Monster Of Ruin: A Dark Serial Killer Romance (The Dark Angels Book 4)

Elliott has been gone all day and I’m relieved. When I woke up this morning, the ecstasy I felt last night was replaced with shame and embarrassment.

I willingly allowed the man keeping me hostage to take another piece of me. It’s as if he has some kind of power over me and I can’t stop it. I hear his voice and I melt into a goddamn puddle. Maybe it’s how he lures his victims in—right before he kills them.

It would make sense.

Yet here I am giving him exactly what he wants and enjoying it.

It stops now.

I want to make it out of here alive, but the longer I’m here the less likely that will happen. I’ve been used or taken advantage of my entire life. I never fought back hard enough. I never did what made me happy. I took the scraps I was given while craving more.

I’ll be damned if I die without a fight.

So, I showered while he was gone so he couldn’t watch. I searched for the cameras with the intent of getting rid of them, but I’m still unable to find them. Instead, I’ve decided I will not play his games. When he comes looking for me at the door, I won’t answer.

Screw him.

I feel like I’m going crazy and that’s probably exactly what he wants. Because only a crazy woman would be turned on by the man that’s going to kill her, right?

Elliott was here last night because he put food and water in the kitchen and left me chocolate on the nightstand. He’s good at sneaking around undetected and I’m uncertain if I find comfort in that. I could be sleeping when he decides I’m of no use to him anymore. I could be in the shower or eating a bowl of cereal and never hear him coming.

There’s a part of me that wishes he’d find my father already and this entire nightmare could come to an end.

No matter how that ending goes.

Living in limbo is a terrifying thing. Especially when you’re living with your captor.

I hear Elliott’s tires crunching the dirt and gravel, so I rush to the window. He climbs out of the truck and I see blood on him.

“Fuck,” I whisper, as my body shakes with fear.

He did it again. He killed someone else.

It’s like a fucking sport for him.

I rush away from the window in the bedroom and go look out the one in the hallway. He doesn’t have a body like last time or at least he’s not doing anything with it. He goes right into the house, and I stare at the truck.

My mind goes into overdrive as I wonder who his newest victim was. Is it someone like my father or is it an innocent girl? Tears run down my cheeks as I wonder if he has other houses with other women locked away. Or maybe they’re in the basement or locked away on another floor. Does he watch them? Does he buy them vibrators? Does he jerk off to them?

Jealousy, something that I should not be feeling, heats up my body.

The thought of him giving other girls the attention he’s given me makes me cagey. That they get to hear his deep voice and that he turns them on is too much to handle.

“Ugh,” I groan, covering my face. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Just as I think it, I hear his footsteps and my stomach sinks. Partly in fear and partly in excitement.

I lean against the wall facing the door and cross my arms. When he talks, I will not answer. I need to be strong.

It doesn’t happen though. I hear the handle being jiggled and watch the door fly open. I scream as his angry, dark eyes collide with mine.

Dark brown eyes. Not blue or green. They’re rage-filled and mesmerizing. There’s a darkness hidden deep within them, and I can’t turn away.

His whole face comes into view, and it nearly takes my breath away.

Wow.

Even though he’s angry and staring at me like he wants to straight up murder me, he’s really good-looking. No, scratch that. He’s downright fucking hot. His eyes flinch as he catches me staring at him, and his step falters, but only for a moment.

I turn to run, but he’s much quicker and grabs me, pinning me against the wall.

“Clara, how many men have you let touch you?” he growls, pressing his weight against me.

I’m trapped. His massive, muscular body is pressed against me, and he has one hand wrapped around my wrists, holding them above my head.

Tears runs down my cheek as I stare at him. I’m terrified and my body vibrates with fear. I can feel the anger rolling off him and that makes me even more afraid.

I’m going to die.

His hands tighten on my wrists as he angrily whispers, “How many?”

“I don’t know.” I close my eyes.

He’s so strong. His muscular body is solid. His scent is as intense as his voice. His eyes are as dark as his hair and son of a bitch if my body doesn’t betray me in this moment. My nipples harden and my panties grow wet, but my mind knows I need to stay aware of the real situation. This is a man who kills, and I’m terrified I’m about to be his next.

He presses closer and runs his nose along my neck, inhaling deeply as he moves toward my ear. “There’s talk, Clara. Men are talking about what an easy fuck you are. How you are willing to let them touch you and fuck you? Why the hell do you do that?”

“Please, stop,” I say, my voice cracking on the last word.

“Is that what you say to them? Do you tell them to stop before your scent is covering them?”

“No,” I cry, trying to pull my head away from his lips on my throat.

“You think going home with strangers is going to fill the void?” He’s so close. So heated. I can still feel the anger radiating off him, but his voice is thick with arousal. I cry harder as my damn body burns with want. Clearly, my body and mind are not working together anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my tears coming to an end.

“I don’t want your apology,” he groans, moving his free hand down my body.

“Please don’t,” I beg, shaking with fear.

He sucks on my neck and I fucking moan. My body’s a traitor, conspiring with the enemy.

His large hand pushes into the waistband of my sweats and panties. I swallow roughly as I try to hold back a sob.

“Is that what you say to them? Do you beg them to stop, or do you beg them for more?” he says, dragging his pointer and middle finger through my wet folds.

“Stop,” I shout, but my words do not match the way my body is reacting to him.

“Your dripping wet pussy says otherwise,” he groans, rubbing his fingers against me.

He’s right. My body is begging for more and I hate myself for it. I can’t remember a time I’ve been more turned on and that’s fucked up.

If this happens. If he steals my release, he will own more of me. I can’t allow it, even if my body doesn’t agree.

Before I can say anything, his thick fingers slam into my pussy. Tears run down my face as my head falls back.

“Fuck,” I moan.

He sucks on my neck as his fingers pump in and out of me. He’s in complete control. My head hates it, but my body loves it.

“Tell me, Clara, did they make you feel like this?” he asks, biting down on my neck.

“Elliott, please stop,” I weakly say.

He rotates his fingers, and I can’t help the cry of pleasure that escapes me. He’s finger fucking me like no one ever has before. It’s hard, fast, and he’s hitting the spot no other has ever been able to find.

I feel my hips begin to move and I shake my head in frustration. It’s not supposed to be like this. He’s not supposed to have this kind of control over me. I’m the one who needs the control.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, trying to stop my body from wanting more.

He cracks a grin and it’s the most gorgeous sight. He does smile. He presses his tongue against my throat and licks up to my ear. He nips my soft skin, his heavy breathing so loud as he bites down a bit harder.

I moan, unable to fight the feeling he’s causing.

His warm breath blowing over my skin and talented fingers have my heart pounding in fear and excitement.

I hate him for this.

He licks the shell of my ear and whispers, “I want what you willingly gave away to everyone else who didn’t deserve it.”

“What?”

“Your scent on me,” he growls.

“You have it. Now stop.” The words seem to hold no meaning. They come out breathy and full of arousal.

“Tell me why, Clara? Why do you let strangers bask in your scent?” He bites my nipple through my shirt and my pussy tightens on his fingers.

I’m disgusting.

“For pleasure,” I answer, squeezing my eyes shut tight.

My release is building, and I don’t want to give it to him. I don’t want him to take this from me.

“Your pleasure belongs to me now,” he groans, pumping his fingers faster.

“No, you’ve taken enough.”

“Your body tells me differently, my flower.”

“Fuck you,” I whisper, arching my back.

His warm lips kiss my neck as he curls his fingers deep inside me, reaching that spot once more.

“No other man will ever know your scent again. No other man will ever touch you, taste you, feel you again.” He leans back so I can look into his eyes.

I get lost in them. They’re beautiful. If you could ever really call a man’s eyes beautiful, and I’d like to think you can.

He’s better looking than any other man I’ve been with before him.

In fact, with each touch he erases every memory of every man who’s ever touched me.

My body quivers as my orgasm grows closer. Tears run down my cheeks in relief and anger.

“I hate you,” I moan.

He smiles against my neck as his thumb rubs my clit, officially ripping my orgasm from me. I cry out as my body fights for control.

“You hate what I’m making you feel, I understand that,” he whispers.

I slowly open my eyes and choke back a gasp as I look at him. His eyes are almost black as he looks down, watching himself pull his fingers out of me. I wince and a small grin hits his lips. He brings his fingers to his nose, glistening with my release, and he inhales deeply. He lets out a ragged breath and does it again. I swallow, roughly trying to hold still. I have no idea what he’s thinking.

His eyes slowly lift to mine, and he pins me with his stare. He pushes his fingers into his mouth and sucks my release off, moaning as he does.

“Your scent and taste belong to me now and only me,” he says, searching my eyes.

 I stare at him but don’t say a word. I’m terrified and yet oddly my body is still turned on. He’s unbelievably sexy. His dark hair appears too soft. His facial hair is perfectly trimmed and gives him a hot, rugged look. I imagine what it would feel like rubbing between my thighs. His body is hard and muscular. So muscular his short-sleeved shirt looks like it’s going to rip.

I glance down at the bright ink tracing over one arm.

He’s dark and alluring. Muscular and strong.

A fucking killer.

Remembering that, I try to pull away from him and he smiles.

Holy crap, he looks almost innocent when he does and my stomach swims with butterflies.

This is all so wrong.

He moves his face closer to mine and my heart pounds in my chest. His lips are a breath away from mine and I’m petrified to move.

Is he going to kiss me?

Am I got to let him?

“Relax, Clara. We’re in this together now,” he whispers.

He moves so quickly that I have no time to react and he’s out the door before I can blink. I hear him lock it and I slide down the wall until my ass hits the floor. I wipe my tears and blow out a breath.

“Fuck you,” I whisper into the thick air, wishing I meant it.