Epitaph
“Destroy the part of you that searches for angels in places you know only monsters exist”
~ Erin Van Vuren
Prologue
TJ
She’s stunning, the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen, but it isn’t her long blonde hair scattered on the pillow or the plumpness in her lips as she lies in repose that heats my blood and kicks my heart up a notch. Her nakedness, the bare curves of her body, and the dusky-rose nipples, drawn tight by the coolness in the air, are merely adjectives, accessories to the real allure.
“Look how fucking sexy that is,” I mutter, shocked at the sound of my voice because I hadn’t meant to praise her perfection out loud.
“Sick fuck,” Briar mutters beside me.
He doesn’t see what I see. He can’t appreciate the transcendent sight of the girl on the bed. His concerns lie elsewhere, which is fine. It gives me more time to admire her.
The sight of her covered in blood has to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. The only displeasure I allow to seep in is the fact that it’s not her blood.
Or mine.
My cock thickens behind my zipper at just the thought of covering her milky smooth skin with my own blood.
“Are we going to leave her there?”
What the hell does Briar expect us to do with her?
“Let her wake up in this mess,” I say without pulling my eyes from her. “Maybe she’ll learn her fucking lesson.”
Honestly, she’s just too superb to disrupt.
The problem, also Briar’s main concerns, are the three dead guys at our feet and the currently living one whimpering in the corner. I ignore all of it as I step over the gore and get closer to her.
“You should be safe at home reading a book or something, beautiful.” I push her hair from her cheek so I can see her face better. “Now, you’re here covered in blood.”
She whimpers, her hazy green eyes fluttering open for only the briefest of seconds before her long lashes rest once again on her rosy cheeks.
“You want to be identified?” Briar hisses from the other side of the room.
Ignoring him, I swipe my finger through a splash of blood on her arm before lifting it to her face. “It was my pleasure saving you.”
Chapter 1
Kaci
“Ms. Stewart?”
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. My head is foggy, like thick vapor. Nothing seems real. The world around me is a fabrication of reality, and if I’m being honest, I’d love to live in this dream state forever. Nothing hurts here. Nothing is hurting me, and I’m not thinking of hurting myself. The change of pace is comforting.
“Ms. Stewart?” I look up at the female glaring down at me. “Take this and wipe your face.”
I saw myself in the mirror before the police arrived at the house party earlier. The ghostly, ashen face that stared back at me was unrecognizable, much like the bodies scattered around the floor.
The heart drawn in blood on my face is both terrifying and soothing, placed there by an angel who had no idea I didn’t want to be saved. Even though I’m reluctant to remove it, I press the damp cloth to my cheek as instructed.
“Why did you kill those men?”
A humorless chuckle erupts from my throat. “Kill them? I didn’t kill them.”
“You were the only other person left alive in the room.” The male police officer that has been standing on the other side of the room closes the distance, placing his hands on the table directly in front of me. He crowds my space as if this intimidation tactic is going to work on me. “Three men have been brutally murdered, and you want us to believe that they left you alive for no reason?”
I don’t bother answering. The female police officer looks at me with pleading eyes, as if she’s saying she’s on my side. I’ve watched enough damn TV to know the whole good cop, bad cop routine.
“I don’t know anything.”
“Did your boyfriend do this? Did he catch you upstairs ready to spread your thighs for three men and lose his shit?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Plain, simple truth.
“So some random person comes up there, hacks three people to bits, draws a sick fucking heart on your face, and I’m supposed to believe you had nothing to do with it?”
The female officer’s eyes cut to the man in my face, irritation clear in her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything to reel him in.
“The last thing I remember is dancing downstairs. I don’t even know how I got in that room.” I swallow thickly before continuing. “I-I think they drugged me.”
“Did they rape you?” The female officer pushes away from the wall to get a better view of me.
“I-I don’t know.” I grip the scratchy blanket I was provided at the house tighter around me. “Can you take me to the hospital?”