Beautiful Fiend: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance (North Shore Stories Book 1)
Beautiful Fiend: Chapter 19

When did I turn into a fucking stalker?

I used to barely remember a girl’s name. I’d fuck her, mark her, and bump into her a couple of days later, only knowing I did so because she was baring my bruises on her jaw.

I wish I could forget about Billie Scott. I want to drill into my chest and rip out the bits of my heart that she’s infected.

My dad’s funeral was barely finished when my feet took me to my car. I drove fifteen minutes before I realized I was going to her house. I couldn’t even control it.

I’m trying to feel sad for my dad, trying to think of all the things I will miss. But the truth is, we never shared anything, let alone love. Kay didn’t cry, either. She was too busy sorting out what is going to happen moving forward with Sawyer, and who will take over. My dad would have wanted it to be Sawyer because my sister doesn’t have a dick between her legs. But we’re trying our best to avoid that.

There’s no time to think of the bastard who slightly participated in giving me life when NSC started a war on us. I was more worried about my two nieces not being traumatized by the whole thing and making sure they get to a house where they’ll be safe rather than grieving my father.

Now that burying him is out of the way and I had food with everyone who came to give me their condolences, I want to spend time with the woman who poisoned my mind with her doe-eyes and fucking tank tops.

So I’m standing right in front of her bedroom window, listening to the music shaking her house.

She just said she wouldn’t see me tonight, and I’m not sure what to fucking do with myself. I don’t want to go hang out with Ethan and Elliot. I just want to smell her raspberry and mint shampoo and bury my dick inside her again as I pull at her long ponytail.

Monday night was meant to be a punishment for her. I was raging and feeling betrayed, and I wanted to hurt her. Not only did she enjoy herself in the process, but I only plunged myself deeper into my infatuation with her.

Billie Scott gets wet from being tied up and assaulted.

Billie Scott fits perfectly with my violent tendencies, and now I’m fucked.

Because what’s the point in looking for anything else in life when the woman of my dreams is at the tip of my fingers? I could hurt her, make her scream from pleasure all night long, and make her breakfast in the morning while we talk about what our lives could be far from the North Shore.

I could make her come over and over again before planning our future together. Her, me, and even that murderous dog of hers.

Fuck. I can really see us building something together away from here.

All that because I finally pushed her past the breaking point. And instead of breaking, she flourished into precisely who I needed in my life.

I was angry at Billie that night, but how long can I hold a grudge against someone who didn’t truly do me wrong? She was stuck between her crew and me. Who am I to be chosen over her family? I’m just the guy who ruined her life two years ago. Who changed the course of it and selfishly steered her back to me.

I was scared because my nieces could have died in that fire. But they’re fine. The fear has passed, and Billie is still on my mind constantly.

I huff into the frigid night, condensation forming around me. I need to respect that she has a fight tomorrow and can’t ruin her chances of getting out of here. Fuck, it’s hard to be decent.

I don’t know how long I wait in the cold outside her window for her to change her mind and send me a text.

It never happens.

I glance down at the box in my hand. The present I brought for her, a new pair of MMA gloves. Hers are old and falling apart. She’ll need these for her fight tomorrow.

Eventually, I make my way back to my car. Just as I do, another car drives past. I would recognize her small form anywhere. Billie is passed out in the passenger seat with a guy I’ve never seen. My gaze crosses with his, and his predatory smile tells me he’s up to no good.

Even if he wasn’t. Even if he was prince fucking charming. There is absolutely no way in hell I’m letting another fucker near my girl in this lifetime.

I’m in my car in a split second, speeding after him.

I almost lose him, but eventually, I follow where I’m sure his car has turned and recognize it in the parking lot. It’s a small motel in Silver Falls. They’re not in the car anymore, and I bet my life he’s dragged her into one of these rooms.

Except which one?

I jump out of the car and run to the motel.

It’s late at night, and all the curtains are drawn. There’s no way for me to see where he’s taken her. I will kick down every single door until I replace my girl and make sure she’s safe in my arms. I don’t give a shit.

I sprint up the stairs, walking along the balcony that leads to all the doors. There are only a few windows that have light seeping through the curtains.

I knock on the first one without hesitation. “Open the fucking door,” I shout. The door is shaking under the strength of my fist.

It opens to show a middle-aged man. He’s naked from the waist up, his fly down, and his belt hanging. It’s not him, though I notice a hooker bent over the bed.

I leave his room and look at the name of the place. Silver Moon Motel.

It’s that filthy Silver Fall motel all the cheap hookers from around here bring their jobs to.

Fucking. Great.

I always feel sick being around those girls. Not because I judge them but because I do the exact same thing. Sex for money. I’m a fucking boy toy, but I do it with wealthier people than they do.

My stomach churns, making it hard to focus. Billie is in here somewhere with some fucker who thinks he can hurt her and not pay the price.

Karma is about to knock on his door and show him how deeply wrong he is.

I slam my palm on the next door that still has a light on and, before they can even answer, I knock on the third one. In the second one, a woman opens, wearing underwear only. Not Billie.

I knock on the third one again and am still waiting for someone to answer. I bang against it, hitting it with my shoulder.

Still, he doesn’t open and I just know it’s him.

Taking a step back, I kick the door just under the handle. I repeat the process again and again, feeling a beast awakening in me.

On the fourth kick, the door budges. I barge into it with my shoulder a few more times and finally stumble through.

That sleazy guy from earlier has stepped away from the bed, halfway through putting his jeans back on.

“What the fuck?” he screams at me. He buttons his jeans and rolls his shoulders back now that he’s half-dressed. “You knocked on the wrong door, fucker.”

From the corner of my eyes, I can see Billie lying unconscious and naked on the bed. My heart is telling me to go to her right now. But the bastard in front of me is clearly some NSC cunt who thought he could touch what’s mine. The second my focus goes to her, he’s going to attack me.

The beast in me is begging me to tear him to pieces, which is what I must do before taking care of my girl. Can’t save her if he kills me before I’m able to get to her.

“Right, let’s get this done,” I smile. “You die, then I need to get her to safety.”

“You’re Caden King,” he says, trying to mask the fear in his voice.

“Ding, ding! Ten points for the dead man walking.”

His shoulders relax, and he huffs out a relieved breath. “Has Sawyer not told you? I’m joining your side. I’ve been wanting to go after Billie for months, but Xi never allowed me. I don’t have to do anything he says now. I’ll just have some fun before joining the Kings.”

Seeing that his words aren’t helping his case, he carries on, “Bro, do you understand what I’m saying? Fuck NSC. I’m with you now.”

“No, you’re not. What did you give her?”

He shrugs. “Bro, don’t worry about her. She won’t remember a thing.”

I run my tongue against my teeth, trying my best not to turn this into the biggest blood bath in history.

“Bro,” I repeat. “What did you give her?”

“Just a bit of Rohypnol. Not like she’s gonna die or anything.”

“You gave my girl date rape drugs? And admitting it?” I let out a bitter laugh. “She’s not gonna die. But you sure as fuck are.”

I stride toward him, grabbing the side of his head and dragging him, until I can slam him into the mirror on the other side of the room.

Dizzy, he stumbles back and falls onto the dirty carpet. “That’s twenty years of bad luck for you,” I say calmly as I grab a chunk of the broken mirror so massive I have to hold it with two hands. “And it starts now.”

I slam the entire block on him. It’s big enough that it smashes on his stomach and chest, cutting his naked torso in multiple places.

He screams in agony, and I shake my head. “Tsk, tsk. You’re gonna wake up the neighbors.”

I put a foot on his chest, feeling broken pieces and shards piercing into his skin, and then crouch down onto him before ripping a portion of the sheet on the bed next to us. I stuff it into his mouth and push it far in.

“This is going all the way down your throat unless you answer my next question.”

I take a deep breath, my stomach coiling. “Did you rape her?”

He shakes his head wildly, attempting to talk.

“Tell me the truth, motherfucker, because I’ll know as soon as I go over to the bed. So think real hard about your answer.”

He shouts something behind the sheet, and I take it out.

“I didn’t…I didn’t have t—” A cough escapes him as I press harder on his chest with my foot. “You arrived before I could do any-anything. Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Big fat tears fall from his eyes, and I laugh.

“Why is everyone always sorry once they face me? Couldn’t you be sorry enough to not drug a girl and get her naked in a motel room? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shakes his head, sobbing so hard my shoe bounces on his chest. He tries to raise a hand to my leg and shove me off, but I grab a mirror shard and stab him in the arm without hesitation. I put the cloth back into his mouth, forcing it further down his throat. The fear in his eyes gives me life.

“You say sorry to me,” I hiss. “But are you even sorry to her?”

His choking and mumblings are unclear, but I don’t care anymore. I keep pushing until the piece of sheet is so far down his throat that he can’t breathe anymore. He panics, his arms flailing everywhere.

“Do you want to breathe?”

He nods, terror seeping from every single pore on his body.

“Wait,” I hold a finger up. “There’s something stuck in your throat, I think you need a tracheotomy or something. Just another little hole to help you breathe.”

I stab him brutally in the hollow of his throat with the bit of mirror I’m holding. Blood spurts out, covering me in it. He can’t make any noise anymore, but his eyes widen in horror when he realizes he will die for what he did.

He’s choking on his blood, the sheet dying a deadly red.

“Everyone. Who. Touches. Her. Dies,” I seethe. There’s still some life left in him, so I stab the piece of glass further into his throat. “Now fucking die.”

Not wasting another second. I jump on the bed where Billie is. Her soft brown eyes open and close, but she can’t focus on anything. I must be a bloody, blurry monster to her right now.

“Little bee,” I whisper softly. “Wake up, baby.” I know she can’t, that she’s drugged, and it’s impossible for her to fight it. But I need to know she’s at least somewhat okay. I grab her jaw and force her lolling head to face me. “Come on, give me something.”

She opens her mouth, yet only a pained whimper comes out. “Where are you hurting?” I ask. Dread is wrapping around me. My entire being was calm while murdering a man, but I now feel my heart kicking against my chest.

I look down at her naked breasts and notice the redness around her nipples. I put a hand on her right one, caressing it. “Motherfucker,” I growl. A frustration comes over me, knowing that there’s nothing more I can do to him. I can still hear his gurgling noises, and at least it brings me joy that he’s still suffering.

She tries to bring her hand to mine, but her arm falls back against the bed. She mumbles something, but I no longer try to listen to her.

The problem is, Billie wasn’t saved by a hero tonight. She was saved by me—the possessive devil who can’t stand someone other than me touching or hurting her.

And I don’t do gentle. I don’t do hero-saves-the-girl caring and hugging.

No, I want to know if he lied, if he violated her. So, I sit back between her naked legs and spread her thighs apart.

She moans a protest but can hardly move me or even her own body. She’s limp and defenseless as I stare at her beautiful pussy in front of me. I bring my thumbs to her nether lips and spread them apart. There’s nothing. No blood or unusual redness. Nothing that indicates he touched her there. I press my index finger against her entrance, feeling the tightness and the way her body attempts to block me.

It doesn’t feel like anybody has been able to push through, or surely within the short time, there would at least be a stretch for my finger. But everyone is different, and Billie’s body will only let her know.

It feels like a knife is piercing my abdomen. I will never know the truth. Since she might never remember, or if she does, she could lie to me and never tell me. She could lie to herself. Her mind could protect her along with her body.

We’re both just as helpless. But to keep going and not kill myself with that same broken mirror shard I used on the guy, I need to tell myself that I arrived in time to stop him.

Pulling away from Billie, I search for her clothes to replace them discarded on the bed and floor. I put her in her jeans and top, not caring about underwear right now. I simply put those in my back pocket so they’re not found at the scene of the crime.

I pick her up with one arm under her knees and one at her back, her head nestled against my chest. In the cold night, she’s shivering against me and I tighten my hold. She keeps trying to say something but only mumbled words come out.

Once in the car, I blast the heat and turn it all toward her. Her ponytail is a mess, falling to the side of her head. Her eyes keep opening and closing slowly, still conscious. I can see the frustration on her features, the helplessness from being unable to control anything around her, not even her own body or mind.

I drive her to my house. No one’s here anyway. Kay took the girls away from the North Shore now that NSC is after us.

I bring her to my room. There’s still a nasty smell of fire in the entire house. Kay and the girls’ bedroom is where they started it. The fire was contained in that room and my dad’s room, so the rest of the house is still livable even though we got told we shouldn’t reside here. That the foundations could be affected. Where the fuck else would we live?

I undress Billie, undo her hair, and put her in a pair of my boxers and a hoodie. She’s so out of it she has no choice but to let me handle her body completely. I get her into my bed and hold her tightly.

“M….ight,” she mumbles in such a weak voice I have to bring my ear to her lips.

“Say that again, baby,” I tell her.

“My…fight,” she finally manages to say.

Her fight. She’s been drugged and assaulted, but that’s the only thing she thinks about? Her fucking fight?

“Tomorrow’s another day,” I say softly. “Sleep for now.”

Of course, she doesn’t. Because that’s not what usually happens when you’re drugged, and she’s clearly been given a hefty dose. First, her body fights her. She’s sick a few times. Thankfully I succeed in getting her to the bathroom every time. I hold her hair and give her as much water as she can take. I rub her tummy when we get to bed again. And when she starts hallucinating that she can hear someone’s steps in the house, I reassure her that it’s just our boiler making weird noises like it always has.

When she finally falls asleep, it’s six a.m. Her head is on my chest, and one of her legs is around mine. Her arms are wrapped so tightly around my stomach I can barely breathe. I’m still covered in the fucker’s blood, but I don’t move because I can finally hear her breathing settle, and the cutest snore I’ve ever heard in my life is coming out of her mouth. I do something I realize I’ve come to love. I slip a hand in her hair and close my own eyes. Caressing the soft strands over and over again soothes me slightly.

I can’t sleep, though. All I can think about are his hands on her body and that I want to bring him back to life again just to kill him a second time. And that I can’t.