Page 76 of Crescendo (Beautiful Monsters #1)

“Fuck!” Lucifer bucks underneath me, straining my grip on the blade—but he isn’t in pain. His head lolls, his eyes searing. Do it, they tell me.

So I cut him again. It’s a careful series of delicate little marks to form the letter D. I won’t maim him the way Vinny did me. I’ll make my brand carefully, cementing my ownership in the devil’s skin. He won’t ever forget what he is: an animal. Untamed. Wild. Mine...

I shiver beneath that thought, but before I can process it fully, the devil takes my hand and jabs it against his flesh again, guiding the carving of an A. We take our time, making sure to sharpen the edges. The Y takes the longest; I curve the end of it back to underline the other letters .

Danny. The devil bears my mark much in the same way I bear his. It’s a grim realization that doesn’t empower me the way I thought it would. Ownership of Lucifer is a heavy cross to carry. His pain is mine. His anger is mine. His rage...

Those emotions meld together in the splotches of blood gleaming against the edge of my blade.

Vinny never shared anything with me but his obsession.

Lucifer holds back nothing. He weighs me down with him, and I struggle beneath the stress of it all.

A beast like him isn’t meant to be owned, and therein lies the danger—because he owns me too.

I see the possession in his eyes when I finally draw the blade from his skin and glance down at the marks on his chest. Something feral rumbles through his throat as deceptively harmless as a roll of thunder right before the paralyzing flash of lightning.

I’ve never owned many things. Curiosity to know what it feels like draws me to lower my head, bringing my mouth inches over my bloody brand. I inhale, tasting his scent on the air, and I can’t stop myself from dragging a thumb along the angry, red letters. Mine.

Lucifer growls in acknowledgment. His. He flinches, jerking his hips when my lips brush the flesh of his stomach.

The front of his jeans bulge, and he throbs against my chest, molten and hungry.

I don’t feel anything but an answering pulse in my core as I drag my fingers down to the latch of his jeans.

Within an instant, I’m on the floor, lying on my back, as Lucifer hovers over me.

He fists his hands in my sweatpants, but he doesn’t wrench them down my legs until I arch my back.

He waits for me to moan before he slides a hand beneath my sweatshirt and palms my left breast. He waits.

..for me to thrash, groan, whimper—any reaction that can be construed as permission.

When I’m finally stripped naked, though, he doesn’t touch me.

His hand flies down to the clasp of his jeans, but he takes his sweet time, watching me grind my thighs together to ease my own ache.

My name glows red, etched forever into his skin.

The sight of it alone is enough to make my breathing hitch and my vision blur around the edges.

Then the devil takes control and nudges my knees apart with one of his own.

“Look at me.”

I do, trailing my gaze up to his. The monster inhales me, and slowly, he begins to tug his jeans down his hips, freeing his cock. He springs forward, lethally hard. Beads of white weep from the head of him, and he’s already pulsing for me.

He yanks his pants down to his knees, but when he starts to crouch forward, he rears back.

Frowning, he swipes at something jutting from his pocket; it must have stabbed in his thigh when he moved.

It’s a chain, I see as it dangles helplessly from his fingers.

A necklace. I snatch for it before he can toss it aside and observe the pendant with shaking hands.

It says his name. Dante. So simple. So powerful. I glance down and scan the letters of the name etched onto me, but I don’t feel the same thrill. And, suddenly, I need to. I want to. The devil can’t erase Vinny’s mark—but he can make his own.

“Wait—” Lucifer bites his protest back when I shift out from underneath him and rise, shaking to my feet. He won’t beg for me. He watches instead while I cling to the counter on legs that can barely support my weight.

When I reach the stove, I flick one of the burners on with one hand and brandish the necklace in the other.

He must realize what I intend to do, because suddenly, he’s beside me, wrenching the necklace from my grip. “Fuck.” His eyes are on the newborn flames that match the hue of his eyes.

I can’t tell if he’s disgusted or...tempted as his gaze roves over to the chain.

After a second, he shakes his head as if trying to clear it. “No—”

“Please.” I don’t recognize the plaintive little voice that tears from my throat. Lynn has returned, this time begging the devil himself to set her free—exorcise her out of my skin with the power of his name alone.

Lucifer frowns again. Then he reaches beyond me and tugs at drawers and swipes open cupboards. Somewhere, he manages to find a bottle of vodka. I don’t know what he means to do with it when he wrenches the cap and off wets a rag snatched from the counter with it.

“Where?” he grits out, scanning my naked torso. His eyes linger around Vinny’s name, but I shake my head and point to my collarbone.

“Here.”

He says nothing as he swipes at the area with the rag, cleansing it with the alcohol. “Hold it above the flame,” he tells me, jerking his head to the stove.

I obey, dangling the necklace by the chain so that the pendant hovers directly above the flames.

“Lower,” Lucifer directs. “And don’t bring it up until I say so. This shit will catch fire.”

Alcohol is flammable, I remember as the insanity of what we’re doing rushes to my head.

Heat shoots up the slender chain, biting into my fingers, but I don’t let go.

Not until the devil finally wrestles the necklace from me himself and raises the heated metal.

He scans my chest carefully, searching for any bead of volatile alcohol that might linger.

To make sure, he presses me against the counter and exhales once over my skin, making my nipples tighten at the contact.

“You...you sure?” He doesn’t make it sound like a question, but a dare.

Are you sure, Daniela?

I nod and press both hands against the counter on either side of me, arching my back to present him with the flattest surface possible. “Yes.”

With only a nod, the devil agrees, and he hefts the chain with his bare hand. Using my knife, he slams the heated metal against my skin and...

Pain. I see black as Vinny’s evil is driven out of me like a nail.

Agony and blood and gaping flesh are all that’s left behind, and the devil makes sure to brand his mark over every shuddering inch.

I’m not sure how long he holds the hot metal there.

When my vision clears, the necklace is smoldering somewhere on the floor and Lucifer’s eyes are on mine.

“You okay?”

“Yes...” My throat aches and my voice is a rasp. The echo that reaches my ears tells me why; I must have screamed. I stare down at the mark he made. I feel it deeper than I’ve ever felt anything in my life, pulsing and volatile. “I’m fine.”

His brand is an angry red against my skin, bleeding in some places.

The mark will scar. Once again, another man’s name stains me, but this time, I put it there.

I don’t know if Lucifer’s surprised when I lunge forward, sealing my mouth against his.

If he is, he hides it well by lashing his tongue against my lips to pry them apart.

We kiss in hungry, violent, greedy snatches.

Impatient, Lucifer tugs me into the narrow hallway and flattens me against the wall.

He’s panting, his cock practically thrumming with the need to be inside me.

I reach down and palm it, stroking until he grits out curses with every breath.

Guiding him closer, I stare dead into his eyes as he muscles his way between my legs and enters me in one hard thrust. My heels dig into the backs of his thighs, my legs holding him tight with every hungry, fierce roll of his hips.

He’s rough. Brutal. I’ll feel him inside me for weeks after.

Months. It’s still not enough. My nails bite into his shoulders, goading him on until he’s grunting with each thrust. More.

More. Harder. He slams into me, crushing me into the wall, and an icy splash of pain in my core tells me that the devil stayed true to his promise.

“I could make your cunt bleed.” He stiffens when he realizes and tries to pull out, but I sink my teeth into his shoulder before he can.

I bite down hard until he stiffens, becoming steel inside me. Mine.

Grunting, he rides me without a shred of mercy, driving himself into me and wrenching himself back out—only to plunge in even deeper. Harder. Faster. I hover on the edge of pain and sanity until, with one last thrust, he breaks me open.

I wail against his skin, memorizing every growl and groan he smothers into the side of my throat.

It’s a more potent tune than any I could caress out with my bow or any complex suite.

This is a melody I could never play with my cello or any other instrument—only my soul.

Only like this, bare flesh against bare flesh, with nothing but blood and pain to eke each brutal, violent note out.

The devil makes his music in screams, burning flesh, and rent, ruined skin.

And I’m drunk on it.

“Say it,” I gasp out. My hand shakes as it finds his punishingly gripping my waist, and I urge it up to brush the stinging flesh of his brand. “Say it,” I beg him, my saliva mingling with the blood I managed to draw with my teeth. “Say it...please.”

You are mine. Those words Vinny loved to boast for my benefit. They’ll make for the crescendo of this twisted melody. I need to hear him say it. I need to. I bite him again when he doesn’t comply quickly enough and the devil howls, twitching inside me.

“You,” he growls, ramming into me so hard that I see stars. “You... Yours .”

Yours. I can only moan in confusion. It isn’t the right thing for him to say.

I’m yours.

Mine. Fire burns white-hot, scalding my spine and reducing my body to ash.

I can only cling to him and scream as an orgasm rips me into pieces.

Lucifer is careless with the ruined parts of me.

He fucks his release into me and then goes limp with the final thrust, pinning me to the wall with his weight alone .

I don’t know how long we stay like this.

Minutes? Hours? The only thing I’m aware of when he finally withdraws from me is an agony that cuts me deeper than any pain I’ve ever experienced before and has me sinking down to my knees.

It has nothing to do with the throbbing in my bleeding, abused core or the callous way Lucifer shoves himself off me and then staggers in search of his pants.

One single realization obliterates what’s left of my heart, leaving scorch marks on my soul: As long as Vinny is alive, none of this fucking matters.

Not one damn bit.