He nods, his head encased in a ring of smoke.
“When?”
“Year and a half ago, give or take.”
Jackpot.
She's the Jane Doe. Has to be. “How'd she die?”
“Suicide,” Eric says curtly, snuffing out the cigarette, and that is that.
We head back inside where men are filling plain white plates all set in a neat line.
“Layla and I are sparring before the bar opens,” Eric says as he grabs a plate in each hand. “You and Mercury are welcome to join unless you've got better plans.” He waggles his brow suggestively.
“I'll ask,” I say. “I think she'd enjoy beating on me a little more than she would anything else.”
Eric cackles loudly, nodding. “Fuckin' weird, ain't it?”
To say the least...
“Grab some plates and wait by the door.” He nods toward the barrier between here and the dining room. “Ice goes first. Follow him out and then line up against the wall.”
This place is so fucking weird, but I do as he says, waiting with the rest of the men. Chatter seeps through the wall, telling me it's not as well insulated as it should be, and I'm able to pick out a familiar voice. Two voices, actually.
“I'm glad your Keeper is fitting in well,” Blair says. “Make sure he's with you tonight for your first shift.”
“Yes, Ma'am,” Mercury says a flat, emotionless voice.
“You're working with Layla.”
“I'm looking forward to it.”
There's a pause, and then...
“She'll be happy to hear that. Just remember, when you're working in my bar, you actually have to speak to customers.”
“I can handle it, Mother.”
Ice heads my way, grimacing, and I lean back away from where I've been eavesdropping.
“Let's go, Keepers. I'm fucking starving,” he grumbles. “They better eat fast, I've got shit to do.”
Mercury waits for me in the hallway after breakfast, surprising me with a shy grin. For someone who has been alone for so long, she seems to have this partnership thing down pat. Not that I'd ever mention it to her, but I'm happy I'm here for her. Happy she doesn't have to be alone in this grandly decorated version of hell.
We ride up to the room together to get changed so we can spar with Eric and Layla, all the while making small talk. It's nice talking about the Missouri weather—normal, even—which isn't easy to come by here in Farewell.
“I like your name,” she says when we reach the room. “Kessler. I like saying it.”
“Thank you, Mercury.” A subtle blush creeps over her cheeks and I'm damn happy to see it. So happy I can't keep from smiling. “Were you named after the planet?”
Grimacing, Mercury looks away. “Actually, no. My father wanted to name me Eden, after the garden in the Bible, but my mother said no. She gave birth to me in the bar—right on the old pool table. The news was on in the background, reporting on a story of a man killed by mercury poisoning. She told my father that was such a brutal way to die; killed by something so beautiful.”
Sounds like Blair.
“And so she named you Mercury.”
She looks back up to me, shame no longer the most prominent expression on her face, but pride. “So she named me Mercury.”
Before I can think much of it, I wrap an arm around the back of Mercury's neck and pull her into me for a kiss. Just to satiate this need to taste her.
It's dangerous, this need. Consuming. Altering me in ways I never would have guessed it could when I drove my borrowed mustang down this dusty dirt road. I thought when I got here I'd find a bar, a few fighters, and maybe a couple bricks of cocaine. In and out. Just a job. One and done.
But instead, I found a sad, isolated, beautiful woman in need of human contact. A specimen thirsting for just a shred or two of compassion. I found a woman who lights up my blood like an atomic bomb. I found a person starving for a connection the same way I've been starved for the last eight years. I found someone kind and passionate and intriguing and sought solace in her arms. I found a beautiful creature misunderstood by the world around her, so much so they've labeled her a monster and kept their distance.
I found Mercury.
One lone ceiling fan spins, rocking on its base, circulating tepid air as Layla takes a hit straight to the jaw, courtesy of Mercury. Sweat flies out around her, and even though Eric and I cringe, she laughs it off. “I taught you better than that!” she yells. “Follow through!”
Lashing out with her fists, she goes on the offensive. One, two. One, two, three. Mercury blocks every hit, protecting her face, keeping her eyes trained on her opponent. There's a smile curving her lips, and seeing her on the mat, training with a friend, I can see she's comfortable; in her element, cast in an ethereal light. I enjoy the sight so much, I'm beginning to think Griffin did me a favor by sending me here. He may have done so with the intent of bringing the Blacklighters down, but everything in me is saying this will end in failure. For him. Either way, I'm done being his lap dog.
They've done nothing wrong. Their hands aren't dirty—just a little bloodstained.
“Something on your mind, Brother?”
Pulled from my thoughts, I glance over to find Eric watching me, worry pulling at the space between his eyebrows.
“Nope,” I lie, smoothing two sweaty palms along my jeans. “Just trying to get a handle on...all this.”
“All this? You mean your hard-on for the bosses daughter?”
Chuckling under my breath, I swing my eyes up to watch Mercury grab Layla in a headlock. “Sure. That.”
“I wouldn't sweat it.” Eric knocks a fist lightly against my shoulder. “You ever see Beauty and the Beast?”
I look at him like he's crazy. What the hell does a child's cartoon have to do with Farewell? “Yeah. Why?”
He points to Mercury, cocking his head to the side. “The way I figure it is like this. That's your beast, and every other person here swinging a dick between their legs...they're all Gaston.”
It's been a while since I've seen the movie, honestly, and I can only remember bits and pieces, but I know enough to see what he's getting at. In the end, the enchanted monster wasn't the villain. The villain was a man everyone adored and respected and lusted after. I get what he's saying—sort of—but I'm none too thrilled to know I'm the stubborn, ball-gown-wearing book nerd in this scenario.
“You need to get out more.”
“Hey, you talked to Blair,” he says, lowering his voice. “I think you know what you're up against.”
“What I'm up against?” Well that doesn't sound ominous at all...
“I wouldn't worry about it. Just so long as you've got Mercury's back, you're good.” Eric motions to the girls. They're both panting; hair a mess from where they've grabbed one another to get the upper hand. “Why don't you take Layla's place? Give her a break. She didn't sleep well last night and you need to loosen up those old man joints.”
My eyebrows skyrocket when I turn to face him head-on. “Old man?”
He grins, the same shit-eating smile from our youth, and I'm taken back to a time when nothing in the world mattered except football, geometry, cute girls, and getting home before the street lights came on. He really was a good kid.
“My joints are just fine, fuck you very much.”
Eric shrugs. “Prove it. Get your ancient ass on the mat.”
“If this is your idea of trash talk, you suck at it.”
“Trust me, you'll know my trash talk when you hear it.”
“Right,” I drawl. “Like that time Freshman year when you told a Senior to, and I quote, “Grow a penis and quit being a turd.”
He rubs a hand along the back of his neck, cheeks flashing red. “Yeah, never did live that down.”
“Grow a penis?” Layla laughs, wiping sweat from her forehead as she comes to stand beside Eric. “Quit being a turd? You graduated a virgin, didn't you?”
“Of course,” he says, beaming proud
ly as he pulls her in by the hips. “I was a good boy.”
Bullshit. If he'd had the chance back then, he would have taken it. But when you grow up in a single-stoplight town and everyone knows your mama is a crackhead, fathers tend to keep their daughters far from reach. And because Eric didn't have family who cared, the clothes on his back were Grifin's hand-me-downs and the food in his belly was put there by my father. Girls didn't exactly think he was a catch.
“A good boy?” Layla trails her hand down his chest. “What happened?”
“You happened.”
He smiles, and it's the most genuine thing I've seen from him in a long time. Asshole really is in love.
As if that word triggers something deep inside me, my own eyes move and I find myself glancing down at the woman at my side. Mercury's casting a reverent look up at me, her face covered in a sheen of sweat and patches of red where Layla broke through her defenses. I want to reach out and kiss away the pain. I want to touch her, wrap her in my arms, press her up against the wall...but I resist. Because it doesn't make sense to want someone this much.
I've been in lust before. Many times, in fact. I've dealt with wanting to be inside someone so badly it's all I can think about, but this is different. The things I feel for Mercury are unhealthy. I don't just want to be inside her—I want to absorb every breath she takes. I want to control her. I want her to depend on me; lean on me. I want to own her. And that's ten different kinds of wrong because I'm not that guy. I'm not the dick who gets off on bending a woman to his will, but that is exactly what I want to do to Mercury right now.
I want to be her everything, and that's fucking dangerous.
“You tagging in?” Eric asks, bouncing his eyes between me and my Blacklighter.
Memories of holding Mercury's hands down in the cage flash to mind and my chest tightens.
“No thanks.”
“Scared?” Mercury whispers against my arm.
Her hot breath seeps through the fabric, warming that small part of me. A small hand snakes up the back of my shirt, warm skin on warm skin, fingers walking up my spine, and I shiver.
“Not even a little bit.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
Her hand disappears. She crosses the room and picks up a discarded piece of fabric from the floor, placing it over her eyes and securing it at the back of her head. It's one of the hottest things I've ever seen—my Blacklighter in a blindfold—and I know I'm about to lose because a certain appendage is robbing my brain of blood.
She doesn't give me time to back down or formulate a plan before she attacks.
Fists come flying at me in no discernible pattern, lashing out at my face and chest, and I stumble back until my boots hit the rubber mat. She's herding me. Arms raised, I block every attempted hit. She's so fucking fast, it's a chore keeping my face intact, but I manage.
“C'mon, Keeper!” Eric hollers through a laugh. “Kick her ass!”
Yeah, that's not happening and we both know it.
Like a ballerina made of rose thorns and lightning, Mercury's entire body spins, hands tucked close to her chest, one knee lifting in the air. When she extends her leg, intent on catching my jaw, I react.
Grabbing hold of her ankle, I tug, pulling her off balance, and before she can right herself, I'm stepping forward, nestling myself in between her legs. Pressing a kiss to her bottom lip, I steal her breath.
“Play nice,” I growl.
She gives me a wicked smile. “Not a chance.”
Wrapping both legs around my waist, she lets the upper half of her body fall limp until her hands touch the ground. I don't think much of it as I gaze down the length of her, fighting the urge to slide my hands up her torso...until my feet leave the ground.
She flips all six-foot-six-inches of me over her body and everything inside of me jars when I hit the ground with a thud that rings through the entire room. Teeth sore from where they cracked into each other, I remain still, splayed out on the floor like a goddamn starfish.
“Fucking hell,” I grunt. Mercury's already up on her feet, smiling victoriously, fists raised as she hops on the balls of her feet. “So that's how it is?”
“Oh yeah,” she nods. “That's how it is.”
I climb to my feet. Slowly.
“What'd I tell you, old man?” Eric yells.
I don't have time to flip him over before Mercury advances again. This time, I dodge around her, coming up behind. Her long hair is in a high ponytail and I grab it, pulling back until her shoulder blades hit my torso and I kiss her sweaty neck. Skimpy shorts make it easy to press my jean-clad erection between Mercury's ass cheeks, and her breath catches.
That's all I get before she grabs my bowed head and wrenches me forward. We both stumble, fighting for the upper hand, not stopping until we're off the mat and nearing a high concrete wall. A flicker of fear runs through me at the idea of Mercury crashing headfirst into the damn thing, and millimeters away from impact, I clutch her shoulders, turning us both until it's my back hitting the wall.
“Thanks, Keeper,” she whispers.
Slapping both hands to the concrete beside my head, Mercury pushes her breasts against me. I grab two handfuls of ass, squeezing hard, pulling her into me, and even though half her face is covered, I know damn well she's just as turned on as I am.
Who knew physical violence was an aphrodisiac?
The door to the training room slams shut, surprising us both. There's a moment of stillness as the sound echoes through the vast space and we hold our breath, knowing we've just been left alone, but the moment that dies away, everything changes.
She attacks, only this time, it's not with the intent to harm.
Jumping into my arms, Mercury wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me. It's rough and carefree and so fucking hot I spin around and slam her against the wall, not giving a shit how gentle I'm not being. This is Mercury. She's strong. Resilient. Knocking her around a little does nothing but spur her on.
Our hands are everywhere as we breathe heavily against one another, frantically clawing and groping. Her head falls back, exposing the long column of her neck, which I devour with fervor, licking and nipping the hot skin she's gifting me.
“Arms up.”
She obeys, and I pull her sports bra up over her head, tossing it aside so I can worship her chest. I cup her greedily, pushing her tits together, flicking my thumbs over her pert nipples. I kiss and taste the tops of her breasts, securing my lips over the skin and sucking until I know small blood vessels are bursting. Mercury's mouth falls open, gasping for air like a fish out of water, and a broken whimper escapes her lips.
Fuck it.
I'm taking her.
Swallowing all her air, I rip at her shorts, dragging them down her legs until she's bared to me. She fumbles at my jeans, feeling blindly for the button, but I push her hands out of the way and do it myself. Both arms go beneath her legs, lifting her up, spreading her open, pushing her thighs against her chest until she's pinned to the wall, at my complete mercy.
Drunk on the need to take Mercury, I drive into her heat, bottoming out in one savage thrust. I'm so far from careful she cries out, but I know her now. This isn't pain. This is something else—something raw and consuming and desperate—and it's a high we've been chasing together for days. Through every touch, every kiss, every heated glance, it hasn't dissipated. It's only grown. She's an infection; a fever with no treatment.
Mercury claws at my back, fisting my t-shirt in her shaking hands. “Harder. Deeper,” she rasps. “Until it hurts.”
I push my hips forward, grinding into her, feeling the way her back presses against the wall. The resistance will likely leave her with a bruise along her tailbone, but I do exactly what she asks.
Her liquid excitement coats my dick as I pump into her, working my hips frantically until it feels as if I'm about to snap. Fucking this woman is otherworldly. An out of body experience if there ever was one. The way her cunt reacts, the scent she puts off, the cu
rve of her lips when she opens her mouth and says my name...
Heaven on fucking Earth.
I rip the blindfold from her head and she blinks in surprise. Her eyes are wide and dilated—the color of shark-infested waters—and they are trained on me with all the severity of a sniper.
“I want you to look me in the eyes when you come.”
She nods.
“Touch yourself,” I urge, pressing my forehead to hers. Her hand immediately shoots between us, one middle finger pressing to her clit. “Rub it in circles.” She obeys, her eyes all but rolling back in her skull at the pleasure building between us. “Just like that, baby,” I whisper, pressing her legs even closer to her chest, widening her for me as far as she'll go. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”
The hot, sweet cunt wrapped around my dick clenches so tight I see double. Mercury gazes at me through shining eyes, the tears gathering between her lashes perfectly mirroring what I'm feeling inside of me as I prepare to completely shatter.
Everything about Mercury is so goddamn beautiful, I lose touch with reality for a few blissful seconds as she looks deep into my eyes and finally explodes, never blinking, never looking away, showing me everything, concealing nothing. She keeps her eyes glued to mine when she cries out in release, and when I'm wound so tight I finally stiffen and lose myself in her, I return the favor.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mercury
It's not a fight night, so the cage is empty.
The bar is packed with regulars from surrounding towns, and I'm grateful Layla is handling the floor while I sit behind the register, perched on the edge of a bar stool. I am not a fan of drunk assholes and there are a lot of them here tonight.
Kessler and Eric are deep in conversation at a nearby booth, their heads popping up every so often as they track their respective Blacklighter. Every time Kessler's eyes meet mine, he smiles, and it makes me feel as if winged insects are fluttering about in my stomach. Sometimes the look he sends across the bar is soft and shy. Other times, like when he caught me adjusting the top of my corset, it's heated, holding silent promises of things to come.
The Monster of Farewell (Blacklighters Book 1) Page 22
