Trigger warning: blood and cutting
Zyler returned home. The blood on his killer's hands was clear, bright red, staining his white shirt. The dim lights in the house gave it a hue that brought the demons to the surface, ever spinning behind the eyes.
The world treats killers differently as if they committed a crime, but what is a world without sin and sinners? Nothing, and he is the proud sinner of all. Except he never considered himself a killer. He is a demon, a warrior. Angels and demons have bloody hands, yet one is cold indifference, and the other is pure love, or that's what the world thinks. One is vice, the additional virtue, for they have found peace in their own justification, just like he found peace in his evil.
He removed his crimson shirt and hopped in the shower. He let the water kiss his sculpted body, cascading down and touching every molecule of his skin ever so lightly. How long had it been since he had genuinely felt a woman's touch? He doesn't remember. Sure, he fucks a ton, and that's what it is, fucking. He hadn't felt a feathery touch in forever, not that he was expecting to find someone.
He raked his long finger through his wet hair. Closing his eyes, he let the soap wash the dirt of the crimes he committed in the night. He shut the shower off, and without bothering to wipe his body, he walked into his bedroom.
He picked up his phone from the stand and called his assistant, and the man answered within the first ring, "hello," Cole was cleaning up the mess.
"Make sure there is no evidence of this. I don't want no media dogs sniffing around me, especially when FBI and Interpol are hot on my tail, not that dogs would get a piece of me, but I don't want any issues" he grabbed a towel and began to dab on the droplets. Those drops refused to cling to the towel as if they loved staying on his body.
"I will make sure there is no news," Cole grabbed his gun and did a last swipe in the area. "I cleared the club. It is as if this place was never opened," Cole knows what his boss wants. He has been doing it for him since he was 18. He is more of an advisor to him than an assistant.
Zyler was about to ask something when Cole beat him to it, "how do you think Brandon got the info? He is just an employee. He shouldn't have access to those files," Cole locked the club and walked out of the building.
"I am sure he was working for someone else. Send me the security process. I need to know on what basis the people in our company are being hired," he threw the phone on his bed and turned on his Bluetooth.
"I will. But whatever it is, I am sure we can pay off those folks. I mean, they get a hefty amount from us to keep us out of the news and their businesses," Cole stepped out of the club and hopped in his car.
"There are two types of people in the government, Cole. Type 1 eats green, speaks dollars, and licks our boots. Those dogs are easy to tackle. Type 2, Cole, these people operate on either vengeance or spark," he walked into his closet and grabbed his boxers.
"Spark can be doused, but vengeance is like fuel Cole. It will drive you to the edge or will lift you to heaven. It will make your angels sing. Those people are what we need to be cautious about. They have nothing to lose, nothing to gain. Their ultimate goal is to bring their object of vengeance down," he knew about vengeance more than anyone else. He hunted down the men who dared to come close to his family. He killed them all and hung them upside down in his enemy's own house.
His entire clan witnessed his other side that night. He was as if he was possessed. He ran and ran, chopping them all with his machete. He was 19 at the time. The bloodshed he caused was barbaric. It was evil and cruel. His thoughts weren't under his control. He acted as if he was acting on devil's Siren. Those people did not have a chance against Zyler. There was no evidence of the crime, nor did the police dare enter the city. He took the city into his arms, wiped the rest of their clan, and burned the village.
"Brandon might be type 2," he turned off his Bluetooth and put the phone in his ear, "this is why I need you to be careful. Every operation we overtake should be done with the utmost care. I don't want another person sniffing, gathering evidence," he tossed on the bed and tried to command sleep, but the thing gave him a middle finger.
"I need someone. Send me a whore," he informed Cole.
"As you wish," Cole started the engine.
"Are you going home?" he yawned.
"Lilly has been calling me non-stop," Cole loved his wife more than anyone in this world. The woman has been suffering from severe anxiety since the day they lost their child.
"Bring her home next time. It has been a while since I have seen her," Lilly admired Zyler, and the man's affection for her was mutual. He felt sad for the couple. One of the very few occasions he felt something for someone. This is why Zyler never forms any relationship with anyone. According to him, relationships and women are a means to an end.
"Very well. I will send someone," he ended the call and drove off. Zyler sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking. The doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts. His door opened, and a tall blond walked inside. Her clothes weren't flimsy.
She stepped inside and scanned the room, "wow," her voice irritated him, and he clenched his fist controlling the urge to pull out her brains.
"When they told me I was going to a VVIP's house, this wasn't in my mind," she rested her weight on her right leg and put her arm on her hip as if she owned the room, unaware of what she got herself into. She might not, but Zyler knew how to put her in her place.
"Oh wow, you are a gobble worthy," light of lust flared in her gaze. Swaying her hips, she walked up to Zyler and sat in his lap as if she owned him. His face twisted in rage, but the woman failed to grasp it as she was taken over by the desire to take him in. He ground his teeth, controlling his anger.
"You have no idea what this mouth can do," she bit her lip, running her hands down his body. She reached into his pants and cupped his length. The woman expected Zyler to moan or change his expression, but he gave nothing away. His stoic gaze confused her.
He curled his fingers around her wrist and freed his length from her hold. "Why don't we play a game?" he pushed her off him, and his voice made her clench her thighs.
"A game?" she was confused. Not giving her an answer, he reached the table and fisted a knife. Turning around, he stalked up to her and motioned her to take it, and she did.
He journeyed back to the bed and settled on it, crossing his legs. The girl stood there, not knowing what to do with it.
"Cut yourself with it," her body went rigid, and confusion crossed her features.
"Are you out of your mind?" Who the fuck cuts themselves?
"You were eager to please me. Go ahead; this will please me," he stretched his legs and leaned back. She thought he was joking, but his face did not look like he was. It had a severe expression that would terrify death. What is a human?
"I am out of here," she moved an inch, and the room echoed with gunshots. The woman shrieked in pure terror, closing her eyes and ears.
"One more inch, I will load your body with lead," the masochist in him took over, enjoying the fear in her body. He was getting hard now.
"No, please," she brought the knife to her hand.
"I want deep sharper cuts. I need to see what your blood looks like," she wondered what kind of monster he was. Who gets off by the sight of blood? She put it on her skin and dragged it a little, making the liquid underneath ooze, and his eyes began to darken. The more the liquid oozed, the harder he got. His dick now fully stood as he saw her drag it to her breasts. What will he do if she doesn't listen?
He motioned for her to come closer. Timidly she walked up to him. "On your fours, kneel before me," he ordered. And she did. There was no defiance in her. "Remove my boxers," she did as asked without question, as his cold rage terrified her.
"Don't you dare stop cutting," the depth in his voice made her gulp.
She began to stroke his dick in small strokes, that thick veiny shaft aroused at the sight of blood, "faster," he threw his head back and moaned. She increased the pressure while he grabbed the knife and held it on her wrist, pressing it deeper. He leaned down and looked into her eyes while she was still working on his dick.
The fear in her eyes tasted so primal while cold sweat spiraled through her. This is what he wanted, that fear of him in someone's eyes without wasting a second. He shoved his dick down her throat, "fuck," he moaned while she gagged. He laced his fingers through her blond hair and pushed it further, choking her. She braced herself on his thighs, but the man grabbed them and impaled them on her sides, cutting off any hope for freedom.
With his right hand, he pushed his dick further down her throat, fisting her hair into a ponytail; he made her swallow all of him while she struggled to open her eyes.
The ridges on his thick cock were visible in her throat. The sounds of his grunts and her pain echoed in the silent night. After a dozen thrusts inside, he shot semen down her throat, holding her head tight on his dick. The woman was close to losing consciousness.
He pushed her down, "next time you go somewhere to suck a dick, make sure he isn't a monster," he chuckled at her bloody state.
"Get out," he motioned to her with his fingers. The woman did not wait for a minute. She grabbed her purse and phone and ran out of the building at a sickening speed.
"Bitch," he mumbled under his breath, and this time, sleep took him in.
Here is more into Zyler. What do you think of him? Autumn will come up next 😉 hope you will like her.