by E. S. Carter
I grin in reply. My shitty mood easing slightly until we walk past the small cottage and I remember why I ran in the first place.
“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” I state before breaking into a jog while he continues walking with a casual, measured gait. “Tell Cole we’ll meet in ten minutes, I have some ideas for this weekend,” I call out over my shoulder, not bothering to wait for his response.
The bathroom attached to my room of this old house, a room I’ve yet to even sleep in, is no bigger than a matchbox. An old shower head hangs from a pipe on the wall over a cracked and stained cast iron bath. The water that comes from it is frigid and barely a drizzle, it’s not a place anyone would want to linger for long, and less than ten minutes later, I’m standing before Cole, Luke and James.
Because I’m a psychopath with a death wish, I waggle my eyebrows at Luke while tilting my head towards James, who is oblivious to my actions with his back to me while he talks through the layout of The Kingdom’s vast compound.
Luke blinks slowly just once and looks away as if unaffected by my childish games, only the twitch of his fingers alerting me to his annoyance. Oh, the fun I could have with this new amusement. I smile inwardly at the knowledge that I finally have something that affects the unflappable younger Hunter. That is until I hear Cal’s name.
“What about her?” I demand, walking towards the table that Cole and James are bent over as they go through stacks of plans and schematics.
James straightens and turns to face me while Cole just tilts his head to stare in my direction.
“Faye and Calliah are making a trip to the vineyard. They leave tonight. I was just assuring Cole of his wife’s safety while she’s there and I was about to explain all the things my estate manager has planned to show her during her visit.”
“Who the fuck said Cal could go?” I bite out, my aggression manifesting in a snarl.
Cole stands to his full height and turns to assess me.
“Calliah is free to go where she pleases. She does not need permission to do so,” he spells out, his brows lifting, daring me to question him further.
Fuck this shit.
“Cal stays with me, end fucking of,” I declare, the snarl in my voice causing spit to fly out with my words. “Anyone have a problem with that?”
I fucking dare you.
When nobody in the room opens their mouth to object, I smile easily and say, “Good. Now let’s concentrate on what we’re all here to do. Have we received confirmation that both Alexiou and Kyrillos will be on site this weekend?”
James runs through all the information he’s gleaned from a few men that he has on the inside on the compound.
Both Kings will be there this weekend as they are expecting a shipment of women from a terrorist group in the middle east.
“Much of our stock comes from such transactions now,” James goes on to explain. “They’re cheaper than other suppliers, and a small cache of weapons is an inexpensive trade for over eighty young girls and women. Most will be of middle eastern origin with a few kidnapped westerners added to sweeten the deal.”
Then he goes on to tell us in detail where the trade will take place and what time the new property is expected at the compound.
“Our first team will go in with the delivery,” Luke interjects as James begins to go over our plans. “Grim, you’ll be in the trucks with the girls and two of our men will be driving, with another ten in convoy behind you. Once inside, you’re to dispatch as many of the guards as is feasible with as little noise, mess and destruction as possible. When all the external security is taken care of Cole and I will come in with the second wave, with James following up on the third wave, as he will already be in place inside the building.”
“James, if he is able, will take care of Alexiou and Kyrillos, but this is where the plan gets sticky because the primary and only objective is to eliminate both kings. If James hasn’t done so by the time we enter the building, it’s everyone’s duty to ensure those men do not escape. I want their fucking heads. Do you understand me?” Cole issues in a decree.
Each one of us nods, wanting the same fucking thing.
“Okay, I’m going to spend time with my wife before she departs for the vineyard. We’ve got two days to get our men up to speed, and the exchange happens at midnight on Friday.”
Cole looks at each one of us in turn and then leaves.
Once he’s gone, James looks over at me before turning back to the table and picking up a tablet, his fingers flying over the device quickly. Luke stares at his back for a beat, then leaves the room after saying, “I’ll speak to my men and start briefing the team Cole brought with him today.”
That leaves my new brother and I alone for the first time since I found out about his existence.
I still don’t fully trust him, he’s got a long way to go before that happens, but things have thawed between us somewhat.
“You should let her go,” he says without turning to face me when the door closes behind Luke.
“You should mind your own business,” I retort, not willing to listen to the advice of a Renshaw.
He places the tablet back down on the table top and turns to face me once more, the backs of his thighs leaning against the wood, his arms crossing over his chest.
His eyes roam over the planes of my face, a slight squint to the corners as if he’s trying to assess what he sees in my features.
I grin because I know that when I do, it never fails to get a reaction. The jagged scar across my face adds a menacing element to the simple act of a smile.
His eyes drop from my face to my chest, and I’m pleased to see my grin works even on him. What I don’t expect is for him to say what he does next.
“Did she beg for her life?” He nods to the ear hanging around my neck that rests between my pecs.
“No,” I admit because the bitch didn’t plead or beg at all.
“Did she ask for forgiveness or apologise for her sins?”
“No.”
“Did she scream?”
“Yes.” Her screams were my ecstasy. I saved them to replay whenever I want. “You can hear them if you want, I have a video.”
His eyes leave the ear resting against my shirt and look back at my face.
“Maybe another time.”
“Why should I let her go?” I ask, shocking both him and myself with the query.
“Because there is someone there I think she should meet.”
“Who?”
“Someone who can help her, maybe even heal her. She deserves that, Grim. You know she does.”
“She deserves more than I can give her,” I mutter more to myself than to him.
“You care for her,” he states, it’s not a question. “That’s dangerous for men like us.”
“You’re not like me,” I retort. “Your life has been fuck all like mine. You were the favoured son, following in Mummy and Daddy’s footsteps.”
He takes a step forward, and it’s the first time I’ve seen a glimpse of the man beneath his composure.
“You know nothing about me, Henry,” he sneers, reverting to my given name. “Just as I do not claim to know anything about you.”
He’s right. I’m the one here judging him, deciding that his name alone is enough for me to be his jury and executioner.
I tilt my head in thought, my fingers coming up to caress the trophy around my neck.
“Maybe there are some things we need to discuss when all this is over,” I concede, looking up at him thoughtfully.
He nods, his stance relaxing. “I’d like that.”
I acknowledge his agreement with a tilt of my chin and turn to open the door.
“Cal will be on the plane tonight. I’m trusting what you said about Faye’s safety extends to her.”
“It does,” he responds to my back.
“Good. I’ll leave you to it. I have someone I need to see.”
Calliah
The few possessions I brought with me
are packed. Faye left around an hour or so ago, and I sit nervously on the edge of the bed waiting for her to return.
When the front door of the cottage opens, and I walk out to meet her, my bag in my hand, I stop dead.
It’s not Faye who has entered.
“Cal,” he greets me quietly, almost nervously as he steps into the small room that suddenly feels ten times smaller.
When I don’t offer a reply, he stills. I can feel his eyes locked on my face, his breaths calm and even and I wonder how he can remain so composed when I feel as though I’m breaking apart.
A part of me wants to turn and shut the bedroom door in his face, but I can’t, and not only because he broke it, but because a bigger part of me demands that I run into his arms. It’s a battle to remain still, and I won’t allow him to see how badly what happened between us last night has left me disjointed, confused and feeling more alone than I have in a very long time.
“I’ve heard you’re going to the vineyard with Faye. That’s good, yeah, it’s uh, good.”
He closes the front door softly behind him, and silence blankets us once more.
“Cal, this mute shit you’ve got going on is fucking with my head, can we, uh, talk?”
“I’m listening,” I reply, tilting my chin and straightening my spine, my resolve buckling at his tone and forcing me to fake it.
“Not like this, can we at least sit?” His question is almost a plea and one that I can’t refuse, so I make my way to sit at the small, low table between the living room and kitchen. The same place we shared a meal just last night.
He moves past me and pulls out my chair, before sitting in the one opposite and this time I allow the gesture and take a seat without rebuffing his manners.
“James said that you’re going to love the vineyard,” he begins, but I’m not prepared to make small talk with him, so I interject, “I agreed to talk but not about James.”
I sit back in my chair and wait for him to say what he originally intended, bracing myself for the pain of his words.
What I don’t expect is for him to launch himself from his seat and within the next second pick up both me and the chair I’m sitting on until my knees are flush against his body and we are face to face. His forearms press against my outer thighs as both hands clasp the underneath of my seat, his strength making it appear as if lifting me this way is no harder than picking up an empty suitcase.
“Don’t fucking shut me out, Cal. I know I deserve it, but I can’t sit here and watch you do it. I can’t go back to wondering how you feel against me or what your mouth tastes like under mine.”
“You did this to us. You, not me,” I reply quietly but firmly, our faces mere inches apart, my knees touching his firm abdomen.
As soon as the last word leaves my lips, his mouth is on mine. It’s not a gentle brush of lips, it’s bruising, it’s aggressive, and it’s claiming. When he pulls away from my mouth to bite and nibble his way down my neck, he says between leaving marks, “You’re fucking mine, Cal. I found you, I’ve claimed you, and despite being unworthy of you, I’m selfish enough to say I don’t fucking care.”
Then his mouth is on mine once more, his tongue forcing its way past my lips to plunge into mine. He devours me like a man starved and instead of allowing it, I battle it, greedily duelling my tongue with his, wanting to eat at his mouth until I drown with his taste. Without breaking our carnivorous kiss, he turns and sets the chair on the table top so he can free his hands to run them over my thighs, then my hips, squeezing and bruising and claiming every inch of me.
“Yes,” I cry out as he bites his way across my chest, my nipples standing sharply to attention and begging for his teeth, but he avoids them. Instead, he feasts his fill of my soft flesh. His fingers work at the front button of my jeans, and as soon as it pops free, his hand plunges down under the waistband, his fingers cupping me firmly over my underwear, his palm pushing against the little bundle of nerves that pulses with the beat of my heart. He grinds his hand there, building a sensation that has me clenching my sex and curling my toes. His fingers press into the wet fabric that is covered with my juices, pushing the damp cotton further and further inside me until I want to scream for him to remove the barrier so he can sink his fingers deep, my sex needing him to fill it and relieve the pressure building in my core.
His lips find my nipples and suck, hard, a groan escaping my lips at the feel of his mouth on me, while the heel of his hand grinds and grinds against my mound making me lose all coherent thought. When his mouth releases my breast to move on to the other, the cold air sticks to the wet fabric of my shirt and goosebumps break out over my bare arms. Then he takes the other nipple into his hot mouth and almost swallows up my entire breast before pulling back to bite the engorged peak.
It’s too much, the pleasure, the sharp sting of exquisite pain, the insistent rubbing, the fingers pressing, and something snaps inside me. I throw my head back on a gasp as my entire body locks rigidly, my back arches up from the chair pushing my sex harder into his hand and I explode on a cry. Waves and waves of electrifying pleasure radiate outwards from my core, stealing my breath, almost painful in its crescendo.
As I crash back into my body, his movements begin to slow. His fingers and palm caressing rather than rubbing or prodding, his teeth on my sensitive breasts grazing not biting and for a split second when I open my eyes, I swear I see him smile in the bright kaleidoscope of colours flashing behind my dead gaze.
His head lifts, his forehead presses against mine, and he speaks raggedly against my lips, “That’s what I should have been able to do for you last night.”
“Hey, Cal,” Faye’s voice calls from the front doorway and Grim groans against my mouth, pressing one last kiss there before scooping up me and the chair and depositing us both back on the floor.
I fumble with the button of my jeans, and I’m righting my clothes when she walks into the kitchen area.
“Oh, sorry, I umm, thought you were alone,” she rushes out, although I can hear the lie on her lips. Plus, I know her gift, and there is no way that she didn’t know Grim was here with me or what has just taken place between us. Even I can feel it thick in the air, so to her senses, it must be glaringly obvious.
“Perfect fucking timing as always, Mrs Hunter,” Grim retorts sarcastically, then shocks both Faye and me by bending to kiss my forehead before speaking low and only to me.
“I have to go, but I’ll join you at the vineyard as soon as this is over, Cal. We’re not done yet, and I’m not running.”
Then with one final brush of his lips at my brow, he leaves.
Faye coughs lightly a few seconds later, alerting me to the fact that I’ve forgotten she was still in the room.
“You might want to change your shirt before we leave,” she points out, trying and failing to hold back the laughter in her words. “You’re, umm, a little moist in areas.”
I cross my arms over my chest in embarrassment before standing and grabbing my bag from the floor.
“Thanks for, yeah, thanks,” I stutter as I rush towards the bathroom. It’s ridiculous really, I’ve spent most of my life naked and on display for others, and two wet patches on my covered breasts are nothing in comparison yet I can feel my blush burning hot on my neck and cheeks.
“Oh and maybe put a scarf on too, I have one in my bag if you need it,” she calls out, the humour in her voice thick and mortifying.
I run my fingertips gingerly over the bites on my neck, feeling the sore but sweet ache of a new bruise. He said he was going to mark me and he did. I’m not going to hide it.
With a quick splash of water to my face which I dry with my discarded shirt, I pull a clean tee over my head and walk back out to Faye, my marks visible and unhidden.
“I’m not ashamed,” I state boldly, waiting for her reaction.
“I never expected you to be,” she replies in agreement.
“I’ll cover them up when we arrive at the vineyard. I understand how they may be
triggers to others from my world, and that they may not view these marks the same way I do.”
She presses a light chiffon scarf into my hand as she links her arm with mine and we walk to the door.
“And how do you view them?” she enquiries lightly.
As we step out onto the creaky wooden porch to the sound of vehicles running, I know that Grim is there among the men taking us to the jet and I answer her honestly.
“As a promise.”
Grim
Two days she’s been gone.
Two days too long.
After making her come on my hand and listening to her breathy gasp of pleasure, I’d craved more.
I left her sat at the table with bite marks on her neck, her pale shirt sticking wet and delicious against her hard nipples, her cheeks pinked with arousal and her scent clinging to my skin. I’d walked away then, and been hard ever since.
And here I am now, squeezed in the back of a twelve-wheeler lorry, surrounded by dog cages full of bound and gagged girls. The stench of their piss-stained fear burns my nostrils and calls to my Devil within.
The exchange with the terrorist cell went without a hitch, those fuckers eager to get their hands on their weapons and oblivious to what was taking place right under their noses. We’d left the Dutch Port of Rotterdam with a container full of property to head towards Eindhoven, and after an almost two-hour journey, the lorry slowed as planned and pulled into an empty lot situated ten minutes away from The Kingdom’s compound.
The back doors grated open and the beam of a flashlight hit me in the face.
“Looking comfy in there, brother,” Luke muses.
“Fuck you, brother,” I sneer in return. “I’d like to see you wedged between all this filth for two hours.”
A few of the girls around me begin to whimper when they assume we’ve arrived at their new home. I wouldn’t comfort them even if I could because fixing broken dolls is not in my skill set. As it is, we need them to believe they are still in jeopardy for this to all play out the way we’ve planned.
