Dark Desires (The Desecration of Innocence Book 2) Page 2

  Had I reached mine?

  For me, the worst part wasn’t knowing I would die here. It wasn’t the hopelessness or the pain I felt inside my body, clutching me like a long-lost friend with bony, cold fingers. Not the fear in me that made my heart beat so fast it felt like it would explode right out of my chest. No, it was something else. Something much worse.

  I hated Markus, and by extension, everyone in this house—but at the same time, I didn’t. I’d kissed Will, showed him my backside, dressed in one of the lacy underthings he’d bought for me. I’d egged him on, and it had felt good.

  I was devastated when Jaxon had pushed me away after I’d kissed him, felt awful that he’d gotten hurt all because I’d refused to take the birth control Markus wanted me to.

  And, the biggie: I hadn’t felt what I should’ve when Markus touched me, when he brought my body to the edge and back again. He’d been able to play my body like a fiddle, easily and effortlessly, and to say I felt shame about that was an understatement of epic proportions.

  Daddy would be so disappointed in me if he knew everything these men were doing to me. He’d hate that I’d felt blood on my hands, but also that I’d kiss them, had an orgasm. He’d hate that they were defiling me, yanking me off the pedestal he’d placed me on the moment I was born.

  But I was here because of Daddy, I reminded myself. He worked with Markus, somehow, and if this was what he did… if he killed people for a living and that’s how he’d been paying all our bills, could I really sit here and idolize Daddy in return? Did he deserve to be on a pedestal of his own, or was he just as bad as the men in this house? I didn’t know what to think, and I was afraid I already knew the answer.

  The human mind wasn’t alone in its fragile state. Faith sat right next to it, as did hope. Both my faith and hope had cracked and shattered, and my shoulders felt heavy with the truth. How could anyone live knowing these things? Even if I managed to get out of this house with my life, how could I go on knowing men like Markus Scott existed?

  Pointless to wonder, I knew, for the man would never let me go, not after I saw this basement. Not after I watched him kill. Not after he’d shown me that video of a man and a woman torturing and killing another woman. So many secrets I’d been shown, secrets I knew Markus would never let out into the world.

  I couldn’t say how long it was. I couldn’t say if it’d been only a few hours or more, but the light in the hall flickered on. I sat in the corner of the room, away from the door, tucked as far away from the corpse and his blood as I could be, even though I already knew I was soaked in it. My knees were drawn up to my chest, and I leaned toward the wall, trying to block out the world.

  This terrible, awful world.

  Even the light from the hallway shining through the big window in the room wasn’t enough to make me pull myself away from the wall. I did close my eyes the moment it came on, though; too bright for me. Too bright after spending so long in the darkness. When you lost yourself in the dark, the light was simply ugly and blinding.

  I tried to convince myself I was hallucinating—hallucinations would be better than reality at this point. If it was Markus coming back, he’d only come back to try to hurt me in other ways. He would never relieve this suffering. He didn’t care to.

  The door unlocked, and its metal swung open, a loud creaking sound filling the air. I did not turn to look, didn’t even open my eyes to see who it was. I couldn’t imagine one of the others had come down here to get me, and I didn’t think Markus would give permission for them to do it, anyway.

  Loyalty. That was all they cared about, wasn’t it? Jaxon couldn’t kiss me because he was loyal to the Scotts, even though he wasn’t technically one. Will was loyal, but he was edgy enough to want to keep secrets of our own. It was only a matter of time until Markus found out, I bet, and when he did, he’d punish Will like he’d punished me.

  This place was a house of horrors, its demons men with handsome faces and warm touches. Its horrors were plentiful and gruesome, and only the strong could survive it. I didn’t think I was strong enough, even though I wanted to be.

  The person who’d unlocked the door walked toward me, moving around the edge of the room, probably avoiding the spilled blood as best he could. I couldn’t tell who it was just by the way he walked or the sounds his shoes made on the tiled floor, but I didn’t dare to open my eyes.

  Maybe this was all in my head. Maybe I was making it up, a prince charming coming to save his girl from being tortured.

  No. Those men did not exist here. No heroes. Only villains.

  I heard a sigh as the man knelt beside me. He did not move for the longest time, and even though I did not want to turn my head and look at him, that’s exactly what I did. Slowly, my face angled away from the wall, and I met the dark eyes of the cruel master of this house.

  Markus.

  His jaw was set, dark black stubble lining it. His gaze narrowed at me, as if he pondered whether or not I’d learned anything from this. He wore a different suit than he had before, the fabric pressed clean without a wrinkle, though he knelt beside me. His towering frame looked almost silly crouched down near me; however he still made me feel like a dwarf, a child, small and insignificant, totally unworthy of attention.

  Why did I matter so much? Why not just kill me if that’s what he planned on doing? Why drag this thing out and make it last so long? Maybe Markus simply enjoyed being cruel for the sake of it, the affliction in his blood.

  He said nothing, but he reached for me. Those strong, big hands of his stretched out to me, and if I was not already pressed against the corner of the room, in a ball as tiny as I could get, I would’ve shied away from them. I didn’t want those hands on me. Not after they’d done such terrible, awful things.

  I wanted to fight him. I wanted to resist those hands, especially when I felt them curl around my bare arm and pull me closer to his chest. I wanted to hit him, to shout, to yell and ask him how he could do what he did and act so nonchalant about it—but in the end, I did nothing. My throat was too dry, my eyes heavy after being awake for so long, after watching a man die because of me. I said nothing at all as Markus cradled me against his chest and picked me up, uncaring about the blood on me and whether or not it got on his suit.

  One arm held onto my back, the other curled around my legs. He picked my body up as he stood, as if I weighed nothing to him. And I probably didn’t. Markus took me out of the room, and the moment we stepped into the hall, I breathed in air that was relatively fresh, a heck of a lot fresher than the air inside that room.

  My eyelids opened to slits, and I saw we passed two men, one taller, one short. The tall one had black hair like Markus, same eyes, too. The shorter one had red hair and freckles on his face. Neither man looked at us as we walked by, too busy with a cart of… cleaning supplies?

  “Go get the cart for the body,” the black-haired one spoke, sounding gruff. His voice… it sounded familiar, like I’d heard it before, but I didn’t quite know where.

  “No, I brought this one. You should’ve brought that one along yourself,” the redhead spoke. “This isn’t rocket science. You act like you’re new to this every fucking time—”

  “Watch your tone with me, ginger,” the other man growled out, and then we were too far away from them to hear anything else, which was fine. I didn’t need to deal with any other men who could function normally while surrounded by blood and a dead body. No thanks.

  I curled my face against Markus’s chest, wanting to block out the world and everyone in it. I could only imagine where he’d take me now, what he’d do with me. A part of me just wanted to tell him to do it already, to get it over with and kill me. Stop the suspense, don’t let it drag on too long.

  But I kept quiet. I kept quiet, having no idea where he was taking me, especially since he brought me up and out of the basement—away from the dozens of torture chambers they had downstairs.

  Markus breathed evenly, and I listened to the sound, wondering how the heart in his chest could beat so smoothly. Even though I was exhausted, I was pretty sure my own heart beat just as fast as it had before, when Markus had dragged me into the basement and shown me just how evil he really was.

  Up a staircase we went, and after a few more minutes of walking in this house that never ended, Markus brought me to a bathroom. He was careful in setting me down, and my legs were too weak after being curled up for so long, so they immediately gave out, which caused me to slump on the toilet seat for support.

  I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. When my eyes opened, I stared at the floor, at my own feet and the red staining them. Oh, I was certain I looked quite the sight, with my pajamas and skin discolored with blood.

  Or maybe that was a sight Markus liked. Maybe he liked his girls covered in blood.

  Markus went to the door, but he didn’t leave; instead, he shut it and turned to me. “Undress,” his rough, deep voice filled the room, an order from the man you never wanted to ignore. An order from someone you had to listen to or else.

  The thing was, I didn’t want to undress. I didn’t want to move. A part of me still felt like I was trapped in that room in the dark, losing my mind.

  His stare narrowed into a glare, and he moved toward me, jerking me back to my feet after grabbing my arms. I just barely was able to keep myself upright, and I found myself smacking his hands away the moment he tried to take off my pajamas for me.

  I might feel awful, but I would not let him undress me.

  Markus frowned at me, but once I started to fight back a little, his arms dropped to his sides, and he simply watched, as if wordlessly telling me, Then do it. The intensity in his gaze was unmatched; a power of his to make you feel small and insignificant anytime he looked at you. And I did. As Markus Scott
stared me down with those black eyes, I felt as tiny and as unimportant, as trivial and stupid, as I’d ever been in my life.

  And that was saying something.

  I turned away from him, not wanting to see those eyes of his watch me as I undressed. My knees felt stiff and wobbly at the same time, my legs hard to control. It was as if curling into a fetal position against the wall for hours on end wasn’t healthy; go figure. You know what else wasn’t healthy? Killing people, but that didn’t seem to stop anyone here from doing it, especially the tall man behind me.

  My eyes dropped to my pajamas, to the blood staining them. There would be no getting it out, no more fuzzy unicorn pajamas for me. Tears fought their way to the surface, for these things were the last items with me that reminded me of home, but I pushed the emotion back. I would not cry in front of Markus.

  My fingers felt strange, my arms tingling as I started to shed my clothes. First thing that came off was my top, and I heard the fabric fall to the floor. The next thing I went for were my bottoms; that’s where most of the blood was, besides my skin. Even my neck had caked-on, dried-up blood thanks to Markus.

  I didn’t know if I was in a trance or not; I hardly felt like myself. In a daze, the world didn’t feel quite right around me. It was like everything was fake, a lie, somehow, and I knew it. I was surrounded by demons and the lies they told, and I now knew there was no way out for me.

  This was it.

  This was it, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was pretty sure that was the worst thing. The helplessness. The despair. It was soul-crushing, for what was a person if they had no hope, no faith? What could any of us be if all we did was wallow in despair?

  I didn’t want to take off my underwear or my bra, but I doubted Markus would let me crawl into that shower if any piece of clothing still hugged my body, so I swallowed my trepidation and reached behind me to unhook my bra. My arms were so stiff, I had trouble reaching it.

  Something warm brushed my back, and I froze the moment I realized it was Markus. His fingers, really. His fingers softly grazed against the sensitive skin on my back to unhook my bra for me.

  He stopped touching me immediately after it was unhooked, and as the straps loosened and fell over my shoulders, I couldn’t help but glance back at him, meeting those dark, devilish eyes. He continued to stare at me, his lips pulled into a frown, but beyond that, I couldn’t read the expression on his chiseled, handsome face.

  Was he sorry for doing what he did? Did he regret showing me that, hate himself for locking me up down there?

  No. A man like him never felt guilt for anything he did. He never apologized for anything. He was a man that took no prisoners and never regretted refusing to take the high road in life. He was infernal through and through, his hands bloody, even when they weren’t physically. He was terrifying.

  And I was stuck here with him.

  I turned my face away as I dropped my bra to the floor, my fingers hooking in the sides of my panties and tugging them down after. It was an odd thing, to be so exposed before Markus, and yet I did not feel as naked as I did before, when he’d had me in front of him, holding on to me, making me feel steel in my hand and the blood coating it. I’d take this over that any day.

  “Get in the shower,” Markus’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I didn’t hesitate.

  I got into the tub, stepping over it, careful to give him my back the entire time. I went to pull the shower curtain, and I only managed to pull it halfway closed. A strong hand caught it from closing all the way, and I saw Markus’s body had moved closer, peering into the space, leaning on the wall.

  A sigh left me. He was going to watch me shower.

  That shouldn’t surprise me at all. Whatever. I didn’t feel strong enough to fight him on that, so I simply turned away as I released my hold on the curtain to turn the water on. It took a few moments to get warm, and within a few more seconds, I had the water coming out of the showerhead above, pelting my head and instantly drenching me.

  I stood there, eyes down, watching as the water coursed along my body. When it circled the drain, it was filthy, stained with the blood and dirt on me. I wished the water would do it all for me, clean me until I was baptized anew, but some of the blood on my skin was caked too deep, too dried. I’d have to scrub. I’d have to practically scrub off the top layer of skin just to get rid of it.

  How badly I wanted to break down. How badly I wanted to close my eyes and wipe my mind of the memory. Knowing how a blade felt as it sank into skin… feeling the warm, stickiness of blood between your fingers and toes. None of it was knowledge I wanted. I was in hell, and it wasn’t even because I’d been bad. It was all because of Daddy.

  Daddy. Daddy was the reason for all of this, and I still didn’t know exactly what he’d done to merit this. I was his most precious possession, his only family, so of course I was his weakness. I just didn’t know why Daddy didn’t come and try to save me from this. What was he doing that was so important, more important than getting me out of here?

  Something in me snapped. I couldn’t say what it was, but my lungs trembled as I scratched at my own skin, where the blood didn’t come off. I rubbed my palms against myself, tried to get it all off. I ran my fingers through my hair, feeling as if I was unraveling. Every single part of me coming undone, getting destroyed.

  None of this was right. It was all so wrong, and the man watching me from the back corner of the shower knew it. He knew I wasn’t made for this, and that’s why he’d done it. He knew exactly what to do to hurt me the most, and he had no problems doing it. The wheels in his head always turned, the gears in his mind alight with his machinations. You could never beat Markus Scott, for this was his game. He owned the board, the pieces, the air around us. You could never make your own move, only the moves he wanted you to, and if you tried to go against him, he came down with a hard fist and reminded you of your place.

  I’d been such a fool for dreaming of him for so long. Such a pitiful, useless fool.

  It took me a while, but eventually I got clean. Eventually the water circling the drain was not stained pink or a light brown color; it ran clear, and when it did, I watched it for a few moments, my skin burning; my neck especially. My little neck, which Markus always seemed so intent to hold onto.

  Part of me wished he’d just choke me and get it over with.

  “That’s enough,” Markus said. When I did not move, he came around to the other side of the shower, pulled the curtain aside enough to stick his arm in, and turned the water off for me. I was too out of it to turn away, and I met his dark eyes, catching him staring.

  It was just a moment. Just a quick, fleeting moment that was over almost immediately, but I did. I saw how his dark gaze had dropped, how he looked at places on my body no one else ever had. A part of me still felt like I was a girl on display, a science experiment of sorts, and yet I wondered if he liked what he saw.

  Will obviously did, but Will was a little different. Markus was… well, Markus was Markus. The two were utterly different. Like comparing apples and oranges; it was too hard to explain.

  But, anyway, the moment was over practically before it started, and Markus looked away, pulling the shower curtain all the way to the side. I shivered, the parts of my body not rubbed raw from scrubbing cold. Markus got a towel off the wall and stretched it out for me, eyes once again on me as he held it open for me, waiting for me to step out of the tub.

  This time his gaze didn’t drop to my body, but I supposed that ship had sailed now, anyway. If things were different, if I didn’t feel so… lost, I liked to think I’d have reacted differently. You know, other than just staring right back at him blankly.

  I lifted a leg and stepped out of the tub, but the moment I lifted my other leg, I wavered on my feet. I didn’t lift it high enough; my foot caught the edge of the tub as I stepped forward, and I fell.

  Markus caught me—or, rather, he caught me with the towel, his body strong where mine was not. His arms wrapped around me as he helped me right myself, the towel circling around me to dry me off.

  He stood so close. So close I could smell him. His musky, woodsy scent. Couple that with the heat coming through his suit, and it was almost too much. I couldn’t look at him, for if I did, I felt like I’d lose my mind completely.