Atticus_Secret Lies

by KL Donn

  Sitting on the table in front of me, she doesn’t say a thing as she holds the mirror up for me to see.

  Motherfucker.

  Pieces of shrapnel dot along my neck, while about an inch-long portion of flesh from my cheek hangs loosely.

  Whiskey.

  I need the fucking whiskey as the pain begins to throb in tune with the blood flowing.

  Taking a long pull from the bottle, I struggle to accept this new reality. New scars. Same battle. Ultimate prize. I’d do it all over again so long as it meant my woman is safe.

  Short sobs catch my attention as Catalina threads her needle. “I’ll be fine, Catalina. I’ve had worse.” Much worse.

  I can see she doesn’t believe me. “Talk to me.” I’ll need the distraction while she sticks me.

  “About what?” She’s gone pale as I take another swig of alcohol. “Take three of these, this is going to hurt.”

  I accept the pills she hands me. “Sounds like you’ve done this before?”

  “I grew up on this mountain. Mom fixing me up was easier than the drive to the clinic in town.” We take a deep breath together as she uses a cloth to clean the area around where she has to sew.

  “Fuck.” Being shot doesn’t hurt this fucking bad.

  Catalina

  I’ve never been so scared in my life as I was when I heard the explosion. Seeing Atticus lying on the ground bloody and confused. I swear my heart stopped beating. I hate him, and I love him.

  I don’t know how or when it happened, but he’s mine, and if something happens to him, I’m not sure I could go on living. He’s become as essential to my life as breathing.

  Assessing his injuries, I know it’s by the grace of God that they aren’t worse. Or haven’t hit any vital veins or arteries. Especially the shrapnel in his neck. It’s only about half a dozen fragments, but enough that he’s going to feel them coming out.

  Noticing he’s drunk half the bottle of whiskey, I know he’s about as ready as either of us will be for me to sew up his cheek.

  “Here we go,” I murmur, and he clutches the edge of the couch.

  I bite my tongue with the first poke through his flesh. His handsome face is now one of gruesome pain. He doesn’t move or make a sound as I continue to thread ten stitches in his face.

  “I had to stitch the back of my calf once.” I need to distract us both; I can see him beginning to sway the further I go along. This story will likely piss him off enough to get his adrenaline pumping.

  “What happened?”

  “I was chopping wood–“

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my fault. Someone had set a bear trap, and it caught East’s leg. His howling distracted me, and when I turned, I lost my footing, dropped the ax and fell on my ass.” I can laugh about it now. He looks like he’d like to tan my hide. “When the ax dropped, it landed at a weird angle, and my calf slid on it enough to split the skin.

  “You ever touch that ax again, I’ll tie your hands behind your back and fuck you so hard you won’t walk straight for a month.” His threat does the opposite of what he likely wants. My core pulses, and my pussy throbs from the menace in his tone.

  His gaze glistens as he sees my reaction. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  I choose not to answer him. I know it’ll be used against me as soon as he can. “Needless to say, we both had a trip to town after that.”

  Growling by the front door stops further conversation as Atticus stands just as I tie off the last stitch. “Down, behind the couch, now.” The rage in his voice prompts me to do as he says. No way do I want that aimed at me.

  I lay on the floor, listening, waiting as Atticus cocks the rifle and takes aim at the door. “It’s me, it’s Charles!” is yelled, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Atticus roars but doesn’t grant the man entry.

  “I found him.”

  “Yeah, so did we.”

  “I know where he’s staying. He was here. I saw him before he blew the truck, but he didn’t see me.” I don’t know if I’d trust Charles any more than I can throw him, but I’ll leave that up to Atticus. “There are other men here, too.”

  “What other men?” Atticus snaps, his patience coming to an end.

  “Daniel and someone, I think.”

  “Atticus!” I hear another man call. The door opens swiftly, and boot steps quickly enter before its slammed shut again. “Holy fuck, what happened to you?” The same new voice asks.

  “The truck blew up, dipshit.” Another voice answers.

  “Lamb?” Atticus’ voice is softer, filled with relief.

  I climb from behind the couch and to his waiting hand as he sits again, his rifle aimed at Charles’ head. “Tell me everything. Now. No fucking around.” His gaze is lasered on the man, death in his stare. “Keep going, lamb.” It amazes me how quickly his attitude can change when it comes to me.

  Picking up the tweezers, I keep my hands steady as I take a quick glimpse of the newcomers. One’s older, tall, with dark looks. Tattoos peek out of every piece of clothing he’s wearing. The other is significantly younger, but no less intimidating with his lighter looks. He winks when he catches me watching him. “Watch it, Daniel,” Atticus growls, bringing his free hand to land on the top of my thigh, squeezing enough to dart my eyes back to him.

  I don’t listen to too much of what is said as I pull pieces of metal from Atticus’ neck, stemming the flow of blood as each piece breaks free. He doesn’t flinch, curse, nothing. If not for the visual evidence, you’d never know he was nearly blown up.

  It’s not until I hear my cousin’s name that I stop what I’m doing to look at the new men. “What about Steven?” I know he’s not a good man, but he was the only one to ever care about mom and me. He took care of us when we needed it.

  The darker man looks to me, “He’s dead.”

  I suck in a sharp breath at the news. “Christ sake, Dimitri. Have some fucking tact,” Atticus growls at the man, bringing one hand up to cup my cheek. “Lamb, he did some bad things. Caused a lot of pain to Talia.”

  “He did?” My lower lip wobbles and I bite it trying to stop the pain slicing through my heart.

  The younger one, Daniel, comes to sit next to me. This time he ignores Atticus’ deadly glare. “In the end, he chose to protect you. Without Steven, we wouldn’t have known Thomas was coming for you. You are who he chose to be loyal to, Lina, remember that.”

  Lina.

  It’s what Steven used to call me. He always said Catalina was too stuffed shirt. “How”—I pause to clear my throat—“how did he get mixed up in this mess?”

  Dimitri comes to sit on my other side. “Thomas blackmailed him. Said he’d kill you if Steven didn’t get into the house to spy. Thomas used him to get ahold of Talia. He nearly killed her in a warehouse fire. Had planned to rape her along with another man and video it, leaving it for Castiel to see.”

  These men are so hard. Cunning. Yet, they choose to comfort me in my time of distress. It’s hard to find fault in them when they only portray a cold exterior.

  “Where is he now, Manning?” Atticus stands, stepping between my legs where I’m sitting on the table. Cradling the back of my head, he soothingly pets me, and I embrace the comfort he offers.

  “There’s an abandoned hunter’s shack about six miles northeast of here, higher in the mountains. Some hunters have noticed a bit of activity up that way.” Manning hops from foot to foot as he explains his assumptions.

  “Dimitri and Daniel will go with you,” Atticus informs.

  “What are you going to be doing?” Daniel queries as he stands.

  A cold smirk crosses Atticus’ face, and when I see him wince, I hug myself tighter to his legs.

  “Getting creative with explosives.”

  Thomas

  It’s too bad the RPG didn’t take the asshole out. Seeing the bitch weep over Atticus’ injured form was far more amusing than I had anticip
ated.

  Catalina shouldn’t have lived longer than she was in our mother’s womb.

  The slut ran before Tim and I could destroy them. Rumors were floating around that the woman had cheated on our father and after seeing the bastard child up close now, I’m positive she doesn’t share the McCray clan blood.

  Her life won’t last much longer, though. Taking over the Adair Empire hasn’t been as easy as I initially anticipated. First losing Timothy and then the Anderssons set me back and forced me to reassess my plans for the future.

  Catalina was going to be my final shaft to the mother who thought she deserved better than the life she was chosen for.

  Seeing that one of these bastards has fallen for the whore makes my plan all the sweeter. Catalina won’t be leaving this mountain with breath in her body. And Atticus, the rotten rat, I should have ordered his death six months ago when he got in the way of our capture of Lilith.

  Now, he’ll suffer in a much more agonizing way.

  Catalina’s death in his arms will be my ultimate revenge.

  I watch her as she floats around her cabin finding all the chemicals and liquor she can. She has questions and reservations that she’s pushing to the back of her mind. Either because she’s scared of what’s happening or she doesn’t actually want to know the answers.

  “Catalina,” I call to her after she stops and stares out the front window. She turns to look at me, and in her sweet face, I see her fear displayed like a photo in a gallery. Stark, magnetic, enthralling. “Come here.” Holding an arm out, I put the bottle I’m holding down as she crosses the room to me.

  “I don’t understand anything.” Her entire world has been dumped upside down more than once in the last few days as I’ve told her about her lineage.

  “And you shouldn’t have to. You’re too sweet a soul to have been brought into this life.” It terrifies me to think of what could have happened to her if I hadn’t shown up and for that, I’ll never be sorry. “You need to grow used to it though, lamb. This is my life, the violence, the risk. This is what we live for. What I’ll die for.”

  “I want you, Atticus.” I sense a “but” coming. “I just don’t know if I’m cut out for the rest.”

  Wrapping one hand in her dark tresses, I grab a fistful as the other pulls her into my body. “I know you, Cat. I know your desires, your fears. Your hopes and dreams.” Her pupils follow the movement of my lips. “You know what else I know?”

  “What?” she asks breathlessly, pushing her body further into mine. Rubbing her hips into my bulging cock.

  “I know you’ll learn to accept everything that comes with a life with me because you know no one else can love you as deeply as I will. No one else can make you feel the way I do. No one else can lay claim to your heart the way I know I already have.” Trailing my lips across her jaw, I whisper in her ear. “You love me, Catalina, and the desires I bring out in you scare you far more than the life we’ll live. The danger we’ll be in.” Her sharp inhale tells me I’m on the right track. “You know what else I know?” Her head shakes, the soft locks brushing the stitches on my cheek and the bandages on my neck, giving the slightest pull. The pain travels to my dick, and I feel the need to pound inside her sweet pussy. “I know that as soon as I plant a baby inside your willing body, you’ll calm right down and claim your place by my side where you fucking belong.”

  Tugging her hair back, I take her lips in a sharp kiss, not giving her time to react before I force my tongue past her lips and search the deep crevices of her mouth. Sucking her moans as my own.

  Cat’s hands climb my chest to tug roughly on my hair as she rubs one leg up mine looking for the deeper connection we both seem to crave. “You need something, little lamb?”

  Reaching one hand behind her back, she grips my wrist. Bringing it up her chest then her neck, her eyes plead with me to give her what she’s afraid to ask for.

  “Strip for me, sweetheart.” I pull away to watch her expose every inch of flesh. Little scars dot her leg where she mentioned her brief encounter with an ax. Freckles dot her thighs like a trail to her sweet spot. A small mole I hadn’t noticed before lays on the ball of her hip bone begging for a nip from my teeth.

  “Atticus?” Her soft voice draws me out of my admiration of her little imperfections. The marks that remind that even though she hasn’t lived in my world, she’s more than capable of handling herself in it.

  “Men will fear you,” I mutter walking to her. “Women will envy you.” She watches with anticipation alighting her dilated pupils. “Everyone will know you’re mine.”

  “Always yours.” She smiles lightly as I reach for her throat with one hand. Unbuckling my jeans with the other, I guide her into her room, slamming the door shut behind us.

  West is out front guarding the door while East wanders the clearing, keeping predators at bay.

  For now, we’re alone. I can have her all to myself. Guide her into accepting her new life with me.

  Catalina

  The power in his hold, the strength in his words, the conviction in his tone…they all leave me breathless for more than what he’s asking of me.

  I want Atticus more than anything. Being with him means letting go of my inhibitions, becoming the woman I’ve often dreamed about but have been too afraid to embrace.

  Everything he spoke of calls to my soul in a way that should terrify me, but oddly, draws me closer to his possession. I’ve been the sweet girl next door my whole life, but I’ve always felt like something was missing. With Atticus, I think I know what that’s been.

  A firm hand.

  An unshakable, immediate bond.

  Atticus.

  He’s everything I’ve never understood that I wanted, yet exactly what my soul has been waiting for. What I’ve craved for most of my life.

  Rubbing my hands up his chest, I look into his mesmerizing stare, full of dark desires and unknown promises. “I don’t know how this has happened—my trust in you, my desire to have so much more with you—but I know I don’t want it to end. I don’t want to see you walk away from me, Atticus.”

  His strong grip pulls my shoulders closer to his tall frame as he leans down. Without speaking a word, he promises to protect me from everything. He’ll watch over me, and I, him.

  As if through magic, his clothes disappear, and he’s kneeling between my legs, the bed dipping beneath his giant body. My fascination is so focused, I can only watch as his swollen cock pulses with craving for me and the gratification we can achieve together.

  My eyes drift closed as he moves ever nearer, achingly, slowly, teasing me with his torturous touches. Feeling his cock pushing into my throbbing center, I cry out at the intensity felt when our sensitive flesh meets. He likes to start out slow before slamming inside, and I can feel the tense way he holds himself still, so I can adjust to his size. “Atticus,” I moan as he twists his hips.

  “Catalina.” His groan matches my passion. “This is going to be a quick, hard fuck. You hold on, little lamb.”

  The slow withdrawal followed by the sharp agony that flows through me when he slams back in is more than pleasure. It’s more than love. It’s us. Him and I.

  Atticus and Catalina.

  Light and dark.

  Heaven and hell.

  Every move is strategic to bring me optimal bliss. He’s giving me everything before taking even a taste. Hooking my legs around his hips, I dig my heels into his ass, dragging him closer, deeper into my depths.

  “Oh god,” I hiss when he drops down on top of me, driving his cock harder, deeper.

  “Not God, lamb, just your motherfucking man.” He chuckles as I claw my nails into his back, ripping flesh from form. “That’s a sweet girl; do it again.” He groans in my ear as one hand glides up my body, twisting a nipple as he goes, causing me to cry out again.

  I can feel his fingertips tickle at the base of my throat, and my core pulses with the hedonistic pleasure I know is waiting for me. “Please, please, please, Atticus.�
� I’m not above begging for what I know only he can ever give me.

  “What do you want, Catalina?” He bites my ear hard.

  “Please.” I don’t know if I can say the words aloud.

  “You have to say it, Cat.” He groans as I tighten my pussy around his cock. He stops moving. “You trying to pull my dick off?” His breathing has picked up pace, coming out harsher.

  “Move,” I demand.

  “Say the fucking words, Catalina!”

  “Choke me!” I scream back.

  He doesn’t hesitate. His long, thick fingers cut off my airway, and immediately, satisfaction rolls through every muscle in my body. I tense, and I relax. I throb, and I release. I crave, and I cry.

  “Atticus.” I sigh as a painful orgasm rolls through my body, taking me to heights greater than I’ve been before. I’m floating above us.

  I see the worship he has for me even as he uses my body to gain his own pleasure. I see the exact moment his own release railroad’s him into a roar worthy of any wild beast as we lay satiated in a mess of harsh breathing, sweating, and complete decadence.

  Atticus

  I left Catalina sleeping after our quick round of fucking. Two days without being inside her warmth, and I felt like an animal. Her complete trust in me isn’t something I’ve experienced before.

  Growing up, I watched my dad and uncle treat my mother like a whore. Passing her around back and forth, never giving her a choice until she was ultimately so used up they gave her away to some pimp with a bad rep and a whorehouse in his pocket.

  I was thirteen the last time I saw her.

  Fifteen when I grew tired of their games and threats, and I shot my uncle before running away. Indirectly, I had framed my father for the murder. I couldn’t call it anything else.

  Neither would the authorities.

  They had both been sleeping. My uncle had just beaten the shit out of some teenage girl because she wouldn’t go down on him. After he passed out—my father was already out cold from his liquor binge—I grabbed dear old dad’s revolver, stuck it in a pop bottle and pulled the trigger. After tossing the gun on my dad’s bed, I left.