The Monster of Farewell (Blacklighters Book 1)

by Catherine Black

  “What about that?” He sinks a finger inside me and I gasp when my body comes alive. “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes,” I nod. Good is an understatement.

  Kisses rain down on my collarbones and Kessler doesn't pause to remove his lips when he asks, “Do you trust me to make you feel even better?”

  Hell yes, Mr. Lawson.

  Hell. Yes.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Kessler

  I'm no virgin.

  Even though I've spent the majority of my adult life behind bars, I've still been with enough women to discover what I like and don't like; what I'm good at and what could use some work. So even though I'm out of practice, there's not a doubt in my mind Mercury is about to come un-fucking-glued, because I'm good, and that's not just arrogance talking. That's hours of practice and research speaking for itself.

  Mercury is familiar with pain and violence and stress. I'm sure she's even well-acquainted with fear. But physical pleasure? That rush of oxytocin? The weightlessness that ensues when your brain's pleasure center is melting within your skull? I have a hunch telling me these are things she knows little to nothing about. I'm chomping at the bit, longing to earn the privilege to show her—holy shit do I want to show her—but at the same time, I know I'm walking a tightrope.

  This isn't some random drunken hookup. It's not a quickie with a nameless woman. I won't be pulling my shoes on and sneaking out of her bed before the sun has a chance to break the horizon. This is something entirely different and new, and if I'm being completely honest, it feels wrong. It feels like I'm taking advantage, like I'm stealing something, even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

  Mercury is the curious one, willing to set her strength and control in my capable hands and trust that I won't disappoint, hoping that in return, she'll discover another facet to her physical existence. I read all that and more in her eyes when I pull her to the edge of the bed. She's curious, but also thrilled, hiding neither emotion from me. With her tits pressed between us, all warm and lush, enveloped in black silk, I can feel the thrumming of her heart. Soft beats, yet fast, like butterfly wings—impossibly strong but easily broken.

  Sliding hands under her thighs, I pull them apart and ease in close, silently rejoicing when Mercury's hands come down to rest on my shoulders. I lift the hem of her nightie, barely containing the tremor in my hand as black silk gives way and I see bare skin. Pale, deliciously beautiful skin.

  Every reservation I've ever had concerning this woman vanishes and I'm on my knees in a heartbeat, kissing one knee and then the other, swiping my tongue along her smooth skin, moving in closer to the endgame with each brush of my lips. Mercury sifts her hands through my hair, raking nails over my scalp, sending another rush of adrenaline barreling through my veins.

  Aside from her labored breathing and occasional purr of approval, she's mute, but I don't need words. Not right now. I can smell her arousal—the air is thick with the intoxicating scent—and I've never been more turned on by a woman in all my goddamn life.

  My tongue meets her folds with a whisper of a lick, and I groan at the heat I'm met with. She tastes like dark, dangerous innocence—like tainted purity—and my mind buzzes with the need to claim what no other man has experienced. Above me, Mercury pulls in a sharp breath, and I can't tease her a second longer, because I myself am beyond my own control.

  I dive in, thrusting my tongue inside her like a starving man in search of sustenance, moaning against her, knowing the power those deep vibrations hold. I cover her with my lips, exploring and worshiping her pussy as she shudders. Her body bows over me, thighs pressed against my ears, fistfuls of my dark hair clutched in her hands, holding me like she couldn't care less if I suffocated and met my death between her legs.

  Truth be told, right now I couldn't care less either, because tasting her, feeling her, listening to her whimpered moans of pleasure—I'm fucking gone.

  This is no longer about sex. Pleasuring her isn't related to any expectations attached to what she just did to me, and it has nothing to do with my dick, even though it's throbbing, begging to be set free so it can wreck her.

  It's about feeling.

  It's a mission—a primitive, compulsory need to remind Mercury how good it can feel to be alive. But also, although I'm reluctant to admit it, it's an apology.

  I put my hands on this woman in the cage. When that stranger looked up at me with an order in his eyes, I didn't even think. She was obliterating everything in her path and I just acted. I held her down. I restrained her. And I hated every fucking minute of it. If I could go back in time and get my head straight, I would have never done that to her. I'm seeking penance for my wrongdoing, on my knees in confession, here between Mercury's legs, at my new temple of worship.

  Rasping my tongue over her clit, I sink a finger inside Mercury, loving the way she tightens and drips around the invasion. “Fuck!” she yells, surprising the hell out of me. “Yes! Yesyesyes!”

  I pause to look up. I have to see this. I have to know what this woman looks like in the throes of ecstasy so I can burn the image into my mind for all eternity, but she tightens her grip on my hair. “No, no, no. Keep going. Keep...going...”

  Say no more.

  I shift quickly, maneuvering both Mercury's legs over my shoulders, moving in even closer. Her ankles lock behind my back and I drag in one last deep breath before plunging back in, devouring and fucking her pussy with my mouth, digging my fingers into her waist just as hard as she's clawing at my hair, holding me to her. She doesn't have to do that. I'm so hungry—so starved for something I didn't even know I needed—that even the devil himself couldn't pull me away at this point.

  Mercury's cries grow louder. Hips bucking against my mouth, head thrown back, legs shaking, she's a fucking masterpiece come to life. I am Pygmalion and she is my Galatea as I burrow my tongue as far as it will go one last time. When I cover her clit with my lips and suck, a ragged scream pierces the air, and every muscle in her beautiful body locks up.

  There are orgasms...and then there are OR-gasms, but that my friends—that was a fucking ORGASM.

  As soon as she relaxes and her ankles come unwound, I'm on her in a flash. Pulling her in, kissing her neck, holding her upright body against my sweat-slick chest. She reaches for me too, gliding me upward, sliding her tongue against mine, reciprocating in a furious fashion, and the fact that she's tasting herself has me blinded by lust so great I feel I may burst if I don't do something about it.

  Nails claw at my shoulders in an attempt to get even closer, and I know she's drawing blood but couldn't give two fucks if I tried. Moaning into my mouth, she wraps her arms around my neck, hanging on for dear life, and then...she freezes.

  So do I.

  Mercury's entire demeanor changes in an instant, and I know something's wrong. Doesn't take me long to figure out what.

  From out in the hallway, I hear it. Laughter. Male laughter.

  I look into Mercury's eyes, but she doesn't give me time to talk her down. Slapping a hand over her mouth, she frantically disentangles her body from mine and claws off the bed, sprinting toward the bathroom. I barely have a chance to land on my knees before the door slams shut behind her.

  Most men might be confused by Mercury's sudden departure, but I'm not. Somehow, I get it. I get her.

  She doesn't speak. Doesn't show emotion in public. For all anyone knows, she's an unshakable force of nature no one can touch. But I touched her. Hell, I did a lot more than that. I unraveled her, slowly, intimately, deconstructing her walls brick by brick. She trusted me with her body as she splintered apart, and I took care of her, but when she let me in, I wasn't the only one listening.

  “Fucking hell.” I scrub my face and march to the door, wrenching it open so hard and fast it slams into the wall. Outside, two men are propped against the opposite wall, grinning. One holds a joint between pinched fingers, the other a bottle of whiskey. Both dark-haired with olive skin and hazel eyes, they look lik
e they could be related, but the last thing I care about right now is their family tree.

  “Sorry, man. Didn't mean to disturb you.” The guy looking up at me seems to be around my height, although it's hard to tell with him sitting down. He nods at the closed door at his side. “Harper doesn't like it when I smoke in the room. We'll try to keep it down.”

  From the other side of said door, a scream erupts. Then the sound of skin slapping skin. Whoever's in there with Harper is having one hell of a time.

  I lean a shoulder against the wall, silent, waiting for some kind of explanation, but they just continue smiling. “That your room?” I ask, jerking my chin toward the door.

  He nods.

  “You're her Keeper?”

  Another nod. Another howl seeps through the door.

  “If you're out here, who's in there with her?”

  He looks up at me with eyes darker than my own and instantly his grin vanishes. “Mind your business, Newbie.”

  The noise intensifies and there are more screams, more slapping. To say I'm uncomfortable listening to whatever the hell is happening is a severe understatement. My eyes fall back on the man, but he seems completely nonplussed. “Sounds like she's being fucking tortured.”

  Harper's Keeper takes another puff off his joint, holds it, then releases a sweet-smelling cloud of smoke into the air. “Just how she likes it,” he drawls.

  Okay, fuck this.

  Time for me to go. Clearly, there's more going on here than meets the eye and even if I did want to help in some way, I can't. I don't know what my place is here, but the last thing I want to do is arouse suspicion by sticking my nose where it doesn't belong.

  Before I have a chance to bid these two sickos goodbye, the door to the bathroom opens up behind me and, judging by the look on both men's faces, I know Mercury just emerged and she's watching us. I glance over my shoulder and...damn.

  The silhouette of Mercury's body is outlined perfectly thanks to the light behind her, and it takes my brain a minute to comprehend just how beautiful she looks right now with her mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips.

  I'm not the only one who notices.

  A low whistle sounds and I spin back around, staring daggers at the man who, up until this point, has kept his mouth shut. His eyes are latched onto Mercury's bare legs—the ones that were just tied around my neck—and his gaze is filled with a hunger I recognize all too easily. When he wisely tears his peepers away and smirks up at me, I move, obstructing his view of the woman within my room.

  “If you value your sight at all, I suggest you avert your eyes.”

  He hides a grin by taking a pull from the bottle, then wipes the back of his hand across his smug-ass mouth. “Relax, Keeper,” he sneers. “I'd never take a crack at the golden child. I may be stupid, but I'm not fucking crazy.”

  Both men laugh, and that only pisses me off more.

  “Kudos to you, though,” he continues, eyes glimmering with mischief. “I didn't peg you for a guy with a death wish, not even after you fucking bombed in the cage, but whatever. A tight pussy is worth the risk, right?”

  Before I can do something I know I'll regret, like shove that bottle of whiskey so deep inside his colon that he farts shots for the next month, I slam the door in both their faces.

  When I turn around, I'm struck. For once, Mercury looks unsure of herself. Wringing her hands together, shoulder hunched, eyes ping-ponging between me and the floor, she doesn't look like a woman trained to bring down five grown men in one go. She looks like a scolded animal, and I hate it—I hate them for making her feel less than.

  “C'mon.” I nod to the bed. We should have crashed hours ago, but we've been too busy running on ecstasy and adrenaline—exploring something new and exciting within the confines of such unusual circumstances. “You need sleep. I don't know what happens from here on out, but something tells me we're gonna need rest to survive it.”

  I laugh in order to soften my words, but I know I'm speaking the truth. Every time I've turned a corner here, I've been caught off guard. Nothing about this place is as Griffin said it would be. Some aspects are better, others are worse. There's a system within these walls—a hierarchy—and I know it'll take time for me to unravel the inner workings enough to truly grip the reality of how these women—these Blacklighters—live. But in my mind, I've already dismissed Griffin's case entirely.

  I've got time. What I don't have is a clear head, which is why I need to wind down and take a breath.

  Mercury shuffles to the bed and climbs beneath the covers. The black duvet is thick and soft as I drag it up over her shoulder, and I take a moment to inspect the back of her neck. It's still clean; no fibers or hair lodged in the skin.

  She curls into a ball, head resting against the pillow, eyelids already growing heavy. It won't take long before she's out.

  Even though I know it's a bad fucking idea and will probably cause Mercury more confusion than it's worth, I steal one thing from her. A kiss. Just a peck. Chaste in comparison to the way I was devouring her just minutes ago. I steer clear of her lips and press it to the middle of her forehead.

  “Wake me up if you need me,” I whisper, then head to my own bed.

  Behind my back, Mercury squeaks, and the sound is so bizarre, so out of place, I jerk around to face her. Even in the shadows, her wide blue eyes seem to glow, matching the luminescent strip of skin bathed in moonlight—her arm, reaching out for me.

  I know what she wants. It's what I want too. Trouble is, I'm already in too deep when it comes to her. I'm not an instant-attraction, lose-my-mind-over-a-woman kind of guy. Never have been. But with Mercury, I think maybe I could be. The voice in my head—the one that usually knows what the hell he's talking about—is whispering words in my ear, and they're getting harder and harder to ignore.

  Stay.

  Hold her.

  Protect her.

  There's no point in resisting now, so I crawl into bed behind her, taking great care not to jostle her neck. Although, if I haven't bothered it by now with my flagrant ravishing of her body, I think we're good.

  Mercury snuggles into me like a rottweiler curling up in front of a fire and I drape an arm over her waist, pulling her the rest of the way until we're flush—her back to my front. Weirdly enough, we fit. Despite our difference in height, when she tucks her legs in and nuzzles the top of her head against the underside of my chin, we click. Like the last two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

  The embrace isn't sexual, but it is severely intimate—a first for me. I've bedded my fair share of women, and that's a fact, but never, not once, have I invited them to stay. I've never remained glued to their side through the night, which goes to prove just how in over my head I really am. This is dangerous territory, but I'm not about to shy away now just because what's happening is unconventional.

  I'm staying my happy ass right where I am.

  Minutes pass, and Mercury sinks deeper into the mattress, closer to me, her body relaxing muscle by muscle until she's nothing more than a Mercury-shaped puddle of limbs. Her breathing slows, but not before she takes in a deep breath, and then exhales, long and slow. With her tucked in so close to me, I feel that breath for what it really is: A purge. For now, she's bidding farewell to the stress, to the darkness, to the violence and brutality of this life she's been given. Until she wakes, she won't have to worry about such ugly things. I'll make sure of it.

  Staring out the window at the first hints of daybreak, I do the same. I let go of everything that happened before this moment, refusing to let it conquer my thoughts and take root while I sleep. Today is a new day, a fresh start, and I'm welcoming it with a beautiful—albeit troubled—woman in my arms. A woman who tried to kill me. A woman who just came on my tongue. Rational thought tells me these two things are conflicting matters, but I know they're not. Not here.

  “Goodnight, Mercury.”

  She trails a finger along the hand I have pressed to her stomach. “Goodnight, Kessler.”

 
Many beats pass, and I'm almost asleep when I hear it again—the screaming from across the hall—and I hold Mercury just a little tighter.

  Stay.

  Hold her.

  Protect her.

  “Mercury?”

  “Hmm?” she answers, half asleep.

  “Can I make a request?”

  She doesn't answer right away, and I think maybe I've lost her to the Sandman, but she finally nods.

  “No other Keepers.” I may not have any weight when it comes to stopping whatever is happening in the other room, but I do have the power to do this. At least, I hope I do. “Just me.”

  I expect another pause, or even an argument or complete dismissal, and I'm ready to fight my point, but I don't have to.

  “Just you,” she whispers. “I can do that.”

  I link our fingers together. “Thank you.”

  My request may seem selfish, but it's not. This new rule—this agreement—doesn't come from a place of jealousy, and I doubt Mercury realizes that I am not a factor here. This isn't to ease my own mind.

  This is for Mercury.

  Stay.

  Hold her.

  Protect her.

  The voice is relentless. Even after I slip off to sleep, it chases me through my dreams, chanting the same words over and over again until I can hear nothing else.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mercury

  For a split second, I forget where I am—I forget who I am—and when my eyes pop open at the sound of knocking, I wonder why someone rearranged all my furniture. The bed is facing away from the window, there's a small desk where my dresser used to be, and the bathroom is a good ten feet from where I left it.

  Two blinks later, it all comes flooding back. The fight, the promotion, the shower, the...whatever the hell that was with Kessler last night...and the branding, which is to blame for the buzzing current of pain searing its way down my spine. Sometime through the night, I rolled onto my back, and I know the freshly burnt skin on my neck is going to pay the price for that mistake.