I hear her gulp loudly. “Yes,” she whispers.

“Did you enjoy it?” I ask, genuinely curious, not that it will change what I’m about to do.

She shivers in my hold, trembling. “Yes.”

Chuckling, I press the handle of the knife to her hole. I manage to work it in an inch then back out again. It’s slow going until the handle of the small blade sits in her ass. Stepping back, I look at the sight—the red welts on her ass, a knife sticking from it, her cream coating her thighs. Fuck. I almost come from the sight alone. Grabbing my phone, I take a quick picture and send it to the guys, letting them know what they are missing before tossing it away and taking her hips again.

“Diesel,” she starts, as I line up with her pussy, the blade pressing to the fleshy skin above my hip. “You’ll hurt—”

With a roar, I slam back inside her, impaling myself on the knife. It slices through my skin, and it’s a good job I know where to cut so it’s not fatal, but it hurts like a son of a bitch. The pain surges through me, meeting the flames in my stomach and balls. I take it out on her, fucking her harder, faster, the knife slicing in and out of my body as she screams. Blood drips down from the wound onto our joined bodies, making the passage even slicker. I can’t move much, I don’t want to shred my insides even though the knife is small and just going below the skin.

She whimpers, her pussy clenching and wanting more, and I do as well. So even though I love the pain and the blood now coating our bodies and hands, I grab the knife between us, moving it away to give me room.

I twist the knife, causing her to groan and me to grunt in pain before I yank myself back and pull the knife free, tossing it away as I fuck her.

Blood runs freely from my wound, and I know if I leave it too long I’ll pass out. It needs to be stitched up at some point, but for now, I’ll survive. “You’re going to have to stitch me.”

“What—” She moans, barely able to talk.

“Once we’re done, stitch me or I might die,” I tease, but she gasps, thinking I mean it. Laughing, I grab her hips and slam into her again and again as I rub my blood-covered finger over her clit. My balls are drawing up, pleasure and pain roaring through me.

I’m too close, I want this to last forever and would happily die here, but I need to come. To see it dripping from her bloody, wet cunt. “Come,” I demand, and she screams as I yank on her clit piercing, her pussy clenching around me as she does. I grunt as I slam into her and still, filling her with my cum.

Panting, I lean against her, the chains swinging loudly before, with a groan, I slip free from her body. I reach up and wince at the pain that movement causes on my damaged skin as I free her and catch her before she falls. Even though it hurts, and I’m feeling a bit weak from the blood loss, I cradle her in my arms and head over to the crate, setting her down. Her eyes are still closed, her body shivering in aftershocks.

She survived it.

Brushing hair from her face, I kiss her gently. “Little Bird, Little Bird, I knew you would be the one. You will never escape us now, you are mine. Forever. Bound tighter than any ring or marriage ever could. You try to leave, and I will hunt you down.”

She grins, and I lean next to her with a groan. “Feel like stitching me, Little Bird? I hope your fingers are steady.”

She blinks open her eyes and locks onto the wound in shock, gasping. “Fuck, okay, yeah, I can stitch. I’ve had to do it a few times on myself. I learned quickly. You got a kit?”

Laughing, I point at the kit in the corner that I have stashed here just in case they try to bleed out. It’s coming in useful now. She stumbles from the crate and, on bare feet, pads over and grabs it, her blood-covered ass shaking enticingly. Closing my eyes, I wait for her.

I feel her close and open them again to find her kneeling at my feet, the pack open as she grabs what she needs. She cleans the wound, making me hiss, even as my cock hardens at the pain. She smirks and ignores it as she starts to stitch the cut together again. “It’s not too bad, just a bleeder is all. You crazy bastard.”

Once she’s done, she sits back, laughing at my hard cock. “Well, that was fun.” She falls onto her side and rests against me. Leaning down, I stroke her hair. “Mmm,” she hums, just relaxing. “I’m not helping you get rid of the body though. I think you broke me, I need sleep and food.”

Grinning, I kiss her, ignoring the pull of the stitches. “Next time. I’ll get you upstairs, I’m sure Kenzo will take care of you all sweetly.”

She glances up and pouts at me. “Especially if I make that face, I bet I could even make Ryder run me a bath.”

I laugh. “Evil little thing, you know exactly how tightly they are wrapped around your little finger.”

She doesn’t look the least bit ashamed. “More like my pussy.”

“That too.” I nod seriously, waiting for my strength to return before I move. “Next time, Little Bird, I will think of something even more daring.”

She groans at that. “I can’t wait, but seriously, I need to bathe, I’m hella sticky.”

“In a bit.” I nod and slide to the floor, pulling her into my arms, liking the thought of her covered in my blood and cum.

“Is your name really Diesel?” she inquires, curling into me, blood and sweat coating her body. It’s such a beautiful sight along with my marks.

“No,” I reply, and she lifts her head to peer at me. “What’s it worth to you, Little Bird?”

She kisses me, hungry and hard, before pulling away as I groan. I drop my head to the floor. “Good God, you’re trying to kill me. No, my real name is Kace. I took Diesel after that night. Kace died in that fire with my mum, and I was born.”

She searches my eyes before laying a gentle kiss on my lips. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I like Diesel. Even if he is a bit crazy and tends to watch me sleep.”

I laugh and pull her closer. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Little Bird, you are mine now. I can’t decide if I want to go on a murder spree or fuck you.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

ROXY

After a bit, Diesel gathers me to his chest and, not worrying about clothes, strides down the corridor—even with his wound, which is self-inflicted, so I don’t have much sympathy—and heads to the elevator. What we just did was…fucking amazing.

I feel refreshed, which is strange, like he helped me get out all that pain inside of me. Every inch of agony he inflicted broke down the walls holding my own, until my anger and fear was nothing but feeling for him, surrendering everything to him. He’s right—with others I’m different, but down here, I got to be just what I needed.

They all offer me a different escape, Diesel’s just happens to be twisted and bloody and filled with pain. Other people would scream at what we did, and shrink away, but it was all consensual and ended in pleasure, so I don’t give a fuck. Maybe it’s the rest of the world that’s crazy, not us…

Then again, maybe we’re just too insane to see how not crazy everyone else is. I don’t know why, in these Vipers’ arms, I’m not only discovering myself, but I’m finally shaking those walls I’ve had in place my entire life.