by Amity Cross
“Getting pissed off with me won’t help your situation.”
I bit my bottom lip, my head beginning to throb.
“They know that we will be coming back for him,” X said, staring across the clearing. “We have to plan this carefully.”
“I know.”
He held out his free hand, holding the rifle with the other. “Come here.”
I stepped forward, waiting for his instructions.
“Rifles like this don’t take a lot of rounds. They’re meant for high precision.” He pointed to the chamber and slid four bullets in and drove the mechanism home with a metallic click. “You need to make every shot count.”
“Okay.” Fuck, did I intend to. If I got my wish, it’d only take one.
He placed the rifle on the ground, settling the stand against the earth.
“Lie down,” he commanded.
I glanced at the rifle and then back at him.
“It’s the best way to learn,” he said. “Until you can aim and fire, you lie down.”
I did as he bade and settled on my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows, the grass feeling soft and springy underneath my body. A moment later, X was beside me, his body half on and half off mine. His thigh pressed between my legs and I suppressed the urge to rub my ass against him.
He placed his right hand on my forearm and his left around my trigger hand and placed them on the rifle, showing me the correct way to hold the weapon.
“In this position you don’t have to worry about taking the weight of the rifle,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. “All you have to worry about is the aim and the recoil.” He moved his right hand from mine and positioned the butt of the rifle against my chest, right underneath my collarbone and above my breast. “Use your arms to anchor the rifle against you. When you fire, your body will absorb most of the force.”
“Will it hurt?” I asked, fixing my sight through the scope.
“A little.”
I peered through the scope and couldn’t believe how far I could see.
“Can I really shoot that far away?” I asked.
“It depends on the rifle. This one has a range of one mile, give or take.”
“Really?”
X shifted against me. “Really.” He placed his hand back on my right, positioning us over the trigger. “Aim for the fence at the far side of the field. There’s a target painted on the gate.”
“A target? Do you practice out here or something?”
“Sometimes.”
He must come here often then, but that was a question for another day. Instead I asked, “What do I do? Just pull the trigger?”
“Aim, use the scope.”
I positioned the rifle, shifting it slightly so the target came into view. I lined it up to where I thought it would hit and said, “Okay.”
“Now, tense and hold the rifle firm and pull the trigger.”
I sucked in a deep breath and held it in. My skin prickled, but I did as X instructed and fired.
The silencer took almost all of the noise from the shot away and when the fence exploded into shards instead of the target, I let out a whoosh of air. As he’d promised, the recoil hammered through the butt of the rifle into my upper chest. He held onto me, using his body to cushion mine and a jolt of adrenalin seared through my veins.
“Fuck,” I murmured, staring across the field. It had to be at least a mile away.
“Again.” His voice was heavy with desire, his lips against my neck.
I tensed again, this time adjusting my aim and fired. The recoil jolted me against X, but this time the bullet clipped the edge of the target.
“Better,” he said.
“It’s…” I began, feeling pretty fucking powerful.
X pressed into my back and I tensed as his lips brushed against the nape of my neck.
“Seeing you with a gun…” he whispered as his grasp tightened around mine.
I heard the lust in his voice and I felt my clit begin to ache. “Does it get you hard?”
X didn’t answer. He began rocking against me, rubbing his cock against my ass. He was so fucking hard…and I was ready for it. Holding that gun, having his arms around my body as I fired had awoken something dangerous. There was a part of me that got off on the violence of what we were planning. The notion worried me, but at that moment, all I could think about was X’s cock.
His hand cupped my breast through the material of his T-shirt that I wore and began massaging.
“X…” I began to protest, even though I could feel the wetness spreading between my legs.
“We’re alone,” he said, using his other hand to push between me and the ground to unbutton my jeans. “No one will see. Now you’re mine, I’m not sharing.”
As his hand slid into the front of my jeans, I let go of the rifle, put my palms flat on the earth and pushed my hips up. X’s fingers skimmed over my clit before delving deeper.
“You’re so fucking ready, Mercy.” He pulled his hand away and instantly, I felt the ache spread even worse.
X pushed up onto his knees, grasping my hips and jerking my ass up into the air. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, he pulled them off, shoving the material down to my knees. Cool air kissed my naked skin, the overwhelming feeling of X’s gaze on my pussy making me quiver.
I heard him undo his fly and pull his cock out and as his hands guided his length to my waiting core, my fingers curled into the grass. He thrust, his balls slapping against my thighs, his grunt seeming to echo across the open field.
His fingers bit into my skin as he guided me up and down his shaft, my ass slapping against his pelvis. Each time we connected he breathed heavily, his grunts mixing with my moans. Every time he claimed me, he embedded himself further and further into my heart and soul.
The way his cock filled me was almost painful, he struck deep, his fingers digging into my skin. His thrusts became faster and I reared back into him, pounding my ass against him as hard as I could. It hurt, it fucking hurt, but it felt so good...
X snarled and fisted a hand into my hair, jerking my head back painfully, the lump on the back of my head flaring with red hot pain. I cried out and X hesitated, burying his cock deep, stilling his onslaught. His grip slackened on my hair and his fingers began to probe my scalp, running over the place he’d harmed during the night.
Glancing over my shoulder, I could see the pain mirrored in his eyes. He regretted hurting me. He felt guilty.
“Fuck me, X,” I moaned, tightening my pussy around his cock.
His gaze met mine and the pain began to melt from his expression.
“Fuck me hard.”
X raised his hand and brought it down on my bare ass with a crack. Pain splintered through my skin, making my eyes water, but it was instantly soothed as he palmed my tender flesh. He resumed his rhythm, stroking his cock deep into my core. When he reached underneath and pinched my clit, my orgasm spiked, almost breaking the surface.
I moaned my appreciation, urging him on, telling him to take what he needed, telling him to fuck me hard and he covered his body over mine, mounting me out in that field like an animal. He fucked me from behind, letting whatever demon was plaguing him pound me into submission. His teeth sank into my shoulder, almost breaking my skin and I forced myself back onto his cock again and again.
“You feel so fucking good,” I cried.
X grunted, his usual dirty mouth silent. I wanted him to tell me what he was going to do to me, I wanted to know how I was making him feel as he plunged into me. He didn’t say anything, so I filled the silence with the words I hardly spoke, but were always on the tip of my tongue.
“It hurts.” I slammed my ass back into his body. “It fucking hurts, but it feels so fucking good…a fucking beautiful pain.” He bit me again, this time on the opposite shoulder. “It’s fucking beautiful.”
“Mercy.” His lips brushed against his bite mark.
“Make me come,” I gasped. “Please…
”
His thrusts became desperate, his breathing sharp and I felt my orgasm rise. His hand left the ground beside mine and he stroked my clit. Then I was a goner.
My body erupted and I threw my head back, my lips parted in a cry that was half me and half something else. Feral, wild… Every time we fucked it changed something else, it got so much better, it went to a new place that I never thought I could go… This man...
X pounded into me and I felt his body tense and then warmth spread through my convulsing body as he came, spilling his desire deep into my core. His fingers circled my clit, prolonging my orgasm, making my pussy milk his cock of every last drop. He held firm as he finished and I floated down from the clouds, my skin humming, and my breathing labored.
Fuck. Just…fuck.
We collapsed onto the grass, our chests heaving as we watched clouds skimming across the blue sky overhead. A moment later, X sat up, holding his head in his hands.
“What?” I asked, rising. I leaned against him, staring at his cock. It was glaringly obvious he was ready for round two, but he didn’t move to take me. Something was still bothering him.
“Your head,” he said after a moment.
“It’s fine. It’s just a lump.”
“It’s not just a fucking lump,” X hissed, shoving me away as he stood, his jeans around his ankles.
I scrambled to my feet, my knees wobbling, and yanked my knickers and jeans back on. Shit, would I ever get tired of fucking that man?
X pulled his jeans up and zipped his fly closed, his expression dark. “I hurt you. I bite you. I slap you. I want your blood.”
I knew it was fucked up, but I said what was in my heart. “It’s okay.”
X seemed alarmed by the fact I was giving him permission. “Mercy…”
I placed my finger over his lips, forcing his gaze to mine. “I like it.”
He sucked in a breath.
“I know you need it.” It was more than that. He couldn’t help it.
“Do you need a man who hurts you?” he asked and I frowned. X threw his hands into the air. “See?”
“I can’t…” I began and trailed off.
X stood in front of me, his presence looming. “You can’t what?”
He was angry, hurting, guilty, confused…could he handle what I really wanted to say to him? Could he handle it when I told him that last night didn’t matter because what I felt for him was stronger than that? What about when I told him that what we were doing here meant everything to me?
“Mercy,” he snapped.
My gaze rose to meet his, knowing that like a glutton for punishment, he wouldn’t let it go.
“I can’t be without you.”
X sucked in a deep breath, his chest rising.
“Don’t think about that,” I said, worried I was going to lose him. “Worry about teaching me. Show me…” I swallowed hard. “Show me how to pull the trigger.”
His eyes darkened and I knew he understood. I wanted my revenge so bad I’d gotten all the way through my master plan. I’d gotten right into the lair of the monster, but failed at the last second. I’d blown my cover, my one shot at avenging my family. I couldn’t pull the trigger.
After a moment, X nodded, his posture relaxing. “You need to aim slightly off target if you want to hit the bullseye.”
“Show me.”
He gestured for me to lay down again and we assumed the same position as before. As X settled against me, his cock pressing against the back of my thigh, I wondered if being out here alone would be the thing that drove him over the edge. Too much downtime might make his mind wander into unknown territory.
Well, I’d just have to keep him occupied. In bed and out of it.
The rest would come with time.
I hoped.
Chapter 4
X
I lounged in the armchair by the open fireplace, watching Mercy move around in the kitchen.
Watching her cook was very…domestic.
We had been at the cottage for a week. A very long fucking week that included teaching Mercy how to shoot and how to let her inhibitions go. I hadn’t slept next to her since the first night and wouldn’t until the dreams began to subside.
As my conditioning unraveled, I had begun dreaming. It was my subconscious trying to tell me something, trying to reveal pieces of the things I'd lost, but all I saw was death. I was death.
I dreamed every time I closed my eyes. I was plagued with images…faces, names, places, blood. I dreamed about killing people I’d forgotten about. Scratching faces from countless photographs. Delivering each and every one to Weiss, collecting payment, moving on to the next.
I squeezed my eyes closed. How many people had I killed and forgotten about?
“X?”
I sat up at the sound of Mercy’s voice. She was staring down at me with a concerned expression, steaming plates of whatever concoction she’d made in the kitchen in her hands.
“We need to start planning,” I said. I needed something to occupy my mind. I needed to plot yet another murder to silence the voices that only seemed to be getting louder.
Mercy sat the plates down onto the coffee table and sank onto the sofa. “Okay, but you should eat something.”
Grunting, I picked at the mash potatoes and stew, which seemed to be the only thing she knew how to make.
I thought back over the past week and realized Mercy had picked up the things that I had been teaching her with ease. She could put the sniper rifle together and load it in under one minute. When she fired she hit the target every time, not in the bullseye, but she was edging closer to it. The basic hand-to-hand fighting techniques we’d gone through often ended in heavy petting and an orgasm, but she understood how to incapacitate a man. It wasn’t everything, but it was a good beginning for her.
I’d never had a partner. Maybe she should be mine after this. Maybe being the operative word.
“So, what do we do?” Mercy asked, picking at the food on her plate.
“To move forward we need information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Everything.” I leaned forward. “Security, travel arrangements, men in his employ, his current whereabouts. Everything.”
“We need to find where he will be most vulnerable,” Mercy said and my lips twitched.
“He will be closely watched since our escape. We have to be careful about this if we want to get close enough.”
She glanced at me, her pretty blue eyes sparkling in the firelight. “I want to shoot him,” she said, her voice calm. “I want to shoot him right between the eyes.”
I knew that it was how Sykes had executed her family. Three precise head shots at point-blank range. It was the slimy bastard's signature calling card, his way of writing ‘I was here’ on the wall. It was depraved, but it was also cowardly. Shooting his victims in the head meant instant death. There was no fight in that and no finesse.
“You really want to do it like that?” I asked, different ways of inflicting pain flashing through my mind. “There are more painful ways, Mercy. Much more painful ways.”
She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, picking up her fork. Eating at a time like this?
“Eye for an eye,” she whispered, staring at her dinner.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
“As you wish,” I muttered. This was her mark after all. She would be the one ending Sykes’ life, not me. This was her moment to enjoy.
She glanced over at me. “How are we going to get this information?”
“I have a contact that has no qualms about who he deals with.”
“What if he’s with them?”
“He’s not. He’s not a part of any network linked to Royal Blood or the Necromancers. He’s independent and will rat out whoever he likes for the right price.”
“Then how do you know he won’t be waiting for us? What if someone’s already gotten to him?”
I shook my head. “Sykes has d
estroyed a lot of people’s lives, Mercy. A lot of people would like to see him suffer. Vaughn is one of them.”
“Vaughn?” She leaned forward, suddenly interested. Our little world was expanding to include a new name.
“He deals in information, weapons, identities. He’s the ‘Jack of all trades’ for the Underworld.”
“A high-end smuggler?”
I smirked at her analogy. Vaughn didn’t deal with petty criminals, so she was fairly accurate in her assumption. “Something like that.”
“How do you contact him?”
I shrugged. We were in the wind, so channels I usually used were closed. “Last I heard he was in Exeter,” I said.
“So, you just go look for him?”
“I have a protocol, though it’s old, so he might not check.”
Mercy rolled her eyes. “So you’re just pissing in the wind?”
“While we’re on the topic of pissing,” I snapped, “how about we talk about the fact that I’m a trained killer and you’re just a fucking Art History major with a slippery trigger finger?” She recoiled like I’d slapped her and maybe I should have. “Never forget who I am, Mercy.”
“How could I forget?” she asked thinly. “I hear you in your sleep.”
I stiffened as her words punched me right in the stomach. My weakness was on full display to her while I was most vulnerable and I fucking hated it.
I felt my muscles coiling and the urge to lunge for her began to sear through my fingertips.
“I hear you,” she said again. “I hear the names. I hear your conversations.”
My heart began to thump erratically. She knew my fucking secrets.
I snarled and launched myself from the armchair, pushing her back onto the sofa. She gasped in surprise as I straddled her, curling my fingers around her neck. Her blue eyes found mine and she allowed her body to slacken beneath mine.
“Fight me, Mercy,” I whispered, lowering my mouth toward hers.
I needed her to struggle, to plead, I needed her to cause me pain. Didn’t she understand? That was real to me. Those dreams were not… They were not hers to hear.
“No,” she said and I hesitated.
