The Devil And His Mistake (18+)

Part Three

Hey guys, hope you're having a lovely morning or afternoon! Here is part three in the series, this is when you find some shit out about Wayne and what his actual "business" or "side business" entails, only a little bit right now, it's still early on ;) . Enjoy! Also, don't forget to vote and comment, it's keeping me going with these regular updates. Now... enjoy <3

Chapter Eight

I'd rushed over to Wayne before my brain had even kicked into gear. He was covered in blood. His white shirt was stained with splatters of bright red blood. His suit pants looked darker in some areas, which I knew was the blood.

Even his face had blood on it. His hair was a mess, too. "What happened? Are you okay?" My hands were on his arms, my eyes searching his face and his body frantically trying to find the source of the blood.

Wayne watched me, his eyes black. "I'm fine, Lil," He seemed to purr. His voice was horrifyingly calm considering the state of him. "It isn't my blood." Wayne finally admits.

My entire body seemed to freeze at his admission. "What?" I whispered, hands frozen on his chest now. My eyes were peering up into his seemingly black ones. He looked frightening, right now. He looked murderous.

He had blood in his beard. Whatever had happened was gruesome, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to know. "There was a crash on the way home from work - some guy was really hurt - I tried to put pressure on the wound, that's all," Wayne explained, but his voice wasn't filled with emotion. It was a lie - it was a straight, fucking, lie.

My eyes snapped from the blood on him, back to his gaze. Did this man think that I was born yesterday? "A crash?" I almost seethed.

Wayne only nodded. "I need to go and get cleaned up, excuse me," And with that, he went to walk past me. No-fucking-way. There was no way he was getting out of this so easily, no way. He'd come home covered in blood. Wayne looked like he'd just murdered someone. Brutally.

"I met your brother," I spat out, knowing that that would gain his attention.

I was correct. His black eyes met mine and his body seemed to stiffen. "What?" And now it was his turn to grit his teeth at me. I smiled, innocently up at him. If he wanted to play this game, I'd play it with him. I'd fucking smash the game, I'd smash him at his own fucking game.

"Oh, yeah, he came here about an hour ago. Asked for you," I explain, shortly.

Wayne sucked in a breath and then released it. His movement was robotic, as if he had to force himself to breathe. "What did he say?" Wayne seemed worried. "Did he do anything?" He added, and I heard the rest of that question without him having to say it.

Did he do anything? Translation: Did he do anything to you?

I shook my head. "I split hot chocolate all over your white rug though, it's a goner." I admit, I feel slightly bad for that.

Wayne sighed and rubbed his eyebrows, one eyebrow with his thumb, the other with his pointer finger. I peered up at him, just watching. He seemed stressed, and not because he was covered in somebody else's blood.

I licked my dry lips. "What happened, Wayne?" I whisper, needing to know more. I needed the truth - I was marrying this man - I needed to know what he'd done. Tonight, and any other night before tonight.