Ella's POV

Three weeks later, I'd slipped into life with Andrea. It was horrible and painful but I'd learnt to tolerate it.

Every day, I'd get up, take my pill and make breakfast for us both. Sometimes Chico would help, sometimes he wouldn't. Then he'd put me to use doing whatever job he had going whether that be tending to the latest bullet victim, cleaning, cooking or serving food and beer to him and whichever disrespectful, misogynistic friends he had over that evening. He liked to take me out of the house too, whether that be because he needed my assistance distracting or persuading someone or simply just to drag me along.

I lost count of the number of times I watched him kill someone. At first, the coldness and complete emptiness in his eyes frightened me. I guess how easily he could just take a life without a second thought made me realise how dangerous he really was. But although with every death my heart sunk, the ringing in my ears from the shot of a bullet became normal and his utter lack of emotion no longer phased me.

When he wanted to sleep with me, which was three or four times a week, was by far the worst. Even though I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it, the guilt I felt was terrible. Everything else I became numb to overtime but with this, I felt the same excruciating pain every time no matter how much tequila he'd given me beforehand.

One evening afterwards, I sat with my knees against my chest against the headboard as he sat next to me, laid out comfortably as he put a cigarette in his mouth.

"Want one?" he offered.

"No," I whispered almost inaudibly.

"Try it," he urged.

I could tell by his tone that it wasn't a choice so I took one out of the box he was holding out to me and held it in my fingers.

He brought my hand to my mouth and rested it in my lips before lighting it and then lighting his own.

It filled my lungs with the most revolting ash and smoke that burnt and itched. But I didn't cough or reach for water, I just stayed still and felt the sting scratch at my throat. It was a distraction if nothing else.

"You ever smoked pot, Blanca?" he asked.

"No."

"Your Alpha didn't let you, huh?" he said with a slight laugh.

"I have kids," I replied.

"Shit yeh you do," he said. "A lot of fucking kids. But they aren't your problem anymore and you're with me now."

"I'd rather just sleep," I told him, handing him my barely touched cigarette before scrambling under the covers.

"Another time," he said. "Sweet dreams."

I closed my eyes and listened until he finished his cigarette and had fallen asleep before rolling onto my back and staring up to the ceiling.

It must have been hours until he moved and I felt his arm wrap around my waist.

"Do you ever sleep, Blanca?" he asked.

"When I run out of things to think about," I replied quietly.

"Go to sleep or you'll look like I haven't been treating you right," he said pulling me closer to him and closing his eyes again.

He hadn't been treating me right though.

The moonlight poured in the large window and onto the bed, lighting up Andrea's sleepy figure.

Even in innocent rest, he looked evil. Even when his piercing, satanic eyes were covered, a low sense of danger hung around him.copy right hot novel pub