Page 21 of The Ecstasy of Sin (Brutal Brotherhood #1)

Dominic

Her first.

Her first, her first, her first.

I’ll be her fucking last, too.

She may have left me on read last night, but the damage is already done. Her words took root inside of me and anchored deep. I’ve never given a shit about someone’s virginity, but it’s different with her, because it’s her.

I want every fucking piece of Wren. It’s a madness I can’t escape. The thought of another man ever having her is enough to make me want to set the whole goddamn city on fire. Knowing no one ever has? It’s a balm to my insanity.

Even now, standing across from Good Shepherd Respite, watching the front doors, I feel insane with the urge to text her, and remind her who she belongs to.

Instead, I wait. I leave our conversation exactly where it ended last night. I want her to burn in the aftermath of her decision to tell me I would be her first.

I wanted to tell her that I stood outside of the shelter all night. I wanted to tell her I followed her all day today—watching her as she filled out more job applications .

My phone is clenched so tightly in my fist that my knuckles are aching. My eyes flick between the shelter entrance and my screen, waiting for a message... or her appearance; whichever comes first.

A text comes in, but it’s not from her.

GHOST

Ryker says you killed some guy behind a church last night. He had no face left, apparently. Were you summoning Satan or some shit?

ME

He tried to kill Wren.

GHOST

That girl from the clinic? You still trailing her?

ME

Yes. She’s mine.

GHOST

Does she know that?

ME

I told her, but I don't think she truly understands. Yet.

GHOST

Alright, psychopath.

Don’t get arrested doing whatever you’re doing.

I smirk, turning off my screen and putting my phone away. It’s a miracle I didn’t get caught beating my last victim to death, but I knew Ryker and his crew would have my back.

Killing that piece of shit was as easy as breathing. The pleasure of it was divine, and as I sat on his chest, soaked in his blood, it hit me—I could’ve found release right then and there, if I’d been evil enough to drag her over and fuck her in the pool of his still-warm blood.

I ached for the contrast. His agony, and her ecstasy.

I wanted him gasping for his last breath, drowning in his own suffering, while Wren’s body shook with euphoria from the force of an orgasm.

Fuck. The thought of it has my cock straining painfully against my zipper.

The pressure is so unbearable that for a moment, I contemplate going inside the building just to find her. Just as I’m pushing off the wall to do exactly that, the double doors open and my pretty little lamb steps outside.

The cool September breeze lifts her hair, those soft brown waves dancing around her delicate face. She pauses on the top step, scanning her surroundings like she’s searching for something: like she’s looking for me.

I take a step back, letting the shadows swallow me whole, when I hear a voice calling out her name. My eyes narrow as a man her age exits the building behind her, jogging to catch up with her as she hits the sidewalk.

She turns to face him, brushing the hair out of her face and tucking the wild strands behind her ears in an effort to tame them. He reaches out, placing his hand on her upper arm, and the white-hot burn of possessiveness sinks into me like a branding iron.

Wren smiles, and my fists clench.

She shakes her head in response to something he says. He keeps talking, and I feel like I’m simmering on an open fire. I can’t handle seeing his hand on her body, the need to remove it with a fucking axe is riding me hard.

It takes everything in me not to go over there and beat the fucking shit out of him for touching what’s mine. In the middle of the street, in the light of the setting sun, where everyone would witness my willing descent into madness.

She takes a step away from him, as if preparing to walk away, when his hand drops and he grabs her wrist to stop her retreat. His facial features shift, frustration and determination settling there.

I’m moving before I even realize what’s happening, but before I can get close enough to intervene, she pulls her arm out of his grasp. “I said no, Simon,” she snaps, before walking right past him and down the street .

A few people stop to stare at Simon as she walks away from him. He’s left standing there on the sidewalk with a grimace on his face, like the taste of rejection is foul on his tongue.

Embarrassment turns his cheeks and throat red, and the combination is a dangerous one. The look on his face is the kind men wear before they do something stupid. Like retaliate because they can’t handle rejection.

Hatred fills me like a rising tide, and I know within the breath of a second that I’m going to kill Simon. He will never touch her again, and he’ll die for even thinking he could.

He watches her as she disappears in the sea of pedestrians. Then something shifts in him, and I see the exact moment he decides to follow her.

A decision that makes my heart race with anticipation.

I slip into the crowd, falling into step behind Simon, as he weaves in and out of moving people.

As I track him through the city, I reach into an inner pocket of my leather jacket and pull out a pair of black gloves.

Checking the tracking app on my phone, I can see that Wren is ahead of us. He must have eyes on her, because he’s picking up speed as she turns a corner. There’s an alleyway coming up on our left, and from the map on my phone, it’s a long one.

I jog to catch up with him, stepping up to his side, and using my shoulder to knock him into the alley. I follow, slipping into the shadows cast by the setting sun, and shove him deeper into the narrow space between the two buildings.

I toss a glance over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching us, before turning my attention back to Simon .

“What the fu—”

My fist connects with his jaw with enough force to knock the words right out of his mouth. He stumbles backward, and I grab him by the cuff of his jacket and throw him into a service corridor immediately to the left of us.

He falls to his hands and knees, groaning as gravel and broken glass carve their way into his bare palms. He lifts a hand to cradle the side of his face, falling onto his hip as he stares up at me with fear in his eyes.

“Please—”

I don’t let him finish begging for mercy. There’s nothing that can save him now, not when he’s a threat to my Wren. The sole of my heavy boot collides with his face, knocking him to his back with a grunt of pain.

Reaching behind me, I unsheathe my dagger and toss it into the air once before catching it again. I’m on him before he can orient himself, my blade slicing across his throat, as deep as I can press the razor sharp blade.

His blood flows like a river, an arterial pulse spraying heavy droplets across my chest. A violent jolt of pleasure shoots through me, settling at the base of my spine, and he collapses.

His arms jerk and twitch, hands lifting to press against his throat like he can somehow stitch his skin back together. With a cruel smile, I slap his hands away, before digging my own fingers into the gaping wound I just carved into his neck.

A gurgling sound echoes in the small space around us, and I lean forward as my fingers play with the gore of his ruined flesh. I dig into the layers of skin, fat, and muscle until I find his trachea, yanking it out of his throat so I can slice clean through it.

His body convulses, shaking violently, until his eyes roll back in his head and unconsciousness claims him.

I groan, dropping my head and letting the euphoria burn through me. His death is all over me, his blood coating my gloved hands.

I can’t stop myself from fantasizing about laying Wren down on top of him, and sliding between her thick thighs.

The mental image has my cock jerking behind my zipper, an orgasm looming, making me feel like a feral fucking animal about to come in my goddamn pants.

Wren.

She’s the fucking key. She’s everything.

Getting to my feet, I survey the carnage surrounding me, faced with the consequences of my impulsive actions. Pulling the ruined gloves off my hands, I stuff them into my pocket before reaching for my phone.

I open the chat between me and Ryker, and fire off a text message.

ME

Clean up service. Alley between Brunswick and Howland Ave. There’s a service corridor to the left, out of sight.

RYKER

What are you, the grim fucking reaper? Bodies are dropping all around you these days.

ME

What can I say? I’m an addict.

RYKER

Remember what I said about therapy? Fucking do that, you sick fuck.

ME

Love you too, brother.

RYKER

Fuck.

It’s a good thing the sun has dipped low enough to the horizon that it won’t be glaringly obvious that I’ve got blood sprayed all over my chest and arms when I step out into the world again.

I take off my jacket and use the partially clean inside to wipe myself down, before tossing the ruined leather over Simon’s corpse.

This is the second jacket I’ve ruined this week. I’m going to need to buy an entire storage locker full of leather jackets at this rate.

I look both ways down the alley before I step out, making sure no one is around. I rejoin the flow of people moving down the main street again, pretending I didn’t just massacre another human being moments ago.

Darkness swallows the city within the twenty minutes it takes for me to reach the shelter from where I lost track of Wren. I wander around the back of the building, leaning against the wall in the pitch darkness, my face illuminated by my phone’s screen as I confirm she’s still inside.

A message comes in. I open the group chat.

RYKER

Dom, I’m calling a fucking intervention.

TORIN

Do I even want to know?

RYKER

This motherfucker is killing people left and right in the middle of the fucking city.

GHOST

Sounds like a party.

RYKER

I’m the one that has to clean up the mess, you fuck.

GHOST

That sounds like a you problem.

RYKER

Well, I’m making it everyone’s problem now.

ME

He deserved it.

RYKER

That’s literally what you said about the last guy. THE ONE YOU KILLED LAST NIGHT, MIGHT I ADD.

TORIN

Damn, Dom. Even I don’t kill that often, and it’s my career.

GHOST

Leave him alone. He’s in love.

TORIN

All this bloodshed over that girl from the clinic?

GHOST

May this love find me and slam into me like a freight train.

I chuckle, a smirk stretching across my face, one I know reflects how fucking crazy I really am. In all honesty, I hope this feeling does find each one of my brothers. It’s a high unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Just before I can close the window, another message comes through.

RYKER

My men cleaned up your violent murder scene, you psychopath. Try to save the bloodshed for my fucking cage instead.

I send a kissy face emoji for good measure.

GHOST

This chat needs stronger fucking encryption…

I snort at that last message, the sound one of pure amusement. We are already using an encrypted app for our group chat, one that Ghost made himself.

We’re all fucked up, and none of us have a filter. Using anything other than Ghost’s own encrypted programs would be stupid.

Before putting my phone away and settling in for the night outside Wren’s shelter, another message comes in. This time, it’s from Wren.

My heart begins to beat a little faster. I’m already so addicted to every little scrap of attention she sends my way.

WREN

Were you following me again tonight?

ME

Yes.

I slip my phone back into my pocket, then lean back against the wall. Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift to thoughts of her.

I don’t know how much longer I can wait to take what’s mine.