Elicit: (Decadence After Dark Book 5)

by M. Never

  “I’m sure she was profitable for your little business, but that workhorse has a lot of good years left. I’m not selling.” He takes a step forward, and the tension skyrockets in the room. “Let me make this real clear,” Easton addresses me coolly. “I’m leaving, with her, tonight. No discussions. No negotiations.” Napoleon’s got some balls. “Now, either we can do this the easy way, and you hand her over, or the bloody way, and I can just take her. Either or, I’m collecting what’s mine.”

  I guard London as Easton dishes out his ultimatums. It all sounds like blah blah-blah blah blah blah-blah blah to me.

  He can threaten all he likes. Pull a gun, throw a knife. Bottom line, the only way he’s leaving here with London is if he’s in a body bag. Which is somewhere I am more than happy to put him.

  “I’m not yours,” London suddenly growls.

  There’s no time for a response after that because all hell suddenly breaks loose. London pounces out from behind me and nails Easton right in the chest with the knife I gave her.

  “I’m not yours!” she shrieks insanely as she plunges the blade all the way into his heart. At the same erupting moment, Kayne mows down Silas, stabbing him in the neck a split second before he pulls out his gun. Blood spurts out everywhere from the rip in his jugular vein as Kayne viciously slits his throat open. I’m trapped in a momentary time lapse, torn between which direction I should go.

  “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” London’s distraught screams yank me to her. “I’m not yours!” She stabs him over and over again. “I’m not fucking yours!” Blood is smeared all over her fists and splattered across her face and chest. I attempt to pull her away, but her adrenaline is pumping too hard. She’s imprisoned in the moment.

  “Die!” She stabs him one last time and literally twists the knife. Then she collapses, a dazed look in her distraught eyes.

  Kayne and I share the same dumbstruck expression as I attempt to pull her into my arms.

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s all okay.” London comes to me slowly, warily. Like she doesn’t know who I am. Like she doesn’t even know who she is.

  She’s in shock.

  Once she’s sure she’s secure in my embrace, she nuzzles her head against my chest and lets it all go. She sobs so hard she shakes us both. Loud, anguished, afflicted sounds tearing from her throat. Never have I sensed so much pain. It’s so powerful I can almost carry it with me. I would gladly take it all if it meant she would finally be free.

  “Shhh.” I rock her until she’s calm. Until the agonizing moans stop and she becomes a zombie in my arms.

  I look up at Kayne who’s standing over two dead, bloody bodies, heaving like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. The wood floor flooding with red the longer the two corpses lay there.

  “We need a cleanup in aisle three,” he says wryly.

  Ya think? I fixate my attention on one of the hidden cameras in the corner of the office. I know Juice just saw everything and is cursing his head off right now. So much for no more messes. Oops.

  We have a protocol for situations like these, which we’ve never had to deploy until now.

  “Text Alistair. Get him in here,” I order Kayne with a paralyzed London still in my grasp.

  I don’t think more than fifteen heartbeats pass before Alistair slips into the room. His facial expression says it all. “Holy fuck.”

  “I need you to take her,” I bark at him. “Take her out to the pool house and wait for me. Use one of the back entrances so no one sees.”

  Alistair hesitates for a second before prying London out of my arms.

  “Jesus Christ, did she kill someone?” He notes the blood all over her face and body.

  “Do you really want to know the answer to that?” I challenge.

  His skin pales as he makes his conclusion.

  Trust me, no one is more shocked by her actions than I am. My sexy, fierce little bird is a badass.

  Mansion is full of service entrances and old staff corridors, so sneaking around can be easy as long as you know the ins and outs. It’s part of the reason Kayne and I chose this place. Plenty of escape routes, if needed. And tonight, it’s paying off tenfold.

  Alistair guides London out of the alternate entrance of the office, leaving me with minimal time to handle what I need to.

  “Are you good waiting for the crew?” I ask Kayne.

  “I’m good. Just bring me a change of clothes.”

  I nod. Fresh clothing is number one on my list for everyone. Time is of the essence. I need Alistair back monitoring the party room before anything else goes wrong.

  I disappear up a back staircase and race around my room grabbing T-shirts and shorts for both London and me. Kayne is way too large to fit into anything of mine, so I grab clothes for him and Alistair out of his closet. Hopefully, no one will notice their wardrobe change.

  Right before I vanish back down the stairwell, I hear a scream. And not a pleasurable one. My stomach drops. I know where it’s coming from. Javier’s room. And I know what he’s doing. Abusing the shit out of Spice. If it was any other night and he was any other man, I would kick the door down and toss his ass out of my house. But I can’t. Because this isn’t just any other night and he isn’t just any other man. He’s a devil with an open invite to stay.

  I swallow my searing anger as I’m shrouded in darkness. I’ll tend to Spice tomorrow. Tonight, London is my sole focus.

  I toss Kayne’s clothes on his desk and send him to wash off in the en-suite bathroom attached to the gargantuan office. He emerges from the bathroom in just his underwear, the soiled clothes crumpled in the garbage can. I strip down in the bathroom as well, washing Easton’s dried blood from my hands, neck, and chin. Quickly, I dress in the fresh shirt and gym shorts, tossing the bloody evidence in the full trash can.

  “You okay with me leaving you with all this?” I motion to the massacre on the floor.

  “I’m fine. Go. The crew should be here any minute. I’ll hold things down.” Composed, even sentences flow out of Kayne’s mouth, but the worry is apparent in his eyes. We’re spinning way too many dangerous dishes at once, and one slip could mean a catastrophic crash.

  “She’s fine,” I try to assure him. “No one knows where she is. She’s probably the safest person in the whole house.”

  Kayne grimaces, incredulously.

  I place my hand on his shoulder. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He urges me to go. “London needs you. More than anyone.”

  “We’re in the same boat, my friend.”

  “That we are.” He crosses his arms authoritatively. Ellie’s safety is the most important thing on his mind.

  I leave Kayne behind with the mess. Using the shadows to shield me, I make my way across the backyard and around the pool to the miniature house set off to the side of the property. It’s about as extravagant as the inside of the mansion, outfitted with an entire wall of French doors overlooking the blue pool water, a full country kitchen, cork floors, and a lavish white bedroom. Two people could live out here comfortably.

  I sneak through the dark house toward the back bedroom. When I crack open the door, I pause, listening to the conversation taking place.

  London is seated on the edge of the bed with Alistair kneeling in front of her. Her gaze is lost, someplace far off as she rambles.

  “You remind me of a monster I once knew. He used to keep me locked in a cage. He called me his pet. He liked to see me cry. And liked to hear me scream. His favorite thing to do was rape me over the sink while holding my head under water.” She tries to vacantly touch his face, and he spooks like a cat. Very unlike Alistair, but hearing her hair-raising accounts could haunt a friggin’ ghost.

  “Enough,” I announce my presence. Alistair scrambles to his feet and backs away from London.

  “She needs a shower and sleep. And probably years of therapy,” Alistair advises, unnerved.

  “I think we’re all going t
o need therapy after this.” I toss the fresh pair of clothes I brought him on one of the wicker chairs. “Go wash off and change. Leave your dirty shirt and pants behind. I need you back at the social ASAP.”

  Alistair doesn’t waste a minute. He’s clean and changed in record time. “I’ll text you when the house clears out.” He’s itching to leave.

  “My phone is on,” I inform him with my eyes glued to London. “Don’t let anyone see you,” I remind him.

  “As stealthy as a ninja.”

  A moment later, we’re alone.

  “Hey, c’mon.” I take London’s hand and gently guide her to stand. She does so without any arguments or objections, still completely zombified.

  I direct her into the small adjoining bathroom and turn on the shower. I test the water until it’s the perfect temperature before I strip out of my clothes and then strip London out of hers. I toss her bloody corset in the corner along with the items Alistair left behind. When she’s asleep, I’ll burn everything in the fire pit outside.

  London barely registers what I’m doing as she stares off into space. I wish I could reach her—pull her back, bring her to me—but I know recovering from such a traumatic event is going to take time.

  I place her under the hot spray, soaking her body and hair all at the same time. Red mixes with the clear water as it escapes down the drain. See, little bird? Your vile past is washing away.

  Giving her the silence she needs, I lather up her hair with lemon-scented shampoo and coat every inch of her body with the suds. It’s my version of a baptism. A cleansing. Tonight is a new beginning.

  “I’m right here with you, London. You aren’t alone.” I gently rinse the soap from her body, hoping my touch and my voice console and soothe and heal her.

  After a little coaxing, we finally make eye contact as we stand under the shower. There’s an inkling of life sparking in her flat blue eyes. She touches my chest, and I place my hand over hers. She sways on her feet, then steadies herself. Her bottom lip is pouty, and her cheeks are redder than strawberries, but I know she’s coming around.

  “Is he really dead?” she croaks.

  “Yes, my little bird, you finally killed your demon.”

  That pouty lip quivers, and I know another bout of waterworks is on its way.

  “What’s going to happen to me now? I killed him.” The dam bursts.

  I yank her into my arms and smother her in my embrace.

  “Nothing. No one will ever know. I promise I’ll protect you.”

  “How?” She sobs inconsolably. I never realized that one human being could produce so many tears.

  “Trust me.” I ask for the same thing I’ve been asking for all along.

  “That’s so hard to do,” she confesses.

  “I know. But you have to be brave and trust me now.” I take her face and force her to look at me. “You have to finally let me in.”

  “I let you in the first day I met you,” she astonishingly comes clean.

  “I let you in the first second I saw you.” I press my mouth firmly to hers, sucking gently on her puffy lips. “I’ll protect you,” I vow, resting my forehead against hers. “Please just let me protect you. You’ll never have to hide again. You’ll finally be able to fly.”

  London breaks down, hooking her arms under mine, and just holds on.

  I hug her until she can barely stand. Until the weight of the night finally takes its toll. There is so much I want to confess. So much I want to profess.

  But now isn’t the time to be spewing emotional rhetoric. She’s not ready to hear it, and I’m not ready for my feelings to fall on deaf ears. Tonight, it’s all about show don’t tell. My actions will speak for me. Of that I’m certain.

  I wrap London in a towel and then myself. It’s so quiet in the house, I can hear London breathing from across the room. I pull down the bedding, dry us both as best I can, then put her to bed without even bothering to dress her. It’s flesh on flesh tonight. Body heat, cool sheets, and an unrestricted connection.

  I climb in after her, situating her next to me, side by side, limbs mingled, head on my chest. Her tears continue to flow down her cheeks in a fluid path, leaking years of heartache.

  She can cry all night, all month, all year. I won’t let go until she’s shed every last painful drop.

  “I’m so tired,” she whimpers weakly against me.

  “Go to sleep,” I hum, hoping the melodic tone of my voice will help her drift off. “I’ll be right here to love you in the morning.”

  A little whine escapes from her and then there’s nothing. No salty fluid or shaky breaths, just peace.

  I WAKE UP WITH A start.

  I look around the bright sunny room, feeling completely out of sorts.

  Where the hell am I?

  “Hey,” Jett’s calm voice cuts through my mental turmoil. When I turn my head to him, everything comes rushing back.

  “I killed him, didn’t I?” I slap a hand over my mouth horrified.

  Jett nods, sliding closer to me over the pure white sheets. He sits up as he tugs me into his arms. I don’t protest. I just melt against his warm, bare chest.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” he asks.

  I nod silently before he tips my head back to look up at him. “He was never going to get out alive. If you didn’t kill him, I was going to.”

  I stare into his smoldering aqua eyes and believe every word.

  “What do we do now?” I whisper.

  “Go on like nothing ever happened. You promised me last night that I could protect you, and I intend to do just that. Trust me to take care of everything.”

  Trust. The most challenging word in my vocabulary. I’ve never trusted anyone. But I want to trust Jett.

  “Please don’t make me regret making that promise.” I dig my face into the curve of his neck.

  “Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever done anything to make you think my word isn’t worth anything?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t start doubting me now.” He holds me so tenderly that every wall I have ever erected comes crashing down and turns to rubble. I can barely breathe as I hand myself over to him, extending my complete and vulnerable trust.

  “I feel so . . . strange,” I admit.

  “Strange?”

  “Out of place. If that makes sense?”

  “I thought you would have felt free.”

  “I don’t know what free feels like. I’ve belonged to someone my entire life.”

  “Well, now your life belongs to you. You can do anything you want. Be anyone you want.”

  I blink up at him oddly. I’ve never had the opportunity to decide things for myself. Even when I was running, the threat of being found dictated all my actions.

  “What would you do if you were me?” I ask Jett earnestly.

  He smiles down at me warmly and wisely. “I would live,” he says simply. Like it’s the most obvious answer.

  “I have no idea how to do that.” I laugh. I actually laugh sincerely.

  The strangest feeling tickles my gut.

  “We’ll figure it out together.” He kisses my head and tightens his arms. I rub my hand over his tattooed chest, and the warmest sensation spreads through me. It tingles and arouses and energizes something buried deep inside.

  “Can we start living right now?” My touch becomes bolder, traveling south over his ripped torso and sculpted hips.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.” He closes his mouth over mine, not squandering a moment. We don’t do anything more than kiss and touch and connect in a way I’ve never experienced. There’s no pressure to perform. No one ordering me or forcing me or controlling me. Nothing is rushed or expected.

  We just take our time exploring. Investigating every curve of each other’s body, every dip and hollow. Every secret.

  “I’ve never been naked with a man before,” I confess, as I trace the blue and black nautical star on his left bicep. It’s always intrigued me, although I don’t know wh
y. Maybe because it’s the only tattoo on that arm. A loner, just like me.

  “Yes, you have. You just didn’t know it.” He kisses me so passionately we fall back lip-locked onto the mattress.

  “When did you get this?” I ask as I touch the four points.

  “When I was lost. There was a time in my life when I needed guidance through the night.”

  “Did it help?” I straddle my legs over his pelvis.

  “Yes. I found my way.” He slides his tongue rapturously between my lips.

  “Do you think I’ll find mine?”

  “I know you will, because I’m your North Star.” He silences me with a uniting embrace as we sink together into a sea of passion. Drowning in desire, immersed in need.

  After an eternity of drifting weightlessly, Jett skims his fingertips down the center of my naked body. Lifting my hips, I allow him access to the entrance he’s hell-bent on breaching.

  He easily submerges two fingers in my pussy, and we both expel a blissful moan.

  “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He pumps his hand lightly, curling his fingers against my front wall. Teasing that secret spot that can send me into orbit.

  “That’s what happens when you kiss me.” I breathe heavily with my eyes closed while rocking against his hand.

  “Mmm.” He likes my response. “Let’s see how wet you get while I kiss you with my cock inside you.” He removes his hand and grabs his shaft, lifting it so I can maneuver myself onto him. I engulf him leisurely, appreciating for the first time what it’s really like to be with a man.

  Jett exhales heavily, grabbing my thighs, tensing his body, and stretching his neck. “That’s it. Go slow.”

  I move as slowly as possible, as slowly as my lust will allow, but he’s so long and so thick and fills me so deliciously that I want his entire length inside me right now. I drop down quicker the last two inches, the ache becoming unbearable. I need the friction and the resistance. I grind on him gradually, rolling my hips until we’re both heaving. Everything below my waist tightening and pulling and fluttering. With Jett, I really am a bird flying freely. I think I always have been and just didn’t realize it. Didn’t want to acknowledge it. Freedom was just a dream until now. Until him.