A Lock Of Death by Beena Khan

10

Dimitri kept his eyes trained on Nine.

He didn’t trust that girl at all.

One second, she snapped at him, the next second she chewed his skin off. It was the second time she’d bit him.

People called him violent and deranged… but clearly, they hadn’t met her. She’d sat there with a chunk of his flesh in her mouth. Then, she spat it out and grinned like a bloody psychopath. It was something he would have done too but without smiling. Without any weapons and any fighting skills, she achieved in wounding him, and that was something no one had ever done before.

If females were ever recruited in the Bratva, she would make a fine soldier. They only kept one female moll around, but she was an exception.

He remembered that ravenous look in Nine’s eyes like a feral animal, something he hadn’t seen much of around.

A desperation to hunt, a need to kill had filled her eyes.

It seemed to match his own.

Impulsive. Insane. Fiery.

Every time she turned deranged, she transformed from a snarky woman to a voracious predator with an insatiable need to kill. She was even willing to kill herself that night on the balcony.

He glanced at her ditzy movements again.

She was no innocent lamb nor a heroine. There was nothing soft about her, well… besides her body anyway.

She was all teeth and claws.

He knew that if he tried to touch her again after she’d bitten him, she wouldn’t have hesitated to put him down, even if it killed her. His eyes continued to study her. She still grinned. Her lips and cheeks were covered in his blood like a vampire who had finished draining out her last victim.

He was twice her weight and almost a foot taller than her, but that hadn’t stopped her at all. It had caught him off guard, and he hadn’t expected her to fight.

Dimitri held a sigh in. The first thing he’ll do when he reached home was choke his older brother.

He’d never been on a road trip with a delivery before. Mainly, he drove the trucks with the girls inside and made sure everyone reached their destination without being compromised.

Nine was a special case and he’d agreed to deliver her individually. Cursing at himself internally, he realized, he should have never agreed. He wondered if it was too late to return, but then he shook his head like it was a bizarre idea. He’d never half-assed anything in his life… but this girl with her long mane and her jolly little smiles stirred more trouble than usual.

Nine’s legs staggered like she was drunk as she headed to her pink bag. Collapsing on the floor like it was her latest mission, she unzipped her bag and dug through it.

His eyes stayed on her in case she attacked him again, but she was high. He didn’t have to worry about her when she was out of it. It was when she was stable, she became ruthless.

Her hands pulled out her white nightie.

His gaze fell on the color.

White. It was too virginal for her though.

There wasn’t anything pure about her.

She spoke about humanity, but he sure as hell knew, normal humans didn’t bite off the flesh of others.

That would be the last thing on their mind.

“I found it!” Nine exclaimed in joy, raising her nightie in the air like she had achieved a gold medal. She looked in his direction and her eyes beamed. He didn’t like it when her glassy eyes glowed like that. It was hard to look at her then.

She still stared, and he was puzzled at what she waited for?

Did she want approval?

“Congratulations,” he murmured under his breath.

Nine threw her head back and laughed.

He stiffened in his pants, and he cursed at himself under his breath. He hated her fucking laughter. I don’t know what hate even feels like, but I hate it anyway. I hate it. I hate it—

Her melodious laughter chortled through the air.

Dimitri could swear his pupils dilated again.

Too much substance.

He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes, he wanted to shut out her voice, but it only roared in his ears. Her laughter was the soundtrack of his soul. There was something pure about her after all. She laughed without holding back, joyfully and freely, so childish like she didn’t have a care for the world.

He was going to blame it on science. There was a theory that hearing certain sounds could enhance your heart rate. It was all fucking science. Yes, that seemed believable.

Pleased with his thought, he prayed she would shut up otherwise he might just plaster tape on her mouth.

Nine’s footsteps moved again, and he glanced in her direction. She rose to her wobbling feet, and her hands reached for the bottom of her dress. She pulled the hem of it over her head before discarding it to the side. Now, that was another thing she kept on doing too, always stripping in front of him.

His cock lengthened. Holding in a grunt, he wanted to go to the receptionist and ask for another room immediately.

Dimitri glanced at her full tits wrapped in a gold, sparkly fabric once again. She must really love disco balls. He’d seen her bare twice too, and it had taken a lot more restraint than he’d imagined to not reach out and touch her with his fingers.

He’d been on this little trip for two days, and he hadn’t fucked anyone yet. His hand did the trick, but it still wasn’t enough. He needed more, and if he didn’t find a good fuck soon, he might just end up ripping that bra and panties off her.

Nine continued to shamelessly change in front of him like he wasn’t even present. It was like she was doing a little erotic striptease just for him even though she was lost in her own bubble of a dream world. His gaze took in her shapely legs before trailing his gaze upward to her face painted in his blood.

His lip almost twitched.

Painting.

Nine hadn’t painted while they had stayed in the motels. He wanted more than just paint on her, though. He wanted her drenched in his blood.

Not resisting the urge, he continued to look and check her out. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. Her tits came tumbling out, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

They would fit nicely in his hands. He remembered how they rubbed against him. Her little daring and desperate desires came out of her that night.

Her long mane of her hair draped around her like a lioness. Her hair was soft and delicate like weaved from silk itself, and he wanted it wrapped around his hands once again.

She was attractive, and his dick seemed to like her.

She was breathtaking.

He found himself moving toward her before he paused in his footsteps, changing his mind at the last minute. His greedy eyes took in their fill, his gaze falling on her inviting light brown areolas. He wanted those in his mouth. His eyes were glued permanently to her intimate parts. Her little white nightie came over her head, covering his view.

She crouched and pulled out a hair tie from the bag before tiptoeing to the bed like a mouse. He followed suit and sat on the bed, fluffing the pillows behind him. With a tired sigh, he removed his shoes and rested his back against the headboard and draped an arm over his head. He closed his eyes for a moment of peace, but a feminine voice interrupted him.

“There is blood on the carpet,” Nine mumbled.

Chatterbox. His eyes snapped open and looked to his left. She wouldn’t find the skin on it though because he’d cleaned it up when she’d stared at the ceiling.

“I wonder why,” he countered dryly.

She laughed before clasping a hand over her mouth. Her eyes twinkled like the night. She pulled her knees to her chest, and his eyes trailed toward her bare legs before he stared at her face again. Her nipples were erect under the thin, cotton fabric, but he kept his eyes trained on her face. The blood had dried up around her cheeks and mouth, and he almost wanted to tell her to clean up, but knowing her, she would probably find a way to drown herself in the bathroom sink.

He kept his mouth shut instead.

Nine tilted her head and eyed his hand.

“I bit you. Why didn’t you hurt me more?”

“I don’t hit the weaker sex.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Weaker sex, huh? God, you speak so clinically sometimes.” She wrinkled her perky nose in the air with a flair of sassiness behind it.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? You can never defeat me in battle.” Then he paused and his lip twitched again. “At least not with your legs and arms, but perhaps with your teeth.”

That sounded like a joke, and he didn’t know he was capable of it. She grinned again, and he didn’t understand why that little gesture made his heart race a little quicker. Then, her smile lessened. The brightness in her eyes vanished, and she stared at the bedsheets. Removing his arm from his head, he observed her.

“When you called me a whore, it made me feel cheap,” Nine confessed in a tiny whisper. “It made me feel cheaper than when I actually was one.”

Aaah… So, that’s what was bothering her.

“Why do you care what I call you?” he murmured.

She stayed silent and rested head in between her knees.

Now, this didn’t look like the ballsy girl who spat on him and spat his skin out.

Dimitri looked away and closed his eyes for a second, resting his tired eyes. Driving long hours always made him restless, and his bones often ached in discomfort. The stillness in his soul best came after much exerted energy. Now, he could finally rest. He let his mind unwind and let his thoughts run wild.

His hand still burned. He washed it with cold water, but it wasn’t enough. He had no interest in stitching his ripped out flesh back onto his skin. It would leave a nasty scar, and he would live with it.

“Because I value your opinion.”

His eyes opened at Nine’s melodic voice.

“I don’t know why… I shouldn’t,” her voice lowered, and he listened closely, “Maybe because you and Alexander are the only ones who haven’t looked at me… like a whore. You both are cruel but you’re the only two who haven’t tried to touch me,” she continued speaking, and he kept his gaze trained straight ahead at the wall.

Torment lay in her soft voice, and it reeked of trouble.

This girl was a mess, and he didn’t want to clean her up.

He didn’t want to fix her. He wanted to fuck her up some more… and become just like him.

Dimitri didn’t want to see what her glazed eyes would look like right now. They would be softer, glassier, prettier, and he didn’t want them to weaken him.

Emotions made people weak, and he was glad he had none.

She sighed. “Pakhan gave me safety and protection from the people I have left behind, and in return, I worked for him. A favor for a favor.”

Dimitri was silent as he listened.

Stillness came as a storm and subdued.

What people did you leave?

Curiosity filled his mind, and he wanted to turn toward her and shake her by the little shoulders, demanding to know every little thing about her.

Fuck. He shook his head wildly, trying to stop his thoughts but they were unstoppable.

He wanted to know everything about her.

Who are you?

Where did you come from?

And the one question that always burned him.

What’s your real fucking name?

The Nikolaev brothers never knew their names of the women. They opted not to. It made things personal, so they avoided them at all costs. Hell, he didn’t even know her damn name, and it was becoming too personal already.

Sighing silently, he couldn’t resist glancing at her.

Her bright eyes met his, and she crawled toward him on her knees like a little cat, her breaths almost purring to his ears. She really needed to stop doing that. It didn’t help his hard-on either, and he probably would need a cold shower.

Although, he did like her on all fours with her doe-like eyes and glistening, glowing skin. He wasn’t going to stop her at all or call her out for being inappropriate because he was selfish, and he liked when she came out of her little shell and turned brazen. Her lascivious little actions gave her personality.

Once she was in front of him, she smiled through her lush lips. Her upper lip was thinner than the bottom fuller one. His fingers itched to trace them. Something he’d never done with another female. He averted his eyes, looking anywhere but her.

Nine held out her hair tie in front of her. Puzzled, he eyed it like it was a weapon before he took it from her.

Then, she moved his leg from under him and positioned herself on the mattress right before him, between his legs, like she belonged there—like she belonged to him.

She turned her back to him with her tangled wavy hair in front of him. Stumped, he only stared at the fascinating female creature, waiting for her to say something.

He lowered his gaze and stared at his aching erection.

Well, that couldn’t be good either.

Her unkempt lioness hair brushed against his pants. Reaching out a finger, he curled a few strands in his fingertips before pulling them back and her head fell back with them.

Soft yet untamed… kind of like her.

A tiny throaty moan left her lips.

The savage in him wanted to touch her some more.

“Braid my hair.”

What the fuck?

Dimitri paused at the demand.

“What?” he asked, deliberately slow. “Are you a doll?”

“Yes,” Nine replied chirpily. “It takes me an hour to braid my hair, and I didn’t get to do it today because you…” she turned to look at him with blazing accusing eyes, “went on a killing spree and because of you, I damaged my wrists. Now, my hands are useless.” She huffed at him again, and he kind of liked it when she became mouthy.

She doesn’t fear me…

She turned her nose in the air, and he had a sudden urge to pinch it. He gripped his hands together so he could resist.

“Why didn’t you stop yourself?” Her voice came out in a mumble, and he had to strain himself to hear her.

He tilted his head and grazed a hand through his growing stubble. “If you’re expecting an apology, you will not get it.” When she didn’t argue back, he admitted, “I get impulses.”

Nine gave a baffled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He wondered if he should let her know who exactly she was dealing with. She might forget about it tomorrow, but there was a part of him that wanted to tell her the truth and didn’t want her to hate him. “I don’t plan different ways to torture. I simply act. I don’t feel, Nine,” he revealed. “Emotions and feelings such as pain, remorse, and guilt—I don’t have them. I’m not normal.”

She blinked twice, and he wondered if she even heard him.

“Well, you’re the mob, of course, you’re not normal,” she replied, raising her eyebrows.

“That’s not the main reason.” Looking into her questioning gaze, he continued. “I have autism.” He exhaled. “I don’t understand sarcasm and I like rules. When people break them, it makes me uncomfortable….” He paused looking for the right word before adding, “Distressed. If it wasn’t clear enough, I have limited speech. I was diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder when I was nineteen. I don’t have a conscience… I’ve undergone therapy but I can’t change.”

Nine’s cupid red lips formed a little circle.

He continued, “I’m not wired like… you.”

He wondered what she was thinking.

Nine eyed him curiously.

“I don’t have limits,” he finished slowly.

Then, she asked, “What happened with your therapist?”

His eyebrows creased.

Out of all things, she wanted to ask him that?

“My therapist called his therapist.”

Nine grinned, her pearly whites flashing at him like he’d cracked a joke. He hadn’t. He was just being honest.

He forgot what he was saying for a second before he met her bright eyes again. It was a damn shame that brightness would leave forever when he handed her to Boris.

He mimicked her expression, and his upper lip twitched before it almost formed a smirk.

“You’re smiling,” she accused, her eyes widening.

He lost that smirk. “I don’t know how to smile.”

She pouted, and he had an urge to bite down on her lips.

“But you just did.”

It’s just copying.

Curiosity filled her eyes. “So, you’re ill?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

He looked at her locks again and changed the topic.

“I am not braiding you. Put it in a bun,” he ordered.

She shook her head, and her hair flew with her.

“Noooooo,” she whined. “A bun is too heavy on my head. It hurts my scalp.”

He arched an eyebrow even though she wasn’t looking at him anymore. “A ponytail then.”

Nine glanced up and she lost all the brightness in her eyes, and he almost wanted to grab it before it completely vanished. Too late though. Empty eyes stared back at him. Her eyes were two glistening pools that he could see his own reflection in them.

“Ponytails hurt my hair,” she whispered, her voice came out too small. Her low hurt voice stirred his soul, and he couldn’t place that feeling.

What is that? He’d never felt that before.

It was strange… when she’d screamed and cried not to burn down the building, it hadn’t affected him then, but now… it was another story.

Glancing at her hair, he entwined his fingers through her brown hair woven with gold and auburn lights. She was the year-round autumn beauty. The warmth in her brown seeped into his skin and his fingers tangled through them.

Nine let out a satisfied smile. The hues in her hair altered as the strands curled and moved as free as vines. With every shake of his hand, the strands tumbled down her back.

“My hand is injured,” he said softly.

She giggled. “So are my wrists.”

A question burned on the back of his tongue.

“You said, it helps you sleep better.”

When she gave a dazed look, he clarified, “Ecstasy.”

Her lips parted and her glassy eyes widened.

“Why?” he asked.

When she didn’t answer, Dimitri continued asking. “It’ll take an hour to braid your hair.” He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. His hands took control and braided her hair, starting from the roots even though his gauzed hand still hurt.

She always kept her hair in a French braid.

Well… I don’t know how to do that.

A simple braid it was then.

“How did you end up here?”

Nine glanced at him.

The water in her eyes brought out the specks of gold in her eyes. “I had a family once…”