Aaron: Book Three (Scars 3) Read Online Free

me. There was no family, no friends…only Rachel. She had been taken
before and I had hunted him down. The foolishness of my actions made me cringe.
I had done more and more stupid things since I’d met her. My mind flicked back
to the diary and of my uncle’s words. He’d described her as a vicious and master
manipulator. His crazy mind thought she was a demon, and my crazy dream…
    Fuck. I was
being stupid.
    “I gotta go.” I
slid from the bar stool and reached for my keys.
    “Gotta keep
Paige happy?”
    “Rachel. Her
name is Rachel.”
    He frowned. “How
did you two meet anyway? You knew her from before that whole thing with Nora,
didn’t you?”
    “I kidnapped
her. Kept her locked up and beat her down until her mind was so fucked she
didn’t know what was good for her anymore.”
    Antony blinked
then frowned.
    I flashed him my
best grin; the one that could seduce men and women alike, and his own face
broke into a smile and he relaxed.
    It wasn’t until
I was back in the car that I noticed the blood on my shoe, shiny against the
black leather. I grabbed a tissue from the console and wiped it clean before
throwing it out the window. I hated mess, but sometimes it was necessary. That
was stupid. It should never have gotten to that stage and part of me wanted to
kill him just for having the gall to show any kind of defiance. It didn’t deserve
any type of respect; the act was just stupid. It weighed on me; not the beating
that I’d given him, he deserved that, but just how stupid he was. It annoyed me
and irritated me, and I felt an anxiety run through me. I needed distraction. I
needed Rachel. I floored it out of there and headed for home, ready to bury
myself deep within her and fall asleep like that.
    The house was
dark when I got home and all alarms were set. She wasn’t home. Where the fuck
was she? It was almost ten. I snatched up my phone impatiently, ready to call
her, and then I remembered her anger this morning. Was this her throwing a
fucking tantrum? I checked the tracker that I’d put on her phone and her car
and let out a bitter laugh as the location appeared on my screen. She was at a
fucking bar of all places.
    I set the phone
down and poured myself another drink instead, taking comfort in the dark of the
living room.
    It didn’t take
long for my drunken mind to slide to memories of her. After, after I’d beaten
her in the barn, and imprisoned her in her room, after I’d touched her and made
her body cum…My hand shook as I poured another drink,
    After I left
her, a mess of confusion, naked and beaten and her mind well and truly fucked
with, I went to the bedroom and sat on my bed. She hadn’t protested, just lain
there as my lips glided over her skin and kissed her better. Why? Was it guilt
or the desire to torment her even more? I wanted to taste her, this girl, to
see what the hell was so mesmerizing about her. I wanted to taste the witchcraft,
the demon inside her.
    I had bit out a
laugh at the crazy thought. All that brimstone and fire shit that had been
drummed into my skull must have pierced through somehow, creating the stupid
superstitions. I hadn’t believed my uncle for a second as he’d droned on in his
diary about her bewitching him, well, maybe that was true in part. She was a
pretty girl who knew how to seduce. But the demoness crap‒that was
insane…yet appealing. Her black heart could match my own decayed one…
    I laughed again.
Insanity obviously ran in my family along with delusions. Almost involuntarily,
I lifted my fingers to my lips to touch where I had kissed her. She had cum. Of
that, there was no question. She must have been hating herself, right then,
that her body had not done what her mind told it to.
    Or had she?
Another girl would have whimpered but she was silent. Maybe she didn’t care;
maybe her mind could move from her body while unpleasantness occurred to her
flesh…or more likely, she was just well practiced at having revolting men like
me, like