Page 15 of Unholy Vows

Malachai

A slow smile spread across my face as I thought of Layla opening my invitation.

Poor little Layla.

I’d watched from the only camera she hadn’t discovered for the past two weeks as she waited with bated breath for my next move. By the end, she had been wound so tight, the slightest breeze could have snapped her in half.

After her striptease, I struggled to resist the temptation to turn up at her apartment in the dead of night and show her exactly what she did to me.

But I had resisted. Patience was an art form that yielded its own reward.

You didn’t catch a wild thing by chasing it. You let it circle you, growing curious, growing needy.

And Layla was wild.

She’d proven that more than once. She refused to allow her fear of me to force her to retreat.

Even when she should.

I had piqued her interest, and now she was hungry. I’d left that hunger to fester until she was ready to crawl back to me on her hands and knees.

And she was close. I could feel it.

The silence was gnawing at her, working its way under her skin, driving her to the brink.

The wait was nearly over, but I was going to let her squirm a little longer.

The man in front of me released a panicked cry, drawing me out of my pleasant musings.

“Please,” he begged. “I know nothing.”

“Keith, has anyone ever told you, you sound like a broken fucking record?”

I pushed his back against the brick wall, letting the cigarette between my lips burn, forgotten. The orange tip cast a soft glow across the filthy alley, and my lip lifted in a sneer.

My gaze drifted lazily to the other man. Keith was middle-aged, greasy, and soaked in fear and sweat.

Just another predator who believed the dark crowned him king.

Keith had a fondness for stalking prostitutes and luring them back to a secluded side street with the promise of a fat payday. Once there, he would unleash years of unresolved mommy issues by carving up his victims until they were unrecognizable.

He picked the wrong alley tonight, though.

“If you can’t help me, what good are you?”

I tapped his cheek lightly, and the man whimpered.

Fucking whimpered.

I’d barely even begun.

I hadn’t given up on finding The Boston Phantom despite the distraction my Little Sinner had proven herself to be.

Roger had ended up being a sore disappointment. Now, I was on the hunt for my next source. The scumbag in front of me was the perfect starting point. At least, I thought he was. But Keith was proving an even bigger letdown than Roger.

Keith struggled against me, his primal will to live finally kicking in.

Good.

Fear made their deaths all the more sweeter.

Just like my Little Sinner.

Her fear was my drug of choice, and I was addicted. I inhaled a deep breath, as though I could draw her delectable scent into my lungs if I tried hard enough.

A sharp pain lanced the front of my leg, and I grunted.

The bastard had kicked me right in the shin. Hard.

Keith lifted his leg to strike again, and I moved out of range, instinctively loosening my grip on his collar.

He didn’t waste the opportunity I had presented him with. He barreled down the alley as fast as his legs could carry him.

“God fucking dammit!” I hissed before sprinting after him.

The throbbing pain in my leg intensified, and I clenched my jaw. Keith’s desperate breaths filled the quiet street, and if that sound alone didn’t draw attention, then the loud crash that bounced off the brick walls when he stumbled into a trash can certainly would.

“Fucking, fuck.”

The man howled, shrieking like someone who knew exactly what fate nipped at his heels.

I needed to shut him up.

Right. Fucking. Now.

My boots pounded against the pavement as bloodlust clawed its way up my throat, hot and reckless. I rummaged through the trash, picking up the first heavy thing my fingers connected with.

A tire iron.

Thank you, Father, for your divine intervention.

“It wasn’t me,” I heard him admonish, and a small smirk pulled up my lips.

Without thinking, I hurled the tire iron, sending it sailing through the air.

A loud whistling sound erupted, followed by a loud crack that echoed down the alley. Keith pitched forward mid-run before falling unceremoniously to the ground.

I skidded to a stop a few feet away, my chest heaving to the rhythm of my blood roaring in my ears.

Keith lay motionless on the ground.

Dead.

I stared down at the man’s body as irritation flared in my veins.

“Well, shit,” I muttered as I raked a hand through my hair.

I nudged Keith’s lifeless form with the toe of my boot.

“There goes all the foreplay.”

I glared at the dead man as though the turn of events was entirely his fault.

It wasn’t.

It was hers .

If my Little Sinner hadn’t wormed her way into my goddamn brain, I would have been focused.

I am methodical when I kill.

Always.

No distractions.

No rushed jobs.

I threw my head back and laughed.

“You see what you do to me, Little Sinner?” I whispered into the empty alley. “You’ve made me sloppy.”

I crouched beside the corpse, taking note of the crimson pool slowly seeping out from beneath him.

“This could’ve been beautiful,” I groaned.

“You and me. A little screaming. Some begging. A faint whimper right at the end...” I trailed off.

“Almost as good as her.”

The dead man, of course, did not answer. Which, frankly, was rude.

Sighing, I straightened. I needed to dump the body.

I rolled my shoulders and let the adrenaline coursing through my veins buzz beneath my skin like static.

What a beautiful, wasted night.

I stared at Keith’s broken body a moment longer before a dark chuckle escaped me.

“You’ll be the death of me, Little Sinner.”

I wasn’t sure whether that thought thrilled me or unsettled me.

Maybe both.

I leaned down, grabbing Keith by his ankles, and started dragging him toward the nearest dumpster, as I hummed a tune under my breath.

It was messier than I would have liked. The fact that Keith was heavier than he looked didn’t help either.

His deadweight snagged against every crack in the pavement, slowing my progress.

By the time I reached the dumpster, I was sweating.

“For someone who considered himself an apex predator, you sure hunted those tacos harder than your victims, my friend.”

As I heaved his corpse up, propping him against the metal bin, I patted him down, searching for anything that could help identify him.

But I found nothing.

No wallet. No keys.

Keith was smarter than I gave him credit for.

A cheap silver ring adorned his finger, and I plucked it from his hand to study it closely. It had a faint engraving on the underside; a single word scratched into the metal.

Daddy .

I might have felt sorry for his offspring, but honestly, they were better off without him. I saw the bruises their mother tried to hide every Sunday at mass.

As I pocketed the ring, I made a mental note to discard it at another location.

With a grunt, I grabbed Keith’s body by the belt loops and shoved him into the dumpster. The lid banged shut with a satisfying clang.

As I wiped my hands on my jeans, I felt the last threads of adrenaline slip away.

A slight drizzle dampened my skin before it turned into a frenzied downpour. I tilted my head to the sky, letting the cool moisture soak through my clothes, washing away the evidence of my sins.

If God wasn’t on my side, Mother Nature sure as hell was.

As I stood in the pouring rain, my thoughts wandered back to Layla. It was almost cute the way she’d performed for me that night. She thought she was playing to win. Thought she could tempt the wolf into softening, bringing me to heel.

But there was nothing soft about me.

And I didn’t want soft.

I wanted frantic desperation.

I wanted Layla to unravel so thoroughly that she forgot who started this fucked-up dance to begin with.

My cock swelled against the front of my jeans at the thought, and I adjusted myself through the material.

I had almost broken the night of her striptease.

Almost.

Instead, I’d pulled back. Starved her out, letting her rot in her anticipation. The longer she ached, the sweeter it would be when she gave in to me.

She would beg me to tear her apart.

I glanced down at my watch, noting the hour.

11:34 p.m.

A slow smile spread across my face as I retrieved the tire iron and slipped out of the alley, blending into the night.

It was time for my Little Sinner’s next surprise.