Unhinged Desires : A Dark Romance (Sick Love Duet Book 1)

I didn’t want to let her walk up to her apartment alone. I was tempted to just say fuck it, park my car, and follow her up there. Something is bothering her and I want to find out what the fuck it is so I can fix it for her.

And I plan to do just that as soon as I tie up the errands I had to run. And by errands, I mean removing some asshole’s fingers from his hands. I refuse to be known as someone who makes idle threats. Which is why I’m currently sitting in that asshole’s house waiting for him to come home. I look at the picture of his ID that I took. Andrew Harper. Age twenty.

Well, Andrew, I hope you enjoyed that feel you copped from my girl because tonight will be the last time you get to feel anything.

I tuck my phone into my pocket when the doorknob turns and Andrew stumbles inside. He’s not alone though. The asshole brought some poor intoxicated girl with him by the looks of it.

“Andy, mate, I’ve been waiting forever. Where the fuck have you been?” I announce my presence, and the cocksucker stares at me with wide eyes. “I told you I’d be stopping by. Don’t you remember?” I remind him before turning to the girl who’s stumbling in beside him. “You need to go, now.”

“No, don’t leave,” Andy begs her.

Fucking pathetic, begging a woman to stay and save his ass.

“Love, Andy and I have some catching up to do.” I reach back into my pocket. “Here, take this and get yourself a cab.” I pass her two one-hundred-dollar notes.

She stares at the money in my hand and then takes it. “Thanks, appreciate it.” And without a backwards glance, she’s out the door.

“Now, I believe we have some business to attend to,” I tell Andrew.

“Fuck off. Get the fuck out of my house, asshole, before I call the cops,” he yells out.

“Gladly, but I’m not going alone. You see, you’re coming with me. We’re going for a little drive.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He walks to the front door and opens it. “Get the fuck out.”

I step towards him, making it out like I’m going to leave, and I see the relief wash over his face, right before I knock the fucker out with a right hook straight to his temple. I catch him before he falls to the ground and hoist his fat ass over my shoulder. Then I carry the bastard down the front steps and throw him in the back seat of my car. While he’s still out cold, I fasten some zip ties around his wrists and ankles and duct tape his mouth closed. It’s a long drive to the farm and I don’t want to listen to the fucker if he wakes up.

An hour later, I’m dragging his unconscious ass into the pig barn. I drop him on the table that has already seen more bodies butchered than I can count on both hands. And every single one of them put themselves there by touching her.

The thought that it’d be easier and far less time-consuming to just take her out instead flickers through my mind. But she was right. If I do that, I’ll never get to touch her again either. And that’s a fucking problem this world doesn’t need.

I look over to the pigs, who are making a racket with the knowledge their dinner is coming. I’ve told the caretaker I won’t be needing him for the week. This will be enough to tide them over.

Usually I’d wait for the fucker to wake up. I like seeing the pain, the fear in their eyes as I start by cutting off small chunks of meat, which get progressively larger as I go. They don’t stay conscious for long, but that small glimpse is enough. I don’t have the luxury of time right now, though. I need to get back to Lucy. Which is why, after securing Andrew’s torso to the table, I pick up the reciprocating saw and start with his right hand. The one that touched her. His eyes shoot open, flicking from my face to where his hand now lies unattached to his arm, and he lets out a high-pitched, ear-piercing scream before his head falls back and he passes out. I throw the hand into the pigs, and they all go nuts, each trying to get a piece of the flesh.

Two hours later, I’m cleaning up the bench and floor, the interior now reeking of chemicals and bleach rather than the stench of blood and pig shit. The barn door opens, and I glance up as my dad and uncle both stroll in.

Thank fuck they didn’t pop up an hour earlier. Although, as I eye my father and take in the look of sheer horror on his face, I’m not sure it would have been any different had he caught me in the act, rather than after. This isn’t something I wanted my parents to find out about, let alone see. I’ve worked hard to hide how fucked up in the head I am. Obviously they know I’m not quite right. But they have no idea the extent of the darkness that lurks beneath the surface. Uncle Josh and Bree are the only ones who get it. They’re the only ones who don’t judge. Probably because doing so would mean they’d have to face their own demons.

“Ah, I didn’t know you guys were back in town,” I say with a nonchalance I shouldn’t have right now.

“What would you have done? Thrown us a welcome party?” Uncle Josh asks with raised brows.

“I would have made sure I wasn’t here,” I reply with a smirk. I glance at my dad. He hasn’t said anything yet. He’s staring at the pigs, the ones currently feasting on what used to be Andrew.

“Dominic, was this really necessary?” he finally asks me.

“Ah…” I rub the back of my neck. I don’t know what to say.

Was it necessary?

That depends on who you’re asking. I’m not crazy enough to not know right from wrong. I just don’t care enough to take that into consideration in these situations.

“What’d he do?” Dad presses.

“Touched her,” I say.

“Fucking hell, he’s worse than you.” Dad throws an arm out to my uncle.

“I didn’t think that was possible.” Uncle Josh laughs.

“Ah, have you met your daughter? Bree is worse than both of us,” I tell him.

“Shut your mouth, Breanna is a fucking angel,” he growls.

“And so was Lucifer,” I mutter under my breath. There’s no point in arguing. I won’t win. “I would love to stay and chat but I have somewhere I need to be,” I tell them.

“I hope that place is a fucking shower,” Dad says, running his eyes up and down my body. I look down at myself. I’m covered in blood and small bits of flesh. Fucking hell. Dad shakes his head, his tone resigned when he adds, “This needs to stop, Dominic. You either need to find some control or I’ll find it for you. This path, it’s too fucking dangerous, and I’m not watching your mother’s heart break when you bury yourself in a hole so deep not even we can dig you out of it.”

“I know.” I’m telling him what he wants to hear. Although, at the mention of my mum, a bit of guilt creeps in. I don’t want to see her heart fucking break either. Especially if it’s my doing.

“What do you think she’d say if she saw this? Lucy?”

“I’d hope she’d fucking run like she should have already,” I admit.

“If she hasn’t run yet, she’s not going to. Even if she saw this, she’d still stay. But at what cost, Dom?” Dad asks.

I think about what it would cost Lucy if she stayed with me, knowing that this is the real me. Would that light she has—the one that draws me to her like a moth to the flame—start to dim before it’s finally extinguished? Would she be able to cope… mentally?

She’s already haunted by nightmares, and as much as I like to think it’s me she’s truly afraid of, I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore. I want her to come to me when she’s scared. I want her to know that I’m the guy who will slay her fucking demons. Not cause them.

“I’ll sort my shit out. Don’t worry,” I tell Dad.

He laughs. “I fucking hope you have kids one day, Dominic, so you understand that worrying about them ain’t a fucking choice.”

I screw up my face. “The world does not need any more McKinleys in it.” Then I gesture a thumb behind me. “I’m hitting the shower.”

The thought of me fathering a child is laughable. I can’t even sort my own shit out, so how the fuck am I meant to be responsible for someone else’s? I make it a point to remember to check in with Lucy about her birth control. I know she takes the pill. I’ve seen her swallow it enough times. But, then again, the idea of Lucy knocked up with my child, tied to me forever, isn’t all that unappealing.

I head into the house and straight for the bathroom that’s located on the ground floor. I’ve kept a few changes of clothes here and some towels for this exact reason. Everything I’m wearing will have to be burnt. I can’t have this kind of evidence just lying around for anyone to find.

THE MOMENT I step into Lucy’s apartment, the tension leaves my body. I inhale her scent. It’s the first thing I smell when I walk into her room. Something about being close to her is soothing. I toe off my shoes and bend to remove my socks. I want to climb into bed with her, wrap my arms around her waist, and sleep.

I don’t do that, though. Instead I sit on the chair that faces the room and I watch her chest rise and fall. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes fluttering behind her closed lids.

What are you dreaming about, Little Bee?

I lean forward on my elbows. I’m fucking tired. Drained. If I climb into her bed right now, I’d wake her, probably scare the fuck out of her too. I don’t want to disturb her sleep. So I lean back, rest my head against the chair, and close my eyes.

“Dom?” Lucy’s voice is quiet, soft.

My eyes spring open and connect with hers. She’s sitting upright in bed. “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

Her eyebrows draw down. “What are you doing here? Where’ve you been?”

“I went out to the farm.”

“Oh… Why are you just sitting there?”

“I like watching you sleep,” I tell her.

“I like it better when you sleep with me,” she says.

So I stand and pull my shirt over my head before I undo my jeans and slide them down my legs.