Page 55 of Born into Madness
I’ve been training for years. My dad taught me how to fight with my fists and how to shoot a gun, and then Dario taught me how to fight with knives. Mia regularly trains with me, so it’s not like no one has ever seen me, but this feels very different.
I think about it and then say, “Okay,” before letting her hand go so she can step back. She puts several feet between us, but it’s not necessary. She could be standing right next to me, and she’dstill be safe. I’d cut off my own hand before I’d ever allow her to get hurt.
My fingers wrap around the familiar grip of my knife’s aluminum handle. I’ve held it so many times, spent so many hours practicing and honing my skills with it that it feels like an extension of my hand at this point, slicing and stabbing as natural to me as wiggling my fingers.
I look over at her one last time, drinking in the sight of her standing in my personal space, before I tighten my grip and put my focus on the dummy in front of me. Spinning the knife, I switch to an ice pick grip and without any warning, swipe the blade across the first dummy’s throat. It’s a clean slice from ear to ear, ensuring I’ve hit both carotid arteries. If this were a real person, blood would be spurting in arcs right now, and he’d be dead in minutes.
Not missing a beat, I turn and spin the knife so I have a hammer grip again before I do two quick stabs to the lower back, hitting exactly where the left kidney would be before circling around and thrusting the knife right beneath the sternum. I give it a good twist before pulling back and slicing the blade along the inner thigh of the third dummy, hitting the exact spot that would sever the femoral artery.
When I train, everything else fades away and now is no exception. I forget about everything except the kill. Every stab, every slice, every mark I leave is purposeful and precise, and by the time I’m finished with the last dummy, I know exactly how each one of them would’ve died and how long it would’ve taken had they been human.
My breathing is heavy but controlled, and when I wipe my hand across my sweaty brow, I hear Cyn’s surprised gasp from behind me. A part of me had been aware of her presence, but I’d lost myself in my training, and it takes me a second to gather myself before I turn to face her. I’m expecting and fearing theworst, but her green eyes aren’t filled with fear and disgust. She looks amazed, like she’s in awe of everything she’s just seen instead of being repulsed by it.
“How did you learn to do all that?” She clasps her hands in front of her, the prayer-like motion so at odds with what she’s just witnessed and so very out of place to do in front of a guy like me.
My knife is still in my hand, but I lower it down to my side when she works up the courage to walk towards me. Stopping less than a foot in front of me, she looks up at me, eyes lit up with excitement as she waits for me to answer.
“My little sister’s husband taught me to fight with a knife. My dad taught me to fight with my fists,” I tell her.
Her eyes dart to the mutilated dummies around us, some of them still lightly swinging. “But you make it look so graceful.”
“Countless hours of practice, little Cyn.” I look around us and shrug. “I’ve spent years doing this.”
She studies me for a second. “You really love this, don’t you?”
My mind races, trying to decide how honest I should be, but there’s no use denying who and what I am, not anymore, not since I’ve decided to keep her. I give her the brutally honest truth and say, “I do, but I love it even more when they’re alive and bleeding.” I give the dummy next to us a light push. “This is a sad substitute.”
“Have you always felt like this?”
“For as long as I can remember, yeah,” I tell her. “Ever since I was a kid.”
“Does your family know?”
“They do,” I admit. “Some more than others, but everyone knows I’m a little,” I pause, searching for the right word before I say, “different.”
“But you don’t want to hurt me?”
She looks so fucking innocent, staring up at me with those beautiful green eyes and that bloody red hair that I adore.
“I don’t,krovinka.” Reaching up with my free hand, I curl one of her locks around my finger. “Not like the way I usually hurt people, not like what you just watched me do to those dummies.”
Her eyes widen slightly when I step even closer. “So you do want to hurt me?”
There’s a hint of fear in her voice, and I don’t hate it. I like hearing it, because I know she’s safe. There’s something about her wondering, though, that really turns me on. It’s not terror, more like awhat ifthat’s very much tinged with arousal. Her pupils are blown, her breathing heavier than it was a few seconds ago, and I’m willing to bet she’s as turned on as I am right now.
“Do you?” she asks again, and her impatience makes the corner of my mouth lift just as it makes her squirm and shift her weight from foot to foot.
“I thought I didn’t.” I graze my fingers along her jaw and then down her neck. “But then I keep thinking about the way you’re going to scream when I slide into you, and I have to be honest, my little Cyn, it really turns me on to think about you squirming on my cock, unable to get away, trapped and spread wide while I feed you every thick inch of me.”
“Sasha,” she whispers, looking equal parts scared and turned on. Her fingers clutch at the bottom of my shirt, using me as her anchor while she sorts through everything she’s feeling. We’re an odd mix, she and I, but somehow it works. Most people run from me, but she seeks me out, and not only that, but she actually takes comfort from my presence. I don’t hate it. Instead, I find myself longing for it, wanting to be the safe place she craves and needs.
Her voice is whisper soft when she says, “I’m not so sure I’m ready for all that.”
“Then we wait,” I say.
“Just like that?” she asks, and I can hear the doubt in her voice.
Without taking my eyes off hers, I stab the knife I’m still holding deep into the stomach of the dummy that’s hanging next to us and then reach down to cup her ass so I can lift her up and bring her closer to me. She lets out a surprised gasp and then wraps her arms and legs around me.
