Chapter 33

“Come with me.”

Damien’s curt words have me glancing in the assassin’s direction, but he’s already stalking away, his muscles rigid beneath his black suit.

I exchange a wary glance with Cain, but he shrugs and follows.

It’s been two days since we discovered the truth about Nina. Two days since we’ve made the decision to escape the prison. Two days since we’ve spent every waking moment planning and planning and…guess what? More planning.

“If you’re taking us somewhere dark and spooky to murder us and hide our bodies, I’ll have you know that I’m a screamer,” I tell Damien with forced cheer. It’s become natural for me to hide my anxiousness with quips and barbs. No one can know that, internally, I’m freaking the fuck out.

I’m about to be a father.

Me.

A father.

It’s a word I never thought would be associated with me.

When I was a prisoner at the sex club, Cain and I both had spells placed on us, similar to the one Alyssa placed on Nina, that would prohibit us from fathering children. Fortunately, the spell had an expiration date, but that didn’t change the fact we were meticulous about using condoms. Neither of us wanted to be fathers, wanted the responsibility of loving someone that way.

But to know that Nina is pregnant…

I feel nothing but joy. It inflates me like helium in a balloon, making me feel weightless and buoyant. Fuck, I’m gonna be a father.

It’s a gift I didn’t even know I wanted, and impossibly, I fall even more in love with Nina fucking Doe. My Bambi. My world.

“I think you’ll do more than scream if I decide to murder you,” Damien says, his voice almost casual. Fuck, is this his way of making conversation? Of being friendly? We’re gonna need to have a long talk about what’s appropriate conversation starters. Talking about screaming and murdering? That’s on the no-no list. As in, fuck to the holy no. “You’ll probably piss yourself,” Damien continues in his cold, detached voice. “And sob hysterically. But that will only be the beginning. As tears stream down your face, I’ll stick my knife in your abdomen, cutting a straight line to your cock. I won’t cut it off…at least not right away. Instead, I’ll put tiny cuts all down the length. Cocks bleed, you know. And if it has enough cuts, you might pass out from the pain. Only then will I take your balls and rip it from your body, then shove them down your throat. Before you die, I’ll allow you to see your cock in my hand as I take my razor blade and slice off tiny pieces.”

Holyyy fuck.

Cain’s face has turned green beside me, his hands moving to cover his manhood, as I stare at Damien with growing terror. We’re buddies, right? He wouldn’t truly chop up my dingle dwarf?

And then he fucking smiles. The sadistic, serial killer, psychopath honest to fuck smiles and throws his head back in laughter, patting me on the shoulder.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he says between bouts of laughter.

Do I awkwardly laugh? Cry for my dead mommy? Hide behind Cain and offer him as a sacrifice? Where’s Nina when I need her to rein in Damien’s crazy?

I settle for laughing through my tears like a true champ.

I think being Damien’s friend is even more terrifying than being his enemy.

“You look as if you’re going to shit yourself,” Cain whispers in my ear when Damien’s expression turns aloof once more and he turns to walk in front of us.

“You’re one to talk,” I reply, jabbing his stomach with my elbow. “You’re green as shit.”

“Let’s just make a pact right here and now to never, and I mean ever, get on Damien’s bad side,” Cain says as we resume walking. He holds out his pinkie with a wry grin playing on his lips. “Pinkie promise.”

I practically squeal like a teenage girl attending a One Direction reunion concert. “You want to do a pinkie promise with me? I knew you loved me, brother.”

Cain’s eyes roll so far, I can see the whites of them.

“Honestly, I think the only way we’ll ever piss Damien off enough to murder us is if we hurt Nina. And I for one have no intention of ever hurting that perfect human or our child. Do you?” Cain gives me a glance out of the side of his eye as I shake my head vehemently.

“Fuck no.” The mere thought of hurting her makes me sick to my stomach.

“Then I don’t think we need to worry about Damien stabbing us in our sleep.” He pauses, his head tilting to the side. “Actually, we should always worry about that. He’s fucking crazy.”

“I heard that,” Damien deadpans as he turns at a fork in the hall. Cain and I both freeze, and I mouth repeatedly, Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

Because yeah, Damien is a terrifying motherfucker.

“I have a surprise for you two,” Damien continues, and the icy fear I previously felt in my chest? That amplifies tenfold at his words. A surprise from Damien sounds just as appealing as sticking a rusty needle in my eye would be.

I exchange another glance with my brother as we enter a cell that’s been transformed into Damien’s torture chamber. All of the appliances have been removed from the tiny space, and the room is now furnished with a chair and table, the latter of which holds a collection of wicked looking blades and other scarily sharp objects.

And tied to the chair, a gag in his mouth and his bald head covered in sweat, is Lionel Green.

A councilman.

The asshole who put the hit out on all of us.

And our rapist. Our tormentor for fucking years.

Cain sucks in a breath beside me, turning completely still, but I can barely hear him over the roaring in my ears. It reminds me dimly of the ocean, of the waves swallowing the shoreline before returning home.

“I gave up every favor I was owed to get this piece of shit here,” Damien continues, oblivious to our stricken reactions. “Figured I wouldn’t need them anymore. I mean, even councilmembers aren’t exempt from the laws…”

With the grace and deadliness of a panther, he stalks towards the table and removes a tiny blade. Suddenly, his story about cutting at a man’s cock off makes way more sense.

A shiver of satisfaction and bloodlust courses through me as I stare into the panic-filled eyes of Lionel Green. He knows he’s well and truly fucked, that he’ll be at our mercy.

“Now where were we, hmm?” Damien makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat before plunging the blade into Lionel’s shoulder. The man screeches in agony, the sound muffled by his gag, but Damien simply watches him with a cold detachment that sends chills up my spine. A second later, the smell of piss barrages my senses.

“You fucking disgusting cunt,” Damien hisses, removing the blade and glaring distastefully at the puddle of pee by Lionel’s feet. He rips the gag from Lionel’s mouth and tosses it in the pee puddle. Lionel pants desperately, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. The sight of him so broken, so fearful…

I smile cruelly at the man.

“Abel, Cain, please,” he begs us. “Please help me. Please. This man is trying to kill me.”

Damien laughs coldly and moves to his table, his fingers drifting over all of the knives present. He settles on one that’s slightly crooked, though I can’t tell if it was designed that way or if it broke during one of his torture sessions.

Panic mars Lionel’s disgusting features as sobs shake his body. “Please. I love you?—”

I can’t contain my laughter. The sound is scary, even to my own ears. Fucking hell, I sound like an evil villain in a superhero movie.

When I glance at my brother—at his pale face and wide, terrified eyes—I begin to laugh even harder.

There’s nothing about this situation that is even remotely amusing.

“How many people have the hit list?” Damien demands, swinging the blade in front of Lionel’s face like a pendulum.

“You framed me,” Lionel gasps out around his sobs. “You put that dead girl in my room to send me here.”

Damien simply caresses the tip of the curved blade against his cheek. “You can’t frame someone who’s already guilty,” he whispers. “You should’ve done a better job at hiding the girl’s body.”

It suddenly makes sense, in a sort of vague, distant, dizzying way.

Lionel murdered a girl and thought he hid the body. But Damien knows everything and everyone, and somehow, the body was found and her death led back to Lionel fucking Green. With nothing else to do, the supernatural police arrested Lionel and sent him to the Labyrinth…where Damien was happily waiting to surprise us with our “gift.”

I think I have a little bit of a man crush on the crazy fucker. Sorry, Nina. She’ll have to share my attention with my new bae.

“Tell us about the list,” Damien repeats, ignoring Lionel’s blubbering cries.

“Please don’t hurt me. Please. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Weak.

So fucking weak.

Lionel takes a deep, shuddering breath when Damien walks away, but screams in terror when the psycho returns with a pair of scissors. Humming beneath his breath, Damien cuts away Lionel’s shirt, pants, and boxers, until the man is completely naked. The sight of his disgusting micropenis brings back horrible memories, memories I will to stay buried, but I don’t allow myself to fall down that rabbit hole. I reach blindly for my brother, only breathing easier when his fingers interlock with mine.

Damien slides on a pair of gloves before kneeling in front of Lionel and grabbing his cock. His other hand still holds the curved blade.

“Tell me everything,” he says, his ice-blue eyes swirling with darkness.

“I did it,” Lionel tearfully admits. “I made the hit list. I just wanted that little bitch dead for stealing my boys from me.” He turns towards us with pleading eyes. “I did it because I love you?—”

Damien lowers the knife with a single swoop of his arm, and the crown of Lionel’s cock falls to the ground.

His screams of agony are music to my fucking ears.

“Don’t get off track, Lionel.” Damien’s reaches up to pet the man’s head like one would a disobedient dog. “Tell us what we want to know.”

“The councilmembers thought it was hilarious,” Lionel gasps out, his body shaking. “They created the dead pool where we bet on how long it would take you guys to be killed. Please don’t kill me. Please. I’ll do anything.”

“If that’s all you know…” Damien raises his curved blade once more, and Lionel begins to sob harder.

“I gave the list to someone I knew in the Labyrinth. She was supposed to pass it on.”

She?

That pronoun penetrates the rage thumping through me, but I can’t focus on that. Not yet. Not until this disgusting piece of meat is destroyed.

Damien considers the squirmy, crying councilman with cold eyes before he finally stands and sets the blade back on the table.

Lionel practically collapses with relief.

“Boys,” Damien turns towards us and gestures towards the table, “the floor is yours.”

Is he suggesting…?

One look into his cold eyes confirm that I’m not misreading the situation.

He wants us to torture Lionel, the same way Lionel tortured us for years.

Cain’s hand is bruising and tight around my own, nearly cutting off my circulation, but when I glance in his direction, his eyes are forged from solid steel. Tiny horns erupt from his blond hair as he stalks forward like vengeance personified.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to me and my brother,” Cain hisses, his voice nearly unrecognizable with the appearance of his demon. He grabs a blade at random from the table and tosses it to me. I catch it with a gleeful smile.

“No, please?—”

“Your death is ours,” I agree with another look at my brother. And then we begin to cut.

…

Blood drips from our skin and hair, painting the ground we walk on.

People give us a wide berth as we move towards the cell we left Nina in with Bronson.

When we arrive, she’s fussing over him, completely oblivious to our presence.

But Bronson isn’t. He takes one look at us, at the wings sprouting from our back and the pitch-black horns and the blood coating every available inch of skin, and excuses himself with only a small growl in our direction. He knows we’ll never hurt Nina, our mate.

Our life.

“What—”

Her words are cut off by the force of my kiss, and I push her until she’s flush against Cain’s chest. His bloody arms band around her waist as I kiss her senseless, my tongue eagerly seeking out hers. I know she can taste the blood on me, the blood of our enemy, but she doesn’t comment. Pleased gasps escape her mouth as I reach behind her to cup her ass.

“Abel. Cain,” she pants, and our names leaving her lips sends a surge of primal satisfaction through me. A surge of possessiveness.

With a growl more like Bronson than me, I shred the front of her dress with my claws, making sure not to accidentally prick her skin. Only when they retreat back into my fingers do I touch her, running my bloody hands all across her supple belly and breasts. The red stains her skin as I flick her nipples, but she doesn’t seem to mind, moaning wantonly and tossing her head back.

I fumble with the waistband of my pants, shoving them off and stroking my already erect cock. I might be crazier than Damien, but I legit got hard carving my name into Lionel’s skin. And then I imagined fucking Nina over his bloody corpse, and I nearly came in my pants.

Behind Nina, Cain removes his own pants and shrugs out of his shirt. She doesn’t hesitate to turn in his arms, running her hands all over his bloody skin. I push her hair to the side to plant kisses across her neck and then down her smooth skin. When I reach her pert ass, she gasps, clinging to Cain’s shoulders, but I simply smirk devilishly and stab my tongue into her tight little hole. Using two hands, I hold her cheeks apart so I can tongue-fuck her properly, my tongue traveling from her pussy to her asshole and then back again.

“Abel,” she gasps into Cain’s mouth as he kisses her senseless, no doubt leaving bloody handprints all over her body. The thought only makes me harder, a feat I didn’t think was anatomically possible.

“We want you, Nina,” Cain murmurs against her lips. “At the same time.”

She knows exactly what we mean, and I grin at the low moan that escapes her.

“Yes. God, yes.” Like a good girl, she arches her ass in my face, and I lightly spank her cheek, watching it jiggle.

Satisfied that her ass has been properly lubed with my saliva, I move to my feet and wait until she’s firmly placed on Cain’s cock, his hands tweaking her beaded nipples, before I spit on my hand and rub it up and down my cock. That, combined with the juices from Nina’s slick pussy, provides enough lubrication for me to slowly breach her tight ring of muscles. I work myself in slowly, desperate not to hurt her. Once I’m halfway, I pull out and drive back in, each thrust filling her ass until, on my third try, I’m all the way in.

We both groan at the contact, her back arching beautifully. Cain repeatedly peppers kisses across her face as she adjusts to our lengths inside of her.

“Is this okay, Trouble? Are you okay?”

“M-Move,” she stammers. “I need you to move.”

We fuck her with the reckless, primitive energy we felt in Damien’s torture chamber, when we cut off Lionel’s cock and tore him into pieces. When we spat on his dead body and laughed maniacally as his blood stained our skin.

But even his death pales in comparison the feeling of Nina wrapped around me.

I reach around us to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples, and she throws her head back with a cry of pleasure. The smell of vanilla invades my nostrils, and I breathe it in eagerly, allowing it to diminish the scent of copper permeating the air.

“Fuck, Trouble. Fuck,” Cain groans out as he pounds into her. We find a rhythm that works for us—when he leaves her tight channel, I push in, my hands squeezing her breasts painfully. If it hurts her, she doesn’t let it show, screaming our names with breathless wonderment and lust.

We work together to keep her constantly on edge, loving the way she cries out our names, demanding release.

My sweet, naughty little Bambi.

Cain lowers his hand to her clit while I tweak her nipples painfully, pulling them away from her bloody breasts and then releasing them.

“Oh my god!” she screams as she detonates around us. Cain grunts, his hips losing their rhythm as he explodes inside of her. My balls tighten, the feeling almost painful as I come as well, my cum dripping down her ass and legs.

And then we collapse on top of each other, a sweaty, bloody pile of limbs.

She doesn’t ask us what occurred, but somehow, she seems to know. She always seems to know.

And somehow, someway, she was able to tame our inner demons until we slowly came back to ourselves, the darkness receding.

She accepts us—every bloody, dark, and dangerous facet.

Hell itself would have to come and claim me before I let anyone or anything hurt her or our unborn child.

Until death do us part, Nina.

Until death do us part.