32

Christian
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Maria asked, as if the question was weighing heavily on our minds.
It wasn’t.
Men like the three of us, creatures who’d been aptly called the Damned had no capacity for love. It was a foreign notion presented in a gift wrapped package by authors and musicians, filmmakers and move stars, who grit their teeth in front of the public eye while loathing the person they were in a relationship with.
“I believe in the lure of attraction,” Weston answered, always the man of reason, the one voted most likely to be able to fake a normal life.
“Hypnotic sex appeal, dangerous and provocative,” I added.
Her expression held an air of amusement. “Pheromones refusing to be denied, a burning need that can never be satisfied? Almost like the taking of a man’s life, watching as the light is vanquished from his eyes. Yes?”
Her stark wording brought a smile to my face, a twitch to my cock. It would seem our little pet had spent some time finding out who we were. I couldn’t blame her. In fact, I was surprised she didn’t have an army of security watching her every move. She was enticed by the aspect of danger, her desire swirling in a wave of uncertainty. I’d never known someone to be so turned on by the thought of three dangerous men. That made me want her that much more.
“Are you certain you want to go down the rabbit hole?” I asked, deepening my voice.
She licked her lips, not out of fear but out of a dark need to feast on sin that had festered inside of her for years. It was quite possible that the vulnerable woman was as insatiable as we were.
Clinton lifted his glass in a toast. “I do believe our little prey has ripped off our masks, which is no small feat.”
“And what have I found?” she cajoled, taunting us with her knowledge.
“If I told you monsters, would you run when given the chance?” I leaned closer, running my finger from one side of her jaw to the other.
She slowly turned her head in my direction, the look in her eyes almost as predatory as the one I knew I had for her. “No.”
I wasn’t certain what she was attempting to do, but I reveled in her ability to allow her inhibitions to fade away. As an electric wave pulsed through the back of the SUV, I longed to pin her to the seat, releasing the pent-up anguish of my self-proposed hell, refusing to give into my carnal needs. Now, I wanted nothing more than to cut her panties to shreds, unleashing the feral side of me.
“So be it. Be careful what you ask for around us, sweet Maria. The secrets that lie beneath the sophisticated facade could ultimately mean your demise,” Clinton told her in his cold, stark manner. Only he could turn a night of passion into foreplay for manipulation.
“Are you trying to scare or warn me?” she continued, her voice little more than a raspy purr. The woman knew exactly what she was doing to each one of us, using her feminine wiles as a mastered craft. But with her, it wasn’t merely an attempt to get what she wanted. Her reactions to us were as uncontrollable as ours were to her.
The ultimate prey.
“Both,” Clinton muttered.
“Then duly noted.” She gifted us with a laugh before settling back into the seat, sipping on her champagne like the queen she should be. “But that’s what I want.”
Jesus. The hard press of my trousers against my cock was becoming unmanageable.
I shifted in my seat, the three Damned studying each other from our respective corners. Who would be the first to claim her? That’s what we were thinking. Blood roared through my head as my pulse increased, the rush of adrenaline fueling a fire I’d put out a long time ago. Now I feared Pandora’s Box had been opened, the hinges snapped from the lid, which meant the insatiable man inside, the one labeled a savage killer, would never be locked away again.
As she gave each one of us a hated look, I could swear she was more of a manipulator than I’d originally believed. There was a crazed need building, an intense and raw sense of understanding that very few couples achieve. We were defying the odds, and I barely knew anything about her.
Sexual tension was yanking at my resolve, tearing away every possibility of self-control.
The saying ‘one kiss wasn’t enough’ continuously flowed through my mind as Clinton’s driver left the resort area bound for the suburbs of Glenco. I wouldn’t have expected Clinton to live in any other location.
As the glistening tall buildings made of steel passed, a strange dreary series of clouds formed in the distant sky, an ominous foreboding forming in the back of my mind. I sipped the smooth scotch my buddy had offered, musing over the fact that no one would ever consider me a romantic. I didn’t date women, I fucked them just to satisfy my needs. Or when spilling blood had begun to bore me. I’d turned into my father’s son, brutal and unforgiving, and during the last ten years, the Cartel lifestyle had suited me.
However, now that my father was dead, I had significantly more responsibility on my shoulders. The weight of being the Cartel leader while trying to bring my father’s corporation into the next century had taken a toll. I was tired of coming home to an empty house or waking up with a girl whose name I couldn’t remember.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Maria’s face. The fact that she was mesmerizing didn’t amaze me. What did was how down to earth she was, refusing to fall into the diva mode like so many superstars I’d met.
While I’d never seen her in concert, I had two of her CDs in my collection, the dramatic difference of her heavy metal songs compared to the subdued ballads leaving me with a haunted feeling. Her music suited my usually dark moods. To date, I’d found no other musician who could take away the ugly, burning need for violence affixing itself to my soul, a leech draining my life’s blood.
I’d seen the look of admonishment in Weston’s eyes at the news about my father. I felt no guilt, only partially because I’d freed my mother from a life of abuse and disrespect. Far too many bones had been broken by his hands. Finding him choking her had been the last straw.
What I’d also learned was that the demon plaguing him, driving him to his contorted view of humanity, had been greed. The ugly beast had twisted his blackened soul into a disfigured creature. He’d attempted to make me believe that every human had been born in the womb of violence, his lifestyle just following the example set.
Maybe I’d had far too much of his poisoned Kool-Aid, his death the antidote, but I’d been struggling with needing more for months. Five minutes spent with this sensual creature and everything about my world was about to change.
It was ironic as fuck.
I’d found myself ravenous with the kind of hunger that could drive a man to madness in trying to satisfy his needs.
That was almost as unusual as the intense connection between the four of us. I’d never believed in the concept that there was only one person for another. If that were the case, the world wouldn’t be so overpopulated. What I did believe was that if one was lucky enough to find what great scholars and other idiots called their ‘soulmate’, they could rule the world. For all my riches, billions that I could never spend in a lifetime, estates in four countries and the most expensive sports cars in the world, I’d only been happy once in my life.
But as with all evil men, happiness wasn’t allowed.
However, I’d allowed myself a single ounce of something that had never been in my vocabulary.
Hope.
It was quite possible Maria had come into the lives of three savages for one reason.