Swallow (Kindred Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  Once he had quenched his desire in her body, he would need sleep, meaning she might still have time to show face at the wake. But Brodie had been her priority since the day that Art died and that wasn’t going to change now. She’d stay here, in his room, in his bed, for however long he wanted her there. Everything was secondary to her love for him and once he emerged from the isolation of his grief, their connection was going to be stronger than ever.

  He massaged inside her, curling his fingers to explore her g-spot and twisting his hand to abrade her with his knuckles. His actions made her tense and relax all at the same time. Brodie was a combination of contradictions that proved how complex his character was, he wasn’t a killer who reveled in the scent of blood. He was a good man with morals of his own, even if they didn’t match the morals of the masses.

  Preparing herself for his entry, she began to sway forward and back, using his wide fingers as a tool for her release. But while one hand was delivering pleasure to her, the other grabbed her arm and flipped her to her back, then with his shins over her thighs and his weight pushing into her shoulders through the heels of both hands, he growled down at her.

  “You want out of here so bad?” he asked with a sneering smile that reeked of menace. “Prove it.”

  This was his sport. She never refused to play these role play games with him because for every second she tried to get away from him, she’d spend twice as many seducing him or lying in his arms when they were done.

  Taking a moment to build up air in her lungs, she kept her expression tight. When her eyes pinched, he lunged down, trying to snag her bottom lip, but she turned her head away and began to struggle.

  “Get off me,” she said, trying to lift her legs, but she couldn’t kick out, the solid mass of his powerful thighs gave her as much room as a concrete block would. Still, she wriggled, turning her face away from his every attempt to kiss her.

  “You’ve got something I want,” he said and bit her earlobe.

  The pain was pleasure. There was no fear here, only stimulation. Brodie was strong. He worked hard on his body to make sure it was a weapon able to protect her. Trying and failing to free herself from his control was a reminder of how resolute he was to have her. His potency intoxicated her.

  His weight came down to pin her pelvis onto the mattress and the pulsing proof of his intentions pressed itself into her. On feeling him so near, she began to writhe against that pleasure, but he surged forward making it impossible for her to move.

  Releasing his grip for long enough to tear the strip of fabric between her bra cups, she shrieked. That was one of her favorite bras and if she’d known this was going to happen, she wouldn’t have worn it. But her chagrin was erased when his stubble tickled her cleavage and moved deeper until the rough hair on his face scratched on the sensitive skin of her breasts.

  Using the tip of his tongue, he licked his way to one nipple, circled it, and then crossed to the other. She expected the same delicate touch, instead he stole her nipple into his mouth and sucked it so hard a spear of pain shot through her and settled against the heat of her engorged center.

  “I have to go,” she said, but her resistance was lessening.

  “You give me what I need,” he said. He chose that moment to elevate his hips to free himself from his shorts. She sensed, or maybe hoped, that he meant those words because that admission would mean more to her than any game. “You’re my horny little plaything.”

  The game wasn’t over, and she was pulled back into it when Brodie rose up to grab her inner thighs, he pulled her legs apart and leered down at the swollen pink flesh of her glistening vulva. Zara was ready for him, her body was on fire, her nerves fizzling, she wanted this, wanted his hands, his mouth, his dick, all of it. Being intimate with Brodie was a rollercoaster, there were ups and downs, and just when you thought you had a handle on what he’d do next, he’d flip her upside down in a loop-the-loop.

  “That’s what I need,” he murmured and curled his fingers around his shaft.

  His hand moved up, then back down. He squeezed himself from hilt to head. Watching him pleasuring himself while remaining fixated on her body was a new kind of thrill. Even though it seemed like he was committing a private act, she wanted to be a part of it.

  Sitting up, she barely got her balance before he seized her throat to pin her against the mattress. He came down over her so their upper bodies were parallel. Her knees made contact with his thighs, so she rubbed her legs up and down his, but the fabric of his shorts was still around his thighs and made complete skin-to-skin contact impossible. But she wasn’t disappointed.

  Her throat was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t squeezing, just using his hand to keep her right where he wanted her. From how his other arm moved, she knew he was still pleasuring himself. But the intensity in his eyes, that wouldn’t leave hers, was a connection deeper than the one they were going to make with their bodies.

  “Baby,” she whispered and stroked up his torso. “Talk to me.”

  His brows snapped down. His frown was always an indicator of his annoyance. He widened his knees to spread her legs farther and she gasped at the burning ache in her upper thighs, but he pushed forward and impaled her with the organ he’d been caressing.

  Because he was fucking her so fast, she couldn’t breathe right. His frown was still there, fixed on her, pissed off that she’d let a moment of intimacy creep into their game. Brodie didn’t shy from intimacy, but he liked to be the one who initiated softer moments. Somehow, he’d known she didn’t mean she wanted dirty words from him. She wanted to know his heart because until he confessed his grief, there was always a chance it would consume him.

  Her eyes closed as he shunted her body up with his powerful thrusts. His frame receded from hers, she relaxed for a beat, then tensed to rise up and meet his plunges with her own. Being a part of his body, for these precious unions, cleared her head and centered her thoughts in a way no other exercise or meditation could. Brodie was her rock and when she was with him, she never doubted her decisions.

  All she needed from him was this commitment, and given what he’d recently lost, it meant a lot that he trusted her. It would have been easy for him to reject everyone. He could’ve retreated inside, cancelled all security clearances except his own, and disappeared from the radar forever. Instead, he was sharing his life with her. It just so happened that at the moment, his life existed inside the McCormack Manor walls.

  Hot, wet bliss burned her veins and she had to grab his shoulders, to use him as traction, because she was losing her ability to keep up. Brodie batted her arms away and grabbed her hips, holding her at the angle he needed to increase his pace further. Just as she screamed out his name and the meteors of orgasm shot through her body, Brodie cursed, surged forward, and released his liquid into her.

  Seconds of silence flitted between them. As soon as he made eye contact, she opened her mouth to talk, but he scowled again, let her go, and got off the bed to head for the bathroom. He slammed the door and she heard the click of the lock. He was done with her and now she’d been dismissed.

  TWO

  In the end, she didn’t get to the funeral. She’d learned Brodie’s signals, and locking the bathroom door meant he didn’t want to interact with her anymore. For weeks, she’d been trying to break through his barriers, but he was still too affected by the loss of his mentor to allow her to make any meaningful progress with him.

  Grant hadn’t been happy when she’d appeared at the wake, flushed, apologetic, and late. Still, he kept her near while making the rounds and shaking hands. After Atlas, and Art’s death, she hadn’t intended on going back to Cormack Industries. The whole mess still upset her, the senseless loss of a good man and the deal Grant had been going to make with a person intent on murder made her sick. She was sorry to have been involved.

  But a couple of weeks into her stay at the manor, Grant McCormack—Brodie’s brother and her former boss—had called and begged her to come back to work. Witho
ut any sense of obligation, she intended to refuse him. But after discussing it with Tuck, who was also known as Swift, they decided she should go back, at least for a few months, until they were sure that Grant had gotten over his notion of illegal justice. So far, so good.

  The funeral passed and she went back to her juggling act of trying to keep an eye on Brodie, while maintaining her own apartment and her job at CI, which was just cover for her role as Kindred spy. She knew her future was not in that company.

  Over the last three months, Zara had learned the rhythm of the manor and of her man. As tough as it was being everything to everyone, she valued Brodie’s need, and his trust. She could roam free in a space he’d always kept private. The manor was so highly restricted that only six people had set foot on its floor for over a decade. Now, it was becoming her home.

  Tuck had grown to be her closest ally. She could call on him day or night for anything and he would always help her as quickly and thoroughly as he could. Zara wasn’t sure she'd have gotten through this quarter without him.

  Tuck’s expertise were needed in the manor that day, about two weeks after the funeral. When she’d called for his help he’d been close enough to get there quickly. Sitting in the main security room in the basement of the manor, Zara stayed as quiet as possible while Tuck typed, fixing the issue that she’d called him about. Tuck knew everything there was to know about computers and had programmed most of the manor system himself. It was impossible for this network to stump him, as it had done her.

  Tuck rolled his chair to the side and opened his palms toward the trio of keyboards indicating she could take her place at the central one again. “Thanks,” Zara said, using the desk to pull herself to the middle position of the control panel where Tuck had just been.

  “No problem,” he said.

  She could feel him watching her. He’d been looking at her in the same way for three months, and just as usual, she did her best to look anywhere except at her friend and colleague. So Zara examined the timestamps on the monitor bank above her as each screen rebooted. The last one flickered up and she exhaled, pleased that she had a clear and present view again.

  Still scrutinizing the screens, Zara was aware of Tuck waiting for her to say something. “I think it crashed last night,” she said. Staying on topic didn’t give him the explanation he wanted, but it was all she could volunteer. “Everything was all screwed up when I came down this morning.”

  “Zara,” Tuck said in such a way that told her, he wasn’t going to let her skirt the issue any longer. The hacker was too astute for his own good sometimes. “How is he?”

  Pasting on a smile, she did her best to sound breezy. “Oh, you know, some days are better than others.”

  The feigned cheer in her voice was fooling no one, let alone the man who knew Brodie better than she did. “You can talk to me,” he said in the same soft voice most people used when broaching a difficult subject.

  Exhaling, she accepted that her avoidance wasn’t going to hold up. Shouldering all of the responsibility for Brodie and his mood was as selfish as it was selfless. She was protecting the Goliath that this man was and he wouldn’t take kindly to people discussing him behind his back. The trouble was, he didn’t talk about himself or the dark place he’d descended into, and so she was left to soldier on without any idea if she was helping him to progress or just facilitating this holding pattern.

  Just because she understood that she had to be honest and share, didn’t mean she could look Tuck in the eye as she did it. So she spread her fingers on either side of the middle keyboard and traced the outer edges of it.

  “For the first four weeks he didn’t come out of his room,” she said. “He locked himself up in there. It was hit or miss whether he’d eat, let alone shower or shave. For the next four weeks, he threw himself into working out. He’d be in the gym for hours sometimes. I would leave in the morning for work at CI and he’d still be in there when I came home, lifting weights or running. I thought it was an improvement, you know? At least he was taking care of his body and he was drinking and eating again.”

  He rolled his seat closer and his hand came into view near her elbow. “And for the last month?”

  She sighed. “He’s been back and forth,” she said. “Sometimes I almost see glimmers of his old self coming back, then just when I think we’re getting somewhere, he locks himself in his room again and I don’t see him for days.”

  “It’s a process,” Tuck said, pulling his chair close enough that he could take her hand. “You’re not going through this alone. If there’s anything I can do to help—“

  “You’ve been amazing,” she said, turning her hand over to link her fingers with his. “Every time I call, you pick up… I can’t say the same about Brodie.”

  “He’s lucky to have you,” Tuck said. “You’ve kept him alive for the last three months.”

  “Sometimes I come into the house and I can’t find him, I have no idea where he is.”

  “You won’t have that problem now that I’ve shown you how to access and control the motion sensors. You’ll be able to look after him no matter where he is.”

  “He can take care of himself… I’ve just been helping out.”

  Sometimes while sitting at her desk in CI, she wondered how Brodie would have dealt with Art’s death had he not had her. Maybe she wasn’t helping at all. Maybe if she hadn’t been here he’d have been forced to carry on and to look after himself. There would have been no alternative. But abandoning him had never occurred to her because if he didn’t pick himself up and move on, the alternative was too horrific to even entertain.

  “Are you two still…?”

  “I stay over most nights,” she nodded. “But I’m… I moved my things into one of the guest bedrooms because you know… he needs his space and I don’t like to intrude.”

  “Are you telling me that since Art died you haven’t—“

  “Oh no, we’ve had sex,” she said. “When he wants it, he seeks me out. Sometimes he’s waiting for me as soon as I arrive. Other times he comes to me at night, you know? But he hasn’t left this house. I still have my apartment where I stay when I’m not here and he hasn’t visited me there. He’s still so angry about what happened. He blames himself and sometimes he needs the vent.”

  Tuck sucked in a breath. “What about your needs?” he asked. “The guy needs a good punch to the gut. He can’t just breeze into your life any time he wants to take out his frustrations with some angry sex… Not that I’m one to talk about healthy relationships.”

  “How is Kadie?” she asked, referencing the girlfriend Art had told her about.

  “I haven’t seen her in a while. All of this it’s just… it reminds me how dangerous what we do is. If I had been the one to take that bullet… she would never have known…’

  “It’s not too late to change your life,” Zara said. “Art told Brodie not to be like him… I’d guess that goes for you too.”

  “I wouldn’t know how to change,” Tuck said. “My life has been like this for as long as I can remember. I met Brodie and Art in Thailand when I was twenty-two… just a few weeks before my twenty-third birthday. Art planned a huge party for me when he found out I had never celebrated a birthday before”—his smile grew more distant as he turned it away—“I didn’t know half the folks there, but… I’ve been knocking around with them on and off for ten years. Art taught me a lot about control and indulgence… Man, I was an idiot back then.”

  Concerned that Tuck was dealing with his own torture alone, she wanted him to confront what he was dealing with. Repressing it could lead to further damage. “He was like family to you too,” she said, slipping a hand under his jaw to make him look at her. “You need to grieve the loss as well… And there’s always a place for you here. You’re still family and I’d have been lost without you these last three months.”

  It was obvious he was trying to deflect her worry by the way he squirmed. “Everyone grieves in different ways,” he
said, taking her hand away from his face.

  “Do you want to stay tonight? I’ll cook and we can watch a movie or something?”

  “You cook now?”

  Raising a shoulder, she took her turn to look away. “I’m trying my best… I’m learning. I’ll never be a substitute for Art, but if I was to feed Brodie nothing but microwave meals he’d be worse off than he is.”

  Laughing, Tuck pushed out his chair and stood up. “Thanks for the offer, but I have things to do, places to be, you know?”

  She didn’t know whether to believe that or not, but she didn’t push him. She got up and pushed in her chair “It wouldn’t hurt you to go home for a little TLC from your lady… Why don’t you tell her what happened?”

  Tuck was already shaking his head and took his jacket from the back of his chair. “Kade isn’t a part of this part of my life. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to upset her.”

  That he wanted to protect the woman he loved was admirable. But if Kadie was as strong as Zara imagined Tuck’s woman would need to be, she wasn’t made of glass and probably wouldn’t appreciate being shut out when Tuck was so obviously dealing with distress. “Compartmentalizing your life like that is the quickest way to drive her away.”

  “She’s put up with me for years,” he said. “She knows what the script is. Besides, I like her the way she is: innocent of all of… this.” He looked around the room as though it was the first time he was seeing the place. Then as quickly as it appeared, the expression vanished and he smiled at her. “Call me if you need anything, ok? Anytime. I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you,” she said, bowing her head to let him kiss the top of it. He stroked her back and looked into her eyes once more before he disappeared from the room and the house.

  After Tuck was gone, she took the time to return an email to Art’s sister, Bess, and go over everything Tuck had taught her about the system. He’d been teaching her during his frequent visits, though he never stayed and she had no idea where he went when he left here. Brodie and Art had told her not to ask too many questions and she stuck to that out of respect for them all.