Rugged Butcher

By Celia Crown

"I want you to myself, so why would I give you away?"

 

He lives up to his name: dark, dangerous, and boundless. He's a psychopath, a sociopath, or both, but maybe he's neither.

 

Lila's a fighter, albeit weaker than a man with menacing obsidian eyes and muscles scarred with the memories of his sins.

 

She's always hurt, it's as if fate refuses to let her leave him. She won't sit idly and wait for him to make the first move. She doesn't trust him.

 

Trust has no room for his desire to keep her around until she runs out of her purpose.

 

Tito just didn't plan on her taking his selfish heart as payment. A fair trade, he supposes, if he gets to have hers.

 

He only needed one moment—when Lila named him.

 

The danger from her past is nothing compared to a deranged man discovering his newest obsession.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celia Crown
• Release date: Apr 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223415800

Book preview

RUGGED BUTCHER

____________________

CELIA CROWN

Copyright © 2021 by Celia Crown.

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction.

The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, locations, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

Contents

Rugged Butcher

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Afterword

More Books

Rugged Butcher

By Celia Crown

I want you to myself, so why would I give you away?

He lives up to his name: dark, dangerous, and boundless. He’s a psychopath, a sociopath, or both, but maybe he’s neither.

Lila’s a fighter, albeit weaker than a man with menacing obsidian eyes and muscles scarred with the memories of his sins.

She’s always hurt, it’s as if fate refuses to let her leave him. She won’t sit idly and wait for him to make the first move. She doesn’t trust him.

Trust has no room for his desire to keep her around until she runs out of her purpose.

Tito just didn’t plan on her taking his selfish heart as payment. A fair trade, he supposes, if he gets to have hers.

He only needed one moment—when Lila named him.

The danger from her past is nothing compared to a deranged man discovering his newest obsession.

Chapter One

__________

Lila

Where are you, boogeyman?

Every white breath causes a sting on my bottom lip as the unforgiving coldness cracks the split even more. Dense snow slows my momentum, allowing adrenaline to ease away so I can feel the dry prickles in my throat.

I rarely cast a glance behind me. This is because I don’t have to since my ears pick up on the distinctive crunches of rapid stomps, and I can’t afford to get hit by an uncontrolled branch.

Nobody comes to this part of the boreal forest in January. It’s the coldest month with unreliable snowstorms and wild mammals lurking between the trees. They aren’t a problem for me as long as I steer clear of them.

If I come across a bear, which I, unfortunately, did years ago, I would not make the same stupid mistake of running.

I did what most people would’ve done and almost got mauled.

Most people wouldn’t experience a massive shape flowing between obsidian shadows, wrestling the unsuspecting grizzly bear, and yanking the animal into the darkness like a paralysis demon.

That was my first and only meeting with the boogeyman. The bloodthirsty butcher, as the locals call him. What he is and what he looks like comes from bedtime stories and rumors.

He’s over eight feet tall, stronger than humanity’s fiercest soldier, and he feasts on the meats of his fallen prey. This entire high-altitude forest is his domain; he has been hunting and living here for hundreds of years.

Some rumors are exaggerated, but the scar down his muscular back is true. I saw a glimpse of it when he hauled the unmoving grizzly bear deeper into the forest. The scar was jagged, certainly not from a knife or any other sharp weapon.

I didn't think about it for long and dashed back to the cabin, using the dim moonlight as my guide.

Where is the eight-foot monster now that I need him?

I didn’t wake up today hoping to meet the boogeyman, nor did I want to enjoy my morning tea and smell faint whiffs of copper traveling with the wind.

Years of living here have conditioned me to the environment. I tend to notice the slightest change when my senses aren’t overwhelmed by the city’s pollution.

I always leave the cabin when I detect a change. There’s a small hole in the nearby mountain rock, big enough to fit me inside but not enough to do anything else.

Sometimes they’re lost campers. Other times I get lucky and stay in the cabin if they’re wandering animals. Few people like to come up here during the harshest winter months, but I’d rather be careful than sorry for getting caught.

Today is different.

I was near the hiding spot when I heard voices, so I bolted in another direction. More voices filled the area, some groans and static indicative of a radio or a walkie-talkie.

That was when fear flooded my body. I ran deeper into the forest and used my smaller stature to dash behind the trees.

Now, my foot catches on some broken branches, and my brain can’t catch up with the rest of my body to realize why I stopped breathing. My elbows dig into the crunching snow, droplets of melting snow trickle down my chin as I blink hastily to focus on the branches.

Branches that turn into bloodied limbs when blurriness fades.

I scuttle back, my coat catching splinters from the tree as I press my body harder against the trunk.

The man lying face-down in the snow is still breathing when I squint, but he looks too wounded to move.

If I weren’t such a frightened coward, I’d go help him. His wounds aren’t the result of an animal because a black knife is sticking out of his spine. The sound of his sharp wheeze sweeps through my skull, urging me to offer a hand even when my nerves are cursing at me.

A crunch reaches my left ear, and my blood runs cold.

He, a man who exudes danger, moves like the apparition of silent evil—smooth and suffocating. Blood caked on his hardened muscles, fresh red streaks staining the black ink and circling his thick fingers. Eyes darker than the abyss stare unnervingly calm at the limp body, and the calculating glint strikes profound fear in my heart.

He looks almost senseless, void of everything but aggression lining between the tattoos on his arms.

I stay still, hoping to blend into the tree. My lungs burn as I stop breathing when flashes of heat stab my sore calves, hinting at the incoming pain when nighttime comes.

If I can survive that long, I think sullenly.

I don’t know who these two men are, what they are doing here, or what happened between them, but I don’t want to get involved.

I can’t assume anything about the man lying with his face in the snow. I can, however, make a bold assumption about the man walking out from behind my tree.

It’s easy to agree with butcher being whispered in my head.

I suck in a big gasp of air, shoulders shaking violently as gusts of wind kick up loose snow. Melted slush soaks into my pants, but I’m too scared to shift away from the uncomfortable sensation.

The man only has a tattered black shirt clinging to his massive body, dark pants adhering to his thick thighs, and equally dark boots compressing down snow with his weight.

The closer he walks to the limp man, the closer I feel the distance between us. This is not a safe distance; he’s far enough to make me doubt my running speed but close enough to dodge his lunging body and make him hit the tree bark.

Watching closely as he crouches beside the unconscious body, I already know what he’s going to do. But, unfortunately, that doesn’t mean I’m prepared to hear the squelching sound of the knife tearing muscles when he pulls it out.

More static noises come from under the snow, and a broken voice echoes dully before it dies. These men didn’t come here alone, and I wonder if they’re here for me. I hope they aren’t, but I don’t dwell on that.

My only goal is to get out of here as quietly as possible. These men are built differently than the construction workers living in the town below the mountain. The man’s muscles are more defined, tighter, and the energy circling him feels like a recoiling serpent ready to strike.

There is nothing about him that screams humanity.

My bravery is only skin deep. I twist my body and gracelessly climb to my feet. Keeping an eye on the man is hard when I’m also trying to figure out the fastest route to my hiding spot. If I squeeze deeper in there, then he can’t see me. If he does and reaches in with his long arm, then that’s a problem I’ll deal with when it happens.

Or I could run into town—

No, I hiss under my breath.

I’m not going there unless it’s for necessities. I live up here to get away from people. Dying in the butcher’s hands is not on my agenda. He’s been living here longer than I have, but we have never had any problems because he keeps to his territory and leaves my cabin alone.

I could be wrong. I only saw him once,