Torture to Her Soul Read Online J.M. Darhower (Monster in His Eyes #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, BDSM, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Drama, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Monster in His Eyes Series by J.M. Darhower
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
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I shake my head, kissing her again and again, as she whispers against my mouth, "don't you... need to... at least see... who it is?"

"I know who it is."

"Who?"

"My mother."

She pulls away completely as the ringing stops, her gaze briefly darting across the room toward my phone. "How do you know?"

"Because it's my birthday."

I try to kiss her again, but she resists, her palms flat against my chest.

"Your mother," she says. "Is she as pleasant as your father?"

"Few people are as pleasant as Giuseppe Vitale." I shake my head. "My mother's a good woman. You'll never meet a nicer person."

"So why don't you ever see her?" she asks. "Why didn't you take her call?"

"Because she's better off without me," I say. "When you love people, you want what's best for them, and sometimes what's best for them isn't you."

"You said that about me once," she says. "You said you loved me, and you wanted what was best for me, even though you thought what was best for me wasn't you."

"I meant it," I say. "But I'm also in love with you, and I'm a selfish son of a bitch. It was wrong, but I wanted you… I want you. So I'm keeping you."

She laughs dryly. "You're keeping me."

"Yes."

"You ever consider maybe your mother wants to keep you, too?" she asks. "I don't mean that in a creepy kind of way, you know… I mean, like, just because someone's bad for us doesn't mean we don't want them in our lives, anyway. I was still willing to give up everything for you."

"You were."

"Yes."

"Past tense."

Her brow furrows. "What?"

"You said you were willing," I say, "not that you are willing."

She considers that as she climbs off of me, getting to her feet. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm still deciding."

"Deciding what?"

"Whether or not I want to keep you."

My phone starts making noise again as Karissa grabs our discarded pudding containers to throw them away.

"You should answer that," she says. "Talk to your mother."

I don't correct her as she walks out, but it's not my mother this time. The ring is different. It's vague, barely noticeable, but it's a different tone. Ray.

Sighing, I get to my feet and shuffle across the room, snatching my phone off of my desk. I stare at the screen for a moment before pressing the button to silence the ringing.

Unlike my mother, he's not calling to wish me a happy birthday. He probably doesn't even realize it's today.

"Let's do something," I call out to Karissa when I hear her move around the kitchen. "Grab some lunch or something."

She appears in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

My phone starts ringing again right away, once again blaring Ray's tone. Karissa eyes it curiously. "You don't have anything else you'd rather do?"

I send the call to voicemail and turn off the phone as I shake my head. "No. Nothing."

"What's Cobalt?"

My eyes turn to Karissa when she speaks. I'm not even off our street and she's already asking questions out of nowhere. "Cobalt?"

"Yeah, Cobalt."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"That detective," she says. "I heard him mention Cobalt, that it's where the shooting happened. I know it was weeks ago, but I was just thinking, and well... what is it?"

"It's a chemical element," I say, "and a shade of blue."

"Yeah, and it's also the name of a Chevy car," she counters, "but that doesn't tell me where you were shot."

I fight a smile at her brusque tone. "You didn't ask where I was shot."

"Fine," she says. "Where were you shot?"

"In my side."

"Naz…"

"In Greenwich Village," I say, knowing she's not going to drop it. "Cobalt Social Club."

She curves an eyebrow at me. "A social club?"

"Yes."

"You're a member of a social club."

"Yes."

"Is that a euphemism? Like a gentleman's club?"

"No, no strippers. No women at all, generally, although sometimes they bend the rules. It's more of an exclusive hangout that you need membership to get into."

"And what do you do there?"

"Socialize," I say. "Drink."

Conduct business.

Plot schemes.

"So it's a special kind of club," she reiterates. "Where you drink and hang out with other men like you."

"Essentially."

"You know that sounds a lot like a gay bar, right?"

Laughing, I cut my eyes at her. "I suppose, when you put it that way, but it doesn't really matter what it sounds like. It is what it is."

She shrugs, looking away from me to gaze out the window. "Can I see it?"

"See what?"

"Cobalt."

"Uh, like I said, women aren't generally allowed…"

"I don't want to go in," she says. "I just… I want to see where you were... where it happened."

I don't have a response for that.

I'm not sure why it matters.

Neither of us says much else on the ride into the city. She eventually pulls out her phone, swiping her finger across the cracked screen to send colorful birds flying through the air at little green pigs.

She needs a new phone. I'm not sure how much longer that one's going to survive. As much as she drops it, I'm surprised the thing still even works.

I don't know why I'm doing it, but I drive straight to Cobalt to satisfy her curiosity. I pull through the alley, into the back lot, and swing the car around, idling there. There's no sign outside, nothing to indicate what the building is. "Cobalt."

Karissa's brow furrows, and I can see she has more questions as she turns from the building to look out the side window. "So it happened here?"

"What?"

"This is where you were shot."

"Oh." I glance around. "Yeah, over by the light."

She nods, looking at the light for a moment before turning back to me, offering a small smile. "Thanks."

I don't dawdle, putting the car into drive again to leave. I pull out of the lot and hit the breaks when I reach the end of the alley. I'm about to merge into traffic when a sleek black limo swerves like it's going to pull in beside me, instead coming to a stop near the entrance, blocking my exit.

My stomach sinks, my insides coiling as I grip the steering wheel tighter at the sight of it.


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