Easy?
I may be sick.
“The Mistress left these,” I mention to Twig before we depart. I pick up her whip and riding crop and rub the leather between my fingers.
“Take them,” Twig says, flipping his hair back. “You may need them.”
Out of all The Merrymen, I find myself most physically attracted by Twig. He’s easy on the eyes with an understated charming grin that seeps through to my heart. He isn’t overly aggressive like Zig or overly analytical like Sig.
“How long will it take for us to arrive at the kingdom?”
“Fifty-two days,” he informs with a straight face. My eyes widen in horror. The Mistress and Sig will be long gone and dead by then. “I’m teasing! About two days if we spend most of our time walking.”
“What else would we spend our time doing?” His grin shifts to a lurid place, full of invitation, and flirtation. “You’ve got to be kidding…”
“Would I do that?”
Regardless of circumstance, his playful mood never stops. He finds hope in despair, the light in the dark, and the good within the bad. His lightheartedness is Twig’s most enviable quality.
The tapered path we’re on winds with hairpin curves and a marked slope into the deep forest, which is more of a jungle with twisting vines and dampness. We must look absurd—the bare-chested, platinum-haired man with the goth-gone-fetish girl by his side. We don’t say much until I catch sight of Mr. Dare in the middle of the path.
“Where are you going?”
“To the kingdom,” Twig answers with a scoff. “Where are you going?”
“You’re going to be late!”
“We’re already late,” I reply with a grin. “And we’re likely to be even later.”
They shoot a shocking glare like they can’t believe I’ve said it, and if truth be known, neither can I. I bounce on my toes. “Are you going with or are you just here to waste our time, Whit?”
Letting Twig go, I move past Whit, who is blocking the path. I’m so over Whitman Dare and his need to hop off without regard to my needs. He may have been the catalyst to get me here, but he isn’t doing me any favors by standing in my way to there.
“Where are you going?” Whit asks.
“I’m going to the castle to help my friends.”
He’s dumbstruck. “… Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I’m done with you and your antics. Stop telling me I’m going to be late. I’ll get there when I fucking get there and not a minute before.”
Stroking his golden scruff, Twig snickers under his breath. “Owned…”
“Shut up, you thug,” Whit rebukes with a snobbish resolve. “Your kind is only good for one thing.”
Twig rushes up to Whit’s chest faster than a lightning bolt. “You want to say that again, punk?”
I want to say something. Sort of. But part of me wants to see Twig level Whit for starting all this mayhem in the first place. I wouldn’t be here without Whit’s slap of my ass cheek, but that also means I wouldn’t have met all the beautiful ones. Still…
Whit’s lip slightly quivers. “Shut up! You’re just the dump of trailer trash.”
The drawback of Twig’s arm is wide as he swings his fist with such an impact that Whit bounces to the ground. His large, white ears tumble off his head and land in the mud. I bite my lip as my eyes pivot from one to the other. “You’re the one who spit on The Mistress’ boots...”
He did?
“You don’t get a say in where or when Ellison goes,” Twig continues, fired up with heaving breaths and broad shoulders. Oh my! I try not to swoon, but I can’t help it. I’ve never been defended before. This is a first. “This is her choice and her life. Leave her the fuck alone.”
“That’s the problem with The Merrymen… You only care about fiercely protecting one thing…typically, your own guns.”
I don’t have to ask what he means. He thinks they only care about shooting their load when nothing could be further from the truth. Zig didn’t even come when I did. I can’t hold my tongue as I scream, “Love!” Their eyes spotlight on me. “They want to love. Now, be gone!”
Whit scurries to his feet and takes off running, but not before declaring, “You’re all crazy sex fiends!”
“And you’re an adult male hopping around like a hare twenty-four, seven!” I respond in tears, falling to my knees, and picking up his mud-soaked ears. I wallow, almost despondent, growing closer to catatonia where none of this will even matter.
I’ve been gone for so long, not just here in The Darkland, but my entire life. Before I killed my parents, it was all about Maddy. Maddy this and Maddy that…Maddy, Maddy, Maddy. She was the perfect daughter, and I could never hold a candle with my multitude of imperfections.
Twig lowers and wraps his arm around me. “I’m so fucking proud of you!”
“Why?” I ask through a shower of tears. “What did I do?”
“You stood up for yourself, for us…and for love,” he whispers, holding my hands. “You’ve never done that.”
“It felt like the right thing to do,” I admit, trusting myself and him. “I don’t know this kind of love. It’s all so foreign to me. I’m doing the best I can.”
“You’re doing it all right, El,” Twig praises. His easy blue eyes take mine in as we inch closer to one another. I close my eyes, and we’re caught in a passionate kiss. His tongue gently caresses against my own. “You’re so damned beautiful.”
“You keep telling me that…”
“Because I mean every word,” Twig whispers against my lip. I straddle over his lap, and his firm, veined hands brace against my back. I’m so turned on by him alone. I don’t need the spectacle and revelry to find the sensuality trapped behind his crooked grin.
“I’m so in trouble with you,” I confide, understanding he is saturating my heart with love like no other. “I don’t know if I can do this…”
“We don’t have a choice about who we fall in love with, babygirl.” He tenderly plants kisses all over my face and neck. “You never know when you’re going to be swept off your feet. The greatest joy in living is not knowing the end. The journey is worth the price. Love is worth the risk. You must be willing to take it.”
“I’m a bad girl,” I insist, laying my hands on his shoulders. I swirl the pads of my fingers along his inked pecs and biceps. “You don’t want me.”
“You don’t get a say in what I want…” We tumble back onto the path. And I let the feeling take the lead, running my lips and tongue from his neck to his navel. His hands skim over my shoulders beneath the hoodie. “Do it, El.”
“I’m becoming such a slut.”
“Just like I like them,” he baits with a gravelly voice. Peering up from between his legs, I undo his jeans and brush my tongue over his cock.
“Holy hell,” I coo, getting a good look at him. He’s gorgeous—thick and ridged with a splendid mushroom head. Drool drips onto my chin as I watch a drop of precum dribble from the tip. “You’re not built like the sugar circus…”
“No,” he chuckles, playing with my dark tendrils. “I’m not much for the cake. However, I love Cajun. And baby, you got spice.”
I hesitate, stumbling over the obstacle of…well, his massive fucking engorged cock. “Are you sure?”
“Please, Ellison Alicia Kingsley, suck my fucking dick…”
Unexpectedly, my soul responds with a resounding love. “Yes, Sir.”
5
Steal My Heart
With a pep in my step, I confidently stride alongside Twig as we venture down the road to the kingdom. I’m practically dancing after my lips were iced with his love. My fingers hook into his as the path dips under the dirt.
In the darkened tunnel, I have no fear with Twig by my side. He will protect me as we wander into the land of mushrooms taller than a grown man. The teal and fuchsia colors bewilder my eyes. “This is psychedelic.”
“Don’t even think about eating them,” he warns. “Much less touc
hing them. They’re all poisonous, and you’ll bleed out of every orifice until you slump dead at my feet.”
“It sounds horrid!”
“It is,” he says, “The Queen planted them as a trap, and we’ve lost many of our rebellion soldiers to them.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer my condolences. “I feel like everything bad that has happened to you has been my fault.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, shit happens. You put your boots on and keep moving forward because it is all you can do.”
“How did you get so positive?”
“Me?” he questions with a laugh. “I’m not positive. I’m realistic. I was raised in the swamp. If your balls don’t drop by the time you’re five, you’re gator fodder.” He clasps my hand even tighter as the path turns to a cramped, single-file, murky road. “Stay close to me.”
I bump into his backside, peeking around his left arm when I can, and listening to every breath he takes. “You must be at least twice my age…”
“Does this bother you?”
“Not at all,” I say, spotting the giant snails loafing across the path. “But I’m afraid it bothers you.”
“Do you think that’s why I didn’t make love to you?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, propping my head against his arm.
“Hop up on my back,” he requests. I listen. “I’m not challenging the slugs, leeches, and piranha today.”
Riding his back, I ask, “Where are they?”
“Up ahead,” he mutters, pointing at the sloshy brown quagmire. “We have to make our way through it, and you aren’t safe with that much skin showing.”
“It’s not that much,” I contest, rubbing my hand over my bare thigh. “It didn’t garner the attention of a thirty-something man.”
“Yeah, it did,” he casually claims. “And it’s enough to make a four-foot-long leech gobble you down in one bite.”
“Nasty!” I frown at him. “Who did all this?” I pause, realizing the stupidity of what I just said. “Nevermind. I should’ve fed Mad to a piranha.”
I laugh as he asks, “Who dat?”
“My older sister—Mathison, Maddy, Mad—my madness.”
“I have one of those,” he says, navigating our way to the edge of the swamp. I’m starting to understand why Sig insisted Twig take me this way. “She’s a real pain in my ass.” He crouches to the ground. “Get on my shoulders. I’m not taking chances with you.”
“I was hoping you would…”
“Not like that,” he replies with a grin. His flirtation fires off like fireworks in the night sky. “I’m more than willing to take that chance, but I refuse to risk losing you.”
I carefully hoist myself onto his broad shoulders. If I lift my arms, I can touch the rippled ceiling of the cavern. “Are you doing this for your Master or me?”
He steps into the sludge. “Would you believe me if I said both?”
“Maybe.” I stare in awe at the view. The swirls of color and fauna mystify and inspire until he slips. “Ahhh!” I scream as we sink. He’s knee-deep in the murky water. “Is this safe for you?”
“Maybe.” He tilts his head back with a smirk. “It doesn’t matter because you have to get to the kingdom, and I am the one escorting your sweet ass.”
“I’m going to owe you for the rest of my life.”
“You already pre-paid,” he huffs, midway through the swamp. I spot the fish, as big as my arm, jumping into the air. “But I’ll bill you for the rest. Hold on. We’re making a run for it. We need to get to the other side.”
The opening rests between two large violet boulders. “There it is!”
“Yeah,” he groans as we sink further into the muck. He’s pushing his body with all his might to get me safely across. We reach the sparkling blue sandy shore and collapse. He’s heaving and glistening in sweat.
“I’m not sure why they call you Twig.” I move from his shoulders and crawl on top of him. I kiss him hard as his hands pull at my boxers, and my hands work his zipper down. “Because you’re not like any twig I’ve ever seen.”
I sink his cock deep inside of my body and stride with lust and longing and love. “I’m Sig’s twig…”
“That’s so fucking naughty,” I moan, imagining these two doing so much more than making out. “I’m developing quite the crush on you.”
He gives a lawless smirk and unzips my hoodie. Stroking the back of his fingers over the tops of my breasts, he teases, “You have no idea how much trouble you are in.”
His hands drop to my hips as he guides my eager body along his ridge. “God, I want you.”
“You need to understand something, Ellison,” he mutters. “This is your fantasy, and you’re going to want everyone.”
“Not true!” I flop on top of his chest and pin his hands down, pretending like I can control this man. “I didn’t want Whit!”
“You did,” he says with a knowing gaze. “At one point.”
“Maybe…but it was brief…until I met The Merrymen.”
“If you want me by the end of this warped fairytale, I’d be amazed. You have princes waiting for you. I’m just a bad boy from the swamp. I’m nobody. I don’t even have Sig’s pedigree.”
“Would you shut up and fuck me?” I sass demandingly. “Do I look like the kind of girl who gives a rat’s ass about pedigree?”
“Maybe not…but still, you need to keep your options open,” he argues, rocking his dick into my pussy with a perfect tempo. “There is a long way to go. We’re not even half-way through this.”
Matching his pace, I roll against his thrusts with a delightful, sonorous moan. “And what if you are the one I choose at the end?”
“I… I… I don’t know what I’d say…” he stutters, stumped by my question. “I’ve always been the third wheel. Never the prince.”
“Maybe it’s time,” I whisper, believing that this moment will last. “To be the King of Kingsley.”
My words spur on a domino effect of his orgasm and mine. Leaning up, he kisses my lips, groaning into my mouth, and filling me with all his love.
“Yes…yes…yes!” he moans, releasing every drop with deep thrusts. “Queen Ellison!”
The underground world of The Darkland is everything I expect it will be—foreboding and forbidden—and the absolute most perfect place for a misfit like me to fall in love with a renegade from the wrong side of the tracks. Every minute that passes, I find myself clinging tighter to his chiseled bicep. He may run second-string on The Mistress’ Team, but he is first in my book.
Always. First.
His carriage is a natural swag provoking an undercurrent of knowing how to play dirty. He’ll do what is necessary to get the job done. And he isn’t the one you want to meet in a dark alley. Or, my Darkland…because he will vehemently stand as a sentinel for my safety, even from myself. It takes a lot of power to stop the self-inflicted.
From knocking out my foes to wrestling his way through the ominous waters, Twig is on my radar as one to pay extra special attention to. But I understand, he is right. This is my psyche, my dark fantasy, and I have no idea where I will land. The key is to remain open and available at each crossing and count the ones I can mark off. I’m no longer pure as the driven snow, but it doesn’t matter, I intend to throw a massive victory festival.
We traipse through the cavern until a fork in the road forces our choice. A sign plainly illustrates The Queen’s Kingdom is to the left, and right is to The Cave.
“Twig, what is The Cave?”
“A place to go have your fortune told by a fucked up, overgrown Lepidoptera.”
I raise a brow. “A fortune-telling caterpillar?”
“He’s not truly a caterpillar,” Twig informs. “He’s a rather rotund, portly sort, with an intriguing accent and good dope.”
I blink several times at the sign. “Battle with a Queen or a roll with the psychic?”
“Don’t say that.”
“What?” I demurely ask, unaware I had said any
thing wrong. “Should I not question which way to go?”
“No, no,” Twig corrects, peering down at me. “Don’t say a roll with Moth. You aren’t rolling anywhere…or anything with him.”
“Oh,” I mutter, placing my finger on my chin. “Do you think he could foresee my future?”
“I am sure he would,” he replies with a reluctant smirk. “But, I’d pay it no mind.”
I twist my lips, trying to decide if the jaunt to his cave is worth the time. “You mean he is for novelty use only?”
Twig erupts in a laugh and nods. “Yes, use Moth as a gag, just don’t gag on him.”
I consider making the detour, but a question puzzles my thoughts. “If I go and see him, will you come with me?”
“You damn sure ain’t going alone.” Covering my mouth, I want to scream as he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“In... In...”
“Breathe, El,” he commands, clutching my arms with a firm grip. “Calm down, sweetheart. Tell me what is wrong.”
“In the tunnel, the one that Whitman Dare pushed me into... I saw the sign...”
He tilts his head questioningly. “What sign?” He points to the one at the fork in the road. “This one?”
“No!”
His expression softens. “Baby, I can’t help you...”
“Ain’t!” I screech out, almost incapable of saying the word. “Ain’t!”
His brows arch upward in the center of his forehead. Damn, he’s beautiful. “You saw a sign for Ain’t?”
More conflicted than ever before, I lift my hands and sigh, “The words were floating and smiling and…” Realizing I sound like a lunatic, I balk, “Nevermind.” I stomp in the direction of the crazed psychic of The Darkland in hopes that he can untangle the mess of emotions swirling in my soul.
Twig chases after me. “Hey...” he comforts, stopping my steps by grabbing my shoulder. “Talk to me.”
“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all of my feelings.”
“Process them one at a time,” he says, kissing me. “Stop worrying about tomorrow.”
Madness Page 6
