Page 5 of Promise of Destruction (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #1)

five

Declan

I reach out to steady her instinctively and can’t help but be surprised how cold she is under my touch.

Her bones are sharp beneath her skin without much to insulate them.

When I’d spied her in the parking garage in that sinful dress, I’d assumed she was the kind of woman who was meticulous and methodical, who lived her life according to what value other people gave her.

I’m good with people, especially with reading them. I put together a profile in less than a minute of seeing her— a good girl who goes to the gym five days a week, reads romance novels in the bathtub, and has made the humanitarian decision to go vegan because she loves animals.

But now that she’s in front of me, now that I can feel her frail body under my touch, now that I can see the pain in her eyes, I realize she is someone entirely different… someone broken.

She isn’t thin because she’s chosen to live healthily…

she wants the control she feels when she withholds food from herself.

She needs it. And I want her all the more for it.

My cock twitches as I consider how beautifully broken she is and think of putting her back together, only to shatter her again.

She will be beautiful collateral damage in my quest to ruin Soren, whoever the fuck he is to her.

A boyfriend, I hope. I’d greatly enjoy turning her into a little whore for me and sending him video evidence of what he lost.

I know I’m a monster, but I can’t change my nature any more than she can change hers.

I was born in the dark, and while I’ve learned to hide from the shadows, I can’t outrun myself.

My dark appetite for chaos and destruction always has a way of catching up to me in the end, and right now, it’s ravenous.

Right now, all thoughts of the redhead are gone, along with the temporary relief I took from her. Soren Palmer is a distant thorn in my side, a foe I will dispose of in time.

Right now, I have a new interest. And if she helps me get to him? Well, then, I’ll be killing two birds with a single stone.

“Are you alright?” I ask, brushing a hand over her dress, smoothing the skirt that lifted just a little up her svelte thigh as I grabbed hold of her.

The top of her head is just level with my chest, and as she stops to look up at me, I’m struck by just how tiny she is compared to when I first spotted her in the parking garage.

Now that she’s in my arms, she’s like an injured little bird. Just a snip of her wings and she’ll be helpless in my palm.

Her eyes are like ice—sharp, cold, hollow. And that beautiful face? It betrays her as she stares at me.

I wouldn’t be surprised to discover she is entirely hollow, full of stale air and cobwebs. I want to reach inside her and find out, but she makes it clear she wants nothing to do with me, wrenching out of my grip and brushing my touch from her skin, like I’ve repulsed her.

It isn’t the type of reaction I’m used to, but a sadistic little piece of me likes it.

It’s like her gaze sends a current of lightning from her to me, and it’s gone straight to my cock.

I’m painfully tight but delighting in her discomfort.

She has no idea what she’s done to me… or what I will have to do to get her out of my veins.

“Don’t touch me.” She snaps, waving a finger in the air like that will stop me from doing whatever I want to her.

“I was just seeing if you’re okay.” I raise my hands, showing her not to fear me… lying .

She’s not wearing shoes, and with one hand planted on her hip and the other raised to enforce a distance between us, she looks adorably feral.

She also looks more comical than fearsome, but apparently, she doesn’t need to look fearsome, because the music has cut out and I hear my name being growled from across the bar.

“Tony.” I greet the large man coldly as he comes around and puts a hand on her shoulder, his touch possessive as he pulls her into him.

I immediately imagine snipping those fingers off of him with gardening shears.

I’ve hated him for years anyway, but his touch on what I’ve just claimed as my new toy makes me want to fry his stubby fingers up like the sausages he loves so much and feed them to him.

Tony turns to another man, gesturing him forward without turning to see that his minion is following his command, sidling up to his side.

“Take Soren home.” Tony leans in closer so that he can whisper something neither I nor the woman manage to hear and then guides the woman with a hand low on the small of her back to follow his minion.

I want to glance around to find my mark, but I’m too focused on the woman, who’s oblivious to the fact that Tony’s hand is way lower than it needs to be.

He may as well just reach beneath her skirt and squeeze her ass, the way he’s holding her.

“Soren!” The girl by the window calls out, prompting my little bird to turn.

I see her mouth an apology, and then she’s shepherded out of sight, and I’m left with Tony… and the realization that Soren Palmer, the journalist who dragged me through the mud and raked me over the coals, is the beautiful brunette making my balls ache.

“What brings you here?” Tony demands, crossing his fat arms in an attempt to look menacing. He’s half a foot shorter than me, not much taller than Soren, and even if he were my same height, he’s so out of shape, he doesn’t stand a chance at intimidating me.

“I was in the neighborhood.” I smirk, knowing he ought to know better than that.

“Thought I'd see how the other half lives.” I glance around the bar at the eclectic mix of textures and décor.

“I'm impressed, Tony. You've come a long way from selling dime bags in the back of a pizzeria down in Roach Canyon.”

His face sours even more, if that's possible. He’s got a pretty nasty face to begin with, extra skin like curdled milk hanging around his neck, his shiny balding head blending in with his forehead and eyes like beetles sunk into his face.

“We both know you didn't stop in for a drink, so why’d you come?”

“Oh, I haven’t come yet.” I tell him quietly enough so that the bystanders can’t hear us.

“But I will. All over those perky tits.” My eyes flit to the door that one of the other men led Soren through, and then back to Tony in time to see his face turning red.

“And in that sweet little cunt. Is she one of yours? Maybe I ought to put a little bastard inside her… something to remember me by.”

My cock twitches at that idea, more excited than I’d ever let on at the image that flashes through my brain of her stomach swollen and her mouth open, begging for my cum.

Tony wouldn’t stand a chance with a woman like Soren Palmer even if she was blind.

Tony Scada Bucci is probably the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever known, and yet even he knows that.

But she clearly means something to him, and though he’s nearly old enough, I’m guessing he’s not her father…

although I sort of wish he was. What sweet victory it would be to destroy something precious to him.

Two birds, one stone. I could have my cake and eat it too.

“You stay away from her.” He wags a stubby finger in my face, making me chuckle at my earlier urge to snip those fingers off. I’ve never done anything like it, but if there was ever a time to take up a new hobby, it’s now. Fortunately for Tony, his backup finally arrives.

A heavily-muscled man stands at his shoulder, waiting on a command.

The other new addition is a kid like a toothpick. I could snap him simply by pushing him outside in a rainstorm and letting the wind blow too hard. I could take all three of them at once and probably still catch up to Soren Palmer before she gets to her car.

But it’s no matter. It’s best not to cause a scene, particularly when people recognize you.

Besides, I already know where she lives.

“It was good to see you, Tony.” I clap his cheek a little more firmly than necessary.

Anyone watching us would think we’re old friends, and it isn’t too far from the truth. But I know that he’s fuming, that his skin will be red for hours from the indignation more than the little slap.

“I mean it, Evers. Don’t fuck with me.”

“Of course, Tony.” I back away, slapping on a smile for the dual effect of pissing him off further while convincing the onlookers that we’ve just had an amicable little chat. “It’s always a pleasure.”

My eyes flit to the corner window, where Soren had been sitting with a man and woman.

They definitely don’t look like a couple…

I’d bet all the money in my Swiss account that the guy is gay, whether he knows it or not.

And the girl? She’s looking at me like she knows something I don’t, like she’s scared of me but doesn’t want me to know it.

I get the sense she’s used to acting tough, talking a big game.

The moment my eyes meet hers, she shrinks, her obviously fake eyelashes fluttering downward as she turns away.

She’s cute but lacks the intrigue her friend has.

Her edges are too smooth; She’s soft, innocent but pretending she’s not.

I flash a smile as I walk past them, and they both manage a smile in return.

No, Soren isn’t soft. She’s all rough edges.

Whatever broke her didn’t just crack her… she’s shattered . Her broken pieces splintered and now they stick out at awkward angles, never to go back to the way they used to fit.

Soren Palmer is a broken woman, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.