The Uprising (GRIT Sector 1 Book 2)

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “But-”

  “I didn’t walk here, did I? And I’m not leaving my car here. Take it back to the Estate. I can deal with this with Recovery.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” I tossed him my key. “Be nice to her.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He left quickly and I stood in front of the horses, each one dragging the first coffins our victims would lie in.

  “You don’t move.” I walked towards the horses, pacing along the row as I addressed their riders. “You don’t look, you don’t assist, you don’t even acknowledge you’ve been here tonight. This didn’t happen…understand?”

  They all nodded and varying timbres of ‘yes, sir’ whispered across the distances between us.

  “Good.”

  I turned and headed back into the house. We were taking an unnecessary risk, because of my compulsion to protect GRIT. We were alone, in the dark, in the centre of the city with no protection. My gun couldn’t save us all, and the recovery men weren’t permitted to carry weapons, in case one of them got power-hungry and decided to begin an uprising.

  Twelve bodies. I had to move twelve bodies by myself, so as to protect faith in an organisation I no longer fully believed in. How had this happened? How had I let this happen?

  One by one, I threw the bodies over my shoulder, carried them down the worn staircase infested with mites and mice, and slumped them into their awaiting carriages. When all twelve were in place, I pulled the final lid closed and climbed in The Plough. I didn’t bother to lock the doors or click the armour into place; I roared the engine and watched the horses as they raced past me and led the way home.

  Was it odd that I didn’t miss him? Was it wrong that I was glad he’d spent the day doing whatever it was an outlaw did, and I didn’t pine for him? I’d thought about my parents, why my mother didn’t have a story, and why I didn’t have the right to know what my father’s story entailed. I’d thought about Richard and Mae, wondering if they’d had ulterior motives when they adopted me—that they hadn’t loved me at all, merely plucked me from an orphanage or something because I fit the bill of what they wanted. I’d never heard the story of my adoption. I knew I’d lived here with my parents before they were killed and…

  The village.

  I didn’t care that darkness had fallen and night had descended on the estate. I was safe here, if at risk from the people who resided here. Standing from the bed where I’d been trying to sketch Elias without making him look like a magnificent monster of death and seduction, I grabbed my dressing gown and rushed to tie the sash as I shoved my feet into a pair of flat shoes and left the room. My feet still smarted, but barely. My stomach still twinged from being knocked over the bush earlier, but it was tolerable. My heart ached, because I knew. I knew why I couldn’t spend time in the village. I knew why I was supposed to stay away and remain locked in the story of GRIT. I knew Elias knew too, which meant he’d lied to me.

  I ran down the stairs and reached for the handle of the front door. It opened first, barely missing my head as a dark force of night stepped inside.

  “What are you doing?” Elias asked.

  I couldn’t see him in the dark. I couldn’t search his eyes to see who had joined me. I couldn’t watch his body language to judge his reaction to seeing me when he’d left me alone all day. He was dressed in black, but he no longer had his suit jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt were shoved up to his elbows. I felt his warmth, the light spray of dark hair on his forearms and the tight veins just beneath the skin, as I touched him and took a tentative step forward.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I whispered, hoping he’d be nice. “What are you doing?”

  “I’ve been out.”

  “GRIT stuff?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you lying?”

  A pause. Then a sigh. “Yes.”

  He lunged at me, capturing my face in his hands as his lips crushed to mine and drew the oxygen from my lungs in one powerful kiss. I closed my eyes, gripping his arms and let him guide me back to the wall behind the front door.

  “Elias,” I sighed, tipping my head back as his lips found my neck.

  They were warm and wet and I shivered as he sucked and nipped on the skin.

  “Elias, stop.”

  “Don’t talk,” he growled, taking my hands and raising them above my head. “I just want to kiss you.”

  I nodded, allowing him to capture my lips again. His mouth slid effortlessly over mine, but with a ferocity that frightened me. He was afraid. He was scared of something, and it transferred to me. I wanted to protect him and chase the fear away. His hands caressed my neck as his tongue danced with mine. His thumbs stroked my cheeks as he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. His fingers threaded into my hair as he swallowed the moan that escaped me and pressed his body flush to mine. His kiss killed me, because it was desperate and devastating and destroying. It held every slither of vulnerability I’d once wanted to expose so I could kill him…but it was Elias who slaughtered me. He slaughtered me with love. He savaged me with sensation. He slayed me with sadness. His kiss took my soul’s hand and led me to the guillotine. All I had to do was kneel down, and it would all be over.

  “Trixie,” he whispered, granting me mercy and pressing his forehead to mine. “Trixie, baby.”

  When he allowed me to return from the euphoric place I drifted to when his hands and mouth were on my body, I opened my eyes. Elias’ chest was heaving, his breaths hard and heavy. His lips were swollen and glistening, calling for more kisses. His eyes were dark and filled with more conflict than any war battled over the centuries where our story was crafted.

  “Elias,” I breathed, cupping his face and allowing my gaze to slide over his body.

  That’s when I saw it.

  Blood.

  “What happened?” I shrieked, pushing him away.

  He stumbled back, but frowned with confusion.

  “What?”

  “The blood isn’t yours?”

  “Oh.” He looked down at his shirt, and tugged it out of his trousers before unbuttoning it. “No, it’s not mine.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s not new for me to be covered in blood, Ashford.”

  I swallowed and took a step forward. “Are you covered in blood for the right reasons? Or the wrong ones?”

  His eyes met mine and for a second, I thought he’d tell me. I thought he’d break down the walls himself and let me in.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Like hell it’s not.” I stopped for a second, when he yanked the shirt down his arms, onyx cufflinks springing free. He crumpled the shirt in his monstrous hands and threw it to the floor. “You’re my husband and GRIT is my business, too.”

  “Not yet it’s not.”

  The anger bubbled. I felt it threatening to erupt deep in my stomach, and I saw it threatening to spill over into Elias’ actions.

  “You know what?” I threw my hands in the air and took a step back. I knew if I pursued this, it would be me aching and bruised in the morning. “Fine. But my body is none of your business. My heart is none of your business, and my love has nothing to do with you. You can come and find me when you’re ready to stop being a child.”

  I grabbed his shirt off the floor—why, I have no idea—and stormed up the stairs, leaving Elias standing in the foyer in shock.

  I knew why he wanted to create a fight. His answer was to pummel and if I’d have stuck around, I would have lost him to a man from another time who had no place taking control of my body. I knew he was hurting—I knew he needed me to make it better, but he wouldn’t let me. No matter how hard I tried, how much I pushed or stepped back and let him come to me, he didn’t. He was a law unto himself and there were no rules when it came to playing with Elias Blackwood.

  I was tired of the game.

  I was bored of being locked up here waiting to be spoon
fed carefully weaved stories that would confuse me and answer questions GRIT thought I had the right to know about. The right was mine. The whole fucking organisation was mine and it was about time Trixie Ashford took her place. No more easing Elias’ conscience. No more giving him space and time to figure his shit out. I’d done enough. I’d never needed a man in my life, and I didn’t plan on needing one now. Elias Blackwood could go fuck himself.

  I slammed the door and locked it behind me, growling to the moon outside my bedroom window as I stripped out of my dressing gown and pyjamas, and threw my shoes across the room. I was so angry, so frustrated, so desperate for daylight to hurry up and grant me time to do something, that I was spiking a fever, sweating with chills that I had no idea how to deal with, and I fell on the bed on my stomach, squeezed my eyes shut and cursed fucking capital until I fell asleep.

  I should have known he’d come for me. I should have known by now, that there was no point in locking a door on Blackwood Estate. Elias had a master key for every room and he had no respect for privacy or personal space.

  Warm hands gripped my ankles and a sharp tug slid me down the bed and dragged me from the last remaining comfort of slumber.

  “What are you-”

  A hand covered my mouth and my eyes opened wide to look into nothing but darkness.

  “Shh, princess,” he whispered, his voice gruff. “No speaking.”

  I swallowed hard as the smell of whiskey and cigars slid over me. I hated that I loved it. I hated that he’d woken me after letting me go to sleep angry, and now he was drunk, having spent the night controlling his thoughts and coming up with stories and plans that would keep me docile for a while longer…until the next time.

  He kissed my forehead—three kisses, right, left and centre. He kissed the bridge of my nose and grazed the tip, before he removed his hand and covered my mouth with his lips. I fought him, but we both knew I’d give in. When I parted my lips and allowed his tongue access, he groaned, as if thanking some higher power that I hadn’t denied him. His cock was hot and hard in his pyjama pants, rubbing me as he pulled my legs around him and locked my ankles together. I arched my back, sliding out of his kiss to offer him my neck. He obliged, licking, biting and sucking the soft flesh until I felt warm blood rise to the surface. Everything about him tonight was sensual and careful; slow and measured; heavy with regret and light with the knowledge that I was his…whatever happened, I was his.

  “Trixie,” he breathed.

  “Elias,” I whispered.

  “I need you to talk to me.”

  I nodded after a quick kiss and sighed when he rolled his hips. I smiled when he stroked the hair away from my face.

  “Something happened tonight. Something unexpected.”

  “You don’t deal well with the unexpected.”

  My breath hitched as Elias edged back and slipped his hand into my underwear. One finger found my clit and stroked with perfect pressure. One finger pushed inside me and I clenched in welcome.

  “Elias…”

  “Shh…”

  “But-”

  “I changed my mind,” he said, cutting me off with a four-word explanation. “Now I want to make you come.”

  “Please.”

  “Shh…”

  Why didn’t he want me to talk? He hadn’t wanted me to ask him to stop earlier, so he could force himself upon me, and now he didn’t want me to ask him for it, so he could take what he wanted and know I wanted it too.

  I nodded, letting him take us to wherever he wanted us right now. The best thing I could do was give him control and learn to live with—and love—each Eli who joined us on our journey. His finger eased in and out, his other finger keeping me on edge. His free hand cupped and squeezed my breast, and his cock nudged the inside of my thigh. He was desperate to be inside me; I could feel the precum soak into his pants as his fingers fucked me with finesse. He knew exactly how to play my body and right now, I was happy to let him ease this tension and initiate a reconnection between us. My body coiled tight, heated from the inside out as a pressure built and my moans became more breathless, more frantic, and my stomach tightened as my legs quivered.

  “That’s it, baby,” Elias encouraged, leaning down to drink another of my moans. “Come for me, and then I can fuck you. Come around my finger and I’ll make you come around my cock.”

  God, his voice. It was like a remote detonator. It was soft and smooth like the whiskey on his breath, deep and raspy like the smoke from the cigar he’d had in the parlour. It was unrestrained masculinity, such a simple thing—to ask a woman to give you her pleasure; to promise her more with desire pooling in black eyes; to connect to her soul in a gentlemanly timbre with an animalistic touch that promised absolute fucking heaven. My mouth dried and my lips parted as my eyes squeezed shut, my back arched and Elias set me free. I came, my clit pulsing against his fingertip, my pussy clenching around the length of his finger, desperately searching to be filled and fucked.

  “Elias…”

  He didn’t say anything. He covered my mouth with his hand as he shoved his pants down. He stole my breath when he leaned up, wrapped my legs tighter around him and fisted the base of his cock as he eased it into me. Another groan rumbled along his throat and I leaned up to feel it on my tongue. Hooking my arms under his, I encouraged him to sit back, pull me onto his lap, and let me guide us. Let me lead us into something else; something with no promises, but no limits. I wouldn’t let him shut me out with a bullshit excuse about protecting me when I would happily burn in Hell with him if he asked me to. Elias pulled my hair as I gripped his shoulders and gave him all my weight, and his teeth nipped at my neck, my shoulder, my ear. I moaned as I rode him, feeling every inch of him inside me, swollen and thick and hot. I felt his balls against my ass, the prickle of his chest hair against my nipples, the raw power of his legs as he leaned back and thrust upwards. When he gripped my hips and took control of the pace, edging me back to tilt my hips up so he could grind against my G-spot, I cried out, called his name and mumbled a sigh of how good he felt.

  “Trixie,” he grunted, scraping the nails of one hand down my stomach, making me shudder and tighten around him. “Trixie, tell me you believe me?”

  “What?” I asked, fighting the sensation waging war on my body to try and look at him.

  “Believe that I’ll protect you. Whatever it takes, I won't let you get hurt.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elias stilled, his cock twitching deep inside me. I growled. “Don’t stop!”

  “Then say you believe me.”

  “I believe you. You won't let me get hurt. Jesus.” I gritted my teeth and hooked my hand around the back of his neck. My body was on fire, but my mind was cold, searching for meaning in the words he’d chosen to say now. “Stop this. Not now. Just…just love me.”

  “I do.” He held me still and plunged in as far as he could do. “I do love you, and that’s the point.”

  “Stop it.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Stop it. I choose the dungeon a hundred times over this. Just stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Talking. Not now. Talk to me when it’s over.”

  “When what’s over?”

  A guttural scream vibrated in my throat, as I planted my feet to the bed, grabbed his shoulders and pushed him as hard as he could. He smirked as he fell back on the bed, took hold of my hips and faked defeat as I took hold of him and lowered myself onto him. My nails dug into his chest, my legs burned with exhaustion and my lungs begged for my core’s release so they could inhale properly again.

  “You’re an arsehole.”

  “I know.”

  “You lied.”

  “What about?”

  I smacked his cheek, watching his eyes darken as a red handprint flickered its way onto his face.

  “You said we should push and hate and fight out there, but in here.” I took hold of his throat, feeling the vein thump against my fingertips and, to my surprise, his eyes lit up with aro
usal. “We’re supposed to be together. In this bed, this little box of safety, you’re supposed to let me in, not pepper me with bullshit. Now, make me come, come for me, and then tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “Language, Ashford,” he growled, the vibrations humming in his throat long after the last syllable.

  “Fuck you.”

  I knew what I was doing…distracting his mind from wherever it had gone. He loved it when I swore. It was enough to make him angry and aroused and it would result in an eruption of molten lust that would set us on fire and steal him away from thoughts of saying goodbye.

  “Trixie…”

  “Elias…”

  He flipped me, rolling me onto my back in a swift move that made my head lay over the edge of the bed.

  “I like that look.”

  With his thumbs digging into my hips, he shoved me further, until my back bowed and I had to press my hands to the floor to support my weight.

  “You don’t want to look into my eyes when I come?” I asked, trying to gauge which Elias I had with me.

  “No.” His answer wasn’t what I expected, but the tone was playful, somehow light but with the thick ripple of arousal. “I want to watch your cunt ripple around my cock, and then I want to watch my cum drip from clit to throat.”

  “Dirty blackwood.”

  “Filthy Ashford. You asked for this.”

  I nodded, already feeling the blood rush to my head.

  “I did…so give it to me.”

  Maybe it was time to show her. She’d impressed me with her fighting skills, I knew she had the seeds of intuition ready to blossom, and I knew, deep down, she had the ability to punish. She could do this and despite not admitting it, she wanted to.

  Trixie was still sleeping when I woke up just after sunrise. Autumn was upon us; we’d been granted an Indian summer but mornings were darker for longer and, gradually, we were losing daylight hours. It wouldn’t be long until night outweighed the sun and the capital felt like it was locked in perpetual darkness. For now, we were safe, but as the leaves on the trees began to turn a vivid orange before floating to the ground to die, reality crept in. The estates were safe. We were always safe. No, we had always been safe, but now? Now there was someone else out there, the underground was beginning to form armies that may outnumber and out-skill ours, and I had to find a way to deal with this and keep my family safe.