Page 49 of Scarred Ruin

Of a story he’d already written. And I didn’t need to ask what this meant as we both already knew.

Yet he collapsed beside me, nuzzling then whispering in my ear.

“You awakened a beast, Isabel. And I lied before. I do bite.”

CHAPTER 10

Maxsim

Charleston was a sleepy city, one that indulged the tourists while creating an atmosphere reflective of a time in history when everything moved slowly.

While there had been a recent influx of younger families moving into the area, the established neighborhoods including certain businesses that had been around for generations were all owned by the upper crust of society.

I’d learned early on how powerful and even dangerous southerners could be. I remembered my father laughing at their southern drawl, even suggesting the locals were of lower intelligence than himself. Yet dark secrets were just waiting to be exposed.

As a keen observer, I’d learned early on that when the powerful southern men spoke, the vowels tumbled out low and languid, like sweet tea stirred with a heavy silver spoon. The accent wasn’t the harsh, biting twang you heard up in the Midlands. The deep, almost garbled rumble was that old-money Charleston rhythm. Non-rhotic, effortlessly melodic, and dripping with enough confidence to frighten anyone who knew how they wielded their power.

Behind ornate closed doors of well-coiffed estates, keeping the noise from bothering their neighbors while exacting whatever revenge they deemed necessary.

I’d studied the way they worked for years so I could learn from them, a training exercise my father had abhorred. In the right set of circumstances, I could even fake a southern accent. Not that I enjoyed doing so. I too believed them inferior, but for entirely different reasons.

They were clumsy in a world that thrived on acuity and dominance without hesitation.

Given my accrued wealth and standing in the community, I should be able to enjoy tossing my success in their faces.

They found it shocking that a man wearing jeans and boots, sporting vicious tattoos while terrifying anyone by simply walking into a room could be such a powerhouse of prosperity.

Their abhorrence was why I enjoyed riding my Harley through their pristine neighborhoods in the darkest hours of the night. While parts of the city could be dangerous, even deadly to those who ventured into the wrong locations, I found touring the barren streets cleansing.

I also did my best thinking with the rumble of the bike’s engine thrumming between my legs. This was the time of day when I felt more like myself. There were still people counting on me, others requiring my leadership. There would always be situations to handle or difficulties to overcome, but this taste of freedom usually prevented me from making irrational decisions.

Only I limited my time away from the house to when my presence was needed.

One thing I certainly hadn’t lied to Isabel about was that I was a father first.

Everything else remained second.

Tonight was an exception.

Tonight I would break certain rules I’d laid out for myself and that Sergei had suggested.

I would kill a man for betraying me.

I rolled through the streets, taking the long way toward the warehouse to try to clear my head. A calmer mental state was needed, or I’d resort to torturing the man. Yes, he deserved to feel my wrath and ordinarily I wouldn’t hesitate, but this man’s death was about sending a message.

Sadly, there was still no indication of the responsible party behind the attempts made. The man already incarcerated by my soldiers had been employed by my organization for years. As such, he’d been privy to certain aspects of my personal life than had carelessly been tossed around.

My fault.

I’d become lax over the last two years, thinking the days of warring were behind me. The ugly realization I was wrong had done little more than unearth the darker, sadistic side of my personality to the surface.

There was no real proof needed other than how I’d acted with Isabel.

Violence.

I’d always taken everything I’d wanted without hesitation. She’d been no different. The feel of being inside her tight pussy had been a clear reminder of everything I’d missed for far too long. However, my intention had been to maintain some sense of decorum around her.

After all, we’d be working together for months if not longer.