Kiss The Villain: A Dark MM Enemies to Lovers Romance

I should’ve tortured Declan more.

Scalded him alive.

Cut his skin slower.

Melted him in acid, piece by piece.

I did spend fucking hours torturing him, making him pay for every single cut he inflicted on Gareth’s body, but it still wasn’t enough. I could still smell his rotten flesh and see the smirk on his goddamn mouth when Jethro came into the basement and told me we had to go.

“My little parting gift for you, motherfucker.” That’s what he said.

He put Gareth in danger again. Because of me.

It’s always because of me.

The stitches, the wounds, the internal and external hell he’s been going through are all because of me.

Declan laughed out loud as blood dripped all over his body, his face unrecognizable. One of his eyes was shut, but he still glared at me with the other one.

“You’re right, Davenport, I did torture that little psycho, but he was unresponsive, no matter how much we kicked and punched and threw him around. He had this unperturbed look and it pissed me the fuck off, but he got so angry when I said ye fucked him just because he has similar eyes to Caysie. Ah, you should’ve seen the rage and bloodlust in his eyes. Damn cunt would’ve killed me with his bare hands if he could. Since he seemed so jealous of her, I made him watch you happy together, playing with his mind, making him crazy because ye betrayed her with him. Ye tarnished her memory by being with her rapist’s grandson. Since ye couldn’t respect her in death, you should join her. See if ye can look her in the fucking eye!”

That’s when I put a bullet in his fucking head.

Silenced him for life.

I sit on a rock overlooking the ocean’s violent waves. The late afternoon sun casts a golden reflection on the water.

Cassandra never liked water since she couldn’t swim. It’s ironic that she was thrown into a lake, almost like a last fuck you of sorts.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, imagining her sitting beside me.

She’s stopped appearing in my nightmares now, replaced by Gareth being all bloodied and refusing to talk to me.

“Declan was right,” I murmur, my voice barely audible over the crashing waves. “I did grow fond of your rapist’s grandson. A boy I intended to kill, only to find myself captivated by him in ways I never thought possible.”

I exhale slowly, the sea breeze carrying a bitter chill that seeps into my bones. “You’d understand, wouldn’t you, Sandra? You were my friend, after all. You always understood me. Ma Jina says he’s changed me, and she’s right. He has. In ways I didn’t consent to, in ways I didn’t even realize until it was too late. I wanted…”

A small smile tugs at my lips, bitter and fleeting. “At some point, I wished I could be someone ordinary. A simple professor, free from the weight of the Davenport name, free from the chains of legacy and expectation. Just a man who could be with him without all of this hanging over us.”

The wind lashes against my face, and I close my eyes. “Sandra…what happened to you made me angry and vengeful. I wanted to give you justice, to give you closure. I made it my purpose. But maybe it wasn’t just for you. Maybe it was for me—a distraction from my own life, my obligations, from Grant’s ceaseless demands.

“But losing him…” My voice cracks as a violent wave hits the rocks, sending icy water splashing against my legs. “It’s unbearable. I haven’t been able to breathe, as if I’ve been walking around with a fireball lodged in my chest, suffocating me every moment of every day.”

I turn my gaze to the horizon, where the water meets the sky in a vast, endless expanse. “I’m sorry, Sandra. Truly. I can’t harm his grandfather, and I can never harm him. I killed your brother because he hurt him, and I would do it again without hesitation.

“I know it’s selfish. I know it betrays the purpose I claimed to have, but I’m letting you go. For good. If you can’t forgive me, I’ll accept that. Because the truth is, he’s my priority now. He’s the only thing that matters. Even if it costs me my life. Even if it costs me my soul.”

The wind howls, carrying my words away, but there’s no response, naturally, but I like to think she’s at peace now—at least one of us is.

Standing, I dust off my pants and trek down the jagged rocks. Jethro arranged our transport to one of my coastal safe houses, a location Grant has no clue about.

For now.

According to Jethro, Grant’s obsessive need for control means he’ll find us eventually, so we need to move soon.

Still, my thoughts stray to Gareth. I wonder if he’s made it to the island by now. A quick trip to check on him wouldn’t hurt.

Not that Jethro will agree. He’s hell-bent on getting us out of here and taking us all the way to South Africa.

He’ll just have to pick somewhere closer to the UK, maybe North Africa or Southern Europe, because I will go to the island. Regularly. Without drawing attention, of course. Because I can’t not see him.

The medium-sized house is quiet when I enter. Jethro is sitting at a desk near the entrance, dressed in a worn Metallica hoodie. His hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction. He’s typing furiously with one hand and holding a half-eaten sandwich in the other.

It’s clear he didn’t sleep last night, busy arranging meetings with directors and shareholders.

My banishment from Vencor might’ve come with a bounty on my head, but I still own half of the Davenport corporations. If Grant thinks my influence will dwindle just because I’ve been shunned, he’s in for a rude awakening.

I am Davenport Corp.

My father always favored the way I did business over Grant’s methods. I’ve built the empire stronger, handled threats more efficiently, and amassed a loyal following.

It doesn’t matter where I am. My power remains mine, and I won’t relinquish it to Grant.

Standing by Jethro’s desk, I pull out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of my lighter. The first drag burns my lungs in a way that feels both wrong and familiar. I’d quit since Gareth hates it, but his absence shoved me back into my bad habits.

“Where’s Simone?” I ask, exhaling a plume of smoke.

Jethro doesn’t even glance up. “She said she had to run an errand.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” I say, blowing out another cloud. “Passing by Brighton Island.”

This gets his attention. He lifts his head, a smear of mustard clinging to his chin. “No way in hell. Grant knows that was your last stop before coming back. He’ll have people watching.”

“Since I already returned, he won’t suspect it.”

“He might.”

“Then we’ll take the risk.”

Jethro glares, swallowing the bite of his sandwich. “The fuck is wrong with you, man? You’d risk getting killed just to see him from a distance?”

“I suppose.”

“You could just have one of the men take pictures and send them to you.”

“It’s not the same.” I turn and head toward the stairs. “Arrange it.”

His curses and muttered empty threats to quit follow me as I climb the stairs. I ignore him, entering my room and shutting the door behind me.

The room is sparsely furnished—functional but not homey. Definitely nothing like the home I had on that godforsaken gloomy island.

It’s ridiculous how one person’s presence can either light up the darkness or snuff out the light.

Shaking off the thought, I sit at the desk, the wood cool beneath my palms, and retrieve my laptop. I power it on and focus on the screen.

Moka jumps into my lap, her soft meow breaking the oppressive silence. I stroke her sleek black coat, my fingers moving absently. “You miss him, too, huh?”

She meows again.

“I know,” I whisper.

The cat leaps onto the brown leather sofa and lets out another haughty meow, her tone dripping with attitude. Just like a certain someone.

I should be working, replying to correspondence, and smoothing a few connections. But instead, I open a video file.

The video Declan sent to the Osborns so they’d have me kicked out. He probably figured that if he sent it to my brother, he would sweep it under the rug just to keep me around.

But in that case, Grant would’ve found Gareth and killed him. Just like our father did to his college sweetheart.

So, in a twisted way, I owe Declan.

The clip is short, grainy, and soundless. Gareth isn’t visible, tucked in the seat as I climbed on top of him. That was after he called his car, Medusa, his “baby” again. Irrational jealousy over a car—how fucking absurd.

The memory is vivid, sharper than the video. The surprised grunt he let out when I shoved him back. The mischievous sparkle in his green eyes. Those damn dimples creasing his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around me.

“Am I going to be punished, Professor?” His voice had been a low, rough murmur, heavy with arousal.

I see it in the clip—our bodies pressed together, his mouth beneath mine. Even soundless, I can almost hear him, feel the rasp of his breaths against my skin. “K-Kayde…more…fuck yes…”

I can still feel the way his muscles softened beneath my hands, his heartbeat thundering against mine, and his ears turning red. The small, needy noises he only ever makes for me.

The ghost of his scent fills my senses, and I’m instantly hard, the ache sharp and all-consuming. I can feel him even now—the heat, the tension, the way his hips aligned perfectly with mine.

I’m about to reach into my pants and relieve the ache when Moka jumps from the sofa to the table, scattering chess pieces across the table.

Voices filter in from downstairs, dragging me back to reality.

I slam the laptop shut to stand and open the door for Moka, who’s meowing loudly. Tension coils in my body as I stride to the top of the stairs.

Then I freeze.

At first, I think he’s a figment of my imagination, just like all the other times.

When I sleep, I picture him wiping me down and stroking my hand.

But he never speaks to me. No matter what I say, he just stares at me with those empty eyes.

Eyes I turned dead.

But then I blink, and he’s gone.

And I go back to sleep, but he’s not there again.

But this time, he’s real.

I’m blinking and he’s still standing there, holding Moka in his hands as she headbutts his chin.

My lungs seize, the air thick and heavy as though it’s been sucked from the room. The sight of him is a punch to the gut, a heavy, raw wave crashing into me.

His golden hair is longer now, falling messily over his forehead. His sharp jaw and cheekbones seem even more pronounced, but the rest of him…

He’s hollowed out.

My little monster has lost weight, rapidly, his muscles no longer stretching along his arms like they used to. His white T-shirt clings to his body, his jeans hanging low on his hips, hinting at the frame I used to worship daily.

But now, he seems distant. Untouchable, even.

The Band-Aid on his forehead is a stark, glaring reminder of what I’ve done and why I shouldn’t touch him.

Even though I can’t see them, I know jagged stitches are hidden beneath his jacket sleeve. I see them every time I close my eyes. The sight of him back then, his own blood that he didn’t think twice about spilling, haunts me.

I can almost feel the cold sting of his blood beneath my fingertips, in my veins, and carved in my chest.

Still, seeing him expands my lungs. For the first time in what feels like forever, I can breathe. His presence fills the space like a storm, leaving me both paralyzed and desperate to reach him.

But I can’t.

A burning tightness twists my stomach, but I say in a clipped, detached tone, “What are you doing here?”

Simone’s and Jethro’s bickering fades as Gareth’s green eyes meet mine. My grip tightens on the railing to stop myself from descending, from pulling him into my arms, from touching him.

“That’s what I was asking!” Jethro snaps, his voice cutting through the tension. “Why the fuck did you bring him here, Simone? You trying to get him killed?”

She shoves him away. “He said either I bring him or he goes to Grant. What do you think was the smarter option, genius?”

He was on his way back to school, but he demanded Simone bring him here? To me?

“You should leave,” I say coldly, though my grip on the railing threatens to crack the wood.

Gareth’s brow furrows, his gaze darkening as Moka jumps from his arms. Then his upper lip curls into a snarl. “The fuck you just say to me?”

“Leave, Gareth. Go back to school.” I aim for firm, not harsh, but I see the anger ignite in his eyes.

Then I turn, climbing the two steps again, and head back to my office. I barely sit down before the door hits the wall as he barges in, his shoulders crowding with tension and the lines in his face harsh.

He rounds the desk and grips me by the collar of my shirt, turning me in the chair so I’m looking up at him.

The brush of his knuckles against my neck sends a zap down my spine, and I want to touch him, to grab his waist and pull him into me, but I can’t.

I won’t.

He needs to leave before I lose control.

I flex my hands on either side of me to stop myself from reaching up.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” The bite in his deep, slightly husky voice rolls off my skin and settles in my gut.noveldrama

Fuck. I missed his voice.

“Whether I go to school or sabotage my whole fucking life is none of your goddamn business.” He tightens his grip on my collar, his rage mounting, but so does the pain tucked underneath.

Gareth has always been mentally strong. I know because I attempted to break him in the beginning, but he kept bouncing back again.

And again.

But now, he’s in pain and it rips at my chest.

“You shouldn’t throw your future away for me.” My tone remains neutral.

“It’s not for you!”

“Then why are you here, Gareth?”

His beautiful defined lips set in a line, and I want to press my mouth to them, taste him.

Just…for a moment.

But I force myself to drag my gaze to his eyes. “Because you feel sorry for me? Pity my pending death?”

A flash of darkness strikes his pupils again, blowing them up, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Your life is mine, remember? You’re not allowed to die without my permission.”

“Ah. So it’s that.”

“Yes, it’s that! Are you not going to keep your promise?”

“Of course I will.”

“Then…you won’t die?”

“I won’t.”

His chest rises and falls faster, his lips parting just the slightest bit, the smallest opening that will allow me to slide my finger in⁠—

“Are you mine?” His voice wavers, a crack of vulnerability slipping through.

“Always.”

I reach for his hip—I can’t help it—and a rough breath spills out of me as his breathing stutters. Just the slightest bit, telling me how much he also missed my touch.

I sneak my fingers beneath the hem of his T-shirt, and a shock of electricity bursts between us. Gareth’s chin wobbles and he sinks his teeth into his lower lip until it’s discolored.

“Since you’re mine…” His fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing hard. “I’m going to fucking erase her from under your skin. Piece by piece, I’ll carve her out and sink myself so deep, there will be no one but me.”

His lips crash against mine, biting, splitting the skin. Blood coats his tongue as he thrusts it into my mouth, letting me taste his fury and pain.

His longing and despair.

His rage and anguish.

I take it all.

His anger. His torment. His insatiable hunger.

I let him consume me, devour me, and light me on fire.

I grab his face and kiss him deeper, pressing him harder against me, fusing him further into me until I can’t discern his groans from mine.

Until all I can do is feel alive.

For one last time.