Deadly
Authors: Ker Dukey
Deadly
Copyright © 2015 Ker Dukey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the Author.
This book is the work of fiction any resemblance to any person alive or dead is purely coincidental. The characters and story are created from the Author’s imagination. Any shared files without the author’s permission will be subject to prosecution.
Formatting by
Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
Warning
This book contains dark themes that some people may find offensive.
If sensitive to graphic violence, PLEASE read with caution.
NOTE TO READER
To fully enjoy this title you would have already devoured
Empathy
and embraced your depravities reading book 2,
Desolate
and then followed Cereus to the dark side in
Vacant
. Thank you for embracing me with another novella of my favourite sinners.
This one is for my wonderful, selfless, and incredibly talented friends.
Kirsty Moseley
,
I love taking you to the dark side.
And
D.H Sidebottom
,
You always have my back, I love you.
When you’ve become lost to the undercurrent of the darkest sin, it’s your choice whether you drown or fight to the surface and breathe.
The pull to the dark side has always been…
DEADLY
Murky water consuming me, pulling and tugging, dragging me under. It’s so bitter… the cold, snapping at my skin like hungry fish.
I’m sinking deeper, darker. Colder.
She’s here... Hannah. She’s always here, choking, drowning, dying but now there are others and they pull at me to keep me here.
Until blood stains the already dark waters.
Painting my skin in sin… my sin
.
Gasping for breath my eyes battle with my will to wake but eventually they comply, peeling open with the welcome of a moonlit room.
Sweat clings to my body, dampening the sheets beneath my clammy form. The restriction in my chest ebbs, allowing me to pull air in to my lungs.
Unwelcome tears dampen my cheeks. Tonight Ryan hasn’t woke me, and I’m relieved. I hate when he sees me weak, strangled by my sleeping hours. He possesses the ability to breathe a superiority inside me, making me feel strong and as tall as the highest mountain… Jagged and unclimbable.
…Deadly
But as soon as my dreams steal me from him, that mountain crumbles into the water.
…Drowning
Snaking my hand across the bed I’m met with cold sheets where Georgina’s warm body should be sleeping next to me. My fist tightens in the cotton beneath it when noise from down the hall carries to my ears.
Moaning.
…No
The floor is cold when I slip from the bed but the fire inside me is too hot to care. Padding softly across the room I open the door further and listen for movement and sound.
Grunts and skin slapping against skin assaults my ears.
… No
My hands shake uncontrollably. I’ve never felt this kind of dark anger so intense inside me before, it’s akin to the force of loneliness I felt when Ryan left all those years ago, when he disappeared into that fire.
I won’t let her take him from me, he’s mine.
I crave the sight of blood to bathe the anger in. My heart drums a war beat with each pad of my foot towards Ryan’s room. Pushing the door open wide, I berate myself for waking up, for having to discover this betrayal. Wishing there was a way of protecting my heart from what it is witnessing I will the pain to stop crushing me.
He loves to toy with you, Cereus.
It’s true, he does, but she doesn’t get to.
I can practically taste the vile smell of sweaty sex and the familiar twang of blood in the air. She’s on her knees like a good little girl. Her head buried down into the mattress as her pert ass, red with handprints is being fucked hard by the man I love.
This isn’t the first or the last woman I’ll see him with, he does it to taunt and provoke me, but she’s the first person I feel deep betrayal by. She was mine, my friend and she knew the rules. Yet here she is breaking them.
I look at the deep rouge seeping strips on Ryan’s back from his and my favorite toy, the cat o’ nine with thin metal wiring woven in. Ryan’s pain threshold was one I could never reach, he longed for the hiss of that whip, the burning slice as it would sliver through his flesh, kissing the blood beneath the skin but that was mine to give him. He taught me so many things about life, about need, about myself. He was mine and I his. How dare she, how dare he.
… Kill
He warned me that Georgina would betray me; he told me eventually he would have to kill her and I let myself trust someone that wasn’t him. I let myself believe that maybe she was like us and we could keep her. I was wrong, but so was he.
He wouldn’t have to kill her, because I’m going to.
I tighten the grip on the blade I’d picked up from the kitchen on my way to his room, a serrated edge, my sadistic trait inherited from him coming out to show her face. It will hurt more when it severs through nerves and her vital organs.
Bitch.
My pulse pounds heavily in my ears, the scream of my inner beast tearing at my façade wanting its freedom, and the beast will get her wish tonight.
