Raphael (Deadly Virtues 1)

He needed those screams more than air.

Without another word, Raphael moved around Michael and raced toward his room. When he opened the door, he stood stock-still at the sight that greeted him.

Maria wasn’t on the bed.

Raphael’s eyes roved over the room. The lamp in his closet was on. He walked to the open doors. Maria was on the floor in the corner. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, and her head rested against the wall. Raphael blinked, feet rooted where he stood. Maria looked up, and he saw that tears were streaming down her face. Raphael’s hands balled into fists. He glanced down at his tense fingers. He didn’t understand the fury that was taking hold. The haunted look in her eyes made him want to kill. The confusion that plagued his mind was bringing his anger to the edge. He needed to expel that anger. As Maria’s face crumpled and light sobs left her mouth, an unfamiliar sense of pain stabbed through his stomach. Raphael’s lungs froze; it wasn’t the type of pain he enjoyed. It didn’t make his dick twitch or his eyes roll back in pleasure.

It was an ache he couldn’t shift. He fucking hated it.

Raphael made a move to walk toward Maria, to order her to get up, dry her eyes, and get on his bed. But as he approached, as he reached down to take her in his arms, Maria met his eyes and whispered, “Red rose.” Raphael froze. “Red rose,” she repeated, her slim body sagging with a sadness Raphael couldn’t identify with, didn’t even understand.

Emotions were a void in his life.

Maria had spoken the safe words. Why had she done that? Why the fuck had she done that? His jaw clenched, and she held herself even tighter. “I need tonight. I need to not do anything with you tonight.”

Raphael had no idea what to do. What to say. His hands clenched into fists again. He needed her underneath him. He needed her screaming his name. He had had her every day, tasting her pussy and drinking down her screams. “Please,” she begged, tears falling down her cheeks.

Raphael backed away from the door. He tried to tell himself to stay calm, that he had given her those words for a reason. He didn’t want her unwillingly. It would only sour his seductive game. But as he reached the center of his room, a familiar red mist clouded his vision. She had rejected him. His little rose had spoken the safe words.

She had stopped him.

She was meant to love him.

But right now her face was sad, tears were falling down her cheeks. And he had no idea why. He couldn’t read people like this. Didn’t understand them. Why did people cry anyway?

He wanted to understand. The fact that he couldn’t, didn’t have the ability to, no matter how hard he tried, only made his anger worse.

The red mist’s talons spread, devouring his face and neck, arms and legs. It rushed through his torso until it smothered his heart in black and made it thirst for death. Hearing another sob slip from Maria’s mouth, Raphael fled the room.

He slammed the door and locked it, trapping Maria inside with her tears and her safe words. He didn’t even register fleeing down the stairs and out into the frigid cold air until he was behind the wheel of his car and driving toward downtown Boston.

The car was silent but for Raphael’s heavy breathing. He gripped the steering wheel tighter with every mile he drove. His gaze dropped to his hands, hands that now knew every inch of Maria, how her skin felt, how her nipples beaded under his touch. How her fingers felt wrapped in his. He gritted his teeth thinking of her in the corner of the closet. Shifting his grip, he squeezed until all he saw under his fingers was not a wheel but a neck.

He squeezed it so tight that if it were a neck he would have snapped it, crushed the trachea and distorted the bones. This he knew. This he understood.

This he craved.

He had to have it. Had to sate his hunger for death.

The countryside was a blur of dark greens as Raphael raced to the sex club. He parked his car in the alleyway outside the club, deep in the shadows. Raphael let his feet and his dark need lead him through the entrance. He flashed his card and rushed up the stairs. He didn’t even care if the Brethren would be watching. In fact, he hoped they were. He would welcome the fight. Raphael needed the rush only death could bring—the more necks snapped under his desperate hands the better.

The smell of sex and cum hit Raphael’s nose first. Smoke was heavy in the air, smoke that disguised people’s identities. People who paid a small fortune to be whipped and spanked and eaten out while tied up with ropes and chains. Raphael wasn’t playing his usual role tonight. He wasn’t calm and suave, casting seductive looks and luring willing pussy into his trap. Tonight he was savage. He was untamed and ready to fuck and kill and erase Maria from his head. Maria with her pouring tears, perfect long hair, and whispered pleas. Saying no to him and his mouth, his tongue, his hands on her body.