Page 3 of Darkness Tempt Me (Bloody Desires #7)

Chapter three

Mavik

N ote to self: Don’t kill right before work.

A rush of energy, stronger than any hit from a drug or caffeine high, pulses through my body. I always get like this after a kill. The days when fear and paranoia plagued me are long gone, replaced by my desire for blood and revenge.

The best way to describe the sensation is that it feels like my blood is dancing in my veins. It’s better than any orgasm, although if I’m being honest, I’m horny as hell too. Perhaps that’s because of the excitement of feeling this way near the beautiful man in front of me.

Peyton keeps stealing curious glances at me from over his menu, and the alpha beast or caveman who seems to reside within me keeps preening under his curious gaze.

My pretty little assistant has always drawn my attention, but right now, with the adrenaline still coursing through me, it’s hard to hide my attraction.

I drum my fingers on the table, trying to expel some of this excess energy.

Peyton’s bright blue eyes land on my fingers, where he studies them for a moment before casually returning to his menu. “You seem extra…happy today, sir.”

Fuck. Even the way he says ‘sir’ has me buzzing, but I didn’t miss the way he sounded almost upset. Interesting. If he truly thought I was happy, I wonder why he’d be upset by that revelation.

I can only imagine what I look like right now.

I’m always calm, cool, and efficient. The gossip surrounding me is always hard to ignore, but it’s exactly the way I want to be perceived at work.

The sophisticated CEO. Blackwood Investments might be a family legacy, but for me, it’s just a means to an end.

It funds my little hobby while supporting my mother in the lavish way she deserves.

“I’m always happy.”

“No, you’re usually an annoyed scorpion ready to strike,” he murmurs under his breath.

Fucking brat. I flex my jaw and will myself not to smile.

Sassy Peyton is always the Peyton I enjoy most. Sure, I may behave that way with others, but Peyton is equally good at dishing it out as he is at taking it.

It’s why he’s the only assistant who’s lasted.

The only person who is a steady presence in my life.

Besides Hunter, my partner in crime—the man I consider more of a brother than anything—Peyton is the only other person who truly sees me, or at least as much of me as I allow.

Regardless, Peyton understands Mavik Blackwood, CEO.

Ignoring his remark, I scan the menu until I see something that catches my eye. As soon as I spot our server, I wave her over. “I’ll take the turkey club on focaccia with an iced tea. And he’ll have the tuna melt on ciabatta with a sweet tea.”

Peyton folds his menu and hands it to her before she leaves.

“Did you just order for me?”

Fuck, did I? As soon as I heard Peyton’s stomach growling like a damn bear coming out of hibernation, the need to feed him outweighed any logic. “Isn’t that what you wanted? I can flag her down if you want something else.”

His face softens, a pretty blush spreading across his fair cheeks, making me wonder what else turns red with enough attention. Pushing away my dirty thoughts of red handprints on creamy porcelain skin, I focus on Peyton’s words instead. “No, I kind of like the way you ordered for me, sir.”

Damn. Is the little brat flirting with me?

I stare, memorizing the way his teeth nervously dig into his plush bottom lip. The move isn’t purposely sensual, but more nervous, as though the words escaped before he could censor them. I like that. It seems like we’re both always letting our guard down around each other.

As we wait for our food, we fall into an easy conversation about work.

I’m upset that shit-for-brains Carl fucked up my meeting with Daniel Sinclair, but it is what it is.

The world is a safer place with one less vile being in it.

A man who hurts children like that doesn’t deserve to live longer, and I’m glad I can eliminate scum like him.

Unfortunately, my biggest problem now is trying to reschedule with Mr. Sinclair.

As expected, he’s proven to be the hardest to kill on my list. The old man’s a genius.

He became suspicious and paranoid after realizing his inner circle was being targeted.

Rather than stick to a predictable schedule like his pathetic friends, he became spontaneous, never staying put for long.

With each of my victims, I like to plan my kills thoroughly.

The dark, sinister side of me craves the hunt, the thrill of stalking my prey.

This all began with revenge. It was a way to hurt those who hurt my mother, Hunter, and so many others.

But since that first kill, a dark path was revealed, one that I walked eagerly when I realized I liked to toy with my prey.

Being five steps ahead gives me a high. It’s a twisted game filled with cold calculations, and I’m the mastermind luring victims into traps.

The ritual is something I enjoy. I stalk my prey, learning their schedules and routines.

After analyzing and studying them, I enjoy toying with them until they become a paranoid mess, which increases the likelihood of them making mistakes.

It’s so satisfying to watch the abusive bastards who hurt my mother fall apart from paranoia.

Depending on what type of person I see in their day-to-day lives, I go about playing judge, jury, and executioner.

Leaving the really fucked up torture for the worst of the worst. Even though Hunter and I are going after people in the same circles, our kill lists are different.

I tend to focus on those who sexually abused my mother, while Hunter kills those who hurt him.

Blackwood Investments provides me with the access I need to my father’s affluent friends, and Hunter’s law firm identifies depraved rapists for us to target between our chosen kills.

There’s an entire system with defined rules: never stick to one weapon of choice, don’t kill on a specific schedule, don’t develop patterns.

In other words, embrace spontaneity. That’s one of the reasons we extended our murders beyond the wealthy.

Evil is evil. We don’t care if they are rich or poor, but only murdering the wealthy can get really fucking suspicious, really fucking quickly.

Since embracing this dark path eighteen years ago and becoming a dark vigilante of sorts, I’ve never stalked anyone I didn’t intend to kill. Never felt the urge. Not until I laid eyes on the beautiful man in front of me.

With golden blond curls and large blue doll eyes, Peyton resembles a cherub who should cosplay as Alice from Alice in Wonderland.

“Sir?” he asks, still biting his plush lip.

There’s that damn word again. Although I’d kill to hear similar words slip from his lips , it’s just a fantasy. There’s no way someone as sweet and pure as Peyton would willingly be with a monster like me.

The server drops off our food, and Peyton takes the opportunity to glance away, focusing on his sandwich.

“Tell me what’s on your mind. You seem upset today.”

He narrows his eyes as he considers the question. “You mean other than the damn near panic attack you gave me earlier? I was getting ready to call every damn hospital in a fifty-mile radius.”

I smirk, about to reply when Peyton mumbles under his breath. “If you planned on having a one—” he snaps his mouth shut and takes a sip of his sweet tea. “Never mind.”

Arching a curious brow, I lean forward. “If I planned on having what?”

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” A deep blush returns to his cheeks.

“If I planned on having what, Peyton?” I growl.

“A one-night stand. If you planned on having a one-night stand, the least you could have done was set an alarm or tell me ahead of time that you were going to be late,” he snaps.

At first, I’m confused. What on earth made him think I would be sleeping with anyone?

Then, it dawns on me. Carl’s muffled screams. All the blood.

The cries of pain and the desperate noises he made through his gag when I answered my phone.

The tone in Peyton’s voice. I release a low chuckle. “You’re jealous.”

He sputters, dropping his sandwich. “What? No, I just don’t like being left out of the loop.”

“So, you want me to tell you every time I decide to sleep with someone,” I tease. “You know, to keep you in the loop.”

He glares, and I have to refrain from reaching out and smoothing away that angry crease in his brow.

Oh yeah, I love the way Peyton looks when he’s jealous.

Like an angry little cherub with a bratty side.

Regardless, I can see what he’s doing. “Stop avoiding my question, Peyton. Tell me what else has you upset today.”

He sighs. “It’s my brother, Tyler. I think you met him once.”

I tense. Peyton and Tyler are close, but Tyler has a habit of picking men who are all kinds of wrong for him. Sometimes I want to shake the boy simply because of the amount of stress he puts Peyton through.

“What did he do?” I ask carefully.

“Actually, I don’t know. He called me this morning when I woke up. He sounded off. Almost like he wanted to tell me something, but chickened out at the last minute.” Peyton sighs again. “I just want him to be happy, you know? He deserves it more than anyone.”

I don’t think I agree with that statement. “You deserve to be happy too.”

Peyton’s bright smile lights up his entire face. “Thank you. I appreciate that. But you also don’t know what we’ve been through.”

Actually, I did. One night, shortly after Peyton became my assistant, we had an overnight trip for a business meeting in New York.

Fear had practically poured off Peyton in waves when he thought he’d spotted his abusive ex.

Thank goodness it wasn’t, but the whole situation caused him to spiral.

I found him drinking at the hotel bar later that night.

He was so drunk he spilled all his secrets.

His ex was an abusive cheater who beat Peyton just to make himself feel like a man.

Neanderthal shit that reminded me of my father’s abuse toward my mother.

To this day, he still doesn’t remember confessing all of that to me.

Peyton changes the subject, and I make a mental note to investigate his brother’s situation. Peyton deserves happiness more than anyone, which usually starts with ensuring his brother is all right.

After we eat lunch, Peyton excuses himself to use the restroom while I get up to settle our bill with the cashier.

Before I can finish paying, movement catches my eye as I spot a handsome man approaching my assistant.

The man reaches over and squeezes Peyton’s arm in a familiar, flirtatious gesture.

My thoughts become dangerous when Peyton smiles at the stranger with recognition.

I don’t like the possessive look in the man’s eyes.

An intense flash of rage surges through me.

Who the fuck does this guy think he is, touching what’s mine?

Peyton might not know it yet, but he belongs to me .

I imagine myself shoving the stranger away from Peyton, placing a territorial arm over his shoulder, before calmly guiding him out of the restaurant and back to my office.

Slamming him against the locked door and violently grinding against him as I sucked a bruise onto his neck.

His bratty little pleas turn desperate as he begs me to take him.

To fuck and claim him right there at work.

“Did you need anything else?” The cashier’s soft voice jerks me back to reality.

I shake my head, handing her my credit card.

My mind races as I sign the receipt. Peyton appears by my side, his delicious scent floating in the air and instantly calming me down.

His signature cologne of bergamot and lime mixed with something that’s purely him.

“You ready, sir?” Peyton smiles brightly, his slim fingers wrapping around my biceps for a brief squeeze. He’s so damn innocent, unaware of my murderous thoughts or the wildfire his touch ignites inside of me. The stranger is nowhere in sight.

I give a sharp nod. “Let’s go,” I snap, placing a hand on the small of Peyton’s back as I guide him out the door.

I have to control this caveman act, but Peyton always evokes these primal desires.

This uncontrollable need to claim him. Protect him.

It’s something deep and obsessive. Something I can’t stop, and it’s probably something I just need to embrace.

I’ve killed for Peyton once before, and I’d be willing to do it again.