Under my Skin

UNDER MY SKIN JO-ANNE JOSEPH SKYE HIGH PUBLISHING CONTENTS Foreword Introduction Preface Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Epilogue About the Author COPYRIGHT All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to people living or deceased, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are only used for reference purposes. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. The following story contains mature themes, strong language, sexual situations, and triggers that some may find offensive. It is intended for adult readers only. Copyright © 2022 by Jo-Anne Joseph Published by Skye High Publishing Editing: Swish Editing & Design Cover: SSB Covers and Design Interior Design: SSB Covers and Design This work was originally published as a novella in the Leave Me Breathless: Black Rose Collection entitled Dark Desires. Under My Skin was released as a standalone novel in 2020 and has since been re-edited with new content. Additional material has been added to the original work without disembarking from the story’s premise. Authors Note: This is a work of fiction and contains dark themes intended for mature audiences only [18+]. There are triggers that sensitive readers may find offensive, including sexual violence, graphic violent situations, self-harm, and infidelity, amongst others. The nature of storytelling is such that it may touch on aspects not everyone is comfortable with, but when a story needs to be conveyed, it must. So I say again that reader discretion is advised. These Trigger Warnings have been included for your attention. Heed them. Non-con, Dub-con, Self-harm, Suicide, Drug Use, Explicit sex, Incest (not MCs), Sexual Assault, mentions of Pedophilia (not MCs), Extreme graphic violence, Murder, Drug use, Confronting rapist/abuser, Trauma Many know me, yet none have seen my face. I’m the topic of conversation, but nobody knows my name. I am a life thief. A soul destroyer. An invisible plague. And still, you want to know me. Because my darkness reminds you of the desires that lurk within you. DEDICATION To every frightened child without a voice, I hear you. “There is a wide, yawning black infinity. In every direction, the extension is endless; the sensation of depth is overwhelming. And the darkness is immortal. Where light exists, it is pure, blazing, fierce; but light exists almost nowhere, and the blackness itself is also pure and blazing and fierce.” ~ Carl Sagan PROLOGUE THE LIFE THIEF The blade rotating between my slender fingers feels as light as a feather, but the weight of its impact can’t be measured on any scale. It’s deadly and maims without consequences, as does my pitifully black heart. Moonlight streams in from the window behind me, glistening on the steel, reminding me of the late hour. I’ve been lying in wait for the last couple of hours, my patience intact. Picking up the shiny red apple on the table beside me, I marvel at its sheer perfection. Then, I slice through the crimson skin using my knife, balking at the smell. It’s rotten. How could something so perfect on the outside be so vile and tainted on the inside? Under the skin, I resolve, is where the true form lies. You can gloss over and polish it until it’s nice and shiny, but in the end, it’s the core that matters. After tossing the spoiled fruit in the trash can, I use a cloth to wipe away the sickening wetness, now coating my favorite blade. I’ve collected a few over the years, some more exquisite than others, but this one, with its smooth edges, ornate leather, and silver handle, is a masterpiece. There’s nothing quite like the knife used in the first kill. My heart gallops at the sound of his feet scuffling across the dirty concrete, echoing in the silence of the eerie night. They’re faint, but I can’t miss them. When you spend enough time in the darkness, you become accustomed to relying on your other senses. Three, two, one… I count down the seconds before a loud knock hits the door. There’s a lot you can ascertain about a person’s knock. The confident, dominant ones are always a turn-on. Most men are born that way. They believe they’re invincible, born to rule the world. They’re made bigger, stronger, and faster, and to them, that translates into power and dominance. A man fears nothing because, in his eyes, he’s invincible. Or so he believes. My lips turn up at the corners. Kind of like me. I am invincible. The catch is only as good as the chase, and I’ve done the chasing. I waited and eventually baited him. It’s easy to lure them in because, deep down, they’re all the same. They like the thrill, and the taste of the forbidden is nothing short of euphoric. To them, I’m exactly that. A forbidden fruit, ripe for the picking. A toy in their game of misogyny. Something to mold and bend to their will.