Page 39 of Wild Devil

I’m in a daze as Colton finally shepherds me from the stables toward the house. I only snap back to myself when a door slams, and I realize I’m locked in the room with Colton.

“Get on the bed,” he commands, stripping his jacket. “Now.”

I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

He puffs up his chest, his head cocked. “Did you not just see what happened out there? The lengths your father is willing to go through? That was a convincing show. Next time, I’ll kill one of those girls for real.”

“Real?” I blink, unable to reconcile his statement with reality. I saw the blood. Tasted it. Felt it. There is no way in hell that wasn’t real. Unless…

The same way my father has lost his mind, Colton is losing all sense of reality. That fact makes him a more dangerous opponent than I realized.

“That was real, you fucking dumbass,” I snap. “Did you not see that with your own eyes? You think that he’ll stop at those girls? He’ll kill you too! He’ll probably kill both of us!”

“Stop being dramatic, Frances.” Colton towers over me and slams me down with such force that I am left gasping for breath. “You shouldn’t concern yourself with anything but what I expect from you tonight. Your criminal bastard isn’t here to save you, and I intend to take advantage of every part of yourself that you gave to him. Starting with this—” I feel him groping me clumsily through the waist of my gown, and instinct takes over.

He grunts when I kick him so hard, he falls backward.

“You stupid little bitch.” He looks up from the floor, his eyes wild. “I’ll make you pay for that. Real or not, I’ll drag you back to that place and cut you with that knife. Or perhaps I’ll convince your father to stop playing with your lover. Why should he die in a blaze of glory like the others? I say we capture him tonight and cut out his heart while you watch. Would you like that?” Teeth bared, he lunges for me.

“No!” I kick him again, grappling for leverage. As I hear fabric tear and feel nails gouging my inner thigh, I know I won’t be able to fight him off. Not physically.

So, I don’t think about the consequences or the concept of right and wrong. Reaching out, I grab the nearest item within reach—the lamp. Gripping it tight, I swing it as hard as I can toward him.

He makes an inhuman sound and staggers off, swiping at his face with his hands.

“Like mother like daughter,” he snarls, his teeth bared and streaked with blood. The blow must have split his lip. Menacingly, he reaches for me. “You’re going to end up just like her?—”

“No!” I throw myself toward him. There’s warm blood on my cheek, but I barely even feel it as I peel the razor blade free and throw myself forward, jamming it into any part of him I can reach. His face. His chest.

“You crazy bitch,” he grunts out, lashing at me with a closed fist.

“I am,” I counter, ignoring the blow that glances off my right eye. “I am a crazy bitch!”

It’s all I can say, and over again, as I keep striking him. Over and over, until he finally falls silent, and I can think clearly again.

As the door opens and someone steps inside, I don’t care. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I mourn for Daze. I’ll never see him again. The crazy, sexy idiot with charming gray eyes will never know just how much I love him.

I’ll never taste him again.

At least he won’t see me the way I am now, covered in blood, wide-eyed, and crazed. I have a clear view in the mirror across from me, but the person staring back isn’t any iteration of Frey I’ve glimpsed until now. Clothed in black, with her blond hair streaked red, she’s a demon.

“Frances…” The voice seems to come from miles away, barely able to penetrate the stupor I’m in. It’s like I’m no longer attached to my body, but floating somewhere above, watching on with indifference. While I can see Colton lying on his back, covered in blood, I don’t feel anything.

Not panic, not terror, not even guilt.

I feel nothing at all.

“Frances, honey, look at me.” Someone is running their fingers through my hair in a smooth, gentle motion. Not my father, a part of me realizes, but I don’t know who else the figure could be. My vision is limited to what is directly in front of me—Colton. His blood is forming a slowly growing puddle that seeps into the skirt of my dress. The funny thing about black silk is that it obscures any stains that might occur.

Despite the carnage around me, I seem untouched.

“Frances, honey, please! Look at me!” The stroking fingers leave my hair to brush my cheek. “Please. We don’t have much time.”

As I blink, I finally see the beautiful figure kneeling beside me, her face contorted in horror.

“C-Catherine?”

“Yes, it’s me.” I feel her soft hands pulling me to my feet as she nods. “It’s ok, darling. I’m here.”

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