Blood Script

by Airicka Phoenix

  “I’m already going to hell, sweetheart. Your forgiveness can’t save me now.”

  She pulled out of his arms. He let her go. He watched her try and decide what to say without saying a word.

  “What now?” She wiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I wait in the bedroom for whenever you decide you need a fuck?”

  His head cocked to one side. “It doesn’t have to be the bedroom.”

  Fury clashed with her resolve to be rational.

  “I won’t just sit and wait around for you. I have a job. I have a business. I gave you everything now let me go home.”

  “You’re never going back, Cora.”

  Those five little words were like a fist in the chest. She felt the impact rattle through her entire body.

  She staggered back a step.

  “What?”

  “This is it.” He threw out his arms to the sides, indicating the cabin. “This is home now.”

  The world flickered between color and gray. Sound rose and muted. Everything seemed to be fracturing, shattering, falling apart. She couldn’t even hear the rest of his words as a howl of agony ripped through her skull, deafening her.

  It was only after her feet had flown off the ground that she realized the scream was coming from her. By then, she was on him, fists flying, nails clawing. She was a deranged, rabid animal.

  “You promised! You promised to take me home!”

  There was barely any use of strength on his part when he restrained her. He grabbed one wrist, twisted her around and pinned both arms in an X across her chest.

  “Enough!” His snarl broke through her madness, but barely.

  “Let go of me!”

  She threw back her head like her uncle had taught her and got him in the mouth. His roar was overshadowed by her bellow as she tore free.

  Without waiting, she bolted. The door flew open under her hand and she was tearing through the corridors. Her feet up the stairs she now knew led to the deck. She burst through the door and kept running.

  Someone shouted after her.

  Maybe her name.

  Maybe to stop.

  But that wasn’t happening.

  She could see the stairs off the ship.

  She could see the docks.

  She could see the main road with cars going in either direction.

  She just needed to get to one.

  Someone grabbed the back of her shirt. The sound of tearing filled the air and was swallowed by her scream.

  She spun, arms swinging. She caught James in the face with an open palm. The smack wasn’t nearly as satisfying, or as hard as the first time she’d hit him, but it sparked the fury already rolling across his eyes.

  His hold tightened on her arms. The pain had her crying out.

  Without saying a word, he bent down and scooped her up over one shoulder. The world spun in a blur of dull gray. Then there was nothing but his back and the wide strides of his feet as he carried her back. The bouncing going down the stairs knocked the wind and the fight out of her. Each bump forced his shoulder up into her sternum.

  But it wasn’t entirely that reason she hung limp. It was the realization that she would never leave that room. That ship. Those four walls would forever be her prison, and he would always bring her back.

  The moment he dropped her on the bed, Cora burst into tears. The wall containing the last week of her life crumbled down around her and it all just came rushing out in a flood of agony. Every sob tore through her in waves of acid. Each splash burned away a little more of the person she was until she was sure there would be nothing left.

  “I never promised to take you home.”

  Wheezing for breath, Cora raised her face from her cupped palms and glowered at him. “Last night. You said you would soon.”

  He stood clear across the room with his arms folded, fury blazing over his features.

  “No, I said you could see your parents soon.” He waited for that to sink in before continuing. “You’re my wife, Cora. You live where I live. That’s how marriage works.”

  He had said that, she realized with a sickening jolt. She’d been the one to think taking her to her parents was the same as taking her home. She’d been the idiot.

  “What about my bar, my apartment?” She bunched the hem of her shirt and wiped her eyes. “What about my life? Am I supposed to give up everything?”

  “We’ll figure it out, but for now...”

  He stalked to her in three wide strides and grabbed her wrist. She was yanked to her feet and made to stand there as he took her spot.

  “What—?”

  Without a word, he whipped down her pants to her ankles, ignored her sputter of protest, and jerked her over his knees. She barely had time to throw out her hands to keep her face from smacking the carpet.

  “James!”

  The first smack stole her breath away. Her cry caught in her chest and burst out with the second. Both blazed white hot across her left ass cheek. The sting had her flailing, struggling.

  “Every time you struggle, I’ll add five more,” he warned.

  She went still.

  The third one landed on her right cheek. Her body twitched despite her protest. Her fingers curled into the carpet. The knuckles blazed white behind the new swell of tears.

  The fourth hit her right cheek again.

  Cora sobbed. Her leg muscles convulsed as the need to rub the stings rippled through her body.

  The fifth one met her left cheek.

  The spot was gently rubbed a moment later, soothing the burn.

  “Those were for throwing your clothes and striking me ... again,” he said calmly.

  Five more hard thwacks met each cheek. By the third one, Cora was openly weeping. Her entire body felt as though it were on fire, her head was hot with blood, and her inability to soothe the sharp tingles only intensified her frustration.

  But the worst was the humiliation. She was a grown woman bent bare ass over a man’s knee ... getting spanked. There couldn’t possibly be a worse way to get punished.

  The fifth one ended soundly on her right cheek.

  Once again, he rubbed the spot gently when it was over.

  “Those were for running out in the cold, not listening, and hitting me ... again.”

  Gingerly, he lowered her down on her knees between the V of his legs. He brushed back locks of hair and took her chin in his fingers.

  He no longer looked angry, she noted, as he wiped her cheeks.

  “Okay?”

  She wanted to stare at him incredulously and tell him, no, of course she wasn’t all right. He’d just spanked her like a damn five year old.

  But her head bobbed with a will of its own.

  He leaned in and kissed her softly on the mouth. “Good girl,” he murmured, pulling back. “Now, take off your clothes and get on the bed.”

  Her ass was tingling, her vagina still hurt, a normal person would have refused. But she shed her clothes and climbed into the space behind him.

  The bed jolted when he rose and went to the desk. A condom was unearthed. Then he returned, removing his own clothes with every step.

  He was gentle. The completely opposite of the previous night. Every angled thrust was fluid and mindful, matching the tender strokes of his lips moving over hers.

  Cora came with a soft gasp, almost a sigh against the side of his neck. Her fingers tightened in his hair as her hips rose to meet his.

  “I will never be your white knight, Cora,” he whispered when it was over and they lay in a tangle of lax limbs. “But I will be your villain. I will be your monster. I will build for you, destroy for you. I will kill for you. I will protect you, but I’m not capable of love. No monster is.”

  Cora shut her eyes. His words echoed through her, a desperate little promise that skirted the length of her spine, right along with his trailing fingers. Each blunt tip walked the path of her torso, tickling and scratching from nape to crack. He alternated between callused skin and tattere
d nail, leaving her lost in each sensation with acute awareness.

  “What about your other women?”

  The trailing of his fingers stopped at the center of her back.

  “Other women?”

  Cora raised her face from its snug place at the hollow of his throat. “You don’t honestly think I believe you, or anyone on this ship, can correctly coordinate a woman’s wardrobe, do you?”

  His lashes dropped to half-masts with his quiet hum of understanding. The fingers that had been marking paths along her skin lifted and skimmed the curve of her cheek. It swept back a lock of hair and tucked it behind her ear.

  “There are no other women.” He traced the bow of her mouth when it opened with her denial. “I asked Mable — August’s wife. She’s a manager at a clothing boutique.”

  “And she just happened to know my size perfectly?”

  “I sent her photos, she guessed the rest.”

  “What photos?”

  His smile was beautiful, a dazzling sight to behold. She couldn’t remember ever seeing it that full.

  “I have several in my personal collection.”

  Cora blinked. “You have a personal collection ... you know what, I don’t want to know. How?”

  “I sent her the money. She sent the clothes. It was all very legal.”

  “Except where you apparently have nude pictures of me,” she grumbled.

  “Mostly legal then,” he murmured softly. “But those I keep only for me.”

  A hot rush enveloped her, stealing her breath and making her painfully aware of his scent swirling and shackling her to the spot, restraining her to the bed.

  “You ... you shouldn’t have any,” she breathed.

  “But I wanted them,” he stated it so easily, as if they were discussing a mere candy bar he’d been craving, and it was said in that same even whisper that flowed through her like warm honey. “So, I took them.”

  “How would you even have pictures like that?”

  His lips curved darkly. “I am very good at what I do. You know that.”

  She swallowed audibly at the dirty innuendo. “That doesn’t explain how you...” She couldn’t seem to be able to catch her breath. His proximity was fucking with her head. His scent was toying with her senses. He needed to move away from her. “Have you been following me?”

  His gaze pivoted away from her eyes and lowered to her mouth. “What do you think?”

  Something about that confession had her memory swirling back to that last night, right after she’d left the club and those boys who had cornered her. None of it had seemed connected, yet, thinking on it while he followed the path of her mouth with his eyes, there was no missing it.

  “It was you. That night outside the club, you were the one in the shadows, the one who gave me my gun back.”

  “You looked so fuckable in that dress.”

  The low, guttural confession washed over her with the intensity of plunging into a vat of boiling water. It tore away flesh and bone, leaving her vulnerable and exposed before the animal destroying her with just his eyes.

  “The other women,” she whispered, needing to bring the conversation back to its original topic.

  “There are no other women,” he repeated.

  “Here—”

  “Anywhere.” His gaze bore into hers, unwavering. “There is no one.”

  She told herself she was only relieved because having another woman when he was married to her was disrespectful. It had nothing to do with anything else.

  “But speaking of other people.” He clipped her chin between his thumb and bent index finger and tilted her face to his. His grin was gone, replaced by something that sent a different shiver through her, a colder one. “This is not an open marriage. I’m possessive of what’s mine, and I have an entire ocean at my disposal to make things disappear. You are mine. Only mine. And only I will have you. Do you understand?”

  “Jealous?” she braved, feeling oddly bolder than she should.

  “I don’t believe in jealousy, sweetheart. I know what belongs to me, and I know what I’m prepared to do to keep it.”

  Trembling uncontrollably with something far older, far more primal than fear or lust, Cora gulped. She could feel herself sinking into the silky folds of his warning, could feel it gliding around her full of dark promise, a promise that should have been appalling, except the thought of being his, only his stirred something deep inside her she couldn’t name. But it made her feel perversely wanted, needed ... desired. It made her knees weak and her belly froth hot. Her core blazed with renewed insistency for him to prove it. To claim her. To make her fully his.

  “I can hit a bull’s eye from fifty feet,” she whispered. “I know how to dispose of a body without leaving any trace I was ever there. And I know an assassin. I am a jealous woman. I don’t like other women touching things that belong to me. Unconventional marriage or not, you might want to remember that.”

  His hand cupped the back of her skull and pulled her to him with a sharp tug that nearly sent her sprawling across his chest. The first gasp had barely left her when he threaded his fingers through her hair and tugged, just hard enough to unroot several strands and send a shower of unadulterated ecstasy scattering down her spine. It yanked on the invisible strings attached to every pleasure point in her entire body until she could have sworn she almost came.

  “This is either going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to us.” His snarl burned against her mouth, it left marks as though each word were a stamp. “Or it’s going to destroy us both.” With a kiss that was more punishing than romantic, he released her head and hooked her around the middle. His eyes seemingly glowed in the dim light as he drew her to him and tucked her against his chest. “We have a few hours. Get some rest.”

  Cora woke to someone hissing her name and stabbing her in the shoulder. The unwarranted assault pried open her eyelids. She squinted through groggy eyes at the shadow looming over her.

  “James?”

  The blurry outline was too skinny. It kept swaying and dodging, making Cora’s head hurt.

  “Get up!” it hissed.

  The voice was female, and angry.

  Cora blinked and struggled to sit up. “What—?”

  Slowly, the face came into view. Dominating green eyes radiated from a beautiful, familiar face. Dark hair swung around thin shoulders clad in shiny leather. But it was the face, the wonderful, amazing face.

  “Deidra?”

  She was dreaming. She had to be. There was no other explanation for how her mom’s bodyguard would be on the ship.

  “Hey baby girl, we gotta go. Come on.”

  Disorientation had Cora’s brain one step behind reality. For a moment, she couldn’t decide which was real and which was the dream, Deidra standing before her, or getting kidnapped by pirates. She realized it was all real with just one glance around the room.

  “James.”

  She swung her head over her shoulder, half expecting him to be lying next to her, a bullet wound gushing up blood.

  But the space behind her lay empty and cold when she slid her hand across it.

  “Where’s James?”

  “That really doesn’t matter right now,” Deidra muttered. “We need to get you off this ship.”

  It hit her then, her thoughts finally catching up to the situation.

  “Are you rescuing me?”

  Deidra stared. “No, I’m reenacting the nutcracker. Get the fuck up!”

  Sheets clasped securely around her, Cora struggled to her feet. “How did you get here? How did you find me?”

  “I will explain all that later. Right now, we need to go.”

  Cora staggered back a step when the other woman reached for her. “No, I can’t leave.”

  “What?” Deidra hissed, careful to keep her voice down. “Are you crazy? Look, whatever he told you, whatever he promised, or threatened, it’s bullshit. I’ll deal with him once I get you in the car.”

  Cora shook her
head. “I don’t want to go.”

  Deidra recoiled as if Cora had cursed. “Don’t ... are you serious?”

  “I want to stay.”

  “That’s the Stockholm syndrome talking. I’ll beat it out of you later. Get moving or I swear, I’ll knock your ass out and drag you.”

  “D, I want to stay,” she repeated. “I want to.”

  Deidra opened her mouth.

  “You heard her. She’s not going.”

  James appeared in the open doorway, dressed and looking unconcerned by the fact that an assassin was onboard his ship.

  “Captain.” Deidra unholstered her gun from the pouch strapped to her thigh. “You fucked up. Using your phone ... sloppy.”

  James folded his arms. “Yet it took you...” he checked his watch. “Six hours to get here.”

  A muscle flexed in Deidra’s jaw. “I was in New Mexico, following a lead on her.”

  “Who do you think planted that lead?”

  “Do you two know each other?” Cora cut in, looking from one to the other.

  “We’ve met once.”

  “Twice,” Deidra snapped.

  “Twice,” James relented with a shrug. “Briefly.”

  Cora’s fingers tightened in the sheets. “Did you two—?”

  “No!” both shouted on unison.

  “I liberated some cargo from one ... pardon me, two of Ms. Donavan’s clients with her on guard duty.”

  Cora remembered that. It had been a few years ago, but Deidra had been furious for weeks about getting her shipment stolen out from under her nose.

  “That was you?”

  Deidra’s gun jerked up and aimed for James’s face. “Well, fortunately for me, this is going to be the last time our paths cross, Captain. I’m taking the girl and we’re leaving.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  Deidra’s smirk was cold, blood thirsty. Challenging. “Stop me.”

  “D, wait!” Cora scurried around her friend and placed herself between the two. “Don’t shoot him.”

  “Why?” The question ripped through clenched teeth and a murderous glare. “Give me one good reason.”

  Cora hesitated, just a second. “He’s my husband.”

  Deidra’s arms went from rigid and prepared for the jolt of gun recoil to limp.