Beneath Blood and Bone

by Madeline Sheehan

  I laughed loudly, the harsh sound echoing in the large space. “Is this some new rule I’m not aware of? Whatever happened to shoot first, ask questions later?”

  Liv’s smile turned venomous and downright deadly. “Jeffers isn’t going to stand for this,” she snarled. “This will be the last straw, Adler. We let you slide all the time, we let you do whatever the fuck you want, and this is how you repay—”

  The knife that had been in my hand landed neatly in a chest of drawers directly to Liv’s right, mere inches from her head. She glanced at the blade, still wobbling from impact, and took a step away.

  “Don’t speak to me about Jeffers,” I whispered darkly, stepping forward. “Don’t give me this ‘we’ shit. This place, Purgatory, isn’t yours, you insane slut. The only ‘we’ in this equation is me and Jeffers. We started this place, we let you in here, we fuck you—”

  “I’ll tell him!” she hissed, raising her chin defiantly. I’ll tell him about—”

  I cut off her tantrum with a swift grab for her throat, using my hold on her to drag her up against me. As I glared down at her, my fingers twitched around her throat. “Tell him,” I taunted her. “Tell him how the only woman he’s been with after losing his wife has been fucking his best friend. See how well that turns out for you.”

  Liv sucked in a sharp breath of air, and I couldn’t tell if I’d angered her or turned her on. Probably both. As for me, I was just plain pissed and damn well sick of her shit. I seemed to have little patience for anything lately, least of all Liv.

  “Make no mistake, Olivia,” I growled. “It’s you who’s owned, not the other way around.”

  Releasing her, I held my ground while she took a hesitant step back and cleared her throat.

  “He’d kill you,” she whispered, her eyes bright with anger, her nostrils flaring. “You know he would.”

  “Correction,” I muttered. “He’d have you killed. And he’d try to have me killed. We both know Jeffers doesn’t have the balls to do anything himself. But none of those useless sacks of shit you and he have doing your dirty work have ever bested me at anything. So you go ahead and tell him, and we’ll see who’s running this place in the end.”

  Lies. All lies. Who really knew what Jeffers would do if he found out about Liv and me? All that mattered right here and now was that Liv clung to him, to the freedom and the power he provided her, even when he couldn’t provide for her in other ways, sexually or emotionally. If she lost Jeffers, she lost her power, and she knew it. It was the only card I had to play at the moment, so I played it.

  “So, what’s it gonna be?” I asked, giving her a tight smile. “You going to pit me and Jeffers against each other and start a war that’ll end up destroying this kingdom of yours? Or will you turn your scrawny ass around and get the fuck out of my house?”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she sniffed. “Give me the girl,” she said snidely, “and we’ll call it even.”

  “No.”

  I wasn’t giving Liv jack shit, especially not squirrelly shits-her-pants who was probably right now covering herself in her own shit again. I saw the look on Liv’s face, the dollar signs flashing in her evil, beady little eyes, and knew exactly what she was thinking. And I wasn’t going to let that happen, not to this girl, not as long as I could do something about it.

  But why? the voice whispered. Why does she matter when no one else does? When I didn’t?

  I hadn’t seen it coming, the sucker punch from those three simple words, causing me to falter. I sucked in a hard breath, releasing it quickly only to suck in another. I couldn’t seem to get enough air; there wasn’t enough air in the room. And all I could see was her. Her red hair, her blue eyes, and the snarl on her face as she lunged for me. And all I could hear was the pounding coming from inside the bedroom closet . . .

  “Are you fucking joking?” Liv shouted, shocking me straight out of my unwanted memory. “You can’t keep her! She doesn’t belong to you! Jesus, Eagle, forget the man she killed, do you know how popular a piece like that would be with the men around here?”

  Liv was right. The girl would be a hit. The men would line up for twenty minutes with her, pay whatever price Liv asked, give away half their supplies if she deemed that the price. Liv would reap all the benefits, leaving the girl like all these other girls, broken and used up, with nothing to show for it. But the girl didn’t belong to me. Not yet, anyway.

  With an impromptu plan forming, I turned away from Liv and headed into the bedroom to find the girl once again cowering in a small space, this time between a stack of boxes and a large broken safe. She was still naked, still wet, still filthy, and she still reeked.

  “Get up,” I ordered her, crooking a finger. “And get dressed. Right the fuck now.”

  Shivering, she stared at me with her eyes narrowed and full of distrust, and made no move to do as I said.

  “Let me clarify,” I said. “You will do as I say because you don’t have a choice in the matter. I’m all you’ve got. Unless you want to be trapped in a room for who the hell knows how long, spreading your legs for whoever pays for it. Are we clear?”

  Her mouth tightened even as her eyes filled with tears. She knew she didn’t have a choice, and I didn’t blame her for being angry with me. Oddly enough, I didn’t blame her for her tears either. In fact, the only thing I felt as I glared at her was . . . pity.

  She took her sweet time to get to her feet, making no move to cover herself this time, and pulled herself to her full height before she stepped out of the shadows. Droplets of water still clung to her body, and it almost seemed as if she were covered in tears.

  “Look at her,” Liv said softly as she came to stand behind me.

  The girl’s water-logged eyes went wide with fear at the sight of Liv, and acting on instinct, I moved in front of her, blocking her from Liv’s view.

  “You need to trust me,” I muttered to the girl, grabbing the first article of clothing I found and tossing it at her. The shirt fell to the floor as she stared at me blankly, her lips trembling.

  Bending down, I scooped up the shirt and brought it down over her head. “Just stay quiet, do as I say, and I’ll make sure no one touches you. Understand?”

  She said nothing, didn’t even nod in response. It was too much, I guessed. She’d reached her breaking point and was shutting the fuck down.

  Cursing under my breath, I tried to right the shirt over her body. Then, once she was covered, I pulled her forward and scooped her up in my arms, then stormed past Liv and out of the room.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Liv called after me.

  “Branding her!” I shouted.

  A moment of silence followed as I reached the door, the quiet proof enough that I’d shocked Liv without having to see her.

  “What the fuck, E?” she screamed shrilly. “Why?”

  I was outside when I answered, making a sharp right that would lead me toward the complex with Liv racing after me.

  “I want her,” I said simply, and grinned. A declaration like that coming from me was sure to send Liv into a tailspin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Autumn

  When I could no longer hear the screams of the pink-haired woman, promising the both of us a colorful assortment of all sorts of violence and pain, I finally opened my eyes. Through thick hanks of wet hair, I peeked up at Eagle, hating the feel of his hands on my bare skin, his body so close to mine.

  My skin crawled at the feel of him, of his skin on mine. Warm. Alive. Unwanted. His contact was sending my nerves into overdrive. The feel of his skin on my skin—my bare skin—was too much.

  The hot sun beat down on me, and a light breeze blew through my hair. Every strand was on fire, every nerve ending sparking wildly. Sensations I hadn’t felt in so long bombarded me from every direction, making it hard to think straight.

  Did I trust him? The answer wasn’t simple. On one hand, I did. He’d saved me without explanation and hadn’t asked anything in return. On
the other hand, maybe he would want something in return. Later. When I was fully healed, and clean again.

  But trust was irrelevant right now. Right now I needed him. Right now all that mattered was that once again he was saving me from these people and the things they wanted from me . . . and to do to me.

  I could hear my father now, his deep voice hoarse with his impending death, making me promise to stay away from everyone, to never, ever trust a single soul, and to be especially careful around men.

  Those had been some of his final words to me. Trust no one. And I hadn’t. For so long I had been alone, never daring to trust a single soul. Only now I didn’t have a choice; I was being forced to put my shaky trust in someone else time and time again, forced to trust a strange man, no less, and forced to trust my instincts instead of my long-dead fathers’s wisdom.

  Eagle had said he would make sure no one could touch me, but he hadn’t elaborated on when or how or why. He’d been right, though, when he said he was all I had. So I hadn’t fought him when he’d dressed me, or picked me up, or carried me out of his home, headed to God only knew where.

  Blinking through the brightness, my gaze found the side of his face, the hard angle of his jaw, and the long bristles that covered it. There was an awful power within this man, power and strength and a barely restrained violence just beneath his surface. He was a man to be feared, a man who did as he pleased, and a man who cared little for the well-being of others. So, why was he constantly helping me?

  A shudder racked through my body, icy cold as it dragged sluggishly through my veins, and I could hear my father warning me away from this dangerous man. But my father didn’t understand. He wasn’t here; he hadn’t been here for a long time now. He hadn’t seen the things I had, hadn’t lived the life I’d had to live after his death. Right now I needed to trust that this man would make good on his word, and believe the childish notion that not everyone in this godforsaken world was either evil or dead, that there was still someone out there who meant good rather than harm. Someone who still cared.

  A myriad of smells hit me, yanking me from my thoughts. Food, people, smoke, and biters. And then the sounds followed. Voices, lots of them, ranging from chatter to laughter and even shouting, and my heart hammered with fear.

  They were all bad.

  Even Eagle was bad. One look at him and I’d known this, but he had promised to help me. If he were all bad, he wouldn’t have made such a promise, would he? He wouldn’t have hidden me away, would he? He would have hurt me by now, surely he would have. He would have done more than simply stare at me when he’d seen me naked. He wouldn’t have looked away like he had. I had to believe it, had to keep telling myself he wasn’t going to hurt me.

  But these other people . . .

  I continued to stare up at Eagle, never once taking my eyes off him, refusing to look anywhere else, at anyone else. It was too much, too soon, this place and all these people. Too much had happened and in such a short period of time. There was no time to adjust, to breathe, to do anything other than try to survive.

  I only had him. Eagle was my tether. He and he alone was what kept me from losing it all over again. Because he was all I had.

  So I stared hard, not blinking, not flinching even when the creak of a door would have startled me, even when the sound of unfamiliar voices was so close I knew if I reached out I could touch them.

  “Get the fuck out,” Eagle barked, the rumble of his voice vibrating in his chest. There was a scurry of feet and a cacophony of muttering, and then Eagle set me down. My body tense and trembling, I continued to look only at him.

  “What the fuck is that smell?” a male voice asked. Whoever the man was, he sounded confused, and far too close to me for comfort.

  Eagle had moved away from me and was now standing in front of a small window, his muscled arms with the black skulls all over them folded across his chest. He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes met mine, seeming surprised to find me staring back at him. An odd expression tugged at his features for a mere moment before it was gone. Guilt, maybe?

  Scratching aimlessly at the beard covering his chin, with his jaw locked, he was once again scowling at me, and I began to wonder if this was his only expression.

  “Forget the smell,” Eagle said, his eyes leaving mine. “I need you to brand her.”

  Brand me. There was that word again. Branding. Brand. He’d said it to the crazy woman, and now he was saying it to another. What did it mean? The word held little meaning to me other than its relation to livestock. Was that what was going to happen to me? Would I be branded with a hot iron like cattle? My eyes widened in surprise and my body tensed, but I still didn’t look away from Eagle. I would fight them if I had to. I wouldn’t simply sit here and let someone hurt me.

  “She fucking stinks, dude,” the other man said, and I could hear the grimace in his voice.

  Eagle sighed and shook his head. “Just do it.”

  I couldn’t deny my curiosity any longer and finally tore my gaze from Eagle to tentatively survey my new surroundings. Tray tables on wheels surrounded us, covered in a scattering of small items that I couldn’t quite make out. An old refrigerator, lacking a door, took up residence in one corner of the room, and a wide variety of tables of different shapes and sizes lined the small room. The walls, from what I could tell in the dim lighting, were covered with colorful artwork consisting of painted landscapes, hand-drawn birds, and abstract depictions of women’s faces.

  Seated on a small stool directly beside me was a bearded man, his head shaved, and with far too many piercings in his face for me to actually make out any distinct features he might have. He stared back at me, saying nothing, and I struggled to hold his gaze to prove that I wasn’t afraid of him, but I was. I was incredibly afraid of him and everyone else in this horrible place.

  Breaking eye contact with me, the man let out an irritated sigh. “Jeffers approved this?”

  Eagle didn’t answer. His gaze was once again on me, looking me up and down. “Stop shaking,” he said coldly. “You’re going to break your fucking teeth.”

  I swallowed hard, a pitiful attempt to do as he asked, but my body wouldn’t obey me.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “Branding.”

  “Branding,” I repeated slowly. Confused, I glanced around the room, looking closer at the shadowed objects.

  “Tattooing,” he said. Holding up his arms, he balled his large hands into fists, making his biceps flex, and the skulls tattooed on them rippled with the movement.

  “I know what a tattoo is,” I said, irritated. My father had a tattoo, nothing fancy or biblical, just my mother’s name across his bicep with a tribal design encircling its entirety. It had been ugly and tacky, and I had never understood why he had it. He’d always kept it hidden, and it wasn’t something he ever told people about.

  “Great,” he snarled, sounding irritated. “You’re about to get one.”

  “Why?”

  Walking toward me, he leaned over the chair I was seated in, his large frame towering over me, his form casting a shadow so menacing it instantly cooled the stale and stifling air in the room. Shivering again, I dropped my gaze to my lap.

  “I told you to trust me,” he said, his voice low. “I told you I’d protect you, and this is the only way I can do that. It’s not just a tattoo, it’s a brand. It’ll mean you’re mine and no one else here can touch you.”

  “Yours?” I asked, startled by the word choice.

  “Mine,” he confirmed with a grimace.

  I didn’t like the sound of that. It sounded too much like my only other option, which wasn’t really an option at all. But he’d promised to protect me, and he’d cared for me this long already.

  “This is the only way, Squirrel,” he continued. “Unless you want to be sent back to the Cave and passed around like a joint at Woodstock, you’re getting branded.”

  “Squirrel?” I whispered, blinking.

  “Squirrel,” h
e answered evenly, and without further explanation.

  The sound of metal grinding against concrete startled me, and I turned to watch as another unfamiliar man entered the room. Beardless, with his head nearly shaved and tanned, darkened skin, he looked curiously at me. He was considerably younger than Eagle, but nearly as large and equally as imposing.

  “Jesus,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose as he closed the door behind him. “What the fuck is that smell?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eagle

  “You owe me,” I countered, drawing myself to my full height, several inches above Don, and giving him a hard look.

  The tattoo artist could fight, but no one here could fight as well and as proficiently as I could. Although he was six years younger than my own thirty-six years, I was stronger, faster, and a far more efficient killing machine than he ever would be simply because he didn’t have the stomach for it. Don was a bleeding heart, a strange combination of hippie and anarchist, always rooting for the underdog in a world where only the strongest, and the sheep that were willing to fall in line and follow, survived.

  He was also a damn good artist, and for that reason alone Liv and Jeffers kept his leash long and unguarded. Liv, if she was even capable of love, sure as hell loved her art. The entirety of Purgatory was filled with it—paintings, portraits, and sculptures. Although she never created any of it herself, she both collected and hoarded everything she could get her hands on.

  “I owe you a lot,” Don agreed with a nod. “But you know how much shit I’ll get in if Liv and Jeffers didn’t approve this. You’re putting me in a hard position, man.”

  I sure as hell was putting him in a hard position, but he was right, he did owe me. Nearly everybody did; I made sure of that in case I ever needed to cash in. In the early days of Purgatory, I’d purposely thrown several fights in the pit, faked injuries and fatigue just to spare Don’s life. And now here I was, cashing in.