by Helen Scott
The sweet butt has long bright red hair that could only come from a bottle, a pouty mouth that is always painted with bright red lipstick to match her hair, and a rack that most women would kill for. Her ripped denim shorts are more like panties than anything else with how much of her pussy and ass is on display. The tank top she wears is white and threadbare, so it hides nothing.
When she spots us at the end of the hall, she puts some extra sway in her hips while she approaches. "I have a food delivery for the bitch inside," she says sweetly, which is akin to spitting venom in Sherry's book.
The woman’s a viper and will stop at nothing to take another woman down if she gets in her way of becoming someone's old lady. She is a woman obsessed. Most of the brothers have fucked her at one point or another, such is the life of a sweet butt, except me. She holds no interest for me. Her body is made up of too much plastic and silicone for my tastes.
I push away from the wall and knock on the door. When there’s no response, I set my beer down by the door and tell Sherry, "Wait there." The handle twists silently and I ease the door open. My eyes find Dani's shape on the bed almost instantly and I move over to her.
"Dani," I whisper so I don't startle her. When there’s no response I start to get worried and shake her shoulder. Still no response. So I feel for the pulse on her neck. It thrums against my fingertips for just a second before she flings herself at me in full-on attack mode. The force of it pushes me off the edge of the bed where I’m perched and onto the floor. She’s on me immediately, straddling me as her fists rain down on me. "Dani, it's Crash. We're friends," I say as I grip her wrists while she continues to thrash about and try to attack me.
"It's Crash," I repeat over and over again, not raising my voice or yelling at her. I pin her hands together in one of my own and cup her face with my other hand. "Wake up, darlin'."
When she still doesn't stir, I gently tap my hand against the side of her face. It isn't a slap, but it’s building up to that if that’s what it takes to wake her. I slowly increase the force behind the taps and as I call her name again, she finally wakes from whatever nightmare she'd been having.
"Hey there," I say gently as I release my grip on her wrists.
"Crash?" she mumbles, confusion clouding her eyes.
"Yep, it's me. We've got some food here for you, if you're up for eating."
She nods mutely as she climbs off me and goes back to sit on the bed, scrubbing her face with her hands. When I turn around, Sherry is standing in the doorway, a scowl turning her bright red lips downward as she goes to take a step into the room. That doesn't feel right, though, so I step forward and go to take the tray from her. "Thanks, Sherry. I've got it."
"Prez said to make sure she eats every bite," Sherry says as she stubbornly holds on to the tray.
"We'll make sure she eats, won't we?" I ask, looking past Sherry to my brothers.
Murmurs of agreement come from behind the sweet butt and after another moment of silent tug-of-war she releases the tray. "I'm not getting the blame for her not eating," she says with a huff before storming away on heels so high that she looks like she'll topple over any moment.
The fact that the Prez had been the one to send food up is unusual, but since the four of us are already up here, it makes some sense. It just seems weird. It isn't my place to question though. I’m not even on the council, for fuck's sake. So I turn and carry the tray over to Dani, where she is still perched on the edge of the bed, as though at any minute she will need to run.
"Food for the lady," I say as I set it down next to her. "Eat slowly though, yeah? Your body is probably still not used to it."
"Thank you," she murmurs before taking a big forkful of the spaghetti and red sauce and shoveling it into her mouth.
So much for eating slowly.
I watch her eat for a moment before turning to leave, and it’s only then that I realize my brothers have come into the room as well. The three of them space out around the edge as though they didn't want to intrude but can't help themselves. Since they are already in the room, I just move to sit at the other end of the bed from Dani, giving her space to eat and wake up in peace.
When she takes a break from the pile of pasta on her tray, Striker asks, "How are you feeling?"
For a second, she seems to be surprised that the four of us are in the room with her. "I'm okay," she says eventually, sounding wary. Her gaze flicks to Dragon more than once and a blush starts to color her cheeks. I wonder what’s going on there.
We watch as she eats a little more and drinks the juice that was on the plate as well. It looks like some kind of berry drink since it stains her top lip a deeper red than normal. She seems fine with us being in there watching over her while she eats. In fact, I might even go so far as to say that the silence between the five of us is comfortable. We are each lost in our own thoughts, wading through the repercussions of the night before.
I’m not sure how long we stay like that, it could have been a few minutes or an hour or more, while Dani works through her pasta and juice. It isn't long after she finishes though that the shit hits the fan. When she frowns and clutches at her stomach, I can’t help but think that she's still just had too much to eat or has eaten too fast given the circumstances she's come from. At least at first. When her frown changes into a pained groan and she flops back onto the bed like she’s having a seizure, I begin to panic, which is unlike me.
"Dani! What the fuck is going on?" I yell as I jump up from where I’m sitting and roll her on to her side. That’s what you do with people who are having seizures, right? So they don't swallow their own tongue or something? All I know is that I've seen it done in enough movies and TV shows that it feels like it has to have some basis in reality, so I go with it.
Her skin is almost too hot to touch as I move her, and I can barely hold her in place on her side.
"Do you see this shit?" Dragon demands.
My gaze follows his and it’s obvious enough what he’s freaking out about. Her skin is darkening to a crimson color in some patches and almost getting scaly, but as I watch it fades again, like clouds moving over the sun. As I look her over, I realize other parts of her are almost glowing with a golden light that’s coming from within her. It’s as though heaven and hell are at war within this woman's body.
How the hell are we supposed to fight something like that?
"Go get Doc," I yell at Phoenix. He and Striker are already out of the door and I know that Striker, as VP, is going to go talk to the Prez. The last thing I think we need is his grumpy ass in the room, but my opinion doesn't matter that much.
For now, though, I only have one concern: keeping Dani alive. She’s been through so much, I’ll be damned if she dies on my watch.
15
Phoenix
There’s something wrong with the woman. And yet, I feel like I’ve seen this before, like this isn’t the first time that I’ve watched her suffer like this. The doctor leans over her, frowning, touching her forehead, lifting her eyelids and beaming his flashlight into her pupils. But still, no matter what he does, she continues to thrash and seize.
“I’m going to go get something,” he says, standing then heading for the door.
“What?” My voice is harsh. “Is it something that will fix her?”
The doc, a fifty-something-year-old man who works exclusively with the Van Helsings, looks back at me, his expression irritated. “I don’t have the tools to handle this, so do you want to keep yammering, or let me do my job?”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
He gives me another pointed look then leaves, not at all in a hurry.
Crash’s entire focus is suddenly on me. “Can you do anything?”
I’m not my brother. I can’t ease her suffering. I can’t force her to feel something different than pain. But I can see what my own gifts might do.
For some reason, I hesitate when I sit down beside her. She continues to roll and moan, and my belly tightens. I have seen this before.
I have had this vision. Which means I need to touch her and see if she can reveal anything of use to me, but I keep hesitating. The thing is, I hate doing anything I don’t have a person’s permission to do. Dragon hates it just as much as I do, he just hides it better.
Probably because of the way we were raised.
And yet, when Dragon told me what happened with Dani, how he’d used his powers to get information from her, he’d sounded guilty. Hell, he looked guilty. I’d reassured him that making her orgasm was a hell of a lot better than letting the Prez beat the information out of her, but he didn’t seem any happier. I wonder what happened between them. I’d seen Dragon manipulate emotions to get information before. He always walked a careful line. Had he managed to walk that line with her? Was that why he was feeling bad? It’s hard to feel sorry for a guy who can make his dates come all night with just a touch, but sometimes I honestly think he hates his gift. After seeing so many men hurt our mom, the last thing either of us want to be is the asshole that takes advantage of a woman.
Unfortunately, being all good or all bad is a fairytale. We are supposed to be heroes, but we are more something in between, and we both know it. If Dani wants a white knight to save her, she’ll have to keep looking.
Reaching out, I touch her clammy skin, and the visions hit me one after another until all else fades away. There’s red. Red everywhere. Blood. Scarlet. Dripping. Laughter. Demons and angels, both malicious. And then the images fade.
I spring from the bed, shaking.
“What did you see?” Crash asks.
“I-I don’t know,” I manage.
What had I seen? Nothing that made sense. Nothing that could explain this.
A second later, the Prez is in the doorway. “Don’t touch her, Phoenix. You don’t know what’s wrong with the bitch.”
I don’t tell him I already did, that I already saw things I can’t explain.
He walks across the room and Crash and I shift back. He looks down at the woman, his face expressionless. “So, she’s still alive?”
“Yeah,” Crash says, even though he doesn’t really need to answer.
Prez stares for another long minute, then turns and heads back to the door. “Let me know if she dies. Otherwise, get me in the morning if she’s still alive.”
I watch him go, oddly surprised. The man is cold and hard, so his reaction shouldn’t have been strange to me, except that the woman had such an impact on my brothers and I. I kind of expect the Prez to care a little too.
The doctor is suddenly back in the room. He has something wrapped up. I eye him, oddly suspicious, as he draws back the leather wrappings and produces a bottle of some kind. He uses gloves to open it, and flinches when the cork comes out. Then, his hand seems to shake, as he stretches the bottle out over her shoulder. Tentatively, he turns it, and I watch as several drops roll out.
She screams as they splash her skin, and instantly the flesh under the drops begins to burn. The doctor leaps back and corks the bottle again. His eyes are wide as he looks at all of us.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
Something nags at the back of my head. “What?” I ask the doctor, and there’s an edge to my voice I don’t understand.
“I have to talk to the Prez,” he says, turning and heading for the door.
Dragon catches his arm and drags him back. “What the fuck was that?”
“I should take to the Prez first…”
“You don’t tell me now and I fucking bite your nose off, how about that?”
The doctor pales, and I hold my breath. My brother can do some crazy things when he gets like this, so I have no doubt he means what he says.
“That was…that was holy water.”
It hits me like a ton of bricks and my knees start to feel weak. The energy in the air shifts and Dragon releases the man, who scurries off like the devil himself is chasing him.
My gaze locks with my brother’s and too many things click into place. “This wasn’t how we acted when--”
Striker cuts me off. “But we don’t know what happens when women--”
“But wouldn’t she have to have been given it recently?” I ask.
None of us speak, but our gazes go back to the woman.
Crash suddenly turns and heads for the door, but he speaks over his shoulder. “None of it really matters, because there’s no fucking way she’ll survive the night.”
16
Dani
I wake up and feel like I’m in a nightmare, except that a warm body is curled around me, and the mind-numbing pain is gone. My eyes slowly open to the sun peeking through the curtains of a window. I shift and look behind me and find Dragon there. He’s watching me, his hands clenched around my forearms, a strange exhaustion in his face. He has a five o’clock shadow, the look of a man who can do dangerous things to me, and he seems to be watching me too closely.
But I must be fucked up, because I find him reassuring rather than frightening.
“You’re awake,” he says softly.
I nod, unable to stop myself from noticing the way the sunlight makes the gold flecks in his eyes glow.
“Are you…hurting at all?”
I’m not sure what to say. “I feel strange. Good. Alive. But it’s like there’s something beyond that…”
“I’m keeping your pain away,” he says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “But the truth is that I didn’t think you’d make it to morning. So you lying here, talking and capable of thought... It’s a surprise.”
“Why did you think I wouldn’t make it through the night?” I ask, trying to piece together the last moments I remember.
“No woman has survived what you did.”
“Which is?” My heart’s starting to beat faster.
He strokes his hands along my arms and a strange rush of calmness comes over me.
“Stop doing that!” I say, tossing my head.
I know I sound angry, but I’m not. I’m frustrated. Something about the way I feel is wrong. He said he’s keeping my pain away, probably in an attempt to help me, but the thing is, I need to know how I actually feel, not how he’s making me feel.
“Trust me, you don’t want me to stop.”
“Fuck you!” I shout, anger uncoiling inside of me. “Let me decide how I want to feel.”
I’m sick and tired of being controlled. I’m a person, not a thing, and the sooner these guys realize that, the better.
That calmness rushes over me again.
I turn in his arms to face him, but his hands still stay on me. I try to shove him, but his jaw locks and he grips my arms harder. Frustration makes me use all my strength to shove him onto his back, and then I climb on top of him.
“Let go of me,” I demand, glaring down at him.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
And then arousal hits me like a wave.
I don’t even know what I’m doing when I lean down and kiss him, but I’m instantly grinding myself against his erection. The need to have him inside of me is so damn overwhelming that I reach for the button of his jeans and undo it, then yank his zipper down. I’m reaching into his pants to pull out that hard dick of his when someone says, “Dragon, you want to lock down your horny dick?”
Turning, I spot Striker, Crash, and Phoenix leaning against the wall of the bedroom. They all look more than a little amused. Maybe even aroused…or jealous. I can’t tell for sure as I try to clear away the fog of this need that consumes me. My gaze locks with Crash’s as I rub myself against Dragon. He licks his lips and I swear I can feel him getting hard too.
Crash finally looks away, swearing under his breath.
“I was just trying to keep her pain away,” Dragon huffs.
“Until you got turned on,” Phoenix says, a teasing note to his voice.
Wait? What? The arousal starts to fade, and my thoughts grow clearer. I’m feeling this way because…Dragon’s feeling this way?
“Fuck.” I spring back from Dragon and off the bed
.
The instant that I do, pain tears through me and my knees give out. Dragon is standing in an instant, his dick in front of my mouth, tenting his boxers through his open jeans. His hands close around my arms, and he hauls me to my feet.
The pain vanishes again.
“Just let me help you,” he grits out. “And try not to get me turned on. I’m trying to focus here.”
I sag against him, my face resting on his chest. That pain was…brutal. Is that what he’s holding back? Maybe I’d been an idiot to push him away so quickly.
“Can we lie back down?” I ask, suddenly exhausted.
He lies back so that I’m on top of him, and his hands hold my arms tightly. I can still feel his erection. I’m intimately aware of the fact that he’s sprung free from his pants and that the layers of fabric between us are nothing at all. But I’m also aware of the fact that something happened to me last night, and I have no idea what the hell it was.
“What did I survive?” I ask, my gaze running over the men.
Striker clears his throat and stands. “I should get the Prez.”
“Someone answer me,” I say.
None of them speak.
I’m so damned tired, but their silence is irritating. “Speak!” I snap.
Dragon growls low. “We don’t like being told what to do.”
My gaze swings to his, and I glare. “I don’t like to be left in the dark!”
Striker mutters something under his breath, and Phoenix leaps to his feet and joins the other man. They head out of the room with a little too much pep to their step. So, apparently, whatever happened they were more than glad not to discuss.
“What happened?” I grind out again, this time looking at Crash.
Crash sighs, and his blue-grey eyes seem to devour me. “The thing is--”
“We shouldn’t say anything until Prez tells us what to say,” Dragon says under me.
