The Cruelest Chaos (Unsainted Book 3) Read online

  Let it go.

  “Who’s that?” I keep my eyes on Natalie’s, but she knows who I’m talking about. It’s the only other girl in our group out here in the forest. The only person I don’t know.

  “Oh,” Natalie says, darting a glance at the redhead. “That’s Ella.”

  I inhale from my joint (turns out I didn’t need to bring my own weed after all) while Atlas helps Ezra with the fire and Cain scrolls through his phone, no doubt looking for a late night booty call to come to him out here. If he only knew there was one probably still waiting in Lucifer’s room where Ezra left her.

  I exhale through my nose. See Natalie swallow in the glow from the fire at our backs, the lights the pyrotechnics are using keeping this part of the forest well lit. Music is playing from a box speaker Atlas has set up. Some shit I don’t know.

  Natalie’s pupils are pinpricks and I wonder if Atlas knows she pops pills.

  Seems everyone is keeping secrets these days, so it wouldn’t exactly surprise me if he didn’t. Although he’d have to be a fucking idiot to not know.

  “And who the fuck is Ella?” It comes out harsher than I mean it to, but I’m a little on edge. Being horny, hungry, and having just beat a woman to death with a hammer does that to people.

  Natalie brings her hand to her throat, fiddling with the orange scarf she’s got on. It’s not that cold outside but whatever. I guess I can’t talk. I’m wearing a fucking bandana.

  “She’s...” Natalie swallows, takes a tiny step back from me as if I won’t notice. As if I’m a rabid dog. Close enough, I guess. “She goes to the school I volunteer at.”

  I frown. Glance at the redhead. She’s still sitting away from the rest of us, her back against a tree, head turned to the side, away from me. I have a bad feeling about her. I happen to like bad feelings.

  I toss the spliff at my feet and do my due diligence not to set these woods on fire by grinding it out with my boot. “Natalie. Can you just explain what the fuck you’re talking about?” I don’t know a damn thing about Natalie except that she goes to AU and fucks Atlas. I definitely don’t know what fucking school she volunteers at. I didn’t know druggies could even be volunteers. Now that I do, it’s like a whole new world has opened up for me.

  Ah, the possibilities.

  “I help out at a place called The Ark. For people with uh...special needs. Mental health issues.”

  This time I don’t just glance at the girl. I stare at her as I slide my hands into my pockets.

  “So, what’s wrong with her?”

  Natalie gives a nervous laugh. “She’s um...”

  I turn my head, looking at Natalie. I want to wring her fucking neck. Just spit it the fuck out.

  “She just doesn’t talk a lot. And she’s got um...well, Mayhem, I shouldn’t really say—”

  I cut her off with a glare. “Atlas know you’re doing so many drugs?”

  She looks like she might faint. I hear the fire pop at our backs. Hear Atlas laugh and Ezra’s rumbling voice. Atlas might not be laughing if he knew I was threatening his girl, but I don’t give a shit. I could use a fight right now with someone. Anyone.

  None of my brothers have asked me about Pammie. Only Ezra really knows, and he’s the least likely to talk to them about it, so they might be clueless. Either way, with Natalie here, we couldn’t discuss it anyway.

  And I don’t want to. It’s not that that’s got me on edge. It’s…everything else.

  “She’s got borderline personality disorder.” Natalie stumbles backward, throwing up her hands. “A few home issues. Don’t mess with her, Mayhem.” She frowns. “She’s been doing well.” And then she turns away, scurrying back to Atlas, whose eyes are on me, an uncertain smile plastered on his boyish face.

  She’s doing well.

  Well I’m just the person to fuck that up for her, aren’t I?

  I walk over to her even as Atlas says my name at my back. No doubt he’s ready to go around the circle and have everyone share our New Year’s resolutions like we’re fucking five years old.

  My New Year’s resolutions are simple: Get my sister back from Jeremiah. Don’t fuck anyone that’s kin to me. And maybe kill my dad if I’m feeling ambitious.

  Surviving Noctem would be good, too.

  Ella, if that’s her name, is wearing a long, black dress pushed up to her knees, with knee-high black boots and grey socks beneath. She’s got her hands in her lap, twisting something between her fingers.

  She looks up as I approach, and I’m momentarily startled by the sheer number of freckles on her pale face. They’re...everywhere. There’s something else, too. A red mark on her cheek, right below her eye.

  I can’t really make out what it is.

  Her dark red hair falls past one shoulder as she tilts her head.

  She arches a thick brow. Says nothing.

  She hasn’t even looked at my tattoo yet, and that’s the first thing people see when they see me. It’s a clear warning: I’m fucked up. Maybe she’s the type to ignore that kind of warning, which means she’s just my type for tonight.

  She stares into my eyes. In the light from the fire and the pyros’ work lights, I see hers are green, framed by long, dark lashes, but they’re puffy. Lined with red, like she’s been crying.

  Fuck.

  I break the silence between us first. “I’m just wondering why the fuck you’d come to a New Year’s Eve party and sit out here by yourself.”

  She blinks, looking annoyed.

  Wow.

  I cross my arms, cock my head. “Ella, is it?”

  She furrows her brow, stops twirling around whatever it is between her fingers and frowns. But she still doesn’t say a word.

  I have no patience as it is, and right now, horny, hungry, and not that high, I’m about to snap. Not to mention I still haven’t decided if I’m gonna kill my best friend or not.

  It’s been a long night and it’s not over yet. I’m ready to pick a fight.

  “Look, if you’re gonna be such a bitch, why don’t you just—”

  She stands to her feet. She’s a hell of a lot shorter than me, but she doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated by my height.

  “Yo, asshole!” Atlas calls to me.

  She glances over my shoulder, and I don’t know why it annoys me, but it does. I grab her chin, force her gaze back to me as I ignore Atlas.

  She looks startled, but her eyes harden quickly, startled turning to anger.

  “I’m talking to you,” I grind out.

  I hear a small pop at my back, and I know it’s the test for the fireworks. She flinches but keeps her eyes on me.

  Smart girl.

  “Why’re you over here by yourself?” I ask her, running my thumb over her red lips. I know it’s inappropriate, but my dick is growing hard all over again and I just don’t fucking care. “You been crying alone?”

  She hasn’t run yet. There’s that.

  “Dickhead!” Cain bellows this time, and I hear another pop. Another firework going off, which must mean it’s getting close to midnight.

  Ella finally speaks. “Your friends want you, Pretty Boy.” Her voice is surprisingly soft. A little Southern, but it’s a subtle accent and doesn’t sound like the standard North Carolinian drawl. I wonder where she’s from.

  “Yeah, but what do you want?” I counter. “What’re you crying about?”

  She bites her lip, and I want to bite it, too, but I take a breath and try to control myself. People usually talk before they fuck, right? How many minutes is standard? Two? Three? Can I get away with that? Usually, yes. But we’re in the middle of the woods and it’s kinda cold out here. I don’t really care, but she might.

  Fuck, I might not care about that either.

  She steps closer. I remember Natalie’s warning: She’s doing well.

  So how was she doing before?

  “Get your hand off of me,” she says calmly. She brings her own hand to my cheek, scrapes something hard against my face.

&n
bsp; I back away, letting go of her face and yanking her hand down. I see what she was playing with. Some sort of bone, shaped almost like a V. It reminds me of a bird, and I’ve seen enough dead, decomposing bodies to know it isn’t a human bone.

  Somehow, it doesn’t make me feel much better, but thankfully, she drops it.

  “What the fuck is that—”

  “Goddammit, leave the kid alone!” Ezra growls at me, and I clench my hands into fists as more pops go off, and the music gets louder.

  Don’t You Dare, by Zeal & Ardor. My favorite death metal blues shit, maybe because it’s the only kind that exists. A bit of Satanism mixed in with the gospel?

  Count me the fuck in.

  But right now, I don’t have time for my brothers or their music, unless they’re gonna suck me off to the song. I thought coming out here with them would be companionable.

  But then I saw Ella. She’s got a pretty mouth. That’s companionship.

  As Cain calls for me this time, I turn to yell at them over my shoulder, the music getting even louder. I cup my hands over my mouth. “Leave me the fuck alone!” I shout at them, and I see Atlas tip his head back and laugh, his arm slung around Natalie.

  I turn back to Ella, who is smiling at me. I notice her Cupid’s bow is very pronounced, giving her the impression of having a permanent pout, even when she’s smiling.

  It’s sexy as hell.

  I take another step toward her.

  Her red-rimmed eyes narrow, but a smirk still plays on her lips. “What do you want?”

  “What do you think I want?”

  “You wanna fuck me?”

  I’m startled by how bold she is, and she must see it in my face. Her smile grows wider.

  My heart slams in my chest. Is it really gonna be this easy?

  But before I can answer her, Ezra shouts after me and I groan, twisting around to yell back at him.

  By the time I turn around after I finish telling him just what it is I’m going to do to him if he doesn’t shut the fuck up, Ella is gone.

  Or, not gone.

  Running. Away from me. I see her long red hair trailing after her as she hikes her dress up to be able to run faster still. I swear I hear her laughing.

  I roll my eyes, groaning. I should’ve just fucked that girl in Lucifer’s room. But this…this could be more fun.

  So, me being me, I take off after her.

  Chapter Two

  She vanishes as I sprint to catch up with her, to track her before I lose her. I’m suddenly regretting not taking Lucifer up on his offer to join him and Sid on their morning runs. I work out, but I’m a lean fuck as it is, and cardio isn’t really my thing. However, smoking a fuck ton of pot is, and I can feel all the years of that habit now as my chest starts heaving.

  Even still, I’m not letting this little bitch get away.

  She’s like a nightmare come true within easy reach. I can feel my pulse pounding everywhere; in my head, my wrists. My fucking dick.

  It occurs to me that she might fucking stab me or something when I get to her. But then it occurs to me that, well, I might not mind that.

  I catch sight of her red hair again, trailing after her as she runs further from the fire and the lights. She still maintains a good distance between us, but my legs are longer than hers, and besides that, I know these woods. This is probably her first time here. I highly doubt she’s spent as much time out here as I have.

  She makes the mistake of turning to glance over her shoulder at me, and I see a glimpse of her pale face. Watch as she nearly crashes into a tree. Despite my piss poor conditioning, I know I’d run fucking miles for this ass if only to pin her down and ask her what the hell is wrong with her. But that stumble of hers almost stops this chase before it even really began. The longer it goes on, the fucking hornier I’m going to get. I hope she’s ready when I tackle her ass to the ground, because I’m not going to stop.

  She rights herself, dodges the tree, and I have to admit I’m kind of impressed. Still, I’ll be damned if she gets away from me. I need to get all this anger I’ve been holding onto out.

  She makes a sudden, sharp turn, attempting to throw me off, but I hear her cry out and I know she’s probably twisted her ankle. My suspicion is confirmed when I see her stop, bent over, hands on her knees, one trailing down the outside of her boot, to her ankle.

  I sprint the last few feet toward her. Just as she straightens to turn toward me, I tackle her to the cold ground.

  She yelps, and then she’s breathing hard underneath me, her back rising and falling against my chest. I grab the back of her hair, jerk her head up. In the dark, this far from the lights, I can’t see much, but neither can she.

  I reach into my back pocket and hold the knife up to her throat.

  Judging by the way she’s trembling underneath me, she’s fucking terrified.

  Lucky me.

  I go of her hair, flip her over underneath me so I’m straddling her, her wrists pinned above her head as I lean down close, the knife still to her throat.

  And in the darkness, I see her smile as she feels my cock growing hard again, digging into her stomach.

  “My ankle,” she says softly, but she’s still smiling. “It hurts—”

  “You like being pinned like this?” I interrupt her, my voice hoarse. I don’t give a fuck about her ankle. She shouldn’t have run.

  She bites her lip, nods her head. Fuck. I know I can’t be the only one; I can’t be the only one built to get off on the pain. But I’ve never met a girl that got this crazy, this quick.

  She’s fucking smiling while I hold a knife to her throat.

  I always wondered if that’s why I couldn’t love Ria. Not like that. She’s too practical. Too…good. Smart and gorgeous and level-headed…stable.

  I’m not feeling so stable right now. I haven’t been this sober in a long, long time, and I don’t really like it. It pushes me toward the edge I’m trying my damndest not to jump off of.

  I hold the blade to her cheek, run it down her skin. She’s still smiling up at me and I tighten my fingers around her wrists.

  “What’s your name?” I whisper against her mouth, wanting to hear it from her. Maybe subconsciously also hoping she’s not some strange relation of mine.

  Fucking Sid.

  She’s quiet a long moment, her breath soft against my lips. I wonder if I’ll have to make her bleed to get her to talk again. I wouldn’t mind that much. But finally, she answers me. “Ella,” she whispers. “Ella Christian.”

  “Why did you run, Ella Christian?” I ask her softly, skimming the flat side of the blade down to her throat, pale even in the darkness around us.

  At this, she chokes out a laugh. “Are you kidding?” There’s amusement and a hint of fear in her words. “Have you seen yourself?” She laughs again, and it sounds childish. Unsettling. “I know a devil when I see one.”

  “And just how many devils have you met?” I ask her, leaning down close, the blade still against her neck.

  I hear her swallow. “Not many,” she admits, “but every time I look in the mirror, there’s one staring back at me.”

  Her words make me hornier. I press my mouth to the hollow of her throat, beside the blade. “Poetic,” I whisper. “But just how bad are you?”

  “I like to make the devils chase me,” she says in a soft voice, and her back arches off the ground as she presses her body against me.

  I bite her neck, hard, and she whimpers but doesn’t try to get away, doesn’t try to move her hands, still pinned to the dirt above her head.

  “Now I’ve caught you,” I say against her skin. I let her wrists go, but she doesn’t move.

  Her vanilla-like scent is overwhelming my senses. That, and my cock against her stomach. The way she’s spread her legs for me, and I remember she’s wearing a dress.

  I feel her breath uneven and quick beneath me, her chest heaving. “Make it hurt,” she whispers.

  A nightmare come true.

  “I alw
ays make it hurt, Ella,” I promise her, trailing my mouth down over her collarbone, the knife still to her throat so she doesn’t move. I push her jacket apart, giving me better access.

  She sighs as my tongue dips down into her bra, gliding over her hard nipple. “Then make it dangerous.”

  I freeze, my lips on the smooth curve of her breast. My anger shifts to something else. “How dangerous?” I ask her, my heart pounding so fast I can barely get the words out. I already have a knife to her throat. Just how far is she going to let me go?

  “How do you feel about necrophilia?” she whispers, no humor in her words. I think about that bone in her hands. The one she held to my cheek.

  I’m about to come in my pants, and I haven’t even taken my dick out yet. Who is this girl? “I don’t have many hard limits, kid,” I manage to choke out against her skin. Does she want me to kill her? A small part of my brain tells me this could be a trap. A rape allegation waiting to happen. But a bigger part of my brain—or maybe just my dick—is telling me I’ve hit the fucking jackpot.

  She laughs and I bite her again, her laughter dying into a whimper. I push myself against her stomach, running my tongue between her chest, giving attention to her other nipple, biting it gently as it hardens in my mouth.

  Another firework goes off, and this time I hear it explode in the sky. It’s not a practice. It’s the real thing. Green shimmers above our heads, and blue follows.

  Perfect timing. If she starts screaming, no one will hear her.

  “How old are you?” I make myself ask, glancing up at her, her nipple still in my mouth. She can’t see me from this angle, the way I’m still holding the knife, but I can see her.

  “You don’t care about fucking dead bodies,” she says a little breathlessly, “but you’re worried I’m underage?”

  Red sparks above our heads.

  I suck her between my teeth, and she hisses, her eyes falling closed. “Just answer the fucking question.”

  “Nineteen,” she whispers, and I toss the knife away, coming up on all fours, her body trapped beneath me.

  She looks up at me, a smile on her lips, but she looks vulnerable, too. I like it.

  “Nineteen, huh?” She’ll be the youngest pussy I’ve had in a while.