Page 27 of Crescendo (Beautiful Monsters #1)

I grit my teeth and turn to face the wall.

My hands shake fully. The familiar buzzing eats away at the back of my skull.

The only way to silence it is to punch the wall so hard that I feel the impact in my fucking bones.

With my throbbing knuckles still pressed against the dented plaster, I force out, “Why me?”

“It has to look good. The bitch needs to be willing or whatever the fuck she wants. I know you loved Rish, but you don’t...”

“I don’t what?” The words come out riding a growl. The beast is nibbling away at his cage, hungry and restless; it takes more effort to rein him in. I blink and my vision’s red. Blink again and the wall is white.

“You don’t get...emotional,” Arno says as if it’s as simple as that.

Emotional. I laugh, only the sound trickles out of me more like a wolf’s jagged snarl .

“You don’t ,” he insists. “You don’t let shit get to your head. You can think clearly when all I want to do is...”

Kill. Bite. Fight. Fucking rip. Tear. Destroy. I swallow hard. Ruby-colored light seeps across the room. The buzzing surges into a deafening hum.

“Do this for me,” Arno says, sounding miles away, “and I’ll get Espi to talk to you.”

“What?” I turn, shaking my head to clear it. Arno flashes from normal to scarlet and back again.

“Espi,” he says, drawing the name out. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll get him to at least listen to you. He won’t be happy about it, but if you do this for me...I’ll make it happen.”

My jaw clenches around another refusal. My eyes narrow, but I swallow hard and push it down—just like Arno knew I would. “I’ve been looking for him,” I say coldly.

“I know.”

“Then why do you fucking wait until now—”

“Because he doesn’t want to talk to you,” Arno says quickly. “He made that very, very clear.” He rubs at his jaw as if the kid had punched him there. Fuck, maybe the little shit did. “But I know of a way to make him. Though, like I said, it won’t be pretty.”

I inhale, squeezing my eyes shut. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. My fingers are on fire, aching to punch something.

Or maybe gouge —starting with Arno’s fucking eyes.

I don’t need a middleman to talk to Espi.

It could take time, but I know that the kid will come around on his own.

Blood is thicker than water and shit. I cycle through my options.

When I open my eyes again, the walls are a pale off-white.

Arno’s the same albino asshole he’s always been, and the buzzing has gone silent.

“You get me a talk with Espi, and—”

“I’ll bend over backward in a little pink skirt if you do this for me. Brother?” He takes a step forward, his hand outstretched. The jagged scar we made as teenagers seems to lurch against the dusky skin of his palm, and I feel my own hand twinge in answer .

I don’t say a damn word when I slap my palm against his. I don’t say a damn word when he gives me a brief rundown of how to work the camera before racing from the room as if that might keep me from changing my mind.

Standing here, while the girl finally creeps out down the hall...I don’t say a damn word.

Daniela

I expect to find my costar when I finally gather up the nerve to enter the “bedroom” again.

Not Lucifer. He’s standing tall, silhouetted against the backdrop of black sheets like his fallen, angelic namesake.

He’s angry. His body ripples with tension, and something in mine tightens in response.

When his eyes finally focus on me, I’m unprepared for the venom I find spilling out of them.

“Come here.” He crooks a finger—such an unusual gesture coming from him that I find myself inching forward.

His hands are heavy when they fall over my shoulders.

He uses the grip to marshal me toward the end of the bed.

Then he manually steers me around to face the camera.

He makes sure I’m still watching when he crosses over to it and hits a button that I assume turns it on.

“Show us what you’ve got, sweetheart.” His voice is a cold, mocking parody of its usual emotionless baritone. His eyes are dark coals. There’s no shred of lust in his posture—it’s too tense.

My heart starts to race. My palms are slippery. Words race up my throat, but only a few trickle out. “I thought...you said...”

“Well, I fucking lied,” he snarls, taking a step toward me.

I flinch back. His hands are shaped like manacles, and his expression...it’s so much like Vinny’s. I can’t breathe. The room is too small. The floor buckles underneath me, and I somehow wind up perched on the edge of the mattress, clinging to the black sheets for balance .

“N-no...” I don’t know if I’m talking to him or myself. No, you can’t waste this chance. No, it can’t be him. No. No. No.

Lucifer hisses out a laugh and staggers toward the wall. His fist strikes it once—hard enough to make the entire surface tremble. “The fuck if I even want to.”

Something in his voice shakes me awake from the fear. There’s no lust in it. No desire. No sadistic need to intimidate. He doesn’t want me . Somehow, that fact is enough to give me the strength to stand. My knees tremble. Once again, my body goes against my mind’s conviction. I can do this...

“The...the camera is still on.” My voice scratches at the silence, fighting with the mechanical whirl of the machine in question.

Lucifer stiffens. He flattens his fist against the wall, his shoulders hunched away from me.

I have to grit my teeth and fight to maintain my resolve when he finally turns to face me.

His eyes are an unsteady shade of indigo.

Blue fire—that color at the base of the flame.

They watch me coldly while one of his hands drifts down to the buckle of his jeans.

“Don’t sound so eager,” he scolds, his voice an acidic taunt.

But there’s something inside his gaze so unexpected that it makes my heart stop. I’m panting when my pulse catches up again. I blink rapidly, but there’s no mistaking it.

For a minute...I swear his expression almost resembled Olga’s right before Vinny bent her over on the floor. That same helpless plea. I don’t want this.

“Why...why you?” I ask, and suddenly, I don’t know if I’m referring to making the video or... everything. Of all the men, he was the only one who interfered with the red-haired man’s original plan.

Lucifer grits his teeth rather than answer.

In an instant, he’s cold and collected again, my angel in the flesh.

With one hand, he undoes the fastenings of his pants while the other reaches into his boxers for his cock.

He isn’t hard, I see when the boxers finally come down and he’s fully bare before me .

Even so, his size is impressive. I can’t help but wonder how large he’ll be once fully erect. His hand tightens over the shaft as if he senses my train of thought and doesn’t like one damn bit of it. He eyes the ceiling and strokes himself slowly. Then harder. Faster.

It’s no use. He’s still not aroused despite the friction. He doesn’t want me.

I step forward without thinking, my hand reaching out. “W-what can I do?”

He bites out a growl when I take a step too close.

It’s like approaching a caged animal, one that is mortally wounded and doesn’t give a damn whether I’m friend or foe.

It’ll chew off its leg rather than admit its own weakness.

For so very long, I was that animal. I know the bars of that cage well.

You will never convince the beast to come out on its own; you can only climb inside.

He flinches when I reach for him again.

“T-tell me what to do—”

“Get the hell away from me.” He continues to stroke himself and then groans when the action fails to produce any results. Those icy-blue eyes settle on my cleavage. For nearly a minute, he watches me until he finally crooks his finger again, beckoning me closer. “Come here.”

I obey, my heart pounding. My throat’s dry. I don’t know why I choose to sink to my knees, just out of his reach.

Lucifer watches me warily. Then he grounds out a sigh and inches forward. His hands fall down to his sides, and he’s at my mercy.

Dante

She palms my cock with all the care of a snotty little socialite handling her tiara. I can’t deny the softness in her fingers. Heat stirs in my blood at her touch, something I couldn’t accomplish myself.

I hate watching her. Her wide eyes drift up and down the shaft. She licks her lips. Then she curls her fingers around me fully and guides her hand back and forth. Damn ...she studied those videos too fucking well.

One of my hands shoots back to find the wall, and I brace my palm flat against it while tension gathers in my abdomen, shooting down my spine.

She’s not like the other handfuls of women I’ve had.

She takes her time. She’s slow. Careful.

Her pampered, prissy hands lavish attention on every inch of my length, and the greedy fucker’s hungry for it.

I inhale and breathe out through my teeth.

I try to imagine that it’s anyone but her.

Not Stacatto’s stuck-up whore. I don’t want her.

I don’t want to taste her skin or bury myself between those stick-thin little thighs.

I don’t want to rake my hands through her hair and hold her goddamn mouth in place while I pummel it. I don’t want...

I flinch when her other hand settles against my hip, using it for leverage while she increases her pace.

Holy...fuck. She’s too fast. Not fast enough.

I glance down and find that she’s already looking up, her gaze meeting mine.

I don’t find shame stretching across that pale, battered face.

There’s hell in her eyes: the inferno Stacatto put her in and the new flames she herself is willing to set.

She’s beckoning for me to join her, become swallowed by the fire.

Espi. Espi. Espi. I chant his name like a fucking prayer to counter her. I’m doing this for him. Not because I want her. I don’t. She’s...