Page 3 of Drag You Down (Bloody Desires #2)

GAbrIEL

M y little lamb — Levi — is so disoriented that he doesn’t notice me following him.

It’s for the best. He isn’t prey, to be frightened and tormented.

He’s something more than that, but he’s as inextricably tied to me as my quarry usually is.

Now that I’ve decided I’m interested, that he’s mine , there’s no escaping me.

I should feel guilty for marking him that way. I should feel guilty for not giving him a choice.

I don’t.

Those blue eyes of his called out to me. They demanded my attention; they tempted me.

They asked for something only I could give.

New Bristol is a bustling city, and at this early hour of the evening, it’s easy to get lost in a crowd. No one notices the blood splatter across my black clothing, the wet spot on my knee from where I’d lowered myself in front of him. They won’t. They never do.

As far as they’re concerned, I’m one of them.

I have to slow down as we start to approach an apartment building. It would be inconvenient for him to see me now and try to lose me when I’m so close to knowing exactly where he lives, exactly where to find him again.

I want to know everything about him.

Levi.

A beautiful, angelic boy, with pale skin and dark curls that contrasts sharply. His body is so slight in comparison to mine—thin, with few muscles, and I wonder if he’s even getting enough to eat.

He’d radiated something I couldn’t identify, some innocence that should have made him untouchable. But he’d tasted my victim’s blood, and I don’t think it was by chance that we encountered each other.

I think it was fate.

He needs me. He needs me to guide him, to nurture him.

He needs my loving hand to care for him in this cruel world.

The one single good thing Lansbury did in his life was lead Levi to me. I’d enjoyed Lansbury’s terror, making him scream and beg and regret his actions.

I remember the courtroom interviews, his insistence of his innocence.

The way his victims cried on the stand as his lawyers tore them apart.

And the smug look on his face when he’d been declared not guilty , telling the press that a grave injustice had been righted.

No.

If the courts wouldn’t avenge the victims, then I would.

The universe, God, another deity entirely — I’m not sure which, but I’d known that the standard Christian deity would be the easiest way to appeal to a lost little lamb like Levi, who had assumed that the man was saying hell instead of help.

Levi, who belongs to me.

The apartment complex Levi approaches isn’t quite rundown, but it’s in desperate need of maintenance.

The stoops leading up to it are dirty, the railing rusty.

The front door’s glass is covered in a thin layer of dust. The building itself is showing its age, and I decide I don’t like the idea of him staying here.

I’ll have to find another place for him to live.

No. The only way I’ll know he’s safe is if he’s with me, at my condo.

While the lack of security works to my benefit tonight, it will make it more difficult to protect him going forward.

There are too many evils in the world to risk him becoming a victim of someone like those I hunt down and slaughter for their crimes.

A lamb like him is too tempting for the wolves of the world.

I follow more closely as he enters the building.

He stops by the mailbox to pick up the mail, and I wait until he’s gone up the stairs to look at which one he’d opened. It’s labeled as belonging to apartment 302, belonging to a Z. Carpenter.

I depart before he can catch on to my presence. I don’t need to spook him any more than he’s already been spooked tonight.

I do wonder who Z. Carpenter is. A boyfriend? That could complicate things, but I’m not worried.

There’s no question that Levi is mine. I won’t allow anyone else to have him.

I shouldn’t have told him my name, but I’d been unable to lie to him. I’d wanted to hear it from his lips, but he hadn’t used it.

I’ll have to fix that, too.

More than that, I want to hear him call me something else, something more intimate.

Daddy .

So many subs call me that, and it’s never meant anything, but I know it’ll be different coming from Levi. He’ll mean it in a way the subs I meet at clubs never do.

I hail a cab so I can return to my own home, a proper apartment in a proper apartment building that values appearances and security far more than Levi’s does.

My brown tabby cat immediately greets me at the door, rubbing against my ankles, and I reach down to pet him.

His automatic feeder should’ve taken care of his appetite, but like any other cat, he’s perpetually determined to make me think he hasn’t been cared for.

I double check his bowl anyway, finding that he’s pushed all of it to the sides, and shake it to more evenly distribute it. He immediately comes to investigate, then gives me a look like I’m an idiot

What he really wants is wet food. I pet him again, then empty a can of wet food into a new bowl for him. He immediately starts scarfing it down like the savage kitty he is.

I shake my head, wondering if Levi likes cats. He’d like Ichabod, I’m sure. It’s impossible not to. Unless he’s allergic…

But no. There’s no need to borrow trouble, and I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’m ready to get my bloody clothes off.

The thought of how they’d come to be saturated with blood brings me back to my little lamb, and I lick my lips like I can still taste Lansbury’s blood.

I wish I was tasting Levi’s instead.

The fantasy has my cock throbbing in my pants, and I shed them quickly, tossing them and the rest of my clothing directly into the washing machine. By the time I get back to my bathroom, I’m fully hard, and I’m barely under the spray of the shower before my hand is on my dick.

My thoughts linger on Levi, on what I would do if I brought him home with me.

It would be simple enough to make a cut on my chest, giving him something to lick away. He doesn’t need anything tainted. If his predilections include tasting it, it needs to be from me .

I moan at the thought of that tongue flicking across my skin, so hesitant but so very eager at the same time as he gives in to the fantasies I know he’s experiencing.

Why else would he taste a dying stranger’s blood?

Does he taste his own?

The thought threatens to bring up something dark inside of me. I don’t want to think about Levi hurting himself so he can indulge in something he doesn’t need to experience alone. If anyone causes him pain, it will be me.

With the coppery taste of blood on his tongue, he’ll kiss me, and I’ll gently urge him to his knees so he can taste something else entirely.

I groan at the idea of running my fingers through those soft black curls, pulling him closer until he’s taking the tip of my cock past his lips.

Would he lie to himself and say he doesn’t want it, or would he allow himself to freely take what I know he needs?

My hand slowly pumps my cock, and I lean against the shower wall as I experience my fantasy. It’s so real that I swear I can feel his breath on me, the wetness of the shower spray allowing me to pretend it’s the warmth of his tongue. I arch my hips into it, and I let my mind drift further.

What would he look like covered in blood from head to toe? If I taught him to slit the throat of someone who truly deserves it, would he indulge? Would he allow himself to be coated in it, reveling in it?

Would he feel the same rush I do? The same twisted satisfaction of ending a life that’s only brought pain to others?

The thought is enough to send me over the edge, though the cum is instantly washed away. I open my eyes, but the image of him still lingers in my vision.

He’s going to be mine.

I bathe, uninterested in lingering beneath the spray now that I’ve taken care of my pressing needs, then dry off.

Murdering Lansbury—and meeting Levi—took the edge off, but I know the hunger inside me won’t be sated for long.

He’d called me the Devil.

Maybe he isn’t entirely wrong.

I get changed, then grab my laptop and settle into bed. Ichabod jumps up to join me while I browse Wanted lists and check the news.

After a few minutes of that, I look up Levi’s address and Z. Carpenter . Unfortunately, it’s a much too common name, and the only thing I find out about the apartment building is that it’s owned by a private equity firm.

That’s usually a sign that something else is up.

My curiosity piqued, I try to find apartment listings, but there hasn’t been a vacant unit in that building in years. I can’t find a management office or any form of contact information either.

That’s definitely not normal.

Ichabod butts his head under my hand, and I pet him.

“Looks like we’ve got a new project,” I tell him. “Who in the world is my little lamb?”

Something to look into in the morning.

U sually, I’d spend my day off looking through the news for a new target worth stalking, someone who will satisfy this incessant need to kill, but my thoughts stray once again to Levi. This itch doesn’t ordinarily manifest until I’ve found my next mark, but my little lamb is so much more than prey.

He’s an obsession.

I know on some level that I should shake it and walk away, but the thought alone is unacceptable. I won’t be able to let him go until I’ve tasted him again, until I’ve felt him beneath me and whispered in his ear how beautiful he is.

He can think I’m the Devil all he wants.

I want him to be my fallen angel.

Every free moment I have, I go to his apartment building and wait outside, hoping to see him again. Unfortunately, in an entire week of waiting, he’s never once come out. I even set up a small camera pointed at the door so I could track his habits, but Levi is nowhere to be seen.

More curiously, almost nobody leaves the rundown three-story building.

There’s a man with a full beard who leaves and returns three times, several middle-aged men who leave together in the mornings and return in the evenings, and a single woman who leaves but is back within the hour.

Other than that, there’s no activity from the building at all.

When I sit there at night, I see lights on in the windows and I can see silhouettes through the blinds and curtains, so I know there are people inside—but those people never leave.

It’s increasingly suspicious, and I find myself even more interested in Levi for it.

I need him to leave.

I need to see him again.

I need to make sure I didn’t imagine him.

Good thing there are ways to force him out.

I stride into the building like I own it, but like before, no one is around to see me. It’s disconcerting, and I have to wonder all over again why people aren’t constantly coming in and out.

The lone camera in the lobby doesn’t deter me. I set a package down near the mailboxes, unlabeled, and walk further in.

The building is from the 1950s, and it’s easy to see that the landlord hasn’t done much in the way of modernization. The handrails on the stairs are clean, though, and I don’t spot obvious dirt trails like I would expect from an older building. The dust on the front door is an outlier.

I stop in front of apartment 302. It’s on a corner, which tells me it’s probably larger than the other units. When I lean close to the door, I can hear voices filtering through.

Is one of them Levi?

I step back and consider my options. If I knock on the door, I might scare my little lamb, and I can’t even be sure he actually lives in this unit.

I glance around and spot the fire alarm on the wall by the stairs.

That’s one way to get people out of a building. I don’t want to risk getting seen yet, though, so I go back downstairs and pull the alarm there, using my sleeve to not leave fingerprints.

The alarm starts blaring, and I calmly walk outside and to the other side of the street, leaning against a car that’s parked there. Other people stop at the commotion.

After a few minutes, several people walk out of the building.

They’re all dressed in the same beige-and-white getup. Beige slacks or skirts, crisp white shirts. The women have long hair, while the few men who appear are all clean shaven except for the bearded man I’d seen on the video footage.

And, finally, Levi exits.

My heart freezes, and a small smile spreads across my lips.

He’s as beautiful as I remembered.

He truly will be my fallen angel.

Soft black curls fall around his ears, and he purses his plush lips in dismay.

Levi is holding a woman’s hand, but she looks similar enough to him that I assume they’re siblings. No need for jealousy.

She shouldn’t be touching him though.

He’s mine.

After a few minutes, the bearded man goes over to Levi and his sister. He puts his arms around them both, and my smile turns into a scowl.

I have to assume that this is Z . He looks old enough to be their father, but there’s something in the way he’s touching them that has me thinking he’s more than that. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I don’t like it.

Maybe he needs to be my next target.

I force myself to calm down. I don’t know what they are to each other yet. For all I know, Z is their father, I remind myself. He could be something else entirely.

I scan the crowd again, focusing on the anomalies I’m noticing. Their dress, their hair, their demeanors — it’s all so similar. I purse my lips, not liking this at all, then my gaze returns to Levi.

My little lamb looks spooked.

I want to go to him and comfort him, to tell him there’s no threat, but that would give up the entire game. I’m not ready for that yet.

I’m not ready to stop staring at him yet, either, but like he’s every bit as aware of me as I am of him, our eyes meet even in the middle of this chaos.

He freezes, and I smile at him.

It’s as gentle as I can make it, but he still turns away from me. It makes something seize in my chest, and my fingers curl into fists at my sides. I want to be the one he turns to, not the one who causes him to look to another man for comfort.

Time. I need time.

I don’t know what he’s going to say to Z, and I can’t risk being seen there by anyone but Levi himself. Instead of lingering, I turn and walk away with calm strides.

I saw him. I didn’t imagine him, didn’t dream up the entire encounter.

I know where he is, and I know how to get to him.

The next step is to make him want me as much as I want him.

It’ll take time, but I’m patient.

At least, I’ll have to be this time.