Flawed: (A Psychological Dark Romance) (The Dark Necessities Prequels Book 1)
Flawed
A Dark Necessities Prequel
By
Felicity Brandon
Copyright © 2019 by Felicity Brandon
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.
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. For more information, address: felicitybrandonauthor@gmail.com
This book is entirely a work of fiction. The author does not condone, nor endorse any of the acts in this book.
First edition May 2019
Cover design by Eris Adderly
Download your FREE Felicity book here.
https://felicitybrandonwrites.com/
“When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.”
Friedrich Nietzsche
A special thank you to everyone who contributed to this book.
To the beta readers (your contributions are invaluable), my amazing editor, and those who have kindly helped me proof the manuscript—thank you!
The largest thank you of all goes out to you, though—the reader—
without you my words have no power.
Prologue
England, January, 1990
The end.
It was a funny place to start, and yet those were the words that came into his head as his gaze surveyed the edge of cliffs just beyond him.
Hindsight, he mused. Wasn’t it an amazing thing?
Sitting here now, Ethan was certain he could recall every moment they had spent together. Every day, of every month, of every year. All of the highs and the challenges, every moment of connection and every single cross word. They were all clear to him at that moment. Each one coming at him with incredible clarity.
“And it’s all led us here,” he murmured, his focus turning west to watch what remained of the sunset. “To this place.”
What would he change if he could go back in time? What acts would he disregard, which would he do over, if he could? Who would he save? Who would he claim? The list of questions was as endless as it seemed futile. He couldn’t go back—none of them ever could—and he couldn’t save any of them. Except of course, the one woman who meant the most to him out of all of them. Out of everyone.
“Ethan.”
The sound of her voice in the breeze caught his attention, and he turned to see her standing there, just a short distance behind the place he was sitting. Ethan hadn’t heard her approach, but then the strength of the gusts was so strong here, he reasoned the sounds had probably been lost on the wind.
“Hey, little one,” he replied, rising to his feet at her approach.
Even now, she looked so slight compared to him, her five foot seven inches nothing compared to his looming stature.
“So, this is it?” she asked with wide green eyes. “This is Beachy Head. I’ve never been before.”
Ethan reached for her small hands, and stared down at her face. She was nervous. That much was clear, and of course, he could understand why, but still, she was no less beautiful than she’d ever been. No less wonderful than she’d appeared in his visions all those years ago. No less his.
“This is it, beautiful,” he assured her. “Are you ready to do this?”
She blinked up at him, her expression showing her obvious conflict on the subject. “Yes,” she replied. “And no.”
Ethan laughed, but the intensity of the noise disappeared into the airstream before it reached his woman. There was his wife—always wrapped in a contradiction, not so unlike himself in many ways.
He edged closer toward her, pressing the heat of his body against her diminutive frame. Even after two children, she was as slim and stunning as she’d always been. A rarity amongst many of the women he’d known over the years—the ones who’d survived him, at least.
“You don’t have to, little one,” he told her. “You know that, don’t you? I won’t think any less of you if you let me go on my own.”
She pursed her lips at his assertion, and Ethan could see the emotion swilling in those huge green eyes. “I can’t…” she began, but her voice trailed away with another strong gust of wind.
“Leave the children?” he suggested, completing her sentence for her.
She shook her head in response. “No,” she croaked, “and I know how messed up that makes me sound. I know it makes me the worst mother of all time, but no. I know they’re safe. I know they can be happy, and they have each other. When you go, who will I have?”
Ethan squeezed her hands gently in his palms. “You’ll always have me,” he whispered, leaning in toward the side of her face so that she could hear his words despite the gale blowing around them. “Always, beautiful. In here.”
His right hand shifted, dragging her palm north to the left side of her chest. Their eyes met, a union of indescribable intensity evident in both of their gazes.
“And, in here,” he went on, lifting that same hand and gently tapping the side of her head.
“I know.”
She was crying now, the tears flowing freely for him, just like they had so many times before.
“But that’s not enough, Ethan, how can it be? After all these years, how can that knowledge ever be enough?”
She broke down in front of him then, and unthinkingly, Ethan pulled her into his chest, pressing his lips into the soft, dark strands of her hair. It sounded as though her heart was breaking wide open, and he sympathized, or at least, he might have done, if he’d actually had a heart of his own. He’d had one once, or at least—he thought he had—but that hadn’t always been the case. Back in 1969, when he’d first laid eyes on her, Ethan hadn’t been so sure. Yet meeting her changed so much. She had saved him from a life of perpetual darkness and loneliness. She’d brought a new sunrise to each day, and she’d gotten him through, even blessing his life with two sons of their own. She was his savior.
More than he deserved.
“I’ll respect whatever choice you make,” he replied soothingly. “If you stay, then we have enough money for the very best defense. You can say you knew nothing about my crimes, you can say I coerced you. You can say anything you like to make sure you don’t do time for me.”
She shook her head against him. “They won’t believe me,” she answered. “No defense can produce a rabbit like that from the hat, Ethan, and anyway, I did know. I knew about all of them. How can I lie? How can I stand up there and lie about those things?”
Ethan turned his face into the wind again, musing on her moral dilemma. He had never been so burdened with the matter of right and wrong, but then, she always had been the better half of him. “For the kids,” he answered after a lengthy pause. “You’ll do it for them. If you don’t come with me, then your place is with the children.”
“The children have your sister,” she replied. “And anyway, they’re not babies anymore. They hardly need us. Dalton is nearly nineteen.”
Ethan’s mind shifted to his eldest son, an image of Dalton appearing in his head. “He’s a good boy,” he replied absent-mindedly. “He won’t make the same bad choices I’ve made. He’ll do better, and he’ll look after his brother.”
“I hope so,” she replied, lifting her chin to look up at his gaze, revealing her tear-stained face. “He’s made some dangerous friends recently though.”
No matter, his mind reminded him. They’ll have to do without you soon enough, Ethan. They might as well get used to it now.
“That Saul Morrison.” She practically spat the name into the air around them. “I don’t know what it is about that guy, but there’s something. He’s up to no good, Ethan. I can just feel it.”
Ethan laughed, the sound making her eyes narrow. “I’m sure your father would have said something similar about me when we were first courting?” he goaded.
“Yes, he bloody would have done,” she shot back. “And he’d have been right, wouldn’t he?”
Ethan’s laughter died into little more than a smirk. Her father had been right. “The kids have Kitty,” he agreed, thinking of his loving sister. “They’ll be fine, and one day, they will understand.”
Or maybe they wouldn’t; it made no difference to the choice he was about to make. That knowledge twisted in his gut like a blade because he knew what it meant—what it represented. It meant he was a useless father, just like his own dad had been before him, and Ethan had always sworn to do better—to be better…
“God, I hope so,” she replied, her voice breaking as though the realization of what they were here for had just fallen over her again. “I really hope so.”
He sighed as his gaze caught the last remnants of the day’s fleeting sunshine. If they were going to do this, then it needed to be now.
“It’s time,” he told her. His voice had taken on that lower timbre, the one he’d always used to warn her in the past. To discipline her. “Time to make your choice, gorgeous. Do we go on together, or will you join me later? Either way, we’ll be reunited soon, Lily, and for all time.”
She nodded at his words. Ethan knew she believed that as much as he did. After everything they had shared, how could she not?
“Together.”
Only one word, but it sealed her fate, and it meant she had decided.
Ethan smiled, shifting in the direction of the cliff edge. Gripping her small hand in his palm, he walked forward, toward his fate. At first, she hung back, but a second later, she was right there, facing it head-on with Ethan. Just like she always had done.
Just like she always would.
At the precipice, he paused, drawing her body against his for one final kiss.
It’s not the end, after all, his mind reminded him as their lips parted. It’s just the beginning.
Chapter One
England, summer, 1969
He was a predator.
The sort of man women had been taught to fear—with good reason. Watching and waiting were Ethan’s favorite pastimes, but those were just the tip of the iceberg. Ethan had much deeper interests than that; much darker proclivities he chose to indulge, and as he watched the young woman step off the train, he now had a new target.
She stalked past him, flicking her long, chestnut hair behind her as she rounded the station corner with a handful of other commuters. There was no doubt she was an attractive one, her long, slim limbs and pretty features making her stand out from the crowd, but it was more than just that. Ethan had a feeling about her—a sense that she was the one he’d been waiting for—the one he was supposed to have, and he always trusted his feelings. They were never wrong.
Checking his watch, he clocked the time the train had just arrived before he folded his newspaper, and made his way in the same direction she had headed. He caught sight of her shiny hair at once in the evening sunshine as he turned the corner onto Station Road, and staying six or seven people behind her, Ethan followed. He pursued her onto Main Road, watching as she smiled at a guy waiting at a nearby bus stop. Did they know each other, he wondered, or was she flirting? The answer wasn’t clear, and only several more days of surveillance would be able to clarify, so he carried on, tracing her footsteps down the street until the group of people began to thin out between them.
His pursuit continued for about five minutes, until the young woman turned left into Wilson Close. Standing on the corner, Ethan watched her stride down the path. She was relaxed and looked casual as she walked, evidently completely unaware that she was in imminent danger. That made him smirk. It was like a challenge he couldn’t resist. How long could he survey her unnoticed, and what would she do if she did notice him? In all the time he’d been hunting, only one woman had ever been wise to his games, and she’d paid with her life that very night. For the most part, the women never noticed. They were oblivious, walking straight into their fates with a smile on their faces. He mused it was the best way. They never saw it coming—they couldn’t see the mask of death in his smile if he happened to flash it to them in passing. They never knew the significance of their final days—the last time they’d enjoy a drink, read a book, or leave their house in the morning. Prey never knew. Prey just did its thing, unaware of the monsters lurking just beyond their reach. Because that’s what he was; a monster, lurking, and he was good, too. The best. Prolific and yet never caught, Ethan was free to roam, free to lurk and free to kill again.
Predator and prey—trapped together in one final, beautiful dance—but only one of them could get out alive, and as Ethan watched the woman with the chestnut hair make her way down Wilson Close, he knew which of them it would be.
Him, he laughed mockingly in his mind. It was going to be him. It was always going to be him.
He held back, allowing her to increase the distance between them. Hunting when the evenings were light was always more difficult, but it wasn’t impossible. He just had to be one step ahead of his prey, leaner, quicker and smarter than her, and he had no doubt he could achieve that. Maybe he’d use his car for this one, pretend to be lost and needing help, and play on her likely empathy. Women were generally predictable like that—bleeding hearts who thought they could help everyone—and that weakness was something he could exploit.
Ethan watched as she disappeared from sight, crossing the road to go right onto Maynard Street. That was where the chase would end tonight, but it didn’t matter. Ethan had time. Tomorrow he’d return, and he’d follow her again. Tomorrow, he’d find out where she lived, but he wouldn’t strike. It was still too soon. He needed to know more about the chestnut beauty first. He needed to know which house was hers, what time she left it in the morning, and whether she always got the same train home. Ideally, he’d also find out a little more about her life. Was she single, or was there a man waiting at home for her in the evenings—someone who would miss her—someone who would call the police when she didn’t come home?
He was a predator alright, but predators took their time. They stalked their prey until the opportunity was right, and only then did they pounce. Not too early, not too late—that was the challenge—and as many women had already discovered, his little chestnut beauty would learn Ethan loved a challenge.
Chapter Two
England, October, 1969
In his mind’s eye, he could see her, and unexpectedly, he also got a name.
Lily.
Normally his meditation revealed nothing about his next victim except her appearance, or maybe a location. In all the years Ethan had been hunting, he’d never known the woman’s name before. This was a first, and it was different; unsettling. He knew her name, and that meant she had an identity—she was a real person—not just an unknown girl he could extinguish with no regard. He shook his head, as though the gesture would shake Lily’s identity away. But it wasn’t going away, and neither was the image of the woman in his mind.
The most striking thing about her were her eyes. Like the deepest rain forests, her gaze was a dark, alluring green, and as he pressed his mind to focus on them, Ethan could sense they held much more than just a pretty aesthetic. She was young—maybe too young—and she was slim, and carefree, with an innocent, inquiring mind. That was a dangerous combination.
She’s innocent now
.
He smiled wryly at that assessment, but the fact he’d even processed it startled Ethan. He never normally concerned himself with how innocent his victims were, because he had no interest in those things. They were there to serve whatever function he needed, and Ethan paid no attention to anything beyond that.
But not with Lily.
It was different with her, and though he could visualize her in his mind, he’d not even actually laid eyes on the woman yet. Ethan inhaled as the thought resonated.
What did that mean?
Was Lily supposed to be more than just prey—was she supposed to mean more?
Closing his eyes, Ethan fell deeper into the vision. He could see her, hell he could smell her, and his mouth began to salivate at the prospect of how little Lily would taste. One lazy finger drew an invisible line down the length of her body in his mind’s eye, her skin goosing under his feathery touch.
“Ohhh.”
The sound of her sigh was barely audible in his fantasy, but Ethan heard it. He responded to it, his erection thickening at the contact—at the intimacy.
He reached forward, securing the final binds at her delicate wrists. Lily didn’t resist, her green gaze unblinking as their eyes met. She had no idea what he was going to do to her, and even less of an understanding about what it would mean for him. For them both. But there she was, bound and pliant.
His.
That concept resounded around his mind. His—really? Ethan had never wanted to keep any of them before. He always just took what he wanted and disposed of what remained. The idea that he might want to actually meet and get to know this Lily was perturbing.
In the vision, the flogger appeared in his hand, and Ethan gripped the handle as he eyed the soft tresses. Soft—just like Lily herself—but he knew the impact it would make once it landed over her vulnerable flesh. He knew how much it would sting; how much each caress would bite as it kissed her skin. He was counting on it.