Page 81 of Deviant

The only difference is Liliana is a thing of beauty while this whore here, she’s nothing but filth.

Her nails dig into my flesh. Her wretched tongue sticks out of her mouth like she’s trying to remember how to form words.

With one firm shove I smash her head against the concrete behind her. Her eyes go wide, her legs jerk. She starts screaming, clawing, as if her pitiful existence is something worth fighting for.

“Die.” I snarl, slamming her harder, hearing her skull begin to crack on the second blow. “Just fucking die already.”

She starts gurgling more, choking on what I can only imagine is her own blood.

I ram her head into the wall, over and over, seeing the remains of her flesh, her hair, chunks of her brain start to leave a greasy trace behind.

It feels like it takes forever and yet some part of me relishes how long it is. How much she suffers as her skull slowly caves in, piece by piece.

When I’m certain she is dead, I toss her body, staring at it as it lays lifeless in that same heap of shit I found her in. I always wondered how I’d feel when she was dead, I thought my heart my react, I thought I might, on some level, grieve. But now I realise that that part of me died long ago.

This woman here no longer holds sway over me. No longer holds any power.

It’s a nice feeling to recognise. A nice thing to know.

I won’t burn this room. I won’t have her removed or cremated. She can stay here, she can rot in her own filth for the rest of time.

And it’s with a sense of satisfaction that I leave Oblivion. That I walk out into the sunshine, and I see my brother waiting for me.

Perhaps I should have done it sooner, perhaps there is something to be had in eliminating your enemies quickly rather than drawing it out.

I pause, my mind casting to the other technical enemy, the one who right now is asleep in my bed.

It would be logical to do the same thing, to kill her now, to wipe the slate clean, and yet I’m so not ready for that. She’s my pet, my plaything. It’s an entirely different circumstance to the woman who swore she’d love me forever and then, less than six hours later, she was trying to shove a dagger into my heart, both metaphorically and literally.

No, Liliana is different. She may be full of hate, she may be a stubborn, defiant, insolent bitch but I’m taming her. Day by day, I am winning. To cut my losses now would be more than premature.

And besides, I’m starting to enjoy my little pet more and more. I’m enjoying the way her body gives in, the way her body submits, the way she herself is yearning for more and more of me.

In truth, I think she really is growing on me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I had a soft spot—and that thought makes me come to a sudden, abrupt stop.

Sheisa soft spot.

Sheisa weakness. A liability.

I growl, realising exactly what I’ve created, what I’ve foolishly done these last few months.

I need to deal with this Esau shit, and I can hardly do that while she’s at the forefront of my mind.

I grab my phone, dialling for Gabe and bark out my instructions.

He replies, obviously confused by what I’m telling him and my sudden, apparent change in treatment, but to me it’s clear, logical.

I need her out of the way.

I need her locked down. Protected. Packed away into a nice little box.

Then when I’m ready, I can take her back out again, dust her off, and enjoy all the beautiful distraction that she is, without worrying about the consequences. Without having to concern myself with anything beyond my own pleasure.

Ahand wrenches me from the bed while I’m half asleep. My cries follow it as I land haphazardly on the floor, but I barely have time to register the fall before I’m pulled to my feet.

It’s not Magnus, though. He’s not the one doing this.

It’s Gabe.

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