Godless creatures a dark.., p.1
Godless Creatures : A Dark Romance, page 1
Godless Creatures
Temple of Kings
Book 1
V. Brown
Contents
Content Warning
Prologue
1. Micah
2. Micah
3. Micah
4. Micah
5. Micah
6. Micah
7. Psycho
8. Psycho
9. Micah
10. Psycho
11. Micah
12. Psycho
13. Psycho
14. Psycho
15. Micah
16. Micah
17. Psycho
18. Psycho
19. Psycho
20. Micah
21. Psycho
22. Micah
23. Micah
24. Psycho
25. Psycho
26. Psycho
27. Micah
28. Micah
29. Psycho
30. Psycho
31. Micah
32. Micah
Epilogue
Want more?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Please be aware that what may be written in this book may be triggering to a certain audience. Content contains death, violence, and abuse. Discretion is advised.
Copyright © 2023 by V. Brown
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
Cover Design by Simply Defined Art
Edited by BLD Editing
Formatted by Books and Moods
Proofread by J. Brown
To Mum, the first person to ever read Godless Creatures and not disown me for the absolute filth between these pages.
Content Warning
Hi Reader,
Godless Creatures is primarily a dark romance and as such includes some triggering content, including:
Graphic violence, including torture and murder
Graphic sexual content, including erotic electrostimulation
Sexual extortion (not by MCs)
Mentions and portrayal of mental health, asylum facilities and treatments
Please take care of yourself, your safety and wellbeing.
Prologue
MICAH
For four years, we had trained for that moment. For four years, we had patiently waited.
A whispered rumour was all it took. Ludus Maximus began distributing drugs throughout the city—our city—encroaching on our destroyed domain and forgotten birthright.
One problem. We never forgot.
I’d do anything—we’d do anything—to gain the knowledge we desperately sought.
We would infiltrate each underground organisation, smoke out all the traitors who played a part in our family’s demise. Then burn it all to the fucking ground until all that remained were our enemy’s ashes, scattered amongst our lifeless friends.
Violence. Torment. Blood.
It was who we were, what we were born to be.
Our word was law. Our rule was paramount. Our name was King.
Chapter 1
Micah
The decayed iron gates welcomed me into hell, luring me forth to dine with the clinically insane. Wailing blasts of wind threatened to uproot me from the circular driveway, my black heels tracing scattered raindrops to the entrance of Oakview Asylum.
Oakview Asylum was an intimidating compound, a sprawling concrete prison in the centre of Junction City; originally a historical estate, donated and converted into a high-security forensic facility. It now housed the craziest, most disturbed and psychotic patients in the country. People who committed crimes so heinous and unbelievable that once they entered, they never came out.
A chuckle escaped my lips at the audacity of the situation.
The things I’d done. The things I was yet to do. Based on all manner of criteria, I too should be imprisoned within those cold castle walls.
As if the depressing state of the crumbling foundation isn’t incentive enough to stay the fuck away.
An imposing tower stood guard on each corner, the bland, grey bricks leached of all colour and life. The fortifications twisted high in the sky, camouflaging amid the overcast clouds, a debilitating storm brewing within both.
I straightened my shoulders, smoothed a professional mask and stepped over the threshold of the entrance foyer. I was instantly assaulted by a threatening electrical current that zinged over my flesh in warning. The security suppressant barrier felt as if my soul was being torn from the very marrow of my bones.
It was inhumane, merciless, a physically painful experience. An aggressive failsafe to keep inmates confined and the city streets safe.
But who will keep them safe from me?
A bulky security guard with a buzz cut stood before the front desk, his uniform pressed and ironed into regimented alignment. Enormous arms crossed in front of his chest as lacklustre blue eyes roamed over my frame with disapproval.
“I’ve been waiting,” he said with an authoritative undertone.
I kept his gaze and refused to clock the time. I wasn’t late. I was five minutes early. “We’d better get started then, shouldn’t we?”
He can go fuck himself.
A tick flexed in the corner of his jaw before he offered me a staff identification card. “This doubles as a swipe card, which grants you access to all areas of the facility. Come, I’ll lead you to your office.” Turning for a side door, he didn’t wait to see if I followed. “The name’s Fern. I’m head of Oakview Security.”
As if I couldn’t tell by the blatant badge plastered over his chest in clear block letters.
I rolled my eyes behind his back as he led me through multiple checkpoints, the barren corridors already compressing on what little happiness was hidden within.
Fern came to a halt outside a thick timber door. “I only have one rule: follow my instructions, every instruction. I’m here for your protection. I can’t protect you if you don’t follow orders, Miss Olivia Chaser.”
“Doctor Chaser.” The alias rolled off my tongue, slick as honey.
I didn’t need my ability to feel the direct potency of misogyny radiating from him. My insides preened with glee. Maybe I could have some fun after all.
My office was so bland and suffocatingly mundane, it was sure to suck the life out of you (if you still had any left). The colourless cell held a desk directly in the centre, bolted to the ground with two weighted metal chairs lined on either side. Rest assured, I wouldn’t be assaulted by the damn furniture. Comfort seemed to be a non-existent concept.
A stack of patient files lay haphazardly on the desk. I sifted through the contents until I found the name that had held residence in my mind ever since I’d first heard it.
The reason I was here. The person I’d sought to find, hoping he’d be the gateway to our many unanswered questions. I opened the file.
Alias: Psycho
Legal Name: Unknown
Sex: Male
Age: 21
Variant Status: Unknown
Sentence: Homicide — 25 years to life
Diagnosis: Psychopath
Assessment:
-Anti-social behaviour
-Nil emotional response, lack of empathy and/or remorse
-High risk of violence and dangerous behaviour (multiple unprovoked assaults)
-Resistant to all treatment options. Refuses to engage
Findings: Minimal chance of rehabilitation
Treatment: If patient remains the same twelve months into sentence, advised lobotomy
I lifted a brow, perusing the assessment notes from the previous shrink. I didn’t know the circumstances of their abrupt departure, although I could hazard a guess. Oakview had a high staff turnover rate, the previous two psychiatrists lasting six weeks altogether (not that I was supposed to be privy to that information).
Either way, I didn’t care. The dangers and risks were nothing compared to what I’d experienced. I was here for one job only. More specifically, one person only.
I will not fail.
There was a quick rap at the door before a tall male swaggered through the archway. He assessed me with hunger, his porcelain veneers gleaming a winning grin.
“I’m Mr Burner, Manager of Oakview. We spoke on the phone.”
We shook hands, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. I plastered on a fake smile while discreetly rubbing my palm clean over my thigh. “A pleasure to be a part of the team, Mr Burner.”
We made small talk—the generic bullshit normal people pretended to care about—as he presented the grand tour.
Burner’s pristine image was comical, in complete contrast to his surroundings: coiffed blonde hair, accompanied by an expensive suit two sizes too small.
“I must say, you look young for your age,” he said. “Your resume was extraordinary. You shone above all other applicants.” The compliment fell short, due to there being no other applicants.
I’d nearly killed Spencer when she’d submitted my fake credentials. She’d added an extra ten years to my twenty, alongside other ridiculous qualifications. Thankfully, no one had dug up an old trumpet…the missio
“Protection and safety are of the utmost importance,” he rambled on. “There are cameras running 24/7 in all communal areas. Due to confidentiality, we can’t place surveillance within individual rooms. If you feel unsafe at any time, please alert Fern.”
I feigned interest, nodding at appropriate pauses, when a distinct bell rang through the speakers, announcing lunch.
“Let me take you to the cafeteria. You can get a glimpse of your patients. After that, we can get more acquainted in my office.” He pressed a hand to my lower spine, directing me forward.
Bile rose in the back of my throat and I flexed my fingers to prevent them from dislocating his own. My family would be unhappy if I committed homicide on the first day. Containing my rage, I twisted out of reach, trailing after him into the bustling space.
I scanned the area, taking stock of my surroundings. Possible exits, potential threats. Always a necessity when entering a new environment—especially a room filled with crazy people.
My eyes seemed to gravitate to the farthest corner of the room, something lingering in the depths seeking me out. Then my gaze locked with two of the darkest orbs I’d ever seen, swallowing me whole in their bottomless depths. I was gripped by a predator hiding in the brush. The prime hunter of the facility, I had no doubt. I had found what I was looking for, but it was far more sinister than I’d ever imagined.
Psycho.
I was stunned, completely taken over by the irrational thought to move closer and seek comfort in the tattooed arms of my own destruction. As I was about to take a step towards him, Burner cut into my wayward thoughts.
“Shall I show you the dorms? They’re off to the right here.” I clutched onto the distraction and broke away from the stranger’s intoxicating hold.
I have to see him again.
That was my last thought before I could snap sanity into my brain once more.
I blindly tracked Burner’s steps to escape, the vivid image of Psycho playing back in my mind, mocking me with intrigue.
Biting hard into my tongue, salty, metallic blood saturated my mouth, the pain and taste pulling me out of my hypnotic state.
I would not falter. Whatever that was, it had no place here.
PSYCHO
Shrouded in shadow, I straddled the corner bench of the mess hall, one of my many haunts. Tipping my chin high, I pushed the unappetising meal to the side, instead lighting a cigarette for sustenance. Nicotine laced my veins as I perused the cafeteria with tedious boredom. My knee bounced, deciding whether to remain on this bench or—shocker—sit on the bench outside, torrential rain and all.
Inmates were whispering about the new psychiatrist. Crazy motherfuckers believed themselves to be clever, scaring them all away, not realising they’d never be redeemed with the constant revolving door of shrinks if they weren’t cleared of their insanity.
Who am I kidding? Not one person in this asylum would ever be discharged, least of all me.
Unlike them, my incarceration was by choice…I couldn’t decide if that was better or worse.
From my initial sentence ten months ago, everyone knew to stay the hell away from me. If they didn’t, they learnt fast (if they managed to survive the aftermath, that is).
Tilting my head back to the dreary ceiling, I exhaled a thick stream of smoke, wishing for any reprieve to break the monotony of inmate life.
The main door buzzed from the far side of the room, the perfect time for Manager Burner to lead the new psychiatrist around for a tour. The atmosphere charged as inmates attempted to stay low-key (as if being a mentally unstable person locked up in a high-security prison could ever be considered low-key).
I huffed at the fresh excitement. Another wannabe do-gooder using the sinners of society in an attempt to make themselves feel better. I yawned at the predictable mentality.
Burner swiped through the last remaining security door, leading the newcomer into the lion’s den. Giving me my first unobstructed view of the goddess behind him.
I choked, inhaling sharply on my cigarette, the vapour catching in my throat. I swiped my eyes—suddenly lined with water—not wanting to lose sight of my marked target.
She was fucking gorgeous. Her bronzed skin shone against her professional, figure-hugging suit, the fabric stretching from her neck all the way down to her ankles. Black heels clicked in tune with the prominent pounding in my ears, her shining brown hair tied in a low ponytail trailing down her back, accompanied by glowing amber eyes that were now transfixed in my direction.
She couldn’t possibly see me, my solitary corner so dark and shaded, no light could ever penetrate. But there she was, on the opposite side of the room, staring across the expanse directly into my fucking soul.
I leant forward ever so slowly, elbows resting on my knees. Instinctively preparing for the hunt, muscles clenched in anticipation to pursue this newfound prey.
I wanted to taste her skin. I wanted to drink her blood. I wanted to claim and simultaneously destroy this innocuous being.
Burner must have said something, as her captivated gaze shifted from mine, her attention now waning elsewhere as she was led through the next corridor to the dorms.
My body vibrated with unrelenting pressure, ready to strike, ready for action. I clenched my fists to prevent chasing after her.
Patience. The minimum requirement for the ultimate pursuit.
Oh, how the kill will be worth it.
Chapter 2
Micah
Many were uncomfortable in the dark, even more so amongst the company of the dead. I never understood why. The dead could not speak, could not plot, manipulate or betray. Certainly more trustworthy than the living.
I wove my motorbike through towering tombstones and opulent mausoleums. Nightingale Cemetery was an entire mini metropolis, the most affluent and sought after location for the afterlife in Junction City. One would only find their end here if they had a family plot, which resulted from superior pedigree, significant wealth or notoriety of the highest order.
I screeched to a halt before the intimidating statue of Stern King, stabilising one foot over his sarcophagus at my feet.
Our forebear stood vigil at the entrance of our family crypt, the King Mausoleum looming high over his back, the streaks of approaching dawn reflecting brightly off the glowing white marble. Our sigil stabilised directly centre, the pure 24k gold crown symbolising our leadership of the longstanding crime organisation, the Sovereign.
A familiar ache tore at my conscience, an unrelenting grief ever-present and vicious in its undertaking. The reminder of our losses was acutely overpowering when confronted with our ancestors’ eternal resting place—empty of two main occupants.
Our father, Oliver King, was a difficult death to process. He’d always seemed invincible, an untouchable entity that could never be caught off guard.
However, my three sisters and I were close, completely aligned. Breathing, moving and existing together as one cohesive unit since our births. All four of us were sixteen when the eldest, Chase—our leader, our fucking guiding light—was taken from us. The remnants of her loss still reverberated through our bond, the cavern of despair magnified by the absence of her physical remains.
After her death, I naturally transitioned into the leadership role, being the second-born and next in line. A title I neither revered nor wanted, responsibility forcing me to take command to ensure my younger sisters’ safety.
I shook my head, releasing the useless emotions and past regrets. Grabbing a thin knife from my boot, I nicked a tiny incision at the base of my wrist, red droplets staining the surface of Stern’s engraved name.
The sarcophagus released an audible groan, descending into the labyrinth of the deceased. I hit the throttle, darkness swallowing the illumination of my headlights as I navigated sharp corners from protruding crypts.
There was a whole underground to Junction City, including numerous exits and entries, depending on which service you were searching for. The main bulk were owned by Ludus Maximus, their base directly below the city centre.
