Twist (A BDSM & Romantic Erotica Boxed Set)

by Tara Crescent

  “Alright. Alright, fine.” Bryant hugged her tight again, letting out a breath against her hair. “Can you at least fire a gun?”

  Phee couldn’t fire a gun, but by the time everyone was leaving for their assignments she knew how to unload and reload one. How to take the safety on and off. How to hold it properly, and how to aim.

  She hadn’t actually fired it yet.

  Bryant grabbed her as a group was leaving, “We have to go now for the timetable to work right. Are you sure you want to come with me? I’d rather you stay here. Safe.”

  “If the COF raids this place while you’re gone, I’m as good as dead. I’m coming with you, Bryant.” Phee leveled her eyes at him with a confidence she wasn’t sure she felt, but on a night like tonight she wanted to be close to his fire. She wanted to be near that righteous power that was flooding through the veins of every member of the resistance that had heard his speech. Everyone had a name written on their heart, a name that drove them towards their actions. Hers was Helen, her mom, and she wasn’t going to back down now that she was old enough to make the right choice.

  There would be no hiding tonight.

  “Okay, Phee, then come on.” Bryant nodded and led her over to the table where all their weapons were laid out. He took two guns, a silencer, and several full clips to stash in the pockets on the sides of his pants. Then he picked up a gun for her, checked it, and handed it to her. Like she’d been taught she checked it again, made sure the safety was on, and then slid it into the back of her pants. She took a clip too, tucking it into her back pocket. Then he was fitting her with a jacket, a little small across her chest and shoulders, but he said if they had an accident it would still help protect her skin.

  Then they were outside, standing next to his bike, except now they each had a helmet. Just as she was about to put hers on he stopped her and kissed her. The strength in his arms bent her backwards until she was forced to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on as his mouth devoured hers. It was the kind of kiss that she had dreamed about, the kind of kiss that quite literally felt like it could sweep her off her feet. It left her dizzy when he leaned back and they were both catching their breath.

  “I just want you to know, in case anything happens tonight, that I was always going to call you. I was going to call you even with this planned in two weeks, because I knew that no matter what I’d be happy in these weeks if I got to spend them around you.” Bryant ran his thumb across her bottom lip and his smile was bittersweet.

  “Well, I want you to know that no matter what happens tonight, I’m glad I taunted you into asking me out. I’m glad I went on a date, and saw the art in the park, and went home with you. I’m glad I met you, Bryant.” She made herself smile back, making it brighter than she actually felt on the inside.

  “I’m glad I met you too, Ophelia.” The way his voice said her name sent a chill over her and he pressed another kiss to her lips, before letting her go so he could climb on the bike and steady it. His helmet went on, and so did hers, and then she was behind him again and the motorcycle was roaring to life. The dense fog made driving sort of terrifying, it was why she’d never learned to drive. The buses were terrifying enough to be in, she couldn’t imagine trying to drive through the fog, but Bryant didn’t seem nervous at all. His body leaned as he turned and the bike roared across the streets, heading North towards downtown and his uncle’s house on the Northwest side.

  They couldn’t really speak as they drove, but she felt the first booming explosion like a ripple through the air itself. Phee could have sworn the fog actually moved with the shockwave, and moments later the fog glowed in the distance, reddish gold from a fire. Bryant pushed the bike harder, the engine roaring, and the ground disappeared beneath them, the lines on the road passing under them to be sucked back into the fog and the dark. The streets downtown were busier, the downtowners standing around to watch the fires grow. Screams echoed up the block they were on when another explosion went off, and then chaos started. They could hear sirens in the distance, a fire truck sped past them and clipped a car that tried to pull out ahead of it. Suddenly there were too many cars on the road, people trying to get home, to get to safety. Bryant cursed under his breath when he had to stop the bike hard to avoid a car that had pulled out in front of him. She could feel the tension in him as he evaluated the situation. A moment later he hopped the curb and drove down the sidewalk, with the thinner fog downtown people had more warning to get out of the way as he revved the engine.

  Then they were heading North, out the other side of downtown where Phee had never gone. Large houses, shifting into bigger houses on larger lots, and then massive estates ringed in dark fences. The fog was almost non-existent up here, the barest haze causing an atmospheric halo to lights in the distance. As they turned up a street Phee looked back over the city, the golden glow of fires making the fog glow in eerie ways, the shifting patterns of it lit from within. Bryant sped up, the bike straining as he pushed its limits, and then he suddenly braked hard and the tires squealed in protest. He put the stand down and hauled her off the bike before ripping his helmet off and dropping it. Two men came out of a guard post near a massive gate and Bryant rushed towards them.

  “Holy shit, the city, fuck – Tony, have you seen it? They’re rioting! There are fucking explosions!” Bryant sounded panicked and he moved closer to them, his hands in his hair.

  “Bryant?” One of the men spoke, recognizing him as he got closer to them. Between one breath and the next Bryant had pulled out his gun and shot the one who had spoken to him, the shot was nothing more than a loud puff of air. The other man went for his gun and tried to shout, but Bryant was ahead of him. He turned and brought his knee into the man’s stomach and shot him in the head as he fell to the ground. Then he turned and held his hand out towards her, completely calm on the surface where her heart was pounding. She ran forward and clasped his hand as he leaned into the guard box and opened the gate. The driveway wasn’t very long and they were at the front door in no time.

  “You stay with me inside. Right with me. And if I tell you to run, you run. Back out this door, down the drive, and towards the city. Lose yourself in the chaos, okay?” Bryant squeezed her hand, “Promise me.”

  “Okay, I promise.” Phee said the words, but inside she didn’t think she’d actually be able to leave Bryant behind. For some reason, the reality of dying on this night, with all the other resistance sprites crawling across the city, finally showing their teeth – it just felt right.

  “And take this.” He let go of her hand and dug out a small flip phone. “It’s only got three numbers in it. If anything goes wrong, just keep calling them until someone answers. Tell them what happened, and where you are, and they’ll get to you.”

  She took it from him, gripping it hard. “We’re both leaving this house, Bryant. Stop acting like I’m leaving by myself.”

  He smiled a little. “Look how fierce you are, and you called me the warrior.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’m just preparing you, that’s all. Take your gun out, safety off, but keep it pointed at the floor until you want to shoot. Ready?”

  Phee tucked the phone into her empty pocket, followed his directions and nodded, the weight of the gun in her hands was an odd feeling. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

  He nodded and unlocked the front door, slipping the key in his pocket before he eased it open, pushing the door with his back so his gun was up. He swept his eyes across the foyer and then tilted his head for her to follow him. They immediately moved to the stairs, walking up slowly. Near the top a man turned onto the stairs and gasped, Bryant shot him in the head and then lunged forward to try and stifle the man’s drop to the floor. It kind of worked, but a grown man becoming dead weight in an instant was still kind of loud. Phee could tell Bryant was worried someone had heard them, and he stilled and listened as she tried to hold her breath. Suddenly the sound of air moving in her lungs was too loud, her pulse pounding in her ears was a timp
ani.

  It felt like they stood there forever, and her mind drifted. He really was a warrior, a fire-wreathed warrior king, his crown made of burnished gold that glowed in the heat of the flames. How had she ever imagined him as anything else? He was fierce, and brave, and passionate – and he was nodding at her to follow him. They walked carefully down the hall until he stopped at a door. He took a breath and closed his eyes, and then he shoved the door open bringing the gun up.

  Phee stayed outside for a moment, leaning against the wall. Then she heard a cold voice speak, “Why, hello Bryant.”

  “Charles.” Bryant’s voice was full of a fierce energy.

  “What happened to uncle, Bryant?” The chill in that voice made her nauseous.

  “You’ve never deserved that title, Charles.” Bryant growled out the words, and Phee stepped in behind him.

  “And who is this?” Bryant’s uncle was behind the desk, looking as put together as he had at the café. Tailored suit, not a hair out of place, and both of his manicured hands raised under the aim of Bryant’s gun.

  “She is the girl you put out a kill order on. Just like you did to my parents, to your own brother, you – you fucking BASTARD.” Bryant shook a little as he shouted, his grip on the gun tight.

  “Ah. That explains quite a few things.” His uncle leaned back in his chair, but kept his hands raised. “I had wondered when I got word that the team failed to eliminate the girl, and then that we couldn’t locate you, if you were involved. It’s clear now that you were, and even more clear why. Am I to assume that those explosions are your doing as well?”

  “The resistance is taking the city back from the COF tonight. I’m only doing my part.” Bryant spoke clearly.

  “Oh, son, we both know you’re capable of doing so much more than just following those weak willed peons.”

  “DON’T CALL ME SON!” Bryant shouted, and fired a shot into the desk to the left of where his uncle sat. His uncle didn’t even flinch. “You do not get to call me that! You held my fucking hand at their funeral, Charles! You told me to be brave! You said that my mother would want me to hold my head up high, that my father would want me to be a man.” There were tears in his voice, and her heart broke for him. “And you killed them! Why did you do that? Why did you do that when you were the one that killed them?!”

  “You’re such a disappointment, Bryant. So short-sighted. Just like my brother. Neither of you could see the grand picture, the whole view.” Charles sighed, “I put so much time and effort into you, so much, and this is what you become?”

  “Fuck you.” Bryant spat.

  “Childish and petulant. Will you never grow up, Bryant?” Charles turned his eyes to her and she felt a chill rush over her skin. His eyes were a pale blue, and they froze her in place. “Why bring the girl with you? Are you truly that infatuated? So infatuated that you revealed your hand before you needed to?”

  “Leave her alone. You never should have even gone after her! Or am I not allowed to have anyone except you? Is that it? You wanted me all alone so that I’d listen to you, so that I’d follow you?!” Bryant shouted, and Charles turned his eyes back to him. Phee hated the ache in his voice, the pain of facing the man who had both taken everything from him, and at the same time raised him.

  “You really are a disappointment, Bryant.” Charles spoke evenly, and then suddenly he had a gun in his hand and the shot fired before Phee even had the chance to scream. Bryant stumbled back, dropping the gun as his hand went to the wound, and then he dropped to his knees. She started to move towards him and Charles swung towards her, “Oh no. You stay right there, Ophelia.”

  Hearing her name in that arctic voice made her whimper, her hands shaking. He looked her up and down, and then he gestured towards the gun in her hand.

  “Drop it. It’s not like you’d actually use it anyway.” He had victory in his voice, and she hated it as she let the gun slip from her fingers to the floor. Looking over at Bryant, she kept waiting for him to stand up again, to pick up the gun and save her, but he wasn’t moving. She imagined him cloaked in dimming flames. The king of fire had met the king of ice, and the heartlessness of the king of ice had won out.

  “Why? Why would you do this?” Phee looked back up at him and he laughed.

  “Ah, now you ask the right questions. Not why I’ve done things I’ve already done, but why did I do this. Why, of all people in the world, would I put a kill order out on you?” Charles moved around the desk, walking towards her with measured grace. She shook as he got closer. He reached up and traced the still warm barrel of the gun across her temple, into her hair, and then down the side of her face. “It’s amazing.” He shook his head, laughing softly to himself.

  “Wha- what’s amazing?” Her voice shook as she tried to stay still.

  “You look just like your mother.” His words were like a blow to her chest. All of the air went out of her, and she felt sick and off balance, like the floor was being tilted under her. When her eyes found his again it was clear he was reveling in her panic. “When I picked that café… seeing you surprised me. I wondered if you would remember me, Ophelia. Then again, you were only three when I met your mother.”

  “No.” Phee mumbled, trying to fight against the idea that he had known her mom. But then his hand was trailing down her waist to her hip, his other hand keeping the gun against her head – a clear warning to stay still.

  “Oh, yes.” Charles smiled, his fingers digging into her side. “Take your clothes off.”

  Her world tilted again and she whimpered, shaking her head. He hit her sharply with the butt of the gun, the blow to her temple making her dizzy as she stumbled back.

  “That wasn’t a request, Ophelia. Strip. Now.” His eyes ran down her and she glanced over to Bryant, but he hadn’t moved. She bit down on the urge to scream, or sob, or rant and rave.

  Grabbing the zipper on her jacket she yanked it down, pulling it off her shoulders to throw it aside. “How did you know my mother?”

  “Keep stripping and I’ll tell you.” He gestured to her with the gun and stepped back to sit on the front of the desk as he watched. Phee gritted her teeth and yanked her shirt over her head, refusing to even remotely make it sexual, or show him the fear he obviously wanted. “God, you’re so much like her. All defiant pride. She was just like that. She was never intimidated by me. I met her when I stepped up to the counter to order a coffee before a meeting, she called me out from halfway down the queue. Told me I wasn’t special and that I needed to get in line like everyone else.” He laughed and snapped the fingers on his free hand, pointing at her to make her continue.

  She imagined her mom calling him out, all brave and feisty. Then she lifted one foot and yanked off her shoe and sock and threw them to the side, and repeated it with the next one, fighting the urge to throw her shoe at his smug smile. “And then – what? She just melted to your charm? Give me a fucking break.”

  “Not at all. I wanted her, because she didn’t want me. And everyone wanted me, Ophelia. I was the rising star in the COF, and everyone wanted to latch onto that.” He sighed, “And your mother was beautiful, like you, but she wasn’t the kind of woman you bring to events. She wasn’t the kind of woman you marry,” he laughed like the idea was a joke, “She was from the fog, she had a bastard child that no man had ever claimed, and she told fanciful stories to anyone who would sit and listen to her. At first she didn’t want to see me, but I helped her support herself, support you, and so she gave in.”

  “You were so pathetic you had to bribe my mother for sex? That’s your story? That’s why you wanted to fucking kill me?”

  He fired a shot into the floor next to her and she jumped and screamed, her body shaking as she tried to calm back down from the sheer terror that had overwhelmed her for a moment. Of all times she needed to be brave, to be a warrior, now was it. In her mind she was strapping on armor, even as she was stripping off her clothes. He spoke again, still uncomfortably calm, “Ophelia. I fucked your mother b
ecause I wanted to, just like I’m going to fuck you. But no, that is not the whole story. Take off your pants, and do it slower this time, after all, you don’t have much left to take off.”

  Phee tried to steady her shaking hands as she worked at the button on the pants the resistance had given her, and she dragged the zipper down as he started talking again.

  “Your mother was silly, or at least, I assumed she was silly. With all her fairy tales and wild stories in her head all the time. I wasn’t as… careful as I should have been around her. I made calls, I brought my work with me to her shitty little apartment. A few times, when you were with your grandparents, I even brought her to my apartment and let her stay there if I had to run out for a meeting.” He paused to watch her drag the pants slowly down her thighs, stepping out one leg at a time. “Lovely. Anyway, she learned too much. She started talking about the COF, telling stories about the COF, and I couldn’t have that. So, I – helped her condition a little. Gave her some things that made her hold on reality a little less… firm.”

  “You drugged my mother?” Phee couldn’t get a full breath, her entire life was shuddering around her, cracks spider-webbing through all of the ideas that had formed the foundation of who she was.

  “Yes. It took a few months for the damage to be permanent, but I’d say it was worth it. No one ever believed her, did they?” Charles smiled. “Take off the rest of it, Ophelia.”

  She stumbled back from him, the shockwave of his words rebounding inside of her. So many false truths. So many things that she had always believed, that everyone had told her to believe.

  Mom was sick. Lie.

  The Cabal of Freedom never tried to hurt your mother. Lie.

  She couldn’t take care of you. Lie.

  You’re better off without her. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie.

  “NO! GOD DAMMIT! WHY?!” Phee screamed, hot tears tracing her cheeks as she grabbed her hair, trying to breathe through the burning ache in her chest.