Protect: Protect Book 4

by Ryann, Olivia

  Protect

  Protect Book 4

  Olivia Ryann

  Contents

  Author’s Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  Author’s Copyright

  Copyright Olivia Ryann 2018

  Editing by Teresa Banschbach

  Cover By CoverIt! Designs

  May not be replicated or reproduced in any manner without express and written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  1

  Dryas

  Rue chuckles in bed beside me. She’s still sweaty and breathless and beautiful, lying completely naked except for her glorious cascade of coppery hair. I move a little closer, still trying to catch my breath. Tracing a constellation of freckles on her hip, I walk my fingers up her milk-froth pale skin until I reach the rosy tip of her breast.

  Rue’s eyes are on me, her gaze bright blue. Her eyes softly close as I cup her breast and shape the pebbled nipple with my fingers. She props her head up on an arm, her breathing crossing the line into a quiet moan.

  She is insatiable. Where usually any other partner would be begging for a break right now — after all, it is the fourth time we have fucked today — with Rue, that is not a concern. She presses closer into my hand, her eyes opening again.

  Her gaze is darker now, her pupils wide with arousal. I brush back some of the magnificent curtain of her hair, nuzzling her neck. She shivers, excited.

  Already, I am getting ready for her again, my cock stirring against her leg. Her tiny hand finds the curve of my hip, tracing the line of my thigh. When she cups my cock boldly, it is my turn to inhale quickly, closing my eyes. Her clever fingers find the notch just below the head of my cock, squeezing and rubbing the vein that runs along my length.

  I lean in and catch her mouth with my own, kissing her hard. She mmms, humming with unfulfilled desire. At that moment, it takes everything I have to remain still, not to flip her over and mount her. Everything in me screams that I should allow my primal side to take control, that I should just fuck her right now.

  But we have already done that, Rue and me. I am trying for something different, trying to let her explore. Especially, because it feels so damn incredible to surrender myself to her attentions for once.

  Closing my eyes, I feel her pressing me onto my back, moving down my body. She trails hot kisses down my torso. I can feel my body getting tight. I can feel her hot breath on my cock a second before her soft lips brush the tip.

  Fuck. The gentle suction of her mouth, the feel of the tip of her tongue as it flicks against my flesh… it’s too good. I can feel my toes flex, my hand coming up to fist in her hair.

  Opening my eyes, I look down and see the hottest thing I have ever witnessed. Rue glancing up at me, her mouth open wide, taking as much of my cock between her lips as she can. I can see just the flash of her breasts as she moves, high and tight, her nipples pebbled. She does something with her tongue that feels incredible.

  I have a choice to make. Either I spill down her creamy throat, or I pull my cock from her mouth and switch our positions, driving my hardness into her hot pussy while she makes little moaning sounds. Both sound absolutely incredible, but only one will make her come.

  “Stop,” I grit out. “Your mouth feels good, but nothing compares to fucking you. I want to look into your eyes and watch you come for me.”

  She pauses, hesitating. I seize on that, grabbing her with a growl and flipping her onto her back. Pinning her hands together over her head, I kiss and bite her neck. She is so very responsive, her chest rising and falling raggedly.

  Her breasts are perfect, two flawless globes, each creamy and white and topped with a dollop of pink. I gorge myself on them, running my tongue around the areolae, teasing the nipples to fine points with my teeth. She is so remarkably sensitive, her back arching, pushing her breasts up to my mouth.

  Begging for more, demanding it.

  What she wants, she gets. While I run my tongue in circles around her areola, I shift to my side. My hand wanders down her ribs, shaping her hip.

  Nudging her thighs apart, I spread her pussy lips. She is already wet for me, so hot and soft, soaking my fingers as I find her clit. When I circle her clit she moans, her hands descending to run through my hair and explore my back.

  “You are a tease,” she whispers in my ear.

  That only makes me smile as I nuzzle my face between her breasts. I think I could die here and now, with her breathy little mmms and ohhs of pleasure egging me on.

  My attention shifts to my cock when it starts to ache with the need to bury myself in Rue, to wrap myself in her so deeply that we become something entirely new.

  I release her breast from my mouth with a wet pop, moving back to grasp my cock. She knows all too well what that means; her legs wrap around me; her arms pull me inexorably closer. I bury myself in her hot, tight pussy all the way to the hilt. Groaning, I have to pause for a second and close my eyes.

  Rue is not interested in my struggle not to come, though. She rocks her hips against mine, making a whining sound as she tries to get me to move.

  “Please, Dryas,” she says, her hands on my ass cheeks. Her bright blue eyes are intent on mine as soon as I open them. “Make me feel good.”

  How can I say no to that?

  I start to thrust, already gritting my teeth. Red flashes across my vision, which is weird. I shrug it off, trying to focus on this moment.

  I move over Rue, every single muscle in flex. Rue scratches her nails down my back. The moment is erotically charged, seeming like we are the only two people in existence.

  Her heart beats in time with mine, her breaths punctuated with every hard flick of my hips. Our eyes meet, the passion and emotion in hers matching the fire and meaning in my own.

  Then the scene shifts, so suddenly that I am not prepared for it.

  * * *

  In the next moment, Rue is gone. The whole world where the bed was, where snow gently fell outside the windows, has all vanished. Everything is a deep, dark red… just like the color of blood.

  Squinting, I can make out the dashboard of the car I am in. Everything is painted that same deep red like someone knocked over a gallon of paint. That strikes me as odd, but there is a buzzing sound in the back of my skull that is quite distracting.

  I wish it would go away, but it persists.

  I look down, trying to move. Everything rights itself in a second, and I realize that I am upside down.

  Realizing that I am hanging, held in place by my seat belt, I manage to unstrap myself. I crumple with gravity, falling to the ceiling. My hands are slick with blood, but then again everyt
hing in sight is covered in blood.

  How much of it is mine?

  It’s only then that I look past myself, into the driver’s seat. Ari is there, sunk back against the headrest. His face is untouched by blood, his expression one of surprise.

  I reach out to touch him, but my hand stops just shy of his body. There is a wound in his neck, a great gaping pink and red hole where his esophagus should be. That’s where all the blood came from, I realize.

  For a second, I feel a little sick. I am touching his blood, which is only just starting to go cold. Grimacing, I reach over and feel for a pulse, already knowing that he is dead. I close my eyes, feeling a momentary pang of guilt; Ari was not much, but he was loyal.

  When I have made sure that Ari’s eyes are closed, I try to get out of the SUV. The passenger door doesn’t work, looking oddly squished. So, I slide into the backseat and open the door.

  My heart wrenches for a second when I realize that once again, I am going to be looking for Rue. I blink into the sunlight and look around, spotting the black sedan. It is completely busted and laying on its’ side, one of the back doors wrenched almost all the way off. From the bloody marks on the outside of the car, it is clear that someone has made it out of there.

  At that moment, I know in my bones that she’s gone. Either she is dead, or she has been taken. With my heart as heavy as lead in my chest, I lurch over toward the sedan.

  In the distance, I can hear sirens wail. I am focused on the car, on finding out where Rue is. Peeking in the ripped off door, I find the backseat empty.

  My heart sinks even lower. If she is not here and Derrik is gone too, then that means that she has doubtless been taken by force. No matter how angry or upset Rue is with me, she would have checked on me; would have woken me from where I lay in Ari’s pooling blood.

  She is gone, that much is certain. My fists clench unconsciously as I think of how close I came to saving her, and how still I fell short.

  I am always just missing the mark when it comes to her.

  I try to focus on what is before my eyes because there is not a lot I can do about the existential dilemma right now.

  There is a good deal of blood here in the back of the black sedan, spattered in one direction. It is impossible to know whether any of it is Rue’s, though. A chill runs through me as I stagger back, slumping against the car. A police car and an emergency services van weave their way toward the crash.

  A crash in which they will find that I am the only survivor.

  Falling to the ground, I hear the buzzing sound again. It is everywhere this time, loud and oppressive. Between the buzzing and the roar of the sirens, it is too much. Putting my hands over my ears and closing my eyes, I sit and wait for the police to arrive.

  2

  Rue

  I wake up in the paltry light of an unfamiliar room. My head aches as I push myself up from a pallet — actually, it looks like it’s just a couple of scratchy wool blankets on the bare cement floor. I’m alone in the room, but I hear noise and see light coming from underneath the door just a few feet away.

  Voices, strange ones.

  Then with a strange, whole body jolt, I remember the crash. The blood on my hands. Crawling out of the car. Two lifeless bodies inside the SUV.

  I never even found out for sure whether or not Dryas was alive. The thought of him being hurt, of him being dead, shocks me to my core. He always seems so strong to me.

  The concept that he could have died knocks my breath from my lungs, like a band is wrapped tight around my chest. I look down at myself, tears pricking my eyes.

  What if he’s gone? Whatever things I had to say to him slosh around inside my head.

  I’m sorry.

  I should have told you about Father Derrik sooner.

  My body misses yours, aches to be held and cared for the way that only you could.

  Several long breaths are the only thing that keeps me from bursting into tears, here and now. The survivor in me tells me to be quiet, not to attract attention. The longer I am left by myself, the better I’ll fare.

  I take one more calming breath, pushing Dryas and the crash aside in my mind. It’s hard, almost impossible, but I need to think clearly for a little while.

  If I assume that Father Derrik has me, where would he have taken me? I recall vaguely that he said he was going to take me to a brothel, but I don’t remember any more than that.

  I look up, spying a window across from me. Getting slowly to my feet, I faintly feel the remnants of whatever drug Father Derrik injected me with. They make me feel slower and my movements are clumsier.

  Walking slowly over to the window, putting one foot in front of the other, I look out the window. It looks down on a street, ill-lit and deserted. Wherever we are, it’s not Interlaken.

  I squint. The street has a sign in French, which narrows it down a little. I’m in France or Switzerland. Pressing my hand against the window’s glass, it feels cold. So, I’m somewhere northern, then.

  Looking over my shoulder to check that I’m still alone, I try to open the window. It’s locked though, of course. No one in their right mind would put the girl they just abducted in a room with more than one way out.

  I hear footsteps approaching. Scrambling back to my blanket, I slump on the ground and feign sleep. The door swings open, light pouring across my face.

  There is a repressed sigh. “She will be awake soon.”

  He sounds faintly Slavic.

  “Yes.” My blood turns cold; Father Derrik is still very much present, it seems. “She looks so peaceful like this, don’t you think? Not at all like the rebellious bitch, I know her to be.”

  Inside, I’m roiling, fear and anger and hate mixing to create an altogether new emotion. Outside I might seem like an angel to Father Derrik and his flunky, but my muscles are tensed, my fingers ready to become my claws. The new emotion sparks something in me, threatening to ignite and burn everything it touches.

  The footsteps come nearer, a shadow falling over my face. There is the distinct absence of creaking leather. I hate the fact that I have heard Father Derrik walk enough to know that it’s not him. A man crouches down to inspect me more closely.

  I smell the sourness of old alcohol on his breath. It’s everything I can do to keep still as he skates his touch up my arm. “What will you tell her about us when she wakes?”

  Father Derrik clears his throat. “That you are keeping an eye on her. That you are in charge of her, too. That she will work for you—”

  “Does she fuck?” the man asks, cutting Father Derrik off. I almost suck in a breath; Father Derrik is not someone to be toyed with or interrupted.

  To my surprise, Father Derrik does not seem to mind. It makes me wonder if there is some power dynamic that I don’t understand at play here. “Yes, she is very amenable. Whatever your other girls do, she will do.”

  The man crouched over me traces his hand down my hip. I try not to scream, but I’ve almost reached the breaking point for me.

  “None of the girls do it by choice,” he admits easily. Cold fingers wrap around the back of my neck at his casual tone, like the girls he mentions are nothing to him.

  He stands up with a grunt. “Come and get me when she is ready to go.”

  His heavy footsteps recede, but Father Derrik stays. I hear the creaking of his leather shoes as he comes to stand over me. Panicking, I play dead.

  Please, God. Don’t let him know that I am awake.

  I squeeze my eyes tight, which I think gives me away. When he speaks, he sounds almost amused.

  “How much of that did you hear, hmm?”

  Then he kicks me with all his might. Pain explodes through my ribs and chest. I can’t help but open my eyes and curl into a little protective ball, tears blossoming.

  “There you are!” he declares, leaning down toward me. His face is torn up, black and red and looks like he’s been hit a dozen times. Then I realize that I did that, back in the wreckage of the car. He grabbed at me, a
nd I kicked him savagely. A small puff of bravery rises inside my chest.

  He leers at me. “God, I love bringing you around. Did Dryas love it as much as I do, I wonder?”

  Whatever was inside me deflates like a balloon. Repressing a sob at the mention of Dryas’s name, I try to huddle away from Father Derrik. I realize at that moment that I have lost my fear of him as a man of God; I might well have stopped believing altogether without quite knowing it.

  Right now, at this moment, all I see is a bully in a clerical collar standing threateningly over a woman with nothing left to lose. I never had much in this world, but losing Dryas is like being cut free of my moorings. Whatever small things that once held us together are gone, and now without him, I am wild and windblown.

  “I bet he did.” Father Derrik chuckles to himself, peering down at me.

  At that moment, all the rage and hatred I feel for the man boils up in my chest. I sit up suddenly, lunging forward and grabbing his arm. I spit in his face.

  “Nique-toi,” I tell him, releasing him with a grunt.

  His slap comes immediately, hard enough to turn my head and make my jawbone crack. “Don’t you dare talk down to me! Don’t you know who I am?” He grabs me by the back of my neck, pulling me upright and shaking me. His face is contorted with the same kind of rage that I feel. “I am the mouthpiece of God. Do you understand? Your tiny brain may not get that, but I have control over whether or not you see heaven, you fucking heathen!”