Hellraiser (The Devil's Own #2) Page 6

  Anger erupts deep inside me and my hands fly up, pushing his body, only for it to not move. I turn in my step, run towards the kitchen, and snatch my handbag before making a dash for the door. Fuck that, and fuck him.

  Bolting down the stairs toward the lobby, I realize people are looking at me and remember I have the damn towel-turban still on my head. I roll my eyes and rip it off, dumping the towel in a passing trashcan. I walk all the way back to my apartment, which is only a few blocks away. Entering, I throw my handbag onto the kitchen table and walk to my bedroom. My hand is on the doorknob when my phone begins blaring from the kitchen. I ignore it, pushing through into my bedroom and opening my curtains to let the afternoon sun through. Nate Dogg’s “Your wife” begins playing from my phone again—yes that’s my ringtone, Nate Dogg was one of the greats—and I roll my eyes, storming back out of my room and towards the kitchen.

  “Yes?” I answer, clutching my phone in my hand.

  “Melissa, don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad, Meads. I just don’t want to be around him anymore.” I sigh in defeat, walking towards the refrigerator and taking out the orange juice.

  “Why?” she asks softly, and my guard drops. This is Meadow. I don’t want to do anything to piss her off; she doesn’t deserve it.

  “Why? Do I have to tell you?”

  She snorts. “No, I guess you don’t, but this is deeper than you and him. We need to do this, Melissa. You could be in danger too, until we know what set this off. Hell, you could be more in danger because of your relationship with Phoebe. And if Lisha could see what Hella has going on for you, someone more dangerous could, too. You need to come.”

  My shoulders drop. “Okay,” I whisper, surrendering. The truth is, I’ve been around this world longer than most people, so I know what happens when shit goes down. I don’t want to be a liability as well. I will, however, need a solid plan to stay the hell away from Hella. “Come and pick me up.”

  Hella

  Pulling up to the clubhouse, I rest easy knowing that Melissa is in the car with Meadow. Even though hate somewhat overpowers any lust I have for her, my cock hardens at the thought of my hand gripped around her throat as I thrust into her at a brutal pace that will have her screaming until her throat runs dry and her legs stop moving. Leading the car down the bumpy gravel road, I pull onto the smooth driveway that runs right up to The Devil’s Own clubhouse and reverse into my spot. Taking off my helmet, I watch carefully as Melissa and Meadow get out of Meadow’s car while Beast approaches them. Melissa stretches her arms above her head, her top rising up to show her stomach and displaying her hip bones where a pair of doves are tattooed. She has to have the hottest body I’ve ever laid eyes on—a tight little waist that leads down to her hips, which I want to grab onto, and an ass that I could tap for days. Licking my lips, I tilt my head, my eyes running up and down her form. Her arms drop down instantly, her hands pulling her top down to cover her stomach. I chuckle to myself before walking towards them. A few brothers start coming out of the barn house and I pull out my phone, tapping numbers into my phone to call Jada when Meadow’s voice comes through in an angry whisper. “Melissa, pull your shorts down.”

  “Hey, I said I’d come, not that I would behave.”

  My eyebrows draw together while I hit send on a text message.

  “Jesus… I’m going to apologize now for her behavior,” says Meadow.

  I step up behind them. “Apologize for what?” I ask, shoving my phone back into my pocket and looking between Beast and Meadow. My eyes shift to Melissa’s ass that’s lifted into the air while her head is dived into the passenger side of the car. “What the hell are you doing, Melissa?”

  She straightens out, flinging her handbag over her shoulder. “Hella, leave me alone. Me and you do not know each other while I’m here.”

  “You sure about that?” I challenge her, my eyes narrowing and my jaw clenched.

  “Round 10… Fight,” Meadow mimics from beside me.

  Beast laughs. “Come on, I’ll show you girls around. Hella! I’ll meet you back at the bar.”

  My eyes stay glued on Melissa’s, her eyes glaring into mine and matching my fury. Strands of her blonde hair whoosh with the wind, all the while our stare-down remains, my cock twitches in my jeans, and slowly but surely the corner of my mouth tips up and her cheeks flush bright red. I scoff under my breath before leaving them and walking toward the clubhouse. She’s got fire, that’s a given, and now that I know who she is, I know where she got that fire from.

  Walking into the clubhouse, my phone dings in my pocket and I fish it out. A picture opens up on the MMS someone has sent me and I smirk. Layla’s little body is kneeling on her bed, her long, thick brunette hair hanging around her petite, curvy body with one hand clutched on her inner thigh. Walking into the clubhouse, I readjust myself briefly, placing my phone back into my pocket. I’ll reply to Layla—or not—when I’m needing an itch scratched. Layla is one of the only girls I’ve come across that seems to… give me all the shit I need. Pulling out a stool, I nod my head at Old Fella as he slides my beer toward me. I pick it up and walk to where Frost is sitting with Ripper. I take a drink and drop down onto the chair, glaring at both of them. “What?” The question in their eyes is obvious. “Spit it out, fuckers.”

  Ripper smiles a psychotic smile. “Oh, nothing. Just… who’s the girl with Meadow?”

  Grunting, I shrug my shoulders. “No one important.”

  Nyx smiles a Cheshire grin. “She’s fucking hot though, right?” He swings back on his chair, his head moving side to side, searching for her. My foot lunges forward, pushing on the legs of his chair and tipping him backwards. His hands fly out to the table quickly, stopping his fall. “What the fuck?” He glares at me.

  My eyebrows raise in challenge. “What? Got a problem?”

  His face drops briefly before he picks up his drink and downs it. Nyx is fairly new, patched in last year so he’ll do good to remember his place—which is well below me. Drowning Pools’ “Bodies” starts pumping through the sound system just as Melissa walks through the doors looking like a lost pet. I smirk, pushing off my chair and walking towards her. She pauses, her eyes averting away from the bar and towards me.

  “What do you want, Brax?” She drags my name out bitterly. Beast has obviously told her my birth name. Fucker.

  “Oh,” I touch my chest in mock hurt. “Say it like you mean it,” I tease.

  She scoffs, folding her arms in front of herself. “We all know that I have a personal favorite for you…” She smirks.

  I shake my head, inching closer to her before whispering into her ear, “You’re going to have to try harder than that, babe. I love the word ‘cunt’ coming out of that mouth.”

  She steps back, her hand pushing against my chest. “Oh, trust me, I have a lot more.”

  I scoff. “I know how girls like you tick, Melissa…” Her eyebrows quirk up. “You act like you can keep up in the fast lane, but you can’t. Do you wanna know how I know how girls like you work, baby?” I whisper, my lips skimming across her earlobe. “Because I took one apart just to see how she worked.” She throws her head back, her eyes narrowing slightly, but when the red blush spreads out over her cheeks, I laugh.

  She rolls her eyes. “Go away. You don’t know anything about me.” She walks toward the bar. I looked over to the table where the boys are, each of their eyes following her. I roll my tongue in my mouth and let out a whistle. All their heads whip to me. My eyebrows shoot up, the corner of my lip quirking. Nyx’s eyes narrow on me and I bring my leg forward, crossing my arms challengingly. He pulls in his bottom lip and nods, his eyes dropping in acceptance. I snicker, turning back toward the door and heading out to my bike.

  Memories of when I was first recruited assault my mind as I ride out.

  Fifteen Years Old

  “Why me?” I asked as Kurr, the commander, paced in front of me. “Why the fuck would you pick me out of all the other millions of homeless
kids on the street?” The level of my voice was near a roar, the frustration of what the fuck was going on weighing in on me.

  Kurr paused, his hands behind his back and his commander cap on low. The tobacco he chewed in his mouth gritted through my ears and his biceps tensed with each movement. He walked up to me, his eyes empty, like hard stones you’d find at the bottom of a lake. Who the fuck was this man? “October 2nd. That date mean anything to you, Hella?”

  I paused, my head tilting. “Yeah, my first kill. What the fuck’s this got to do with that?”

  He smirked, standing straight and pulling a chair to sit opposite me. “It wasn’t just a kill. It was the art in which you performed that kill.” He tilted his head, his eyes running over my body. “It takes a certain amount of disconnect from human emotions to deliver a kill like that.”

  “How’d you know about it? No one knew.”

  He laughed, propping his leg on his knee. “I know everything about you, Hella. What was the poor girl’s name?” He stopped, raising his finger to his temple.

  “Genna Garcia,” I gritted out. Fuck, never thought I’d have to relive these memories. They excite me the same…

  Three months earlier

  “Genna, you owe me money. You snorted the shit, now pay up.” Her eyes glanced around the rundown apartment. The aged mustard wallpaper was peeling, revealing the plaster underneath it. The sound from the TV was deafening and the complex reeked.

  “I…I’m sorry, Hella, I’ll get it to you, I—” I pushed her back into the apartment, slamming the door shut with my foot. She stepped backwards slowly, her hands flying out to the back of her in search of something she could lean on. “Hella, please, I’m try—” My hand flew up to her throat. It almost covering her entire neck.

  “I’ve given you more than enough time, Genna.” Her panicked eyes searched mine, her skin turning a deep purple and her hands flying up to my grip. I let her go, pushing her body across the kitchen floor.

  “Please, Hella.” She shook her head, crawling backwards across the kitchen floor. I walked up beside her, elbowing her in the face and knocking her out cold. I swung her body over my shoulder and carried her to the bathroom. Dropping her body into the bathtub, I pulled out my leather gloves from my back pocket and walked back to the kitchen. This was the third time Genna had decided to fuck me around with her payment. I came into this with thoughts of making an example of her behavior, but the surge of adrenalin rushing through me proved that maybe there was a bit more to it than that. I could end her and get it over with, only where’s the fun in that? I pulled open the kitchen drawers, pulling out the variety of different-sized knives that were lodged inside. After taking out a few, I searched the rest of the kitchen, finding a pair of sewing scissors, a blowtorch, and lighter fluid. I dug into my pocket and pulled out some meth, flicking the bag with my finger before snatching her pipe and walking back to the bathroom. I closed the bath curtain and set all the tools I had gathered from the kitchen onto the bathroom sink. Moaning began to stir from the other side of the curtain and I chuckled. “You awake, babe?”

  “Hella?” she asked absently. “Please don’t kill me!” Her tone turned desperate. “You’re only fifteen, Hella. You don’t need this hanging over your head. Please, I’ll give you your money and you’ll never hear from me again.”

  After pouring some of the best crank you could find on the street into her little glass pipe, I took the Zippo and pulled the curtain open. “No worries, babe, but I’m going to need you to smoke up.” Her eyes lit, morphed from fear to hunger. I clenched my jaw, handing it to her. “Smoke up, babe,” I coaxed her. She took the pipe in her mouth, lighting the bottom and waiting until enough smoke had formed in the bowl before inhaling the foggy poison. She held it in, tilting her head back before blowing out. I sat and watched as she took hit after hit. Each time she inhaled, her eyes peaked more. She was amped by the tenth toke and I took the pipe from her. “Hey!” she said playfully. My plan had worked; bitches like her were too easy. Her eyes twitched, her skin prickled with her now-awareness. I smirked, placing the pipe onto the bathroom bench. “How’re you feeling?” I asked, picking up the pipe and smashing it in half so the bowl broke away from the pipe. “I feel good… awake. I need to party.” She laughed hysterically. How fucking dumb could she be? Underestimating me would be the biggest, and last, mistake she would ever make. After setting up the heroin, I took out one of the syringes from the bathroom cupboard and sucked the liquid up. Returning to the bathtub, I gestured to her arm. She held it out for me. “I knew you’d understand, Hella,” she said, her eyes shutting as I pumped the heroin into her blood. I needed her awake and aware, but sedated, hence the cocktail of drugs. Once every single drop had been taken, I walked back to the kitchen counter and waited, setting up what I needed for my next activities. When she had gone quiet, I walked back to the tub, her eyes zoning out on the roof and her head tilting back against the tub. I placed my hand around her cheeks and pushed the bowl from the pipe into her mouth. Her eyes didn’t move from what they were doing, though her body tensed. I slammed her mouth closed and took the needle I had threaded. I waved it in front of her eyes and she began to stir, her head swaying in slow, distant movements as I lowered the needle down to the corner of her lip. Pressing roughly, the pop of her skin breaking as I pushed that first thread through rippled throughout the silent bathroom and a groan exited her mouth as the first bead of blood trickled over her chin. I stopped, dropping the needle and walked out to the living room. Spotting the old boom box, I picked it up and took it back to the bathroom, turning on a rock station. Slipknot’s “Killpop” filled the empty silence. I cranked my neck and rolled my shoulders before returning to the tub. I ran my eyes over Genna’s body, her fingers trembling with fear with what’s to come and the fact that she can’t do shit about it. I smirked, kneeling back down and picking up the needle to continue the task. Continuing the stitching on her mouth, each time I stabbed the needle into her soft lips, the same pop would vibrate against my fingers. Sweat was trickling down my forehead, and every time the blood would slip over her lips, it reminded me of the innocent blood of a virgin, my dick hardening in my pants at the thought. Once I formed the finished knot, her tears had streamed over her cheeks through the blood that was smeared over her mouth between the thread. I pushed off the tub and walked back to the counter, picking up the scissors and walking back. I bent down, cutting her little dress off of her down the middle until it sprawled off her body. I tilted my head at the skin and bones in front of me, my lips tightening. “Lucky you’re so skinny or I’d fuck you before I kill you.”

  Her weeping was coming in silent waves and I chuckled. “I haven’t even started.” She froze, her bloodshot eyes going wide. I picked one of the knives from the counter and stared blankly at it. “There’s something about knives…” I sat down on the side of the tub and pressed the tip of it just below her sternum. Pressing down roughly, I traced the sharp point all the way down the middle of her stomach, over her belly button, until I hit the top of her pelvic bone. The thin line remained with no change until the wound split and the white tissue under her skin was replaced with thousands of beading blood spots that filled the gaping slit. A bloodcurdling scream escaped her throat and I smiled, looking down at the cut. It was decent—for a kitchen knife, anyway. I removed my hoodie and placed it on top of the closed toilet bowl before picking up the seven butter knives I found in the kitchen. I walked back to the tub and took the sharp knife again, stabbing seven holes down the inside of the cut, moving around the blood which was spilling out of her. Her skin was white, her eyes were drifting closed, and I knew I was on limited time—but I needed her to feel everything. Picking up my speed, I placed each of the butter knives into each incision I had made in the wound, stretching the cut wide, displaying her stomach and internal organs. Blood. Blood was everywhere. The pulsing of her stomach proved she was still alive. I carried on, taking the lighter fluid and Zippo. Her eyes were flicking open every two
seconds, her shoulder slacking in defeat. I poured the lighter fluid onto her organs before flicking open the Zippo, her Zippo, and throwing it into her stomach. I watched as the flames grew and until the air was filled with burnt bodily fluid and contents. The smell was sickening and would stick to my skin well after I departed, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the burning light in front of me. Once the smell of burnt flesh conquered the smell of burning internal organs, I turned the faucet on the shower until the flames died out. Her lifeless eyes peered up at me, already setting into the colorless black marbles of death. I stepped back, collected my hoodie, and left the bathroom. I walked to the window that was in the living room and climbed onto the fire escape before removing my gloves and making my way down the metal steps. Jesus, what the fuck is it about knives?

  Melissa

  The next day, I jump out of bed and walk into the kitchen, putting water on to boil when Beast walks in in all his big monster glory. He’s terrifying to anyone who isn’t Meadow.

  “Hey,” I mutter, looking over his shoulder and hoping Meadow comes behind him.

  “She’s asleep,” he says, answering my silent question. I turn around, taking a mug down out from the cabinet. I twist open the coffee. “What’s your story?” he asks, his head tilting.

  I shake my head, spooning two spoons of coffee into my mug. I fear this day is going to be long. “What do you mean?” I pour the hot water into the mug and lift it to my nose, inhaling the bitter scent of my sanity.

  “I mean,” he continues, walking towards me and leaning on the breakfast bar, “I know a hot mess when I see one. What are you hiding?”

  I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes narrowing before I place it back onto the counter. “You were right about Meadow, but not me.” I smile up at him before shifting my eyes away from his dark, penetrating glare. The man could unnerve anyone with those eyes. They can see right through any bullshit and that doesn’t sit well with me.