Page 3 of Shades of Ruin

“Did you say you’d rather apologize on your knees?” I ask as though I didn’t hear a word he said. “Happy to oblige.” I kick out his legs from under him and delight in his screech of pain as he falls to the floor in front of my girl. “Now, say you’re sorry like a good little boy.”

“I’m sorry,” he hisses like the words cause him physical pain as they wrench from his throat.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” I shove his head so that he topples over onto all fours. “Now fuck off like you should have the first time I told you to.”

It takes him a moment to right himself, and a small crowd gathers to watch his humiliation unfold. I cross my arms over my chest and survey his struggle with a smile on my face. It doesn’t escape my notice that my angel’s sweet face mirrors my sadistic satisfaction at the asshole’s downfall. Maybe she’s not such an angel after all.

Xander finally gets to his feet and brushes off his red suit before wagging a vengeful finger in my direction. “Satan will hear about this.”

Satan is the name the die-hard Pandemonium members have bestowed upon Finn since he lords above us all like a true Prince of Darkness. “Fine, go complain to Hell daddy. I don’t give a fuck if Finn gives me a lecture and a slap on the wrist,” I retort with a careless shrug. This display might earn memorethan a slap on the wrist, but it’s still fucking worth it.

With a glare that promises retribution, Xander storms off with his friend following closely at his heels. My dangerous, possessive mood is warning enough to everyone else in the vicinity to stay clear, so I finally have enoughspace to give the alluring girl in front of me my full attention. Her light brown eyes roam over my body, taking stock of my appearance with an open interest that many subs wouldn’t dare. She might not even be a sub. Perhaps she has something even sweeter to offer me than submission. Judging from the look of her, I’d say she likes to find pleasure on the same razor edge that I do.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” she speaks at last, her voice low and sultry with a slight accent that sounds like she caresses her R’s with the tip of her tongue. There’s a mischievous glimmer in her gaze that leaves me wondering if her gratitude is more taunting than genuine.

“Oh, I didn’t rescue you,” I retort, the words deadly serious as I stare her down with an expression of pure wickedness. “I saved you for my own damnation.”

“You’re a bit of a bully.” She quirks one of her brows in defiance even as her soft lips curve into a smile. I don’t think she’s at all put off by her accurate assessment of my character.

“You have no fucking idea.”

I close the distance between us and dig my fingers into her ash-kissed skin. She shivers at my touch, and I have to bite my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from tearing into that sweet pulse point thumping at a runaway speed on the side of her throat. I want to feel every inch of her delicious body under my tongue and lap the sweat and blood and smoke from her skin.

I’m going to devour her sanity and leave her with nothing left but pleasure.

I’m close enough that I can smell her, my senses enraptured by the warm scent of cinnamon and chilies blended with bittersweet notes of dark chocolate. I resist the urge to lean down and lick the length of her neck to see if she tastes as good as she smells. My mind is already flipping through ways I could capture her intoxicating essence in a dish. Something spicy, sweet, and decadent.

There are singed feathers tangled in her thick mess of dark, caramel-dipped curls. They ripple over her shoulders and flow down to brush the small of her back. I can’t keep my eyes from traveling further down and appreciating the full swell of her hips and the curve of her ass. It doesn’t escape my notice that her tits are the perfect size for my hands, round and plump like ripened peaches. A body like this is meant to be worshiped, but she’s draped herself in charred tatters, blood, and ash.

Usually I like to be the one to ravage and destroy, but this girl is a gorgeous wreck already.

“Aren’t you the prettiest little ruin I’ve ever seen,” I purr, scraping my thumb over her mouth to smear her red lipstick even further across her cheek. “Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven, angel?”

“Like a bitch,” she breathes, her chest heaving a bit heavier than it was before. She leans forward and presses her body against mine, standing up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against my ear before whispering, “It’s a good thing I love the pain.”

I groan in surrender, the sound rumbling deep in my chest. This girl might ruin me right along with her. “Fucking hell, I think the devil must have crafted you just for me.”

Chapter Two

GREYSON

My heart thunders like a ravaging storm as I push my way through the crowd of half-naked people fucking their way through Halloween night. The ruined angel’s hand is intertwined with mine while I lead her through the large room. I hold her protectively close to my side, making sure that no other fucker but me touches her. The bones of her fingers are so small and fragile in my grasp that I could break them without even trying. The eager anticipation in her light brown eyes as I drag her up the stairs toward my private room suggests that she might not even protest if I tried.

She doesn’t say a word when I pull her in front of the ominous red door with the demon nameMolochetched into the top in black letters, take out my keys, and unlock the door without ever letting go of her hand. I don’t give her a moment to hesitate before tugging her inside and slamming the door behind us with a kick of my foot. Her pretty eyes flit across the room, studying every whip, cane, rope, chain, and piece of bondage equipment without an ounce of fear.

Granted, these are all just standard kinkaccessories. I have the most extensive collection at the club, and it all gets very regular use. The more specialized items are hidden away in the drawers beside the St. Andrew’s cross—shock collars, violet wands, Wartenberg wheels, spiked paddles, an array of needles, and my very favorite, a collection of stainless steel knives. Unlike most sadists who practice edge play, my knives are professional kitchen grade and an exact match for the ones I keep at my restaurant, Grey’s. I got a taste for mixing kink with cooking early on in my culinary career, and I never quite kicked the addiction.

Watching the sharp edges glint in the firelight of the room gets my cock almost as hard as tearing into a sweet sub’s holes. Sometimes, I wrap my hand around my playmate of the moment’s throat and allow myself to imagine shoving the pristine steel inside her soft, warm cunt while I fill up her ass with my cum until she’s dripping all over the floor. The dark, sinful fantasy always makes me come harder and faster than anything else. But the delicious desire stays in my thoughts where it should.

The last time I gave a girl my blade, things ended very badly. And I’ve held everyone at a distance ever since.

“See anything you like, angel?” I ask, watching her like a predator inspecting its next meal as she walks around the room and runs her soft fingers over the brutal instruments. I wonder which is her favorite—the thought startles me because I’ve never actuallycaredbefore. The tools are for my use, much like the girls I use them on. This girl is fucking with my brain chemistry on a dangerous level.

“It’s nice,” she replies, the words crafted in such a way that they sound like an insult. I frown at her, the expression lost behind my demon mask. “But I’ve seen all this before,” she continues. She slips an ash-tipped finger under one of the whips and sends it knocking into the others hanging beside it. They clatter loudly against the rack, the noise digging its way under myskin. She glances up at me with wide, innocent eyes, seemingly oblivious to the havoc she’s wreaking on my sanity.

This girl is fucking trouble. And I’ve never met a red flag I didn’t want to fuck.

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” I drawl, my tone even despite wanting to strap her down and whip her until that attitude is drowned out by her screams for mercy.

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