Beneath Blood and Bone

by Madeline Sheehan

  My eyes widened. I had to work; Eagle had told me so. He worked at the garage, and if I didn’t work at the garage, that meant I wouldn’t be with him. And if I wasn’t with Eagle, then Liv could get to me. She could get to me, and she would make good on her promise.

  “No,” I whispered, my words lost in the breeze as Eagle continued dragging me off. “Please, no . . . she’ll kill me.”

  He stopped abruptly, bringing me to a hard stop beside him. Turning me to face him, he took hold of both my arms and shook me.

  “She won’t touch you.”

  I wanted to believe him. After all, he’d made good on everything he’d promised so far. But my eyes filled again.

  He shook me again, this time harder. “Do you fucking hear me, Squirrel? She won’t touch you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “How?” I whispered, my voice quaking as much as my body.

  Eagle’s grip on me slackened, and his frightening scowl loosened into a pained grimace. “I can handle her, but you need to listen to me. I’ll take care of Liv, and you listen to me. Every goddamn word I say, you hear me?”

  I had a million more questions, but judging by the look on his face, I knew I wouldn’t get answers. More tears fell and my throat tightened. Shaking from head to toe, I looked up into his eyes and nodded.

  The most peculiar thing happened. The lines on his face, the harsh set of his mouth, the bunched muscles in his shoulders—they all relaxed. His eyes even appeared to lighten some.

  He stared down at me, no longer angry, his face free of the many masks he always wore. He stared down at me . . . as just a man.

  And then, most surprising of all, Eagle released my arms, and his hand came to rest on my cheek. His warmth flooded me, infused my whole being with just a simple touch of his hand. Half of me wanted to lean into his hold on me, but the other half, my ever-present fear, kept me frozen in place.

  “What do I keep telling you?” he said, his tone soft, yet still gruff.

  My lips trembled, and my words stuck in my throat. Eagle’s gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered there, his pupils expanding, and the words I wanted to say all but fell away entirely.

  “Answer me,” he demanded. His gaze lifted, his dark eyes jolting me out of my shock.

  “That you’ll protect me,” I whispered.

  A moment passed in silence, then another, and another after that before Eagle’s eyes narrowed. Then his mask fell back into place, and he was once again the fierce and angry man I knew.

  “Let’s go,” he said, and started off across the grass.

  My breath left me in a rush of air that I breathed back in just as deeply. What was that? What had happened? And why had it stopped happening?

  “Squirrel!” he bellowed, and I stopped thinking and ran after him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Eagle

  Waving the last set of guards away, I marched quickly down the long hallway, stopping just before the red door at the end. Jeffers and Liv’s door. At the moment, Jeffers was meeting with his large battalion of ragtag guards he liked to call his army, and Liv wasn’t at his side. I hadn’t been able to find her at any of her usual hangouts, so unless she’d disappeared off the face of the earth, she was here, right beyond this ridiculous red door. Alone.

  Folding my arms over my chest, I kicked the door with the toe of my boot, once, twice, then pulled back and waited. Light footsteps could be heard, the sound of them carrying through the wood. The locks clicked and then, as the door swung open, I tensed, readying for the fight that was probably coming.

  Instead, Liv grinned when she saw me. Wearing nothing but a man’s flannel shirt wrapped around her, she let it fall open, baring her breasts.

  “Eagle.” She greeted me happily, the drawling accent she usually tried to hide out in full force.

  I sniffed the air. Yeah, she was drunk. And drunk Liv only ever wanted one thing. My dick.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the two guards stationed halfway down the hall, finding both of them leering at us. Rolling my eyes, I looked away and shoved Liv inside, then used my boot to slam the door shut behind us.

  I hated their place. Once Liv had shown up, she and Jeffers had commandeered the nicest and tallest building smack dab in the center of Purgatory. They turned what had probably been offices into a headquarters for the guards, then claimed the entire top floor all for themselves.

  Like me, Liv hoarded, but she hoarded useless shit. The large space had been cordoned off to resemble an actual apartment complete with a dining room, living room, bedroom, and bathroom, even a non-working kitchen. And maybe it would have been a decent place if Liv hadn’t gone off her rocker decorating with everything she hoarded—the wide variety of rugs ranging from oriental to ’70s shag, a half dozen couches with mismatched cushions, and art in every form she could get her hands on. Paintings covered every inch of the walls, and sculptures took up nearly as much space as the furniture, while miscellaneous junk had been strung from the rafters. Dream catchers, wind chimes, you name it, Liv had it hung somewhere.

  “I knew you’d be back,” she slurred. Shrugging her shoulders, she let the shirt slide free. As it fell to the floor and she gave me her back, she shimmied out of her underwear and made a big show of kicking them across the room.

  Liv wasn’t a beautiful woman. She was stick thin, her features pointed and exaggerated, and had an overall mean countenance. And then there was the fact that she lacked the one thing men loved about women—there was nothing smooth or soft about her, nothing inherently innocent or that oozed femininity.

  I guessed it was why she decorated herself. The pink hair, the piercings, the skimpy clothes, it was all her desperate attempt to draw the attention of men who wouldn’t normally have given her a second glance. Not that it mattered to me either way. I didn’t fuck Liv for her looks; I fucked her for one reason and one reason only. To scratch an itch, an itch that so far only she had been able to adequately scratch for me.

  Funny thing, though; I wasn’t itching for it today. Hadn’t been itching for it in a while, actually. I was here for another reason—to make sure Liv stayed the fuck away from Autumn. Because Autumn was the sort of female you protected. Smooth and soft—crazy, yes—but innocent as fuck and very feminine.

  “You threatened her,” I said.

  “Where do you want me? Here?” Liv pulled herself up onto an old-school chopping block set up as a kitchen table. Spreading her legs, showing me everything I’d already seen a hundred times before, she rolled her hips, beckoning me.

  “She has my brand,” I gritted out. “You can’t touch her.”

  Liv’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, so you don’t want to fuck me on the table.” She hopped down and sloppily skipped her way across the room, then dropped down on one of the couches.

  “Here?” she asked, patting the cushion beside her. “Or maybe like this?” Sitting up, she turned around and folded her body over the back of the couch. “You wanna fuck me like a dog, E, show me who my master is?” Lifting her ass up in the air, she giggled manically. “I know you want to.”

  Want to? No. Figured I would have to? Yeah.

  I’d known this was going to come down to one of two things—either I kept fucking her to keep her off Autumn’s back, or I turned around right the fuck now and never came back, and let the dice land and roll where they must.

  “And look,” Liv cooed, her ass still in the air. “You can see Jeffers from the window.” Glancing over her shoulder, she gave me a sickeningly sweet smile. “You can watch him while you fuck me.”

  I stared at her, feeling both disgusted and turned on. She knew my favorite flavor of fucking. Sick. Raw. And with a big old helping of pain. Hers or mine, it didn’t matter.

  “You’re fucking twisted,” I growled.

  And you’re not? the voice asked. You left that sweet girl at home so you could come here and do . . . this?

  My teeth ground together. Shut up.

  The voice laughed, a sharp and biting s
ound that made my insides curdle. There are other ways, it said. You know there are other ways.

  Kill her? I shot back. I can’t fucking kill her; you know I can’t. If I killed her, shit would go bad for me, and if it went bad for me it would be worse for . . .

  Autumn, the voice finished. And that’s the real problem, isn’t it? That’s the real reason you’re here.

  A vision of Autumn and Adam at the garage earlier today invaded my thoughts. The way Adam had been looking at her; the way she had been looking at Adam.

  I was protecting her.

  You were jealous.

  My hands curled into fists. I was protecting her.

  Another image came, this one of Autumn staring up at me, her face streaked with tears and her full bottom lip quivering. I’d touched her, put my hand against her face.

  You wanted her, the voice accused me. You wanted her and it scared you, and now you’re here.

  I’m protecting her!

  You’re lying to yourself. That’s all you ever do is lie. Take the girl and leave. Leave this place.

  Running a hand through my hair, hating how goddamn long it was getting, I blew out a furious breath. There were too many women in my life—too many people, period—and shit was getting too damn complicated. I couldn’t just leave. Autumn was too new, they’d never let her past the gates, and if I pushed the issue I’d end up with a battalion of guns aimed at me.

  Besides, where the fuck would we go? There wasn’t anywhere to go. Autumn might want to return to whatever hole she crawled out of, but I sure as fuck wasn’t going to live in a pile of dirt.

  So go on then, the voice sneered. Go on and fuck her, you spineless piece of shit.

  I didn’t respond; I was already storming across the room, unzipping my jeans as I went. I was going to fuck Liv. I was going to fuck her because I had to, because if I didn’t, she’d do her damnedest to get to Autumn.

  The voice laughed. Lies, it said, laughing hard and long, louder than ever before.

  Gripping hold of Liv’s hip with one hand, I positioned myself at her entrance with the other.

  “I knew it,” she said in a low voice, squirming against me, pushing back and forcing me inside her. “I knew she wasn’t enough for you. Tell me she’s not enough for you.”

  Grunting, I shoved inside her. Liv’s pussy swallowed me whole the same way it had done many times before; the same way Liv swallowed everything she touched, utterly and without mercy. I wrapped one hand around her thigh, spreading her wide for me, and my other around her throat, also things I’d done hundreds of times before.

  And the voice continued to laugh. It laughed until my head started to throb.

  And then, while she bucked and cried beneath me, I fucked her, just as I’d done so goddamn many times before. But unlike all the other times, the anger never came, the need to hurt her never fucking came. If anything, all I felt was the need to finish, to fuck her faster and end this bullshit as soon as possible. Then, unlike ever before, with anyone ever, I found myself not even wanting to finish, and consequently grew soft inside her.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Liv shrieked. She slammed her ass up against my hips, twisting her body so viciously, she had to be hurting herself. “Hurt me, you fuck! Fuck me harder!”

  The voice began to laugh so loudly then, so cruelly that the ache in my head turned downright stabbing.

  I’d never been afraid of pain. I could take it or leave it, ignore it if I had to, even enjoy it to an extent. But this pain was different. This wasn’t just physical. This went deeper than skin and bone to a place buried within me; the same place that I’d used to hide from pain was now giving it to me in spades.

  Flashes of faces burst free in my mind’s eye. Red hair. Blue eyes. Dimples. Little hands. Little smiles. Big, wide-eyed grins. And then they were gone, replaced with eyes clouded by infection and colorless skin sagging off bones. Little hands covered in blood, little smiles turned to snarls. Gunshots echoed in my subconscious, the force of them causing me to sway heavily.

  I staggered backward, feeling sick, unable to hear anything but the laughter in my head, to feel anything but the stabbing pain behind my eyes. Pulling up my jeans, I turned to leave.

  The rest was a blur.

  The color red was all I could see. That goddamn red door, and red hair, and little hands covered in bright red blood. And the red on the American flag bleeding into the other colors until the flag was nothing but red and dripping, no longer swaying in the wind but hanging limply from its pole, the red bleeding onto the ground below it, seeping into the earth, spreading outward as far as the eye could see.

  I burst free from the building out into the dimming sunlight, gulping down lungfuls of warm stagnant air. Quickly, I rounded a corner and gripped the stone wall, grateful for the shade and privacy. Bending down on one knee, I placed my hands on the cracked concrete and heaved, emptying my stomach contents. It was nothing much, mostly water and whatever crumbs I remembered to shove down my throat, but that didn’t stop my body from reacting. I continued to dry heave until I was covered in sweat and breathless with exertion.

  When the heaving finally stopped, I swiped the back of my shaking hand across my mouth and pushed myself to my feet. The laughter had stopped, and the pain in my head was slowly receding. Leaning back against the wall, I took several deep breaths and faced the sky.

  I’d wanted to touch Autumn twice now. The first time was when I’d woken up beside her and watched her sleep, and now today. But once I had, once I’d felt her smooth softness, I’d wanted more than that.

  But she wasn’t Jenny, and unlike Wildcat, she didn’t even resemble Jenny. And I hadn’t wanted a woman like that, needed to just touch a woman, one simple touch, since . . . Jenny. And to top it off, she was too young, naive as hell, and completely off her damn rocker.

  But I liked that about her, didn’t I?

  I should have never said her name. There was too much power in a name, too many memories associated with it. I’d said her name and let her back in, and with her came the memories, and with the memories came the guilt. The motherfucking crippling guilt.

  You didn’t need to say my name, Adler. I’ve always been here. We’ve all been here. Right where you left us.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Autumn

  My groan echoed in the small room. Letting out a breath, I forced my fingers to relax, swallowing back the next heavy sigh that threatened. I would never have guessed that stirring would be such trying work, let alone exhausting and downright painful. But it was.

  Exhaling, I picked back up the large wooden spoon and sank it back into the pot of liquid brewing in front of me. I kept my gaze on it, just as I was told to, watching as the green leaves folded in on themselves, curling and crinkling before turning to mush. The longer they soaked, the stronger their scent. Rising higher in the air, the bitter scent swirled along my senses, causing me to sneeze.

  “It smells bad, I know, but it’s good for headaches. And seeing as how the store shelves are empty, we need to make as much as possible.”

  Alice, the wife of the only doctor in Purgatory, slipped into the room and pulled the door softly shut behind her. She was a sweet woman, young, pleasantly rounded with pretty features and dark brown hair cropped short, even shorter than mine. But more importantly, she was a kind woman. At least to me.

  Eagle had brought me here yesterday evening and introduced me to them both—Alice and Jonah—and then asked them for a favor. A job for me in exchange for whatever they needed, as long as it was in reason. It had taken some convincing on Eagle’s part, the doctor was worried about what Jeffers or Liv would have to say about it, but Eagle was adamant. And just like everyone else I’d seen Eagle go up against, they too backed down.

  “It’s almost done,” Alice said, looking over my shoulder at the mush. “Bring it to a boil and then place it near the window with the others to cool overnight. I need to get back into the exam room.” Her tone was gentle, her
breath soft against my cheek, and for the first time—not counting Eagle—I didn’t feel compelled to move away from her.

  “You’re doing good,” she said, smiling as she turned away. “A real quick study.”

  I watched her leave, headed back into one of the two connecting exam rooms, the same one that Jonah was in along with a patient. A man had arrived earlier, hobbling and with tears in his eyes. I’d heard only bits and pieces through the closed door. Words like “gout” and “too much damn drinking” and “undercooked meat.”

  I didn’t know what gout was or how it happened, but I didn’t want to. It sounded awful.

  Still, I liked being here. I’d thought I would hate it, being away from Eagle and the safety he provided me. But it was . . . nice. This place, Alice and Jonah, and the smells of so many different herbs and flowers constantly brewing, it was all rather calming. In fact, it was probably the calmest I’d felt since being dragged through the gates of Purgatory against my will.

  Once the headache concoction was bubbling, I slipped on an oven mitt and removed the pot from the stove and set it near the window to cool. It was the first batch I had made without any help from Alice. Tomorrow I would be separating it into a large carafe, readying the concoction for anyone who had a headache and had the means to trade for it. The entire day had left me feeling useful, and surprisingly proud of myself.

  Taking a seat on a stool near the window, I peered down at the marketplace. It was evening now, and the walkways were the emptiest I’d seen them all day. Eagle would be coming for me soon, and I was eager to see him, excited to tell him about my day.

  The exam room door opened and Alice appeared with Jonah following behind her, both of them wearing grim expressions. Shaking his head, Jonah closed the door behind him.

  “Is he okay?” I asked, wondering why the patient had yet to leave.

  Alice pressed her lips together. “No,” she said sadly.

  “There’s not much I can do for him,” Jonah added. “Not without the right medicines. All I can do is try to keep him comfortable.”