Blood Script

by Airicka Phoenix

  Walking into the parlor was either the bravest thing he’d ever done, or the stupidest, especially when he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t get shot the moment he stepped foot over the threshold. All he could do was make sure Cora was semi behind him when he walked in.

  De Marco was on the sofa, a brandy in hand. Sylvester stood across the room, back to the door, staring out the window at the dark driveway. Neither one held a gun, much to James’s relief.

  “How was your tour, Captain?”

  The amber liquid in De Marco’s tumbler swirled. The light spiked off the crystal rim, reminding James of a lighter being flicked.

  James ignored the thinly veiled sliver of serrated steel in the question when he led Cora to the sofa and joined her.

  So, Sylvester had told him.

  That surprised, yet didn’t surprise James at all. Part of him had known the man would, yet to tell his own brother what he’d stood there and witnessed, and did nothing to stop was intriguing.

  “You have a lovely home, Ms. Harris,” James said instead.

  Elise beamed as she claimed the spot next to her husband. “Thank you, James. Would you like a drink?”

  “We need to get going, actually,” Cora cut in for him. “It’s a bit of a drive back to the ship and I still need to change.”

  “You’re leaving already?” Elise pouted. “But we haven’t had a chance to talk about anything, and the whole day was such an awful one.”

  “We still have plenty of time to talk things out,” Cora promised, with a chuckle. “There really isn’t any rush.”

  “Stop that.”

  James shot her a warning glower, one that Elise immediately picked up on.

  “What?”

  The tension he could feel radiating down her stiffened spine vanished with the drooping of her shoulders.

  She sighed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She waved a hand between James and Sylvester. “Look what happened already. I don’t want James walking into something he might not walk away from.”

  “What?” Elise shook her head. “No one is going to hurt him here.”

  “Mom.”

  Elise hesitated. “We’ll double security.”

  “See, I don’t want double the security at an engagement party filled with people who are supposed to be my family, worrying about them killing my husband.”

  “He kidnapped you,” Sylvester pointed out. “He has it coming.”

  “Can we stop with that? Yes, he kidnapped me, but I’m staying of my own freewill. I want to be with him and if I can overlook the kidnapping, I’m hoping the people I love will, too.”

  “Good luck with that, kid.” Sylvester made his way around the sofas to claim the armchair. “There’s a bullet with his name already on it just waiting for the right time.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Cora sprung to her feet. “I will never forgive you if anything happens to James. I mean it.”

  “He’s a criminal!” Sylvester pushed to his own feet to square off with her, his wide, tall frame dwarfing hers considerably, a stance that had all the pressure points along James’s spine tensing. “He’s a lowlife. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

  Cora didn’t back down. “So are you. So is Dad. So is every single person in our entire family tree. This is hardly the place for the kettle to have a say.”

  Sylvester’s jaw ticked. “Watch your mouth. I’m still your uncle and I have every right to protect you from scum like him.”

  “I don’t need protection, especially not from James.”

  She started to turn away.

  “I never thought I would see the day my niece would whore herself out to a fucking pirate. Your grandparents would be disgusted.”

  “Watch your fucking mouth!” De Marco snarled. Liquid sprayed over the rim of the glass he slammed down on the coffee table. “You’ve gone too far.”

  “That was uncalled for,” Elise agreed, cheeks scarlet.

  But Cora wasn’t listening. She faced her uncle with her lips curled back over her teeth.

  “I would rather be his whore than your niece.”

  Without waiting for anyone to stop her, Cora stormed from the room. The crack of her heels echoed like thunder claps all through the house. Elise hurried after her.

  James waited until both their footfalls had faded before slowly rising to his feet.

  “Got something to say, Crow?” Sylvester challenged. “Go on, then. Make some smart ass comment.”

  There was nothing in the world he wanted to say.

  He didn’t need to.

  The fist he drove up under the man’s chin said everything for him. It cracked with a satisfying crunch of bones. The sweet pain of it rained down his arm, but it was nothing to the arch of blood that sprayed into the air with the violent swing of Sylvester’s head. His entire body flew backwards into the armchair, snapping the clawed foot and knocking man and furniture backwards in a sprawling heap at the foot of the fireplace.

  “You ever talk to my wife like that again, I will break every bone in your fucking body.” He tugged his blazer down and glanced at the other man in the room, the one staring at his brother’s unmoving limbs with uncaring indifference. “Send me the bill.”

  With that, James left to find Cora.

  He found her by the front doors, coat on, face a mask of fury as she murmured something to her mother. Elise was nodding and rubbing at the arms Cora had wrapped around herself.

  “I promise,” Elise was saying when James drew closer. “I will make sure nothing like that happens.”

  Cora caught sight of him and her muscles relaxed. Relief softened her features.

  “Ready to go?” she asked.

  His coat was brought to him by the butler, who seemingly materialized out of thin air. James accepted it with a murmured thanks and followed Cora to the door.

  He paused once to face Elise. “Thank you for dinner, and I apologize about your chair.”

  Elise frowned. “My what?”

  But James joined Cora on the front porch. He let her slip her arm through his as they crossed the gravel driveway.

  At the car, he opened her door, but didn’t let her get in.

  “I can make him disappear,” he partially teased. “Say the word and he’s gone.”

  Cora chuckled. “I don’t want to talk anymore about making people disappear. I hate that that is even an option, like it’s normal.”

  He smoothed back a lock of hair. “It is normal for us, sweetheart.”

  She sighed with a shake of her head. “I can’t believe the things he said.”

  “You’re not a whore,” he told her firmly.

  Cora scoffed. “I don’t care that he called me your whore. I hated that he can’t accept my decision, like I’m an idiot who’s too stupid to realize what’s happening. Deidra did the same thing to me this morning at breakfast. They think I’m brainwashed, or too afraid to tell you to fuck off if I want to. It’s pissing me off.”

  “They’ll get over it,” he promised. “If they don’t, screw ‘em.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  He considered that while he motioned for her to get in and shut her in. He was still pondering it over as they drove through the gates back towards the city. He still had no answer when they arrived at her apartment.

  “I didn’t really need to change,” she told him when he killed the engine.

  “We’re going to stay here for a few nights.”

  “Oh my God, yes!” She threw herself out of the car. “After the day I’ve had, I need a real bed.” She spun on her heels to face him as he stalked around the hood. Her fingers closed into his coat and dragged him to her. “And you.”

  That was a request he was all too happy to oblige.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cora could almost forget the previous day’s tragedies when she tumbled out of bed and went in search of the man she’d spent a night of reckless and wild love making with. All her joints and muscl
es panged, a sweet symphony of pain she was beginning to crave a little more with every passing encounter with the man himself. She’d never been one for pain and submission. The whole idea had always struck her as ridiculous, but James had a way of bringing it out in her with only a touch. And it was never enough.

  The man himself sat at her rickety kitchen table, a mug of coffee in one hand, the morning paper in the other. He was already dressed in a baggy gray sweater and dark cargos. His feet were encased in thick, leather boots.

  God, he looked good.

  He looked fuckable.

  What was it about the man in the morning that made her want to straddle him and take her own pleasure, even though they’d spent the entire night racing to see who passed out first?

  He was turning her into a sex addict.

  The idea made her snort under her breath. The sound had James’s head lifting. He caught sight of her leaning against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow.

  “Why do you look like you caught the canary?”

  “Because I might have.”

  She bit her lip and stepped into the room.

  He set his paper down. “Are you suggesting I’m the canary?”

  With a coy little shrug, she moved to the coffee machine.

  “I might be.”

  She felt the predatory line of his gaze following her, tracing the naked contours of her limbs where his t-shirt didn’t cover and knowing she was completely naked underneath.

  “Do I want to know what has you in such a good mood?”

  Hot, rich brew filling her mug, Cora turned with it cradled between her hands. She squinted over its rising steam and shrugged.

  “I can’t explain it.” She took a sip on her way to join him. She dropped into the chair opposite and set her mug down. “I just feel like something really amazing’s going to happen. Have you ever felt that?”

  James shook his head.

  “Well, it’s going to be a really good day. I can feel it.” She stole the newspaper from him and flipped it around to see what he’d been reading. “Thinking about buying a house?”

  He took the paper back. “It’s not safe for you here.”

  The mug she’d lifted to her lips paused midway as his words drifted around them.

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be safe here?”

  Something in the way he refused to meet her gaze chilled the warmth in her belly. She set down her drink and waited.

  “You’re just not,” was the only answer he allowed her. “You need something better.”

  “But—”

  Liquid silver eyes shot up, their warning clear. “Cora.”

  The need to ask burned into her with hot little fingers, each one sizzling upon contact until it was all she could do to keep from screaming at him.

  “You can’t tell me I’m not safe and then not tell me why you think that,” she shot back. “I have a right to know if I’m in danger.”

  He contemplated that a full second before replying, “Fine, you’re in danger.”

  “Prick.” Snatching her mug up, she shot to her feet. “I can’t believe I keep forgetting what a monumental asshole you are.”

  No sooner had she slammed her cup down on the counter when his hands tangled in her hair. Her neck was forced back.

  “Watch your mouth,” he growled into the side of her face. “I will not be disrespected.”

  She thrashed against him. “All you’ve done since I met you was disrespect me. Get off!”

  To her surprise, he released her. She spun to face him properly.

  He stared at her, head rocking slightly from side to side.

  “You are the worst submissive I’ve ever had the misfortune of getting stuck with,” he decided with a shake of his head. “You don’t learn.”

  Cora blinked, bewildered, horrified ... infuriated.

  Submissive?

  Her?

  The very idea was ludicrous. She’d seen submissive women masquerading as furniture and getting spitted on by burly men in some dank dungeon while being tied up to the point of zero circulation.

  How was that her?

  How dare he think it ever would be?

  “Is that what you think I am? Some weak-willed woman who will bow to you?”

  James stared at her and it was in a way he’d never looked at her before, like she was something to be pitied, a creature too pathetic and sad to be considered a threat. It was almost enough to make her want to throw her coffee at him.

  “Is that what you think a submissive is? Weak-willed?”

  The question derailed her anger momentarily while she tried to decide how to properly answer it without losing her patience.

  “I’ve seen what submissive women are,” she countered. “I’ve read the books. I’ve seen the images. I won’t bow to you. I won’t let you tie me up and flog me. I don’t get off on pain or humiliation. I will never submit to you.”

  “That’s just it.” He bent his head a fraction to one side. “You already have. All of that. In some form, you have already given yourself to me.”

  Her mouth opened, words, angry, brittle words poised ... and died.

  He was right.

  Slapped with it, all she could see was the number of times he’d used only his voice to quiet her, all the times he’d held her down and made her be his, the spankings, the humiliations, the absolute relinquishment of her power.

  Hell, hadn’t she just been thinking how liberating submitting to him had been?

  “I saw it in you the moment we met face to face,” he continued, softer. “You were born for it.”

  “You ... you brainwashed me.”

  James quirked an eyebrow as if to say, seriously?

  “I’m not weak!”

  James sighed. “Submissive women are probably the strongest women I have ever met. It takes strength and courage to give up control to someone else.”

  “But I don’t want to give you anything, especially not...”

  She wanted to say her power, her strength, her control, but the words kept lodging in her throat as she was reminded yet again of all the times she’d done so willingly. She hadn’t even noticed. Not once.

  “Why would you take ... why would you tell me...?”

  Hot and cold waves of betrayal and terror washed over her. Mortification quickly followed, prodding her with icy fingers, mocking her for being so incredibly stupid, for allowing him to slip beneath her skin and convert her into something she hadn’t even known she was.

  He did this to her, because a month ago, she was just Cora, a normal twenty-five-year-old with men issues and a bar to run. Suddenly now she was some helpless woman who needed a man to ... what? What exactly was his purpose? Crush her? Degrade her? Morph her into some obedient slave?

  Of course.

  That was his plan.

  Break her until she no longer even recognized herself, until she was what he wanted, what he made her into. That was how prisoners of war were converted into loyal followers. Torture and submission until they conformed. Only, he was using sex and blackmailing.

  “Oh God...”

  “Cora.”

  She backed away from him when he made to reach for her. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Stop. Let me explain.”

  She smacked the hand that extended towards her arm. “I said, don’t touch me!”

  She bolted past him to her room. The snap of the lock had never sounded so loud. She dropped down on the bed and pressed her face into her palms.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Deidra was right. Maybe this was Stockholm syndrome. Maybe she really was weak and easily brainwashed.

  “Cora.” His voice echoed through the heavy barrier between them. “Let me in.”

  She ignored him, nerves too frayed and jittery to think rationally enough for a conversation.

  “We need to talk.”

  Cora shook her head even though he couldn’t see it.

  “Open the door, Cora, or I will.”


  He meant it.

  She knew he did.

  Nothing would stop him from getting in.

  Heart hammering, she lunged to her feet and ran to her closet. She threw on the random articles of clothing she could find and hurried to the window. Without waiting for him to follow through with his threat, she pushed open the frame and crawled out onto the fire escape.

  The metal contraption groaned at the added weight. The thing hadn’t been used since she bought the building. She wasn’t even sure it could hold her. But she picked her way down gingerly and jumped the last three feet into the alley between her bar and the locksmith next door.

  Her sneakers crunched on broken bits of glass and gravel when she landed. A splinter of pain shot up her right ankle, but she ignored it as she bolted in the opposite direction, away from Main Street, knowing James would think she’d take the safety of a crowd over seclusion.

  But seclusion was exactly what she needed.

  Isolation.

  Alone time.

  God, she needed alone time.

  She needed to think clearly without a million voices clamoring around in her head.

  She needed a few hours of peace and quiet.

  There was only one place to get that — the hiking trail she used to run back when her life had been moderately simple.

  After opening the bar and sleeping late into the afternoon to make up for going to bed so late, jogging had fallen to the side, but she missed the manmade path of concrete cutting through half the city in various directions. She missed the company of trees and endless nothing to distract her. She sucked in her first breath in what felt like eons and just walked.

  She didn’t think about James, or her parents, or anything to do with that whole last week.

  She didn’t dwell on her future or where it would take her.

  She simply let her mind drift to a blissful blankness she hadn’t ever allowed herself.

  It was creeping towards lunch time before she realized she needed to head back. She had no money and no phone, and nearly three hours of walking ahead of her. She’d be lucky to make it in time for dinner, and she was starving. Hiking around the city on a couple of sips of coffee had probably not been her brightest idea. But she felt better. She felt calmer, which was a drastic change. She felt like she could face James rationally and tell him she refused to be his submissive. It wasn’t her and he couldn’t make her. She even had a whole speech planned out in her head outlining all the reasons she would make a terrible submissive.