His Salvation: Cavalieri Della Morte

by Marta, Claire

  Tipping forward, he discards the bottle, his attention never leaving mine. “Don’t argue, Evelyn, just obey.”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  Easing the gun from its holster where he’d left it hanging idly, he sits with it clutched in his hand. “Strip.”

  Legs frozen in place, I can’t seem to swallow down a rising tide of hopelessness and despair. Please. Please don’t let this be happening. Slowly finding the bottom of my top, I ease the material up my hips, past my belly button and my breasts to free it over my head. Cool air washes over my shoulders sending a wave of goose bumps in its wake. Clutching the item to my chest I use it as a shield.

  “Leave it on the floor,” he instructs, his voice edged with huskiness. “Then remove the rest of your things.”

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” I beg softly, my body beginning to shake with emotions I can no longer keep in check. “I’ve told you, if you want money I have some in my purse.” I gesture where it’s abandoned on the bed. “It’s not much…a few thousand euros, but it’s yours. Just let me leave.”

  Uncoiling dangerously from his chair, he straights to his full intimidating height, his muscles rippling with the motion. “Mouth shut. Clothes off.”

  Chin trembling, tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Static buzzes through my head. My brain sluggish and unable to process the horror of what’s about to happen. Clumsily I manage to unbutton my jeans in two attempts. Toeing out of my sneakers, I tow the jeans down my legs to puddle at the floor. Top still clenched, I release it to flutter to join them. The dampness of my sorrow and desperation continues to spill, dripping from the end of my chin.

  “Come on, Evelyn. We don’t have all evening,” my kidnapper taunts.

  I shrink away as rough callous fingers find the strap of my bra. Jerking it, he snaps the flimsy fastening, baring one rounded globe to his stare. Covering myself, I whimper as the rest is peeled from my shoulders. Breaking down further, sobs roll through me, bowing my body in escalating misery. Wrapping my arms protectively around my chest, I do my best to hide my modesty as he lets the garment fall.

  Is he taking enjoyment from my tears? Pleasure from the pain and anguish he’s inflicted. Desperately searching his beautiful features, I see nothing but a detached remoteness. An aloofness as if I’m not even another human being to him at all.

  “Please,” I plead once more, bid to reach some softer side I pray is buried deep. Humanity he surely had at some time in his life.

  “Hands behind your back.” His expression never changes, showing me just how unaffected he is by my beseeching. Lifting his weapon, he caresses the length of the cool hardness of the barrel along my cheek. The contact makes my shaking so bad my legs threaten to go out beneath me.

  Leaning forward, his breath drifts along the shell of my ear. “I’m losing patience, petal, and that’s something you really don’t want.” The gun traces the edge of my jaw before sliding along the length of my exposed neck. “We can do this all the easy way or the hard way. I will hurt you if I have to.”

  The menace he projects has me jerking my arms to my sides. Circling me unhurriedly, he disappears from sight. Blinking rapidly, my quiet weeping is the only sound in the hotel room.

  Cool metal encircles my wrist. It takes me a second to figure out what they are, and by then, it’s too late. Both of my hands are behind my back.

  Handcuffs.

  Tugging on them, the sharp, cold metal digs into my skin.

  “Get on your knees.” The order is curt. Stepping into view, he motions with his gun toward the ground.

  The stranger’s expression swims before my eyes in a kaleidoscope of color and tears. I should have stayed at home. Why did I ever think I could stretch my wings and go abroad alone? My thoughts turn to my loving mother and step father. How they’d been so excited for me. Their smiling faces at the airport as they’d seen me off to my flight. The life I’d led where nothing happens.

  Coarse, abrasive, the cheap carpet meets my knees as I kneel as instructed. I can’t think. Fight or flight. That instincts seems to have deserted me, or maybe I’m just to petrified to feel it. The ragged, raw sound of my breath and weeping fills my ears.

  Above me, the man who holds my life in his hands looms over me, unaffected by my desolation. He doesn’t care. That’s clear. Lacks any kind of kindness or empathy. He’s nothing but a monster in human form. The cold metal of the gun barrel presses menacingly to my temples. Eyes fixed on his, I can barely breath through my terror. He’s going to kill me. Put a bullet in my brain and walk away without a second thought.

  Oh God.

  I don’t want to die.

  Kay

  No survivors.

  No witnesses.

  That’s a code I live by.

  One I’ve always upheld.

  The silencer on the muzzle will make it practically soundless. No one will come running at a gunshot. Quick, clean, and efficient. She’s a loose end. One in my line of work I can’t leave dangling.

  Squeezing the barrel of the gun tighter to her forehead, I watch more tears swim in her lovely, wide luminous eyes.

  Our gazes hold. In that moment as they remain connected, I know I can’t do it. I’ve never taken an innocent life. Every soul I’ve ended has always been guilty of some wrong doing. Yet there’s something more. An escapable sense that she’s not meant to die tonight.

  Mouth trembling, her tears slip free to roll unhindered down her pale cheeks. Skin flawless and peachy, there’s a radiance about her that draws you in.

  Lust slams into me hard. A desire to taste every inch of her sadness builds with the force of a stormy tide. One I want to ride and master even while it threatens to drown me.

  Evelyn.

  Eve.

  Temptation.

  It suits her well.

  She hadn’t flinched once working the needle through my flesh. I’d witnessed her focus. I admire someone who doesn’t get queasy at the sight of blood. The fact I’m compromising myself further melts away under a primitive need that bypasses anything else. Desire consumes me in a very carnal way. I imagine how good her mouth would feel around my cock. The sound of her gagging as I cum down her pretty little throat.

  I want her.

  Indecision has me hesitating.

  I’ll just have to keep her hostage. Enough time to find out who wants me dead and make sure I don’t need any more medical attention. There’s a slim chance of getting an infection. She’d know how to deal with it if I did. I have enough bodies on my hands. There’s no way she can walk out of here to draw more unwanted attention. The argument is sound, although I push aside my other baser motives. Ones that involve Eve flat on her back with my cock buried to the hilt in her tight pussy.

  Easing the pressure of the barrel on her skin, I lower my weapon.

  I have a shit storm to deal with. Leaving her roaming the room with an avenue of escape is something I can’t do. Attention skipping to the closet, I have an idea.

  Stalking across the space I slide its door open. “In.”

  Dazed, frightened eyes move to mine. “What?” Confusion dances over her beautiful face, her lips still trembling.

  I’m not about to explain my reasons to her.

  Storming to her side, I grab a hold of her slender arm. She has no fight left in her. Shaking, crawling, I force her into the dark cramped space. A whimper rises from her throat, her hair a mess around her angelic head hiding her expression as I ease it shut. Taking a chair, I use it to block the handles. It’s not a perfect cage, but it will have to do for now. I have to stay focused. Stop thinking with my cock. I’m being hunted, and I need to know by whom. Being blind-sided doesn’t happen often, and this leaves me feeling unbalanced.

  Finding my drink, I take another gulp. If I’d given into the urge, my pale petal would already be gagging on my dick and handcuffed to the bed.

  Business before pleasure.

  Spinning on my heels, I dig my phone out of my backpack bef
ore stalking toward the bathroom. Arthur needs to be informed that things haven’t gone to plan. Maybe he can work out his end finding out who has the Russian hit squad on my back. Tapping off a quick text, I let him know in a discreet way I’ll be extending my visit.

  Leaving the bathroom door ajar, I have it wide enough to keep an eye on the closet. The soft sound of weeping emanates from within. I’ve terrorized Eve enough to keep her acquiescent, but depending on her temperament, it might not last long. I don’t need a runner. If she turns out to be difficult, I’ll have to come up with another strategy.

  My thoughts return to the fuck up of a hit. Those arseholes thought they had me as easy pickings. Now that they know I’m not, they’ll be more cautious. I’m going to have to be careful. Use everything I know and everything I have at my disposal to stay one step ahead.

  Searching through my contacts, my thumb hovers over a name. I haven’t spoken to him in three years. He wasn’t pleased at the two-year gap in communication before then. Now he’ll just be pissed but he knows this town. He lives and breathes it. His word is law, and if anyone can give me answers, it will be him.

  Not giving myself time for second thoughts, I hit dial. “Paulo? It’s Kay. I need to meet.”

  A small pause the other end has my hand tightening around the phone.

  “I was wondering when you’d phone. You’ve been in Rome a week. That’s rude boy. You should know better than that.” The voice rolls down the line in Italian.

  I shouldn’t be surprised he knows I’m here. I’m not dumb enough to blurt out work details on an unencrypted phone. Paulo is clever enough though to understand that.

  “Things didn’t go as I thought they would on my date.” I tell him. He’s not unaware of my career. My first kill was for him after all. First blood spilt in his name, tainting my soul in darkness.

  “I see…she didn’t turn up?” Concern laces his tone, but he’s careful not to deviate from the confines of our double-edged conversation. One thing he taught me was to be careful. Never expose yourself when someone could easily be listening in. It’s something I’ve maintained through my career.

  My fingers toy with the red horn amulet dangling from the cord on the end of my phone. Its smooth contours are familiar and soothing. “No, she sent some friends instead.”

  I practically feel the tension down the line before it comes buzzing in his words. “Two hours from now the usual place.”

  I check the watch on my wrist. It’s eight PM. That gives me a while to clean up and decide what to do with my lovely captive. Time enough to get my head together. He doesn’t need to know I’m wounded. Paulo might be an ally, but he’s a deadly mother fucker. Someone who I have no intention of crossing ever. It’s the reason I left Rome. Things got complicated, and I walked away. I’m not sure if he’s ever forgiven me for it, but still, I won’t chance showing a weakness.

  Spying my pack of cigarettes on the table through the gap in the door, my fingers twitch to hold one. I need a shot of nicotine. Drinking more jack is out of the question. It won’t give me the clear head I need. “Grazie, Paulo.”

  “Be careful, Kay.” The slither of warmth I pick up on gives me the hope he’s not the one who’s betrayed me.

  Rising from my where I’m perched on the edge of the bathtub, I move toward the door. “I always am.”

  Evelyn

  “Are you hungry, petal?”

  Dazed from the sudden brightness of the door to my makeshift cell opening, I nod at the question. It could have been minutes or hours since my captor first put me in there. Turmoil and shock ebbing, it’s given me time to get a grip on my fear.

  “Crawl to me.”

  “What am I? Your pet now?” I snap, a spark of rebellion unfreezing my numbness.

  My lethal, handsome abductor sits, viewing me with amusement at my tone. Chair facing my temporary prison, he has a slice of pizza in his large hand. “You’d look lovely with a collar around your throat, and I could walk you on a leash.” Sinking his perfect white teeth into the thick crust, he devours it with a look of relish.

  I haven’t eaten since lunchtime, and my stomach reminds me of the fact with a rumble. Salivating at the delicious smell lacing the hotel room, I struggle from the confinement of the closet on stiff legs, the bristly carpet grazing my sensitive knees. Humiliation burns as I shuffle toward my jailer. With each movement, the weight of the handcuffs, binding my wrists at the base of my spine, brushes against my flesh. A constant reminder of where I am. The trauma of the last few hours.

  “I thought you were going to shoot me?”

  “I was.” Licking a splash of red sauce from his thumb, he scoops up another square, the cheesy topping oozing from the sides. “But then I decided you might be useful to keep around a while longer.”

  Suspicion and trepidation graze icily down my spine at his confession. “For what?”

  He doesn’t reply. Instead, he dangles the end of a pizza slice temptingly in the air. He’s going to feed me? To hungry to care, I cautiously take a piece between my teeth and bite it free. It’s hot and delicious. The united flavors of cheese and tomatoes melting on my tongue and fueling my need for food. Eyes darkening with male interest, the stranger watches me chew, which has me shifting uncomfortably in embarrassment. I don’t like the way he stares. It brings an awareness I’m all but naked in front of him, save the tiny scrape of material covering my womanhood. I’m vulnerable. Defenseless. He can do whatever he wants to me, and I have no power to stop him. Swallowing, the food sticks in my dry throat.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs offering me more.

  Instinct warns me to be careful. His dark eyes still gleam with a heartlessness that terrifies me. A wolf ready to rip apart and devour its prey if it makes the wrong move. Whatever reprieve saved me from a bullet might not last long. Nibbling, I do my best to eat as much as I can of what I’m being offered.

  I spy the contents of my handbag tipped out over the table. My passport and wallet have been stacked together while the rest is in a discarded pile. He’s been going through my things? To see if what I told him was true?

  “Comply, obey, and you might just leave this room breathing, understand? Displeasure me and things won’t end well for you.” The cold look reflected on his face gives me shudders.

  My appetite evaporates, leaving the food I’ve already consumed churning in my stomach.

  “You did a decent job of my side,” he continues, gesturing absently to his stitches. Shirt hanging open, yet to be buttoned, the white bandage hides my work. “Better than I usually do myself.”

  “Glad I could help,” I mutter.

  Tilting his head thoughtfully, he regards me through narrowed eyes, his lips inching up in a subtly smirk. “Ah petal, why do I get the impression you’re going to turn out to be a handful?”

  I don’t intend to sit quietly. Shock has worn off, and I know that I’m fighting for my life. Whoever this man is, I don’t believe he’s just going to let me walk out of here. As far as I can see, he has no morals. He’s a criminal who won’t want witnesses.

  “Get up and get on the bed.”

  Danger prickles my skin. “No.”

  Clearing the remnants of the pizza away, he rises from his chair. “Now petal, what did I tell you about doing what your told, hmmm?” Hand closing around my bicep, he cruelly jerks me to my feet. My numb knees shake as I’m forced to submit. Towering over me, he dominates with his larger frame, compelling my legs to walk backward as if I’m nothing more than a puppet on a string. Battling to free my wrists from bondage, my instant reaction to push him away and protect myself is blocked. The back of my bare thighs bumps the bed. Crowding me further, he drives me onto the mattress.

  “Don’t touch me.” Nervousness threads my voice, heart rate accelerating chaotically.

  Leaning forward, he cups my jaw firmly before I can escape. His lips touch mine, warm and lingering, for a second.

  Stunned by the gentleness of the gesture, I freeze, staring int
o his piercing, searching gaze, disturbed at the change. Is he trying to mess with my head?

  An ominous click shifts my focus. Anger consumes me when I find he’s unshackled me only to fasten the handcuffs to the wrought iron headboard. A distraction. All it took was a kiss, and I’m trapped again.

  “I have to go out for a while,” he informs me, seizing my other arm. Fighting savagely to free myself, he subdues me with frightening strength and ease. Another set of cuffs clicks into place, manacling my other wrist and keeping my arms spread wide. Immobile. All I can do is kick futilely at him, which he agilely avoids.

  “You son of a bitch! You can’t treat me like this!” I hiss, straining uselessly at his new prison.

  His chuckle rolls across my senses like thunder on the verge of a threatening storm. “Oh, sweetheart, this is nothing compared to what I will do.” Cupping my breast, the pad of his thumb brushes over my nipple.

  Shame.

  It’s what I feel when he coaxes the point into taut excitement. The tiny dart of forbidden pleasure that zips through my belly only sends my emotions spiralling deeper out of control. Bound to the frame, restrained, I’m nothing but his toy.

  “Now be a good girl and settle down.”

  Defeat has my shoulders sagging. I hate him. He’s nothing but a sadistic monster, and I’m petrified at what he has in store for me.

  Padding away from me, he moves toward a backpack he’s left open on a chair. “Just in case you decide to get vocal.” He takes out a roll of duct tape. Fishing out a few more objects, he leaves them on the table among my emptied-out purse.

  My captor returns to the bed to dangle the tape in front of my face. “Now. Petal, this needs to go over your mouth. You either keep it closed for me or I’ll pin you down and force your jaw shut. Your choice.”

  The thought of him holding me down, restraining me slowly, seals my lips as I submit to his control. I don’t want violence. Pain. I’ve always had fantasies about BDSM but not with some sick psycho.