to me using her body now and doesn't even flinch, just presses her ass against my cheek as I bend to slide her panties off along with her menstrual pad. It's not soiled, so she must be almost finished.

The woman on screen is a frequent madam at the club. A bandit mask covers her eyes, as it always does. She holds up a large wand and waves it around as the guests lean forward, their chairs forming a semi-circle around the bed.

"Is-is she going to take all those men?"

Astrid slumps against my chest as I tuck her onto my lap. Brushing her blonde hair out of the way, I whisper as I bite her earlobe. "And the women, too." A shiver runs down her body as goosebumps erupt across her bare shoulder where her T-shirt has slipped.

I get comfortable and lounge against the cushion, making sure her thighs are spread wide over mine. "Keep watching her."

The air is sucked across her parted lips as my fingers find her clit and gently massage her there, but she obeys me. As the madam places the vibrator between her folds and moans, the sound peaks the speakers until they crackle like the ragged breaths escaping my love's lungs.

"Those men are enjoying watching."

Licking up the column of her exposed neck, I blow a cool mist across it and growl. "As are you, apparently. Do you like looking at her?"

"I'm curious about what they'll all do to her."

A feral grin quirks my mouth as I delve deeper inside her pussy. She writhes against the palm of my hand, her arousal soaking my skin. "Mm, does my precious angel want me to share her with those men? With others?"

She shakes her head rapidly and whips her face to mine, filled with fire. "No. I saw how you share. But I do want to watch it happen."

Unbuckling my belt, I let the fly flop open after unzipping, and pull out my hard cock. Then I'm lifting her off my lap and settling her onto it with ease. "Sit here and get yourself off while you watch her take several lovers." I peel her shirt off, tossing it aside. Clasping my hands behind my head, I watch Astrid's back muscles work as she makes slow, rhythmic movements on top of me.

One of the men gets up and aids the woman on the bed by licking her pussy, and Astrid's hips undulate deeper against me. A woman sits on the madam's face as the man between her legs rises and plunges his dick inside.

As the women whimper on the footage, so does my angel while she works herself into a frenzy. Her passion over my cock sends it spiraling toward a quick finale, the familiar thudding in my balls begging me for an early release. Especially when her tight interior clenches me randomly as she nears her climax.

"You like that, angel? Do you want me to fuck you while you eat pussy?"

"No… I-I just want to watch her do it."

My palms stroke the warm skin over her arms until she leans forward and tucks her feet against my legs. Using the edge of the sofa for leverage, she bobs up and down on my shaft, the sound of our lovemaking erotic as our skin slaps together, mixed with my groans and her whimpers. Helping her out, I lift off the couch to meet her on every downstroke with a plunge inside of her greedy cunt.

One of my hands spanks her ass over my brand as the madam sets up to take three men at once in double penetration with an oral job. The free woman sits in her hand and writhes against her stretched fingers, leaning over the madam to kiss the man with his dick in her mouth.

"That's it, baby. Work your cock. Squeeze my cum out so I breed you properly."

"Fill me, Vincente."

With another swat on her behind, I smile. "Beg me, little girl. Beg for my come."

"Please, please , master. Fill me with your come. I want your baby."

She tosses her hair back until it gets caught in my open mouth. Her wail of completion hits the low ceiling and echoes back several times. The sound is so melodic, I plunge deep and grasp her waist to hold her close, so she can't move at all. Screaming, she shifts on my lap until I explode within her, the tightness of her embrace pulling everything out of me.

My face lands against her bare back as I huff in air and pepper her smooth skin with kisses. When she tries to move to a stand, I grab her firmly. "Nope. You sit here and continue to watch with me. My dick is your new plug for fifteen minutes. Or at least until I'm not hard any longer."

She lets out a frustrated gasp, laughing lightly. "That's impossible. You're always hard."

Shrugging, I say, "Well, then I guess it's good we have a lot of live porn to watch."