Silenced

by Natasha Larry

  The longer I fuel her with what she needs; I go from feeling vital, to fu-cking Superman. I’m Superblack. On the verge of becoming power drunk, I let the song drift off and she collapses into my arms.

  I hold her easily as she trembles like a woman that just got her nut off.

  “Mm,” she mutters, pulling herself straight. “I want to stay with you tonight, Pike.”

  I wet my lips. “For sho?”

  She just stares up at me for a few seconds, then shrugs. “Is this part of it?”

  I shake my head, not understanding.

  “Do you have to make love for the call to work?”

  I hesitate. No one has ever cared enough to ask that. Too busy being horny. “No.” I shake my head. “The call works on its own. But the way it makes women feel… love making usually follows.”

  Her gaze drops to her feet. “I’ve heard it’s worth dying for.”

  With a chuckle, I wet my lips again. “Well, I do—“

  She cuts off my speech by lowering herself down and taking my towel with her. Before I can react, her lips wrap tightly around me.

  Hard to argue with that.

  My head falls back.

  My breath hitches in my chest and my mouth drops open. It’s been a minute since I’ve had a bj, so it doesn’t take long to feel that tingle. I let out a chuckle and reach down to pull her to her feet. Breathing hard, I run my fingers back through her hair.

  “What’s wrong?” She frowns. “You don’t like it?”

  “Oh, I like it.” Instead of finishing my though, I undo her buttons. I get harder with each inch of skin revealed. By the time her coveralls hit the floor I’m almost foaming at the mouth.

  She bites her lip and brings her hand to the back of her neck. “You like?”

  I nod. “Hells yeah.” I start to walk, forcing her back against the bed. Then, I lay her down and run my hands across every inch of her skin. She squirms and rolls over so that she’s on top.

  “You’re driving me nuts.” She huffs, pressing her palms down across my chest.

  With a smile, I wrap my arms around her, flipping her over. She lets out a squeal as I place her onto her back and gaze down.

  “Quiet, girl. They gonna think I’m hurting you in here.” I gather her wrists together at the top of her head and lean down to run my tongue over her hard nipples. I take a nibble and she whimpers.

  “They’d be right.” Her voice is husky.

  I rise up and stare at her. “Oh, I’m not hurting you yet.”

  Tahlia gulps and a chill rushes down my back. It’s energy from her.

  “You scare me a little.”

  This makes me smile. Lowering my lips to her ear, I enjoy her go rigid against me. “I should.” I brush my lips against her ear. Then her neck. She shakes and whimpers beneath me.

  “Sing again,” she says, snaking her legs around me.

  I do.

  The next few hours pass in a blur of sensation. For all the shit I talk, I don’t hurt Tahlia. She brought me back from months of hell. I owe her more.

  I slide in and out of her with the tenderness of a lifelong lover. We rock together, moaning and sweating until her back arches with orgasm.

  And Tahlia has a lovely fucking orgasm. So lovely, in fact, that I make her show me over and over again.

  Then, I start killing her.

  I struggle awake. Somewhere in the distance, a dull moan interlaced with a gargling noise meets my ears. A low booming rings out. The sounds warp in my head like I’m listening through a hangover.

  As my senses crisp, the banging gets annoying as hell. The throaty gargling inches closer. I force my eyes open and blink the room into focus. When I try to sit up I meet resistance and my head falls back down to the pillow.

  That’s when I feel pressure and realize Tahlia is wrapped around me like a boa constrictor. The booming at the door makes my head pound.

  “Pike!” Juliet’s voice calls through the door.

  With a grunt, I force myself up and reach up to pry Tahlia’s hands from around my neck. I try to undo this naked pretzel we’re locked in, but she’s sealed to me like Elmer’s glue. The gargling is coming from her.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  “Alright!” I yell at Juliet’s knock. “Give me a sec!”

  Gathering all my strength, I manage to straighten up and remove Tahlia’s limbs from around me. I cup her face and gaze down into eyes coated in a frothy layer of white.

  My heart punches the inside of my ribcage. I slept too long. She’s been dying in my arms all night. I shake my head to get rid of the guilt, wet my lips and prepare to whistle.

  Too bring her back.

  The door rushes open. My eyes dart over to Juliet, who is casting her evil shadow into the room. She’s flanked by two buzz cuts that stand back while she saunters toward the bed.

  My eyes narrow to slits. I’m used to chains standing between us. Now that I’m not locked up, the urge to choke her out… to pay her back for months of torture, puts a sneer on my face.

  She answers my threatening expression with a light smile.

  Guess it needs some work.

  She flips her hair and holds up a syringe full of clear liquid. “Good morning, Pike.” She nods at Tahlia, who is still gurgling in my arms. “You done with her?”

  My jaw tightens. I suck a hot breath in through my nostrils. “Come again?”

  She starts toward me, removing the plastic cap from the needle. A little of whatever is inside spills down the plastic.

  “I asked if you were finished.” She comes to a standstill at the side of the bed. Her cool, blue eyes gaze down at me.

  Nothing moves behind them. As if she knows she’s being talked about, Tahlia starts to moan like a gutted seal. “More.” She digs her nails into my sides. “More.”

  Her body goes into convulsions, vibrating the bed. I tighten my hold around her, trying to get it to stop.

  Above me, Juliet sighs. “Move her hair.” She leans over and I reach up and grab her wrist. We stare at each other over Tahlia’s convulsing form. She hits me with that super polite smile that sets my teeth on edge.

  “I need you to take your hand off me.” Her smile stretches. “Can you do that for me?”

  Something about that look makes me feel like I’m in chains again. There isn’t anything menacing in it. Which is what screws with me. There is nothing in it.

  Despite the fact that she freaks me out, I match her smile and tighten my grip.

  “Sure thing, Jules. After you tell me what’s in the syringe.”

  After a few seconds of sizing me up, she nods. “Lethal dose of morphine. Now, will you move her hair? I need access to her neck.”

  Tahlia’s convulsing worsens and I drop Juliet’s wrist.

  “I can bring her back,” I say, not addressing anyone in particular.

  Juliet sniffs. “Pike, this is more humane. And you’re clearly finished. You look so much livelier.”

  I snap my gaze up to her face. My lips press together in a hard line. Without saying anything, I sweep Tahlia’s hair away from her neck, then hold her body as still as I can. Juliet leans back over, injects her, and then waves her hand at her two lackeys.

  They march over and reach for Tahlia, who is now stone still. The two buzz cuts step to either side of the bed and reach down for her.

  I glare at the one on my left still. His features crumple into a fear mask and I smile.

  “Tell your boy to turn around so I can wrap her up. This is a female, man.”

  He hesitates, eyes darting across the bed. Then, he shrugs and they both turn around. I wrap Tahlia up in a blanket, slide her eyes closed and clear my throat. The lackeys turn, lift her from the bed and march her out.

  I stare ahead while Juliet clears her throat and shuffles over to the dresser next to the door. She removes a set of blue coveralls, then turns toward me.

  “Where are they taking her?” I ask.

  She sighs. “Away.”

  My
gaze shifts over to her and I stare.

  She does another frickin’ hair flip and smiles. “She’ll rest comfortably, then she’ll be cremated.”

  My jaw tenses. I’d like to cuss her ass out. Shame her, but I’d just be trying to feel better. Truth is, her way is more dignified than my way. How she can serve up one of her own like a chicken dinner is none of my business.

  “I need you to get ready for the Presenting.”

  I blink. “Yeah, what is that exactly?”

  She places the pile of clothing on the bed. “A formal ceremony to introduce the team to the rest of the compound. Colonel Jax wishes to boost morale.” Her arms fold across her small chest.

  I laugh. “So, you’re going to tell everyone what’s what. Just say what you mean.”Pressing my hands down on the mattress, I lift myself up. “Is that really necessary?”

  “Yes, but first you need to clean up and put on clothes.” Her gaze flitters up and down before resting on my face. “You’ll take lunch with your team.”

  My hand goes to my face and I scratch my eyebrow with my pinky nail. “Yeah, I want to see Sadie.”

  “You’ll see her at the Presenting.” She nods at the pile of stuff in front of the bed. “Take a bit to go through the things I brought here when I… recovered you. You have an hour before you need to be downstairs.”

  I scoff at her choice of words. What she really means is kidnapped. “Where the fuck is my bird?”

  She turns and heads to the door. “I’ll have Kenya bring him by the end of the day.” She pauses and turns her head to speak over her shoulder. “That is, if you can manage not to kill her.”

  With that she leaves, closing the door behind her. I growl, an excess of cutting retorts piled on my tongue. I manage to swallow them down to the pit of my stomach, then I can at least shit out insults at her.

  Kneeling beside the bed, I start to dig through a large black duffel. I pull out a few doo rags, pairs of boxer briefs, and random mementos I kept on me while in hiding. I feel rich yanking out a ball of hair ties. I tie my hair away from my neck before pawing around some more.

  My fingers dance across a smooth surface and I halt. I pull out a worn, sandy brown journal. The sight of it makes me chuckle. It even still has an old pen secured across the lip of the book. I push myself up onto the bed and fan out the textured pages.

  As I slow down, tiny lettering streaks across my vision. Faces flash in my mind, floating behind my eyes like the phantoms of memory. I promised myself I’d never write in this damn thing again.

  I said Sadie’s mom, Hope, would be the last entry.

  Juliet’s voice echoes in my head. Are you done with her? My jaw tightens with something. Anger? Frustration? Or fear? How am I supposed to go back to this?

  To being a collector of names.

  My heart hummingbirds in my chest, and I wipe the sweat from my palms onto the blankets. I try to focus on Sadie and tame the emotion running around all willy-nilly in my skull.

  I suck in a steadying breath and open the journal to the next blank page. I drive away that bitch called guilt, remove my pen from its holder, and scrawl Tahlia—

  My mind blanks. Tahlia…

  With a sigh, I realize I never got the girls last name. I scribble an X after her name then lift my gaze to the ceiling. Studying the bits of plaster, I bring her energy to the front of my mind. What she was in her time with me. After a few moments I look back down and write: Trapped. Loving. Accepting.

  Once I finish, I clap the book shut, cap my pen, and place it back in its holder. I toss the journal onto the desk as I stand, then reach for the pile of clothes Juliet left. Then, I cross the room and duck into the bathroom.

  The soles of my feet scrape against the rough, almost rock-like floor. Dragging my hand along the wall, I locate the light switch and flip it. The too extravagant bathroom is coated in yellow light.

  I feel out of place in this room. I should be in a bathroom tough guys wear shower shoes in, some prison-like shit. Then I remember that my experience in the Pit wasn’t why Compound Six was created. It was created to be one of mankind’s safe havens.

  I guess now that we’re getting along I’m worthy of sanctuary.

  I trudge across the room, duck into the stand-alone shower and turn on only the hot water. As soon as I do, a dial on the shower wall flashes bright red numbers at me.

  Sixty.

  Steaming water rushes into my face. I leap back.

  “Shit burger!” My arms raise in defense. Something thuds to the floor, and I glance down to find a bar of soap flying from its plastic container. I bend my knees and snatch it up, then slowly extend my arms into the spray.

  Once I adjust to the heat, I get on with the business of washing my ass. The soap is a bar of musky patchouli. I scrub myself down and squint through the stream of water, back at the number display.

  Forty-five.

  Forty-four.

  Forty-three.

  It takes me longer than it should to realize it’s a countdown. I rush through the rest of the scrub down so that my rationed water doesn’t run out before I can rinse. I decide to focus on the important shit, then stand under the showerhead and rinse the lather down the drain.

  The water snaps off almost as soon as I finish. I step out onto the rocky surface and glance around for a towel. There is a small drawer next to the door leading back to the bedroom. I rush toward the drawer and yank it open.

  Piles of towels are folded up inside. I yank one from the top and pat myself dry. I wrap the towel around my waist as I head back to my room.

  No, not mine.

  I can’t turn this into a home.

  I pull on the coveralls still piled on the bed and finish dressing. I match all the other residents of Compound Six. Damn, I miss my old threads. As I slip on the matching boots. Movement echoes below me.

  Furniture bangs. Things slam shut. Muffled voices pulse up through the floor. I head for the bedroom door and stick my head out. I’m staring down a long hallway that leads to a set of stairs on my right.

  More low murmurs float up to me. I creep down the hall. The closer I get to the stairs, the easier it is to make out the voices. It’s two people, a dude and a female. I press my back to the railing and slide down the stairs. I focus on their energy and try to get a taste for what they are.

  I can tell they’re both like me. My feet hit the bottom step and I crouch down like I’m on a secret ninja mission. No idea why I’m sneaking around, but I go with it.

  I test their energy again. After several moments, I can tell neither are Muses. They’re the easiest for me to feel because I’m one of them. That leaves Spirits and beasties, or for the PC minded, Shifters. Me, I’m sticking with beasties.

  A feminine laugh rings out, then the clomp of footsteps closes in on me. I rush to stand up straight as the skinniest white boy I’ve ever seen in my life rounds the corner.

  He eyes me with interest, and I give him a head nod. Then, he shuffles toward me and rests his skeletal hand on the ball of the bottom railing.

  “Pike?” His beady brown eyes widen, and he leans in toward me like he knows me like that. “The Pike Richards?” His face flushes a tomato red that travels to his Dumbo-like ears. He extends his hand toward me. “Been waiting a long time to meet you!”

  Discomfort floods through me, but I manage to offer my hand. He grabs it and pulls me into an embrace.

  Awkward.

  He’s stronger than his shoestring physique lets on. I stare over his bony shoulder, trying to back away. No dice. “Uh… Okay.”

  With a loud chuckle, he pulls away and grips my shoulders. He grins down at me like he’s on that good shit. I reach for his hand and try to pry him off. It’s like trying to lift a boulder. I only manage to raise his hand a few inches.

  He laughs again. “Names Tripp Mason.” He jerks me out into the hall, and swings me around a corner and into what looks like a living room.

  How does this place have steroids?

 
Gripping me around the shoulder, he points to a girl seated on a maroon couch. “Meet the other member of the warrior’s three.”

  “The what?”

  He pounds me on the back and I go flying into the middle of the room. I scramble to keep my balance. My jaw clenches. Someone needs to learn a personal space lesson. Before I can say so, he’s beside me, pointing again.

  “This is Kiwi Grunder.”

  I glance back over at her and my jaw sinks to the floor.

  Dayum,

  This girl is fine as hell. The stripper name suits her because, dayum. She glances up and regards me with a neutral expression.

  “Hm.” She folds her arms over her award-winning chest and raises her thin eyebrow. “So you’re Pike.”

  She’s nowhere near as impressed with me as I am by her. She’s not traditionally beautiful, but she is impossible not to stare at. Her hair is close shaven except for the long, thick bang that swoops over the right side of her face. Big, bright eyes that almost look black. There’s some reddish brown powder rubbed around them. At first it looks like make up, but as I inch toward her I see that it’s a natural part of her skin. A mark of some kind from the gods.

  I shrug. “That’s me.” I flash the best smile in my I-wanna-tap-that arsenal. A gesture she returns by sucking on her teeth.

  “Well, whoopee for you. Glad you finally got it together.”

  I blink as Tripp laughs like a high otter. Shaking it off, I lean over and offer my hand. She stares at it, then gazes back up at me.

  “If I’d known such a beautiful lady was waiting, I’d have hurried my ass up.”

  Behind me, Shoestring chortles. Kiwi shakes her head and grins over my shoulder. She lifts herself up and saunters away, still shaking her heard. My gaze follows her.

  That body is ridonculous. That’s what my white buddies used to say about a body that won’t quit. Fit, yet curvy. Nice, plump ass. She can definitely get it.

  “Ouch,” Tripp says now that she’s out of the room. He strolls around and faces me. “Guess you aren’t her type.” He winks.

  He reaches out and runs his fingers across my cheek. I freeze, my brows furrowed. “But you are mine.”

  His eyes scan me up and down and I narrow my eyes. A hand plants on his hips and I shake my head. Oh, hell no.