Twisted Devotion: A Fae Paranormal Romance

by Jessi Elliott

  Oh god, this is like a terrible action movie.

  Two other men jump out of the car and grab me, dragging me toward the backseat and throwing me inside. My head smacks the armrest and I cry out, but they don’t care. I struggle a bit, thrashing back and forth, until one of the men presses a gun to my temple.

  “Don’t fucking move,” he demands. “Sit down, shut up, and maybe I won’t put a bullet between your pretty green eyes.”

  I bite back my snarl. This guy has no idea that a bullet wouldn’t kill me, not like it would have the night these monsters killed my foster family. But I stop fighting and sit in the seat closest to me as the other men take their seats and the door slams shut. The driver peels away from the curb and hits the gas hard, fleeing the scene.

  My pulse is still racing as I glance back and see my laptop bag on the sidewalk.

  Great.

  I hope Nikolai grabs that before they tail us to wherever the hell these goons are taking me.

  We’re in the car for over an hour before the driver pulls off a main road and proceeds down a dirt drive. When the car stops in front of a run-down warehouse, I sigh inwardly. The stereotypical setup of this whole thing is making me want to deal with these guys myself even more. They aren’t worth the time my friends are taking to handle the situation; and while I wholeheartedly believe they need to be punished for their actions, death seems more convenient at this point. It eliminates the problem altogether. Though perhaps death is too easy. Even drawn out and painful, there is still an end to it.

  The second the van is parked, I’m dragged out of it and into the warehouse. It’s a large, mostly empty room—poorly lit, with mostly broken or burnt out fluorescent lighting in the ceiling—and it reeks of dampness and dirt. I hold my breath as long as I can, already feeling the beginnings of a headache in my temples.

  The guy who hauled me in here shoves me onto a ratty old couch, and I cringe. He grabs a chain from the cement floor and secures it around my wrists and ankles. “Don’t move. Try anything and you’re dead. Understand?”

  I nod without saying a word, shifting a bit. When the metal touches my skin, I inhale sharply, my eyes pricking with tears.

  Son of a bitch.

  The chains are made of iron. I’m not going to be able to break out of these. I fumble around until my clothing is covering my skin there, breathing hard, but the men don’t seem to notice.

  They can’t know I’m fae. They can’t know fae exist.

  This has to be a cruel coincidence.

  The six men gather around a table, a few of them lighting cigarettes and drinking from beer bottles that have been sitting there for god knows how long. Something tells me they don’t care. They’re far enough away that a human wouldn’t be able to overhear them, but I push my senses outward and pick up on their conversation easily, moving my gaze around the warehouse so it doesn’t appear as though I’m listening. Windows line the top of the walls surrounding the space, but the dirt and grime covering them is so thick, the light barely manages to break through save for the few sections in each window with smashed panels.

  At the table, the bald one takes a drag from his smoke and asks, “You think she knows who we are? Why she’s here?”

  “Well, she hasn’t begged to know why we’re doing this, so I’d say so.”

  That’s the one who drove the car. They all seem to look to him. I’m guessing he’s the one in charge around here.

  Was he the one who killed my foster parents? Kyle?

  “What are we gonna do with her?” one asks.

  The man who attacked me on the sidewalk smiles. “Apply pressure until she gives us what we want.”

  One of them—a younger guy with long, dark hair—glances over at me. “She’s rather pretty,” he comments, making my stomach turn. “Give me some time with her and I bet I’ll get everything out of her.”

  “Bullshit. You’ll just get inside her,” Baldy says with a smirk.

  A few of the men laugh, and I want to bend over and throw up at the insinuation.

  I pull at the chains, testing my strength, but they have no give. Had they been anything but iron, breaking them wouldn’t be an issue.

  Three of the men approach me, and I glare at them, balling my hands into fists.

  “There’s fire in her eyes,” the leader of the pack comments curiously.

  “I’ll kill you for what you did,” I snap.

  He chuckles. “And what is it you think I did, Red?”

  “Don’t call me that,” I warn, pulling against the chains like I’ll be able to lash out and attack this mother—

  “Where’s the money, Miss Young?”

  I pause. “The money.” Barking out a laugh, I shake my head. “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to tell you anything.” There isn’t anything to tell. The money, whatever was left after Mark and Claire were killed, is gone. But I’m not about to tell them that. They likely wouldn’t believe me, anyway.

  He grabs my chin hard, forcing me to look at him. “Your brother made that mistake. I don’t suggest you do the same.”

  “What makes you think I know anything about the money you’re looking for?” I snap.

  “You’re the only Young left.” His eyes glimmer with cruel amusement. “We’ve killed the others.”

  “And look where that got you,” I retort. “Did you ever consider that there isn’t any money to find? That maybe, if there had been, you would’ve found it by now?”

  His eyes narrow and he jerks my head back as he lets go. “You think this is a game, bitch?” he snarls, pulling a butterfly knife out of his back pocket. “Tell us where the money is, or I’m going to start cutting. I think I’ll start with your fingers.”

  Well, this is escalating quickly.

  Skylar and Allison can show up anytime now. Preferably before I lose any ligaments. I fleetingly wonder if my fae healing abilities could grow them back.

  “Last chance, girl,” he taunts, bringing the knife closer to my face.

  I exaggerate my exhale. “There is no money,” I tell him in a calm voice. “You wasted your time hunting Kyle, and now me. Whatever might’ve been left is gone.”

  Anger explodes through him in crackles of dark and bright red in his aura. It’s the first time I’ve really noticed it. “Liar!” he yells.

  I don’t bother wasting my breath to inform him that I can’t lie.

  “You’re going to regret—”

  Right on cue, the door we came in through is blown off its hinges, and after the dust settles, Skylar and Allison walk into the warehouse. They easily could’ve shifted inside without the flare of drama, but I’m not mad about it.

  “What the fuck is this?” the bearded guy shouts, and the rest of the guys quickly stand from the table.

  “I invited some friends over,” I say in a sickly-sweet tone. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  In the following seconds, chaos ensues. The men make the mistake of believing they can take on Skylar and Allison. Hell, Sky could wipe them out on her own in under a minute. But that isn’t the plan.

  While Skylar fights the oncoming men—likely using half her strength—Allison hurries over to me and easily detains the leader, tossing his knife onto the grimy couch beside me. She knees him in the groin, and when he doubles over, she pounces on his back and gets in him a headlock, squeezing until he passes out.

  She drops him on the ground and claps her hands together with a sigh before reaching for the chains.

  “Don’t,” I say quickly, stopping her. “They’re iron.”

  “Shit,” she mutters. “Hold on. There’s got to be something around this hell hole that can cut them.” Allison disappears for a few minutes, then comes back with bolt cutters, making quick work of freeing me from the chains.

  “Thanks,” I tell her, rubbing my wrists.

  She shoots me a quick grin. “Anytime, chica.”

  We jump in and help Skylar detain the remaining men, securing them to the table with cable ties A
llison found while looking for the bolt cutters.

  “Wait,” I say. “One of them is missing.”

  There’s a sound across the warehouse, and my gaze swings toward it, where I quickly spot the man who’d attacked me on the street.

  “I’ve got it,” I mutter, shifting from one side of the room to the other and materializing in front of him. I’ve always hated shifting—it leaves my skin tingling weirdly for hours—but in this case, I don’t care. I grab the guy and slam him into the metal wall. “You’re going to wish you were never a part of this,” I snarl in his face.

  He has the sense to look frightened, and it only spurs me on.

  “You killed my family over some stupid debt,” I add.

  His jaw clenches in my grip. “A debt that required payment,” he shoots back. “Once you’re dead, I’ll consider it paid in full.”

  I scowl. “Look around, jackass. You don’t have the upper hand here.” I press my thumb into his throat, and he chokes, his face going red. “Why Kyle? He’d been placed with a new family after you killed our parents,” I say through gritted teeth.

  The guy coughs dryly, and I let up enough for him to speak. “We saw you with him and made the connection from back then.”

  Anger whips through me like a hurricane. “So you killed him just because he reconnected with me?” It wasn’t a new idea, but having it confirmed brings a whole new wave of pain.

  He scoffs. “We killed him because he wouldn’t give us what we were looking for.”

  I quickly throw the idea of sparing these lowlifes right out the window. I’m going to kill every one of them—starting with this guy.

  Swallowing hard, I wrap my fingers around his throat in a firm grip and close my eyes, swiftly pulling his energy out. I picture it like an endless rope and continue pulling. I open my eyes when he starts gasping and his skin goes sheet white, but I don’t stop feeding.

  Not until an arm wraps around my waist and hauls me away from him. He falls to the ground, and his eyes roll back into his head.

  I whip around and pull myself free before meeting Jackson’s gaze. “What the hell was that?” I demand, before the shock of seeing him here settles in, making my heart race.

  He frowns. “You were going to kill him, Red.”

  “So what?” I snap. “It’s the least he deserves. What are you even doing here?”

  “There is a plan in place for a reason, Kelsey,” Nikolai says before Jackson can answer me, approaching us from the blown-open doorway.

  I cross my arms, mostly so I’m not tempted to take a swing at one—or both—of them.

  “Take her back to your place, Hawthorne. We’ll clean this mess up and meet you there after.”

  Jackson nods, turning toward me. “Come on—”

  “Don’t you dare,” I say. “I’m not leaving.”

  Nikolai appears in front of me. “Yes, you are.” His tone is firm, his expression dark—and I’m not used to seeing Nik this serious. “Whether you like it or not, whether you go willingly or not, you are leaving. Now.” He flicks a glance back at Jackson and nods before jogging over to where Skylar and Allison are making their way around the table, manipulating the minds of the monsters I desperately wanted to kill.

  Jackson places a tentative hand on my shoulder. “Please don’t fight me, Red.”

  I turn toward him and roll my eyes. “You’re saying that because you know I can kick your ass without breaking a sweat.”

  He chuckles, wrapping his arms around me and guiding me against his chest. “Yeah, you’re right.” He kisses the top of my head. “The others will take care of this. Let me take you away from this place.”

  With a shaky sigh, I close my eyes and nod, letting Jackson shift us out of the warehouse and into his car, driving us to the mansion I’ve come to call home.

  Chapter 22

  When I open my eyes, I’m standing in Jax’s bedroom, staring into his soft, golden gaze. It’s filled with a breathtaking mix of concern and relief that is best described as beautiful desperation. Jackson was worried about me—he still is—and is relieved I’m safe here with him. He doesn’t need to vocalize it; his face says it all.

  I lift my hands to his face and trace his skin with my fingers, leaning in slowly. “I’m okay, Jax.”

  His eyes examine mine. “You’re sure?” His gaze drops to the burns around my wrists and his jaw clenches as he wraps his fingers around me, just below the burns. “What is this?”

  I swallow. “They chained me up with iron. Hurt like hell, but I’m fine. I promise.” It should have healed when I fed on my attacker, but the burns were deep. They’ll take a little more time to fade.

  When his gaze returns to mine and softens, I relax and lean up to kiss him. In response, he grips my hips and pulls me against him, lifting me off the floor. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he walks us over to his bed, laying me down before crawling over me.

  “I’m going to make you feel good,” he vows, kissing along my clavicle. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  “Oh yeah?” I wiggle under him, laughing softly. “How’re you going to do that?”

  His eyes narrow at my taunting, a smirk lifting his lips as he leans in and nips my earlobe before murmuring, “First, I’m going to get you out of these clothes.” He reaches between our bodies and pops the button on my pants, making my pulse race.

  “Hmm,” I moan, pushing my chest out so my breasts rub against him. My nipples harden in response. “Then what?”

  “Then, I’m going to devour every inch of your body until the only word you’re able to scream is my name.”

  “Yes, please,” I whisper, kissing his jaw and sucking softly.

  His cock hardens, twitching in his pants, and he groans against my skin before leaning back enough to pull my shirt over my head and toss it behind him. He gets my bra off just as fast, and before I have a chance to speak, his mouth closes around my nipple, stealing my breath. His fingers tug and tweak the other and then he switches sides.

  My fingers lace through his hair, holding him there as I moan beneath him, lifting my hips to grind against him.

  Jackson lifts his head and meets my gaze. “I want to tie you up and fuck you until you cannot walk.”

  My eyes widen as heat pools low in my belly. “Do it,” I challenge.

  He licks his lips. “Don’t tempt me, Red. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I offer a breathy laugh. “You won’t.”

  His eyes flash with lust before he unbuttons his shirt, adding it to the quickly growing pile of clothes on the floor. Leaning over me, he reaches into the table beside the bed and pulls out a dark red sash. “Put your wrists together.”

  I comply, holding his gaze and biting my lip. His voice deepens when he orders me around like this, and I can’t get enough of it.

  Carefully, he wraps the soft material around my wrists and give it a gentle tug to make sure it’s secure. “Is that okay? Does it hurt your burns?”

  It’s a bit uncomfortable to pull on, but not painful, so I shake my head.

  “Okay,” he responds, lifting my arms above my head and securing the sash to the headboard. “Now, keep your ass on the mattress or I’ll tie your hips down next. Understand?”

  I nod, my heart beating fast in my chest, making my breasts rise and fall with each breath. “Yes, sir.”

  He smirks. “Good girl.”

  Pressing my lips together as he lowers himself down my body, I watch intently as he curls his fingers into the waistband of my pants and pulls them down slowly, removing my panties along with them. A flush creeps over my body when he gets them off and his eyes focus on the apex of my thighs.

  He stands at the end of the bed and pulls his zipper down, letting his cock spring free.

  Some twisted need takes hold of me, and I tug on my restraints.

  Jackson chuckles. “You want something, Red?”

  My eyes snap to his. “You know full well what I want.”

  He purses his lips
, shrugging. “I’m not sure that I do.”

  Instead of leaning in and licking the throbbing heat between my thighs like I very clearly want him to, he takes ahold of his cock and starts pumping slowly. The bastard is teasing me.

  “Jackson.”

  He groans, looking at me through hooded lashes. “Yes?”

  “Fuck me,” I say. “Right now.”

  “Ah, ah, ah. You’re forgetting the rules, Red.”

  “Screw the rules. I want you.”

  He pauses and glances down the length of my legs. Before I can follow what he’s doing, his fingers are wrapped around my ankles and he spreads me wide open.

  I gasp, and the sound turns into a deep moan when Jax trails his tongue from my ankle all the way up until his nose skims my outside of my pussy. “Yes,” I breathe.

  Jackson slowly slides a finger along my slit, using his tongue to swirl around my clit. He sucks it into his mouth in the same moment he delves inside of me with two fingers, and I see white.

  I choke on a moan and can’t help but lift my hips. Jackson chuckles against me and flattens his free arm along my stomach, holding me down as he continues sucking and pumping his fingers in and out of me. Jackson’s cock hardens against my leg, and I wish I could reach down and wrap my fingers around it.

  “I want to touch you,” I murmur.

  Without a word, Jackson reaches up and undoes the knots around my wrists, freeing them.

  I reach for his cock, circling it with my fingers and moving from the base to the tip.

  Jackson’s fingers speed up inside me, curling inward and making me moan just as deeply. I match his pace, gently squeezing his shaft as I pump my hand up and down. He groans, and I cry out as an orgasm hits me fast and hard. I keep pumping as Jackson leans up and places his mouth over mine. I can taste myself on his lips, and that makes me pump harder. His fingers are still inside me, teasing and skimming the walls of my vagina, eliciting moans out of me with ease.

  “I want to come inside you,” he says against my lips.

  “Yes,” I moan, guiding him toward my entrance.