Love and Punishment

by Sorcha Mowbray

  Fucking. Sexy.

  His dick throbbed with the need for release. “Now, Nate. I need it now.”

  “Hold on, bro. Just a bit longer. You feel fucking amazing wrapped around my cock. So hot.”

  Liam whimpered. Fucking whimpered like a girl and fought to hold off his impending orgasm. When Bel ground her sweet little cunt against him, he lost the battle for control. He reached up and bounced her on his dick. Nate gave in. Letting go of those luscious boobs, with fight-damaged hands Nate grabbed Liam’s thighs to use as leverage, and pounded his ass, fucking drilled him into the couch. In a matter of a few strokes they synced. Bel rose off him; Nate rammed in.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Gonna. Come.” The words grated past clenched teeth. His balls drew up, and pleasure surged through him.

  Nate shouted an incomprehensible mash of words and exploded. Pumping and coming until he collapsed against Bel whose pussy kept squeezing and releasing his softening dick as she joined them in a climactic finish. Her breasts heaved a few times, and, with Nate pushed against her, they collapsed on top of him. The three of them lay joined.

  Liam sighed, content.

  ***

  Bel woke up in the dark of night, tucked between Liam and Nate. Her heart slid from her chest to her stomach. Shit. She crawled from between the two muscular bodies and groped in the dark for her clothes. Her vision blurred, making it hard to pull her pants on. By the time she got her bra and shirt back in place the first tear fell.

  The spot in her chest where her heart had once been ached. The missing organ clamored for her to stay, to tell the guys about her mission. Her father’s plan. But, her head argued they’d toss her out without thinking twice. Hell, they’d casually staked her as collateral in a bet, just another piece of property they owned. Anger surged to the fore again. Bitter, hurtful, unwanted anger.

  With shaky hands she pulled on one boot and then the other before reaching inside the right one to pull out the blade she kept sheathed there. On the tide of swirling emotion she moved back to the bedroom and stood over the sleeping men. Blade gripped in her fist, she stared at them.

  Someone needed to be held accountable for stealing her future. Killing her parents, because for all intents and purposes they’d both died. Someone must avenge her mother. But why did it have to be her?

  Tears fell in rivulets while her heart shrieked in denial of everything. I can’t do this. They aren’t responsible. They wouldn’t turn me away.

  Despite their lack of words, her heart wanted to believe they cared. And yet, her head squashed the notion, her faith a bug beneath the wheels of a bike. They would betray me in a heartbeat. They already have.

  “Bel?” The sleepy bass of Nate’s voice shook her from her internal debate. Horrified by what she’d nearly done, by the fact he’d found her standing over him with a knife in the dark, she spun around and bolted from the suite. Taking a right out the door, she flew down the hall. Her lungs burned from want of air while her feet pounded the hardwood floors. The door slammed open, letting her spill into the night air. A bike sat off to the side as though it waited for her. Thank goodness for drunken fools who left their keys in the ignition. She hopped on and turned the engine over in time to see Nate and Liam burst from the building.

  “Bel!” Their unison cry chased her down the street and into the night.

  Tears still ran, soaking her thin shirt and helping the cool night air to super chill the fabric against her skin. Failure sounded in her head on a continuous loop until the need to drown it out had her revving the engine while she sped up. She’d failed as an assassin, a girlfriend, a sister, and, most importantly, she’d failed as a daughter. To add bitter truth to her dose of reality, she wished she could tuck herself between Nate and Liam. The sense of safety and security they offered her right up until their betrayal resembled a gaping abyss in her soul. How much of a bitch did she have to be to want to seek solace from the two men she had intended to kill? Raw agony poured out of her. Heartbroken, she gunned the engine and screamed into the wind.

  “Bel!” Nate tore out of the old school with Liam by his side, but they were too late to do more than yell their throats raw.

  Together they shouted into the night over and over and witnessed their woman burning rubber, tearing away from them. Behind them The Beasts filed out of the building and fanned out. Disbelief slashed through Nate, cut his legs out from under him.

  She was gone.

  What the hell were they going to do? Why had she been standing there with a knife? Questions pinged around in his head like a loose ball bearing. With each one, his insides died a little more because none of the answers he came up with offered a happy ending.

  A heavy hand rested on his shoulder pulling him out of his reverie. “What happened?”

  Words still escaped him. All he managed was a shake of his head he hoped Liam would see. Would understand.

  “Shit.” His bro hauled him up and together they turned toward the building.

  Demon stopped them both. “Why aren’t you going after her?”

  He wanted to snarl, a rabid beast seethed under his skin. “Stay out of this.”

  Liam shook his head. Nate wasn’t sure if he meant for Demon to let it go or if he meant they wouldn’t go after her. Either way, he couldn’t deal right at the moment. People milled around outside but he refused to meet the gazes full of either pity or, in a few cases, satisfaction. A faction of the group had not appreciated Bel’s presence from day one. The fact he had used Butch to make the point opposition would not be tolerated had not been lost on those who disagreed.

  Leaden weights for feet left his legs struggling to move him past the crowd. But Liam bolstered him up, slung his arm over his broad shoulders, and together they retreated inside.

  Alone, Liam turned to him. “What the hell happened?”

  Nate took in the chiseled torso, mounds of muscles etched beneath taut skin that damn near glowed in the dim light. Sleep-tousled golden hair puffed up around his head, highlighting his leonine appearance. Even lost and confused, the man radiated sexy.

  “I woke up to find her standing over the bed. I was half-asleep but I swear she clutched a knife in her hand.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Liam’s hands fisted suggesting he held back from hitting something. Maybe even him. It wouldn’t have been the first time they settled a dispute with their fists. But they hadn’t resorted to violence in a while.

  “Sorry, bro. I saw what I saw.” Nate wanted to rinse his mouth out after saying the words. Wanted to deny the truth of them, but with each passing moment he found it harder and harder to refute.

  Liam mumbled a curse and turned away. “There has to be a reasonable answer. Something happened at the fight tonight besides Butch’s attempt to shame her.”

  “But what? When?” His chest ached with worry. Where would she go? What would she do?

  Liam reached down and snagged his shirt off the floor and stopped with it half on. “Fuck.” A jerk brought the fabric down all the way. “Tonight. I thought I saw her father there, but I never got a good look at him.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Nate welcomed the anger surging through him and toward Liam.

  “I wasn’t sure I’d even seen him. I caught a glimpse from a distance, but someone moved in the way, and he disappeared. If it was him. If he found her when she stalked off. Christ, he could have said any of a thousand things to upset her.” Liam jammed his hands through his hair and cursed.

  Nate turned and shoved his fist through a cabinet door, his frustration and anger bursting through the walls of his self-control. Pain radiated through his hand and up his arm, yet it barely registered compared to the hollowness inside. “Fuck!” The single word was a primal roar. An agonized sound followed by the first drip of moisture from his eye. Confused and ashamed of the weakness, he dashed the tears away and went to the bathroom. Locking the door before he collapsed against it, he shut Liam
out for the first time in their lives.

  Alone, he struggled to bring the tears to a halt, overwhelmed by the pain of loss once again. His parents hadn’t wanted him, abandoned him at a young age. After finding a family to replace his own, they were all killed but Liam. Finally, having completed their triad with the perfect woman through a twist of fate, she ran away rather than tell them what was wrong. How long before Liam vanished or worse, pushed him away? He didn’t think he could take another loss.

  Outside the bathroom, Liam paced noisily. Eventually, he pounded on the door. “Nate? Nate, let me in.”

  His heart ached, but he refused to expose his weakness. Needed to get control and find a way to ensure Liam didn’t leave, too. The pacing resumed while he struggled to calm down. More pounding. “Nate, if you don’t fucking let me in I will kick this door down.”

  After he pulled himself off the floor, he washed his face with cool water and got it the fuck together. Liam needed him, not more drama. Cracking open the door revealed a growling blond god ready to storm the barrier. “What the fuck? Can’t a guy take a piss in peace?”

  Liam looked wildly confused. “A piss?”

  Okay, maybe he should have actually taken one. It occurred to him Liam would know he’d lied based on the lack of appropriate sounds. “Yeah.” Determined to brazen through, he flopped on the couch and crossed his arms. Dared him to contradict what he’d claimed. “So what are we gonna do about our girl?”

  Nonplussed, Liam stared at him.

  “Seriously. We going after her, or what? Do you think she’d go back to the Disciples?”

  Liam shook his head and plopped down beside him. “Don’t know where she’ll go.” He sighed and pressed his thigh along Nate’s. “Did she really have a knife?”

  “Yeah, man. I didn’t believe it at first. All I could do was say her name, but it must have scared her or something because she spun around and ran. You’d have thought another wave was coming the way she took off.” Doubt poked him. Maybe if he’d reacted quicker she wouldn’t have gotten away. She’d be there answering questions instead of leaving them alone to try and muddle things out.

  Liam dropped his head back on the couch. “Shit, man. I don’t know. For the first time in my life I don’t fucking know what to do. If we report her missing she immediately becomes a fugitive from the High Council. If we don’t, they may not tell us when or if she reappears. They’ll assume our lack of communication is a lack of interest in what happens to her.”

  Call it instinct, but something in his gut told Nate to give it time. “Give it until first light. If we haven’t heard any word from her we can contact the High Council. We can always claim she slept in her own room and we didn’t know she slipped way. Plausible deniability.”

  Liam lifted his head from the couch and while he didn’t smile, a new light of respect shone in his eyes. “Good call. We should probably try and get some shut-eye. Demon will wake us if any news comes in.”

  ***

  By the time she pulled into the no-tell motel, The Pit-Stop, on the northern border of The Reapers’ territory the sun had cracked the horizon. A wave of sorrow crashed over her, she could never go back. Eyelids scraped down like sandpaper over eyes swollen from crying, which paired well with her throat raw from screaming her agony into the wind, and her limbs icy from driving all night. She swung off the bike with all the grace of a ninety-year-old arthritis victim, despite the penetrating numbness encompassing her soul. How did someone live without their heart?

  Jelly arms made opening the saddle bags more of a chore than it should have been, but she needed to look for some EpiChips to pay for a room since she didn’t have anything to barter with but the clothes on her back and the borrowed bike. She intended to return it—eventually. She rummaged through the bags and was grateful to find a couple fifty chips stuffed between the pages of a BTW book. Jackpot. She’d use the chips until she didn’t have a choice but to barter the book. Hopefully, she could avoid that altogether.

  Money in hand, she approached the woman behind the desk in the motel office. Feet propped up on the counter, chair tipped back, and something in her hand out of view presented the picture of pure indifference. Perfect. “I need a room.”

  Without looking up the woman waved at an old ledger and pen. “Sign the book.”

  Bel signed in using a fake name, Rose Black. Before she’d lifted the pen from the page the woman stuck out her hand, still not looking up. “One night is twenty-five EpiChips.”

  She handed over one of the fifty chips and waited for the woman to hand back her change. The room key followed. Although it could have belonged to an old BTW mechanical lock, it and the lock it fit were made with beryllium copper to make them immune to any future EMPs. Pocketing the key, she slipped from the office without a word. The less interaction the less memorable she would be.

  The room sat in the middle of the long row with outside entry. The key inserted smoothly and with a quick twist, the door opened to reveal an interior that rivaled the outside for being the most rundown. The bedspreads were threadbare, pillows looked flat and hard, and the flickering light bulb over the cozy table for two revealed more pressboard than laminate on the tabletop. But, the drapes were intact, long, and made the room dark enough to sleep during the day. Apparently the Pit-Stop Motel knew its clientele.

  Pulling back the covers revealed spotless sheets beneath. At least there was that.

  Exhaustion tugged at her and made stripping down to her panties a superhuman effort, let alone putting on a T-shirt she’d found in the other saddlebag. But getting rid of the lingering scent of Beast was an unexpected bonus, and totally worth it.

  The clean linens enveloped her with an unfamiliar fragrance but at least nothing reminded her of them. Despite the change, it did zero to ease the ache in her chest, though it did help her push them from her thoughts. Her eyes slipped shut and sleep edged in to carry her away.

  The door to her motel room exploded inward causing her to jackknife up in sleep-addled confusion when an all too familiar voice pierced her fog. “What the hell are you doing here?” Marcus slammed into her room and ripped her from sleep. Physically ripped her off the mattress by her ankle and let her head bang against the side rail prior to hitting the filthy floor.

  “Wha—?” Disoriented from exhaustion and both blows to her head, she couldn’t figure out what had happened.

  A big, beefy hand wrapped around her throat and hauled her off the ground. “Are those two bastards dead? Is that why you’re hiding in this dump?”

  Air cut off from her lungs, she couldn’t speak and simply shook her head no. Since he stood glowering at her he had to know she’d failed. No point in hiding the truth.

  In the next moment her ears rang and pain exploded through her cheek while her head snapped to the right. At least he let go of her throat, which let her breathe. Air burned into her lungs and her head spun from the blow while her face throbbed. Dear old Dad certainly hadn’t pulled any punches.

  “I knew it. I saw you with those two animals after you walked away and I knew they’d corrupted you. Knew they’d sullied you beyond redemption.” He spat on her, and then Kalif and another Disciple she couldn’t place hauled her up between them. “Take the traitorous bitch to the High Council. She’s a fugitive from the law. I’ll take her bike.”

  Fear and a need to survive surged within. She swung her legs up, let her shoulders wrench as she spread her thighs and wrapped them around the head of the Disciple she didn’t know. Kalif let go of her arm when she jerked free of the other man. Her thighs wrapped tight around his head and neck, she squeezed tight, similar to a boa constrictor she once saw on a vid. The guy gasped for breath but managed to land a punch right to her solar plexus. Her thighs loosened, letting him shove her to the floor.

  Typical, her father stayed back and let other men fight his battle. At least until he saw an easy opening. In the process of picking herself up from the floor, the Disciple ga
sped for breath, and Kalif hung back, tried to give her a chance to run. But, her father stepped in and landed a bone-crunching kick to her ribs effectively ending her rebellion. Just to be sure, he slammed a boot into her head.

  The room dimmed before fading to black.

  Bel woke to her bare feet dragging behind her while the men carried her out of the motel room. Skin scraped from her toes with every step across the cracked asphalt parking lot. By the time they made it to the car she was pretty sure there wasn’t any blacktop left on the ground.

  Woozy and nauseous from her spinning head, she couldn’t protect herself from further injury when the stranger tossed her into the backseat and her head rebounded off the glass on the passenger side. “Fucking cunt,” the asshole mumbled, and slammed the car door behind her.

  Kalif had slipped into the driver’s seat, and while the other guy circled around the vehicle, he spoke to her. “Listen, Beauty, I’ll get word to your Beasts. Remember to tuck and roll when he pushes you out. I’ll slow as much as I can.”

  “No. They don’t—”

  The front passenger door opened, and the brute sat down. “Let’s roll.”

  Every breath hurt. Moving hurt. Lying still hurt. Thankfully, she faded in and out of consciousness during the drive to the High Council building. Mostly out. But when the car slowed, she woke up. The door opened, and, with a rough shove, she found herself flying. Remembering Kalif’s advice, she lifted her arms over her head and did the best she could to tuck. Her shoulder hit the ground with a jolt before she rolled to her back. She continued to tumble until a hard, immoveable object stopped her. Somehow she managed to not hit her head again. Lying on the front drive of the building, her body ached all over. A trickle of something warm and wet dripped toward her lip. Seriously? A runny nose in the middle of the worst day of her life?