Deadly Secrets *Completed*

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Love is Death

Chapter 29 - Love is Death

Agonized screams tore from Giana's throat. Her body was slick with sweat — decorated with blood as he continued his assault on her. Her pained features pinched up so beautifully as copious amounts of pain speared through her. Her breathing was ragged, her throat coarse from crying out. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to bite through it. Ryder needed to see the gleaming anguish in her ebony depths. He needed to see what was buried behind the tears.

Ryder's posture grew rigid, his muscles twisted and coiled with frustration underneath his black-tee, his eyes gleamed with a fiery anger like that of a ember crackling in the hearth of a fireplace. Gloved fingers bit into her cheeks as he sharp grabbed her delicate features, hissing out a warning as clear as the warning laced behind his demonic eyes,"Open your eyes or lose them."

She seemed hesitant, debating his words, perhaps? If she wanted to test him she certainly was pushing it to the limits. Her eyelids briefly flicked open, almost testing the waters per se. They weren't special, like Layla's, like Creeper's, but they were of an average beauty. He'd never considered himself to have a type, but it seemed brown-eyed girls were his thing. He wanted to train his gaze on the set of eyes that were currently staring at him with this... this undeniable vengeance, with a spark of pain and a crackle of fear. The eyes that haunted him on a whole different level, a deeply anguished and feisty level. Her eyes were seared into the back of his mind. Always watching; always questioning... always taunting.

Ryder smirked as he shot her cold glare, "Good girl. Now, time's wasting. Let's get the ball rolling because the longer I see your face..." Ryder trailed his gloved thumb across her bottom lip, Layla coming to the forefront of his mind, "the more I want to back out of this. And don't draw hope from that. I can't back out. I need to do this. You need to die, Layla. I need to get you out of my system. Out of my mind. Out of my demons grip."

He acquired a far away look as he began to lose focus and get lost in her eyes, the way her lip trembled, the way her skin was silky smooth. Layla drew him in like a Siren to a Sailor out at sea. He was warring with what he truly wanted to do to his Doll. The part of him that wanted to keep her safe... and the part of him that wanted to ravage her and maim her into pieces.

He needed to do it. There could be no going back, and hopefully, killing Giana would put an end to the pernicious ideas his Brother had insidiously suggested. Rein couldn't know he was conflicted — battling so fervently over Layla. If his Brother ever found out of his warring thoughts he would try to poison his mind to get an upper hand on the situation. Ryder couldn't allow that. He wanted Layla. He'd been drawn to her from the start even though he didn't know why. What's so special about her? Why hadn't he considered her one of his Dolls when he first saw her in that alleyway?

Could he rationalize the pull? Had it been because Layla was about to become someone else's victim? Or was it something that just was? She was a Siren calling out to him. Luring him into her trap, bringing him down further and further into the dark oceanic abyss.

He snapped out of his thoughts and brought his glove away from her milky-white flesh. He blinked, trying to clear away the haze, the confusion that was fogging his mind like dense billowing fog that steady rolled across a grassy knoll. His unsettled mental state could be dangerous and he couldn't afford to slip up. Not when they have found his Creeper.

The discovery, and Creeper Doll in general, was something else he couldn't afford to think about. Ryder wound his music box back up, drawing his Demon out to take over once again and pushing down the conflicting thoughts of Layla and Creeper Doll to the darkest levels of his mind. He needed the control. He needed this kill. He needed to refocus his mind on the thrill of hunting, of killing, of being what and who he is. Would she fight him? Would she surrender? Did he even care what she could do? In the back of his mind he thought, "Yes. I want her to fight, and then surrender to me wholly. She is mine to take. To play with. To do with as I wish. Mind. Body. Soul."