Devour twisted metamorph.., p.1
Devour (Twisted Metamorphosis Book 1), page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Sarah Daniels
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Tormented Author Services
Formatting, Editing & Proofreading: Indie Editorial
To all those craving a morally gray woman, I got you.
Hope you brought your appetite…
Meat & Greet - Ice Nine Kills
Let ‘em Burn - NOTHING MORE
Feel Me Now - If Not For Me
Nothing To Hide - Caskets
Panic - From Ashes to New
Savages - Catch Your Breath
Chaotic - Memphis May Fire
Gorgeous Nightmare - Escape the Fate
Runaway - Dream on Dreamer
Doubt Me - Beartooth
You’re Going Down - Sick Puppies
Hurts Like Hell - New Years Day
Animals - Architects
HEAVY RAIN - GHØSTKID
Bulletproof - Godsmack
Daggers - We Came As Romans feat. Zero 9:36
Devour is book one of my new series, Twisted Metamorphosis: horror and thriller retellings with a dark romance twist!
This book is a standalone and does NOT have a traditional happily-ever-after ending.
Please remember to refer to the trigger warnings page before diving in; this book is significantly darker than my other publications.
I hope you enjoy Camden and Helena’s story!
This book contains subjects that may be disturbing and triggering to some readers. Please read with caution; your mental health matters. Not recommended for those under 18 years of age.
This book contains the following triggers:
Explicit language
Sexually explicit scenes in detail, including:
D/s dynamics, spitting, mutual masturbation, sexual acts on and around dead bodies & with blood (Not necrophiliac in nature), Non-Con between MCs while drugged, mild breeding kink
Mentions of teenage suicide, rape, pregnancy as a result of rape (Mentions only, no detail)
Mental Health: ADHD (Including dissociative daydreaming, tics, struggling with lack of medication), extreme moments of empathy - mentally recreating an reenacting murders, childhood trauma and abuse, PTSD, addiction, mental manipulation
Stalking
Gun and knife violence & murder
Gore, dismemberment, organ removal, exsanguination
Cannibalism, Accidental cannibalism
On page sexual assault (not between MCs)
Necrophilia involving blood (Not including MCs)
Drugging (spiking drinks) and consenting injections
*** DISCLAIMER ***
I do not condone drug use, and I’m completely against any illegal drug use unless prescribed and under the advice of a medical professional. That being said, I understand that drug addiction may not necessarily work in the way the book depicts it to, but I took some liberties for the sake of the story.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bonus Epilogue
Acknowledgments
More by Sarah Daniels
About the Author
One Year Ago
Quantico, VA
“Sullivan, let’s go!” my friend Evan Matthews called out from the other side of the open door to our dorm room.
“Coming!” I called back while quickly scanning my room, and mentally checking off my list of everything I needed to grab for today’s lecture, which I had previously taped to the wall by the front door.
Notebook, check.
Pens, check.
Phone, check.
Keys, check.
Dr. Lawson’s book, check.
Shower…
Wait, did I shower? I pulled my shirt away from my chest to take a quick sniff toward my armpits.
Fuck, I forgot deodorant. Rushing back into the bathroom, I shoved the deodorant stick down the neck of my unbuttoned polo shirt and applied it to both armpits.
Rushing out of the bathroom, I gathered up my things and ran my hand down the front of the book I had stacked on top: Forensic Psychiatry: In the Mind of a Villain written by Doctor Helena Lawson, our guest speaker today in the lecture hall.
“Fucking hell, Cam. You’re a mess.” Evan chuckled while he leaned on the wall outside our shared dorm, his hands in his pocket and his backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Well, I can’t fucking help it, Evan. Trust me, I wish my brain had an off switch. Maybe I’d sleep more at night, and not need these… fucking sticky notes to remind me to fucking shower,” I groaned, ripping the note off the wall and crumbling it in my hand.
ADHD was so difficult to manage, but I hated the medication. I’ve tried pill after pill, therapy, acupuncture, deep meditation—nothing seemed to help. So, I relied on a bunch of chaotic sticky notes and alerts on my cell phone to remind me of my daily tasks.
Standing in the open doorway, I attempted to juggle my things while fumbling with my keys to lock the door behind me. Of course, everything fell out of my hands except my keys, scattering across the hallway floor. Pulling the door closed with a harsh slam, I quickly locked the deadbolt before tossing my head back exasperatedly.
“I stand by my previous claim. You’re a fucking mess, man,” Evan said while kneeling down to help me gather my notebooks and pens. “You need to get laid. How long has it been since Emily left, huh? A year? You’re twenty three, man! Live a little! Maybe it will help you chill the fuck out!”
“Coming from the real cocksman. Girls just throw themselves at your feet, begging for your lovin’, right?” I rolled my eyes as we stood together. He handed me half of my things and we fell in step next to each other, heading toward the exit of the dorms. I tossed my crumpled sticky note in a nearby trash can as we walked.
“I can’t help it when women have good taste. What can I say? I’ve got the lady-pleasing skills.” Evan adjusted his collar, so it was standing straight up and started to strut like he was on a runway.
“Fucking asshole,” I spat, trying to suppress a chuckle as he fixed his collar and slapped my back. I immediately flinched. Evan’s friendly slap landed on one of the scars my father gave me when I was thirteen; I shook off the waves of anxiety, not wanting to worry him.
I reveled in his feelings of self-righteousness, confidence, and arrogance, letting them wash over me as I walked in his presence. Empathy was always a big part of who I was. I'm quite literally able to truly see both sides of an argument and put myself in someone else's shoes. I have found out that with practice, I can truly become them in my mind, feel their emotions, and see through their eyes.
While this is a gift, it comes at a price. I have a hard time with eye contact. The eyes are doors, and whether you want them to, whether you're ready for them to, they always open.
Not that anyone would believe me—not here, not in the FBI Academy, anyway. But I wanted to make my way up to the Behavioral Unit where my skills could be used to help people.
“Alright Mr. Serious. What’s the big deal about the lecture today? We only have two weeks left until we graduate and get placed in our rookie positions. They should be giving us a break! What’s gotten you so excited about it?”
“Doctor Lawson is speaking today about profiling and how psychiatry helps catch serial killers,” I said, almost a little too excitedly.
“That’s right. You want the Behavioral Analysis Unit placement.”
“Yeah, plus, Doctor Lawson is an expert in the field. She’s helped the FBI capture over two hundred criminals with her process.”
“Uh huh. Sounds like puppy love to me,” Evan said, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe she’ll see you’re the FBI’s most eligible fuck buddy,” Evan laughed.
“Fuck you, asshole.” I shoved him playfully while he laughed out loud.
“Hey Cam! Evan! Wait up!”
“Hey Nance,” Evan said, draping an arm around Nancy Johnson’s shoulders. “We were just talking about Sullivan’s hot doctor crush.” Nancy’s eyes went wide with amusement.
“Oh? Do tell!” Her eager eyes met mine and Evan began telli
Fucking asshole. She’s not that old…
The lecture hall came into view and as we approached, Evan and Nancy were giggling at his outrageous story. I drowned them out as I remembered an interview I saw on the news with Doctor Lawson last week.
“So tell me, doctor,” the interviewer said, while flipping through his notepad.
“Please, Helena is fine,” Doctor Lawson purred, looking like a queen, even in the shitty chair in the news studio. Her ankles were crossed elegantly at the floor.
“So tell me, Helena, what makes forensic psychiatry so useful to law enforcement? What is your process?”
“The mind is a fascinating thing. Especially in those who are more neurodiverse or who have experienced severe trauma. Once we better understand how the brain works in serial criminals that show signs of any mental impairment, we can find and apprehend them more quickly and efficiently.”
The interviewer nodded, but I could tell he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Let me give you an example, Mr. Johns,” Helena said. “Say we have a serial robber, targeting banks and credit unions, and the police have been unable to locate the perpetrator. Especially if there doesn’t seem to be a pattern with the locations or types of banks they chose. It would be difficult, and a waste of the city’s resources to send police and search teams to blindly search or wait them out at various banks, when they don’t know what they’re dealing with, or who they’re dealing with.”
I couldn’t help but be completely enamored with her. She was so animated when she spoke; her hands were up to her chest and dancing in the air with each word she said. Their graceful, elegant movements were hypnotizing, and I wished I was the one interviewing her.
“So, walk me through your process. You had offered valuable assistance to the FBI in the apprehension of the Spring Harbor killer.”
“Well, that one had a difficult start. We had four deceased victims that were found at the bottom of the harbor with weights tied to their ankles.” Doctor Lawson’s eyes found the camera, and it was as if she was looking directly into my soul. I was completely spellbound, mesmerized by her piercing green eyes that radiated power and intelligence—
“Earth to Sullivan…?” Evan snapped his fingers in front of my face and I jumped, startled by the snap.
“Fuck man, sorry.” I shook my head, trying to forget the memory of her eyes haunting me. “Let’s get inside, the lecture is—”
I was interrupted by Doctor Helena Lawson herself, walking toward us and the lecture hall. She carried a large laptop bag with a strap slung onto one shoulder, and a large takeout cup of coffee. Her long, brown hair fell in delicate waves, framing her face, and her tight black pencil skirt accentuated her slim waist and luscious hips. She wore a sheer cream-colored blouse with a skintight tank top underneath, and her charcoal gray knee-length peacoat was unbuttoned, trailing behind her as she moved.
The click of her black high heels was like a metronome, timing the beats in which my heart was pumping. My body was on high alert, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I couldn’t help but lock my eyes on her, and as she approached the door to the lecture hall, she removed her aviator sunglasses with a delicate hand. She tucked them in the inside chest pocket of her coat and her intense eyes found mine, scanning me with a smirk forming in the corner of her mouth.
She looked at me…
“See, Nance? Puppy love at its finest.” Evan nudged me with an elbow as Doctor Lawson entered the lecture hall, peeling her eyes off of me.
“I see, I see…” Nancy pretended to jot down notes like she was studying me.
“Fuck you both.” I rolled my eyes and pushed open the doors to the lecture hall with them giggling behind me.
“Okay, let’s get Cam a seat up close so he can see the hot doctor and have new material for his alone time tonight.”
“Alright, Matthews. Let’s give the poor guy a break, huh?” Nancy smiled at me sympathetically and started side stepping down one of the aisles of seats toward the middle.
We settled in with two minutes to spare. Nancy was on my left and Evan was on my right, but was turned over his right shoulder and looking up at another female agent in training. She was giving him the look of love, resting her chin on her propped up arm.
Rolling my eyes again, I turned my attention to my notebook and Doctor Lawson’s book on the desk in front of me. A wave of anticipation consumed my body as I glued my eyes to the empty podium below.
A few moments later, Doctor Lawson emerged from the professor’s entrance and placed her bag on the desk next to the podium. As soon as she did, all the chatter in the lecture hall instantly ceased. Her presence commanding everyone’s attention with minimal effort was proof of her power. Something stirred inside me as she stood at the podium like a queen about to address her subjects. I wanted to kneel before her and devote my life to her, offer her every part of my broken soul to mold into whatever she wanted me to be.
“Good afternoon, new agents,” Doctor Lawson addressed the room as she shuffled a few papers on the podium. “My name is Doctor Helena Lawson. I am a board certified forensic psychiatrist and forensic pathologist. I’ve been invited here today by the FBI to discuss my process of profiling unsubs and to give you a look at my process. Let’s get into it, shall we?”
She reached into her bag for a glasses case and placed a pair of thin, black-rimmed glasses on her nose before tucking her hair behind her ear. My dick twitched in my pants as I imagined that silky brown hair wrapped around my fist while I—
“Profiling is a process in which we dive into an unsub, or unidentified subject’s, mind and mental state to help identify them and their motives.” Her words interrupted my thoughts, and I bit my lip, trying to ground myself to reality while scribbling notes in my notebook.
“The FBI’s process is made up of six main steps. While criminal profilers may have different ways of handling their investigations, they all follow these six main steps. I will read them out loud, but please see the main screen above me for the slide with the information.” She pressed a button on the handheld remote for the projector. “These will be very abbreviated, since we have limited time.”
I clicked the bottom of my pen a few times, ready to write on a new page of my notebook.
“Step one is profiling inputs. As profilers, we must gather as much information as we can relevant to the case. What happened? Were there any casualties? We need to gather reports from any responding officers, the medical examiner, witnesses, and all crime scene photos that were taken. As an example, I will share with you the crime scene photos from the Spring Harbor case.” She pressed a button on her remote, and a photo of the crime scene appeared on the overhead screens.
“Step two is constructing the decision process model of the unsub. In this step, we must have a comprehensive evaluation of the specifics of the homicide. Was the homicide a single killing? Serial? Was the unsub’s main motivation the homicide itself? Or was there something else driving them? Money? Sex? We also look deeper into the victims the unsub chose. Are they more of a high-risk victim like a sex worker or homeless person? Or were they low-risk like a married business man? It is also important to determine if the victim was murdered at the scene in which they were found, or if evidence points to them being killed elsewhere and brought to the scene. Evidence is key; even the smallest piece of trace evidence could solve a complex case.” Clicking her button again, the next slide appeared, showing images of evidence collected at the scene: bloody clothing, a knife, and one victim’s wallet.
“Step three is crime assessment, which is the most lengthy and tedious step of profiling. We evaluate the crime scene to determine if the unsub shows characteristics of being organized, disorganized, or a combination of both. This process is accomplished by evaluating everything about the crime scene and the victim.”
I couldn’t help but notice how her eyes scanned the room, as if she was analyzing everyone she was lecturing too.
What would she think when those stunning, green eyes find me amongst my peers?
