Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

to confront him, and he was wasted. He didn’t learn a single thing. But I did. I learned how easy it was to make a murder look like an accidental OD.”

If this were a TV show, ominous music would’ve begun playing in the background before everything faded to black.

But we weren’t actors in a drama. Life wasn’t scripted so the bag guy always lost in the end. I knew that for a fact because I’d grown up around those same kind of entitled assholes who thought they were above rules and consequences.

“When I started my company, I’d find shit on people’s hard drives that they thought was gone forever. I’d tried going to the cops with it, but life isn’t a TV show.” He echoed my own knowledge. “Things don’t get wrapped up in a satisfying bow at the end of the hour. So I stopped following other people’s rules.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said something similar to me. I assumed he meant he broke the rules in lighter ways. Like, aiding people who wanted to die.

Or, I dunno, wearing a black belt with brown shoes.

Stuff like that.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” I asked.

“No.”

Well, at least he’s honest.

“So this wasn’t some subconscious way of telling me?” I asked.

“Hiding the shirt in a bag, buried deep in a closet that you had never stepped foot in?”

Okay, well, yeah, when he said it like that it sounded implausible.

“I didn’t have time to burn it yet because you were here. And I never wanted you to know. I wanted you to always look at me the way you do. To you, I’m a superhero. I hope like fuck you’ll still look at me like that because, I swear, I’m done,” Alexander vowed. “I won’t take the risk anymore.”

“Do you have control over it?” I thought about what I’d read and seen. “Isn’t it, like, a compulsion?”

“I never did it because I had to. I did it because I wanted to.”

That should not make me feel better.

“It gave me satisfaction to make a difference.” He cupped my cheeks. “But now I have you. And you give me more satisfaction than anything in my life ever has.”

And that should not be flattering.

If his stalking had been disturbingly reassuring, his obsessive love was codependently vital.

His darkness called to mine.

And now I knew that mine called right back to his.

My soul was torn.

On one side, he’d admitted to killing people. That alone should’ve been enough to send me running. There was a name for people like him that started with the word serial—and I wasn’t talking about Cap’n Crunch or Lucky Charms. It shouldn’t matter how honorable his reasons were.

Or how bad his victims were.

On the other side… Alexander wasn’t the only one who was selfish. I was supposed to throw away my first taste of happiness and love for rapists, murderers, and pedophiles?

No way.

I couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

“You’re done.” My tone wasn’t just firm, it was infused with steel and diamond and graphene. “No more. Not ever. Don’t even touch another person.”

His eyes widened before heating at my unrestrained show of jealousy. “Never.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise, flower.” His hands cupped either side of my throat, and he used his thumbs to tilt my chin up. Studying me, his question was almost faltering—as if he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. “Do you wish I’d followed through with you?”

I didn’t think or hesitate or falter. “No. For the first time in my life, I’m happy.”

His relief was evident, his eyes closing as he dropped his forehead to mine. “Thank Christ.”

And then he took my mouth in a kiss so intense, so searing, I wasn’t sure we’d ever separate. I hoped we wouldn’t. I dropped the shirt I was still clutching, the one that smelled of Alexander and was coated in the blood of the real monster, in order to clutch at him instead.

He lifted me easily, turning and striding to his desk. Lowering me to the cold wood, he pushed my pajama shorts down before working between us to free his cock. He was about to slam in, the thick head of him pressing at my entrance, when I put my hand to his chest and pushed him back.

Panic flared in his honey eyes, but I used the distance to tug my shirt off. “Clothes off. I don’t want anything between us.”

He stripped, his movements frantic and hurried and so damn hot. Once he was naked, he slammed into me before pulling nearly all the way out. He thrust back in again, filling me. Stretching me. Fucking me so hard, the force knocked papers and pens and whatever else to the floor.

Sex with Alexander was always passionate and mind-blowing.

But our usual chemistry mixed with the heavy current of freeing honesty was a potent combination, giving way to the most powerful experience of my life.

I wrapped him in my limbs and clung to him. Drowning. Trusting him to keep me afloat.

Accepting him like he accepted me.

Flaws.

Quirks.

And scars.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Pictures

Briar

For chicks, man

“I WANT US to go to the party for the app startup.”

Yikes.

No.

Beyond no.

I didn’t like going out to begin with. A night doing hipster activities with a bunch of strangers sounded like one of the circles of hell.

I wasn’t being rude or name calling. They’d leaned fully into their vibe. The invitation was made of recycled paper inside a Mason jar, and it’d arrived via bike messenger. The itinerary had involved craft beer tastings, farm-to-table food, indie bands, and ax throwing.

Drunk people armed with sharp projectiles wasn’t a circle of hell, but it could definitely be a ticket there if something went wrong.

“Why?” I was surprised by Alexander’s about-face. He’d been as against attending as I was.

“It’ll be good PR and networking. But bringing you is the only thing that’ll make it tolerable.”

I scowled because there was no way I could resist his charm, no matter how badly I wanted to. “Will you stay with me the whole night?”

“Try to keep me away.”

My nipples tightened at the heated dare.

Things