8- Lucille

“Do you think Eve would mind if I came back home smelling like alcohol?” I ask, eyeing the bottle in front of me. We’re now in a club that’s only a few meters away from the island.

Of course, no one here in this town knows of that place, and the few that do have been paid off by the previous inhabitant who’s now somewhere down in the middle of the sea. “All of this is fascinating. I’m not sure what to do,”

“I will be amazed if she’s still there when we return,” Damien sounds like he hasn’t slept for years as he picks up a cigarette and places it in his mouth, lighting it now. “You are pushing her past her boundaries. Not sure if she needs all this egging on,”

“Where will she return to? Really? She came because she has no one.” I can’t help the trickle of pleasure that the thought brings me. It feels the same way driving a knife in the back of someone’s skull would have made me feel. Light. Important. Like I am not just a waste of air in a world filled with people with purpose.

I had no purpose a few days ago. And now…

Now, I have a princess, and I am a knight in shining armor.

“No, you’re the dragon,” Damien cuts in, his voice deadpan and when I look at him, he sighs and blows out smoke, “You said it out loud,”

“Ah,”

The music in the club is loud, drowning almost. It used to quieten the madness in me. The one that tormented me to the point that I had to bury myself inside someone— pussy, or blood, really as it was the only way to calm the rage inside me. To cause a person emotions and know I’m the reason they’re feeling it.

Sex is good, but short lived. Murder is fascinating but also very short lived.

Eve is…

“How long do we have before I have to return back to New York?” I can feel the apathy creeping in, the usually dullness I’m used to slowly taking over my veins as whatever emotions Eve had managed to feed me goes away, “Two months?”

Damien looks at me like I’m insane. “Two days, at most. Your Father already knows that you have her as an asset, but he doesn’t understand why you’ll present the idea that she died in the explosion you caused. Or go AWOL. This whole thing is only happening as safely as it is now because he wills it. If you go out of line, he might speak to Don Stevano and call off the whole operation—”

“Father is many things but not a mad man,” The words taste bitter in my mouth. Mad man. That title is usually reserved for me. My mood worsens as an image of him flashes in my head. The music doesn’t drown it. The voices are louder instead, my head hurting. “He will see the value in having Eve as my wife—”

“Which is the opposite of what he sent you to do when you went for the meeting in Italy. Fuck her and get her to want you. Not to wed her,” Damien’s voice is soft, worry covered over every word. “Perhaps, you’ll survive his punishments as you always do but her—”

I don’t let him finish his sentence as a small growl leaves my lips before I can stop myself. Damien looks slightly confused, his body slowly sitting more erect as he says quietly, “You made a deal with him. You know what that meant. You knew the risks. We cannot afford—”

“I know,”

I know the plan. I know how risky this is for me— especially me. Yet, the strange emotion in my chest does not stop. It’s strange because it’s something I’ve never felt before. It’s a ravenous hunger that makes me feel… possessive. Like a dog with an owner that he needs to protect.

I have felt like that for most of life.

Just a dog.

To kill, fight. Destroy. That’s all I do.

I cause pain and I harm and I hurt. But… but I want more than that.

I am a dog that… wants.

I want to see her reaction when I do something she doesn’t imagine. I like the faces she makes. I want to see what she would look like when I come to her covered in blood. If she’ll care for me again.

I want her to put her hands on my body and do whatever she wants with me.

“Lucilleeeeee,” I know that voice before I feel her crawl into the space next to me. Sasha. I know her name because her mouth is very familiar with my dick and she’s good at taking in as much of me as she can, she puts a lot of effort into it. Except now… now all I can think about is if Eve would try it as well. Will blowjobs be beneath her? Will she let me cum on her face? “You’ve been gone forever, and now that you’re back—”

“Your voice,”

She bats her eyes at me. “Yes, Lucy,”

“Has it always been so grating?” I watch the different emotions that flashes in her eyes. I am never angry when she is next to me. Anything but that. Yet, it is not anger I feel right now. It is confusing, and it is irritating how one slap from her has someone reset my entire brain chemistry.

“Lucy, if there’s something—”

I grab her neck.

It’s sudden for her so fear immediately fills her eyes. My hold is tight, but not too tight that she can’t push herself away from me. I wait to feed on her emotions, to see what comes over her face… but that’s not what happens.

Instead, the fear doesn’t go away, if anything, she looks even more terrified as she reaches out for my arm and forces her lips to pull into a smile as she says, “Tell me, baby. What do you want? You know I’m open to anything,”

Eve wouldn’t have said that.

My brain is confused. Confused by why her skin feels like sandpaper. Because all it wants is to touch Eve. Her skin will be soft, won't it? Her father would have never let her work more than she has to. She looks that way. Soft. Fragile. Just like that day at the engagement party

Eve wouldn’t be talking. She’d be fighting. She’d be trying to break my fingers. She’d hiss my name like a curse.

And I’d be as hard as I was this morning at the church. Not as limp as a wet noodle like I am now.

And I hate it. I hate this… need. These… emotions. And I want to fix it. “Anything, baby?”

The nickname has hope returning to her eyes, “Y-Yes. What can I do for you?”

I grin. “What’s your opinion about being water boarded?”