by Kim Faulks
“You are mine, Titus Banks, and don’t you forget it. There’s no leaving…”
“Not even if you wanted to,” Rival murmured behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Rival and Gabriel standing in the doorway.
“Don’t stop on our account,” the hellhound murmured.
Gabriel shook his head and glanced at Titus. “He needs you, Lorn. Go to him.”
There was no jealousy in this moment.
Not even a hint of possessiveness in their eyes.
“Touch her,” Titus growled. “I don’t want it to be just about me.”
“It is about you,” Rival urged. “We got all the time in the world to share.”
And that was all the encouragement both of us needed. I dropped my hands to his belt and worked the end free. He gripped my arms, feeling the movement as I popped the button on his trousers.
I couldn’t get enough, grasping his hand and dragging it to my lips. I kissed his swollen knuckles, his hands, his fingers cupping my cheek.
This was more than sex now, deeper than the physical need for release. I speared my hand inside his trousers, tugging the zipper wide. This was about connecting any way we could.
His hands dropped to my thighs, one gripped tight while the other slipped across and low, finding tender flesh before moving higher.
I wanted him there…needed him there. I fumbled at the waistband of his briefs as I clenched my ass and rose higher. His fingers brushed my crease, slipping against my clit.
I leaned in and closed my mouth over his as I clenched my fist tight, riding the smooth skin of his thick shaft. His moan tore free, raw and guttural, and the metallic taste of blood bloomed in my mouth.
He was mine, and I was his…together we would battle the world. I rose up, breaking the kiss long enough to glance over my shoulder.
Hunger raged in Rival’s eyes as I pushed the head of Titus’ cock against my opening. Gabriel swallowed hard, lips parted with the sight, as I relaxed and drove my hips down.
“Jesus,” Titus moaned under me.
I rode his body, grinding my hips against his.
“Fuck him,” Rival urged. “Make him never want to leave us ever again.”
Those words swept me away. Muscles clenched tight inside, I gripped my shirt and yanked, sliding the fabric over my head to cast it aside on the floor.
My nipples tightened under the cool air. There was a groan as I rose higher, but this time it’s wasn’t in desire. Titus reached for my waist, calloused fingers skirting the ache along my ribs.
I glanced down to the dark purple skin, and then to his tortured gaze. I was losing him…losing him to guilt and rage. Hell no! I rose up and sat down hard, sending a shock wave through his body. “Mine,” I snarled. “You are mine, and I am yours. I belong to you…I belong to you.”
He spread his fingers across my ribs. There was a second where the spark in his eyes dulled—where a thought tore free…I’ve lost him—until rage roared to life, shooting stars across the deep blue of his eyes.
Hard fingers dug into the soft flesh of my hips as I leaned forward. His mouth found my nipple, his lips closed over the puckered flesh, and warmth consumed me.
His hips drove harder against mine, still it wasn’t enough…never enough. He broke his mouth away, holding me steady and twisted me to the side before he leaned forwards, pushing until my back hit the plump cushions of the sofa.
“Could’ve lost you,” he snarled through clenched teeth, and rammed his cock inside me. “Could’ve hurt you…all my fault.”
The assault was brutal, driving deeper, harder, until his warmth spilled between my thighs.
Taut muscles bulged under my hands as I gripped his shoulders. There was a manic gleam in his eyes, an unhinged desperation that started and ended with me.
“Could’ve lost you,” he repeated and slid from my body, only to ram home once more.
My breasts jiggled with the thrust. “I’m here,” I croaked and held on. “I’m right here…and I’m yours.” He flinched, pulling away from that abyss to find me. I opened my legs wider, lifted one foot to hook around his waist. “I’m all yours.”
“Take her,” Rival urged. “She needs you.”
Titus seized me with his gaze. He saw me now, really saw me.
“I love you,” he growled as he lowered his body, pressing his chest against mine as he pumped his hips. “I fucking love you, Lorn.”
My breath seized with the words.
I held on while he fisted the soft cushions and drove harder against my body. Warmth turned into heat, licking between my thighs. A shudder coursed, squeezing, tightening, and then I was lost to him—and to me…and to everyone.
I threw my head back against the cushions and arched my spine. Inside my head I was racing toward that peak.
“Look at me,” he grunted. “Lorn, look at me.”
I dropped my head and barreled toward the summit, and, in his gaze, I saw it…not the perfect peak, but the wide open blue sky. My body gave a jerk and then a shudder, and I was flying, pinned underneath him while Titus gave one sudden jerk and then a low grunt—I soared, swept away by the confession he uttered moments before. “I love you, too, Titus. I love you, too.”
His arms trembled and then collapsed. He was a heavy weight against me, his hard chest pushing against my body with every breath. But I didn’t want to change a thing—not for this second…not ever again.
I sucked in the morning air and closed my eyes, catching the sound of the floorboards creaking behind me. They moved with barely a word, both men headed for the kitchen.
Cups clinked, and then the coffeemaker was filled. I slid my hand over his muscled shoulders and felt the hard rise of his breaths. He was spent…more than spent, and still he lifted his head and set those crystal blue, bleary eyes on me. “Your package.”
My lips were numb, stretching into a smile as I nodded. “Just one more second. Lie…back down.”
I had little strength left, but my gentle press against his head pushed him down. I just needed him here. I needed his weight, his scent. I needed the feel of him softening inside me and those perfect words ringing inside my head.
He was mine…they all were mine.
The hiss of the coffeemaker cut through my thoughts.
“The box,” Titus murmured. “She wouldn’t have sent you just anything.”
His words were the fear that gripped me. First the stake in the company.
I shifted my head against the cushions and stared at the cardboard box. She already gave me my future…so what the hell is this?
My past…that tiny voice whispered.
Maybe…it’s my past.
Chapter Seven
Lorn
I stared at the cursive scrawl on the box and waited.
“It’s not gonna open itself,” Rival muttered. “Or it could, maybe, if it was spelled. You think it’s bespelled?”
I jerked my gaze to the hellhound. “No, I don’t think it’s bespelled.”
The damn cardboard box was just that. Plain. Boring. Nothing to see here, just keep on moving, and yet…
And yet…my damn fingers trembled.
I clenched my fist and tried to still the shake.
“I’ll do it, then…” Rival surged forward, giving me a gentle nudge on my shoulder as he reached for the box.
But I was fast, lunging like a snake to snatch the damn thing from his grasp. “You do, and you’ll feel a damn flame you’ve never felt before.”
“I love it when you talk dirty like that,” he murmured, and instead knelt to snag my shirt from the floor. The devil waited in his eyes when he rose and took a step, holding the damn thing out to me.
I yanked the fabric over my head, and let it fall into place. He knew how to press my buttons, knew when to push.
You think the hellhound just happened to be in the neighborhood? Don’t be a fool, girl. I taught you better than that...
I flinched with the words, fingers gr
ipping the corner of the box, and the spark of excitement dulled.
“Lorn?” The smile slipped from Rival’s face. “What is it?”
The words were like barbed wire. The more I struggled, the tighter they pulled. I could almost feel the sting, almost taste the metal. I swallowed and shook my head. “Nothing…I’m fine.”
But the moment was lost as I moved to the sofa, stolen by the creature’s words.
“It’s not fine, something’s obviously bugging you. Talk to me. Hell, talk to us, tell us what's eating you, and maybe one of us can help?"
I forced a smile and lifted my head. All three were looking at me with the same damn worried confusion. “I’m fine, really…just exhausted. Just ready to be done with all of this. I just want someone to be straight with me, and then I’m ready to move on.”
“Then maybe this could be the start of that?” Gabriel murmured as he strode across the living room and perched on the sofa’s arm.
He glanced at the box, and then to me and, for a second, fear gripped me. What if it was? What if, once I knew everything, it changed me?
Or us…what if it changed us?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Titus growled, his husky voice filled with conviction. “And that’s never gonna happen.” He strode closer and knelt at my feet. “Look at me, and I want you to hear me loud and clear. I’m in this for the long haul, and I can speak for the others that they are, too. So no more doubts, no more fear. Open the damn box and let’s start this journey together.”
He was right. He was so damn right. I took a breath and looked at the box on my lap. “Yeah, okay…let’s do this. Does anyone have a—”
A jackknife was pushed into view before I even had a chance to finish. I lifted my gaze and grabbed it from Rival’s outstretched hand.
We got this…that’s what every one of them was saying. It was that strength I held onto as I opened the blade and pierced the tape. The knife made short work of the seal, freeing the top.
I yanked open one side, and then the other. There was a letter on top, just one sheet of paper, not even tucked away in an envelope. I grasped the letter and stared at my grandmother’s writing
Lorn,
I know you’re angry and you have every right to be. I’m sorry you left on such bad terms last night. I only ever wanted to protect you. I hope in time you’ll see that and know that everything I’ve ever done has been because I love you.
Don’t follow your mother’s footsteps. Be different. Be you.
All my love,
Alma.
“What does it say?” Gabriel murmured.
I held out the letter as a weight settled in my chest. The slip of paper fluttered, the edges bouncing in the air as he took it from my grasp and read it aloud.
“Don’t follow in your mother’s footsteps? What does that mean?” Titus muttered. “She doesn’t give a whole lot away, does she?”
I shook my head and glanced inside the open box. “No, she never has.”
There were books in there, leather-bound like the ones I saw on my grandmother’s table last night. I reached inside and dragged the top journal free. There was a buzz of energy so faint I barely felt it…like a flicker of a thought…calling.
The navy-blue cover was smooth under my hands, the color lighter in the middle from years of being touched and held. Years of being a tether to the one person she longed for.
Something I never had.
I opened the cover and started at the small, perfect, straight-up-and-down writing.
This book belongs to Steph Goodchild.
To see her name like that…in her writing—knocked the breath from my lungs.
I traced the scrawl with my fingers.
I’d never seen anything like this.
Not her writing…not even heard her voice.
I went my entire life not knowing if the huskiness in my tone was because of her.
I thought about that all the time…I thought about her all the time.
I flicked through the pages as she wrote about ‘these creatures,’ the ones with glowing eyes, the ones with fanged teeth.
The ones that hid in the dark.
And the ones who walked in the open.
It wasn’t a diary, more like the faint beginnings of a journal detailing what she saw, and what she now knew to be lies—until her truth became something she knew—not something she’d been told.
I flicked through the rest of the pages and then reached for another book. Lies. Human history had been built on them, fables and half-truths designed to keep the humans on one side of the line and everyone else on the other.
But where did it end? And, more importantly, when did it start.
The brown cloth was rough under my fingers. I pulled the hard-back journal free and opened the cover. There was more of the same, but with every book, that faint ache in my senses grew, like a whispering…find me…
I pulled ledger after ledger from the box and sat them in a pile on the table, not even bothering to open the covers.
I knew by touch…by the feel of my other senses, that none of them was the one I wanted…but I was getting close.
“Ah, Lorn?” Gabriel murmured.
I never lifted my head, never broke the connection to that murmur growing louder inside my head. I could hear her…that tiny whisper—that voice. My mother’s voice. My fingers trembled as I tore the thick, bound book free and ripped the corner of the cardboard box.
“Lorn,” Rival tried to break in. “Lorn, what is it?”
I couldn’t see them now. Not the leather-bound edges or the off-white-colored paper inside. I could only hear her. Only sense her.
My pulse sped, like the hoofbeats of a thousand horses.
She was trapped in here, confined within the pages…her whispers were screams, tearing through the roar inside my head.
“Lorn, babe…” Titus reached for me, trailing his fingers along my arm.
Until, with a jerk, they fell away. I yanked book after book free. One slipped from my fingers to drop on the floor, still I didn’t stop until, with a brush against the worn leather, power raced like a lightning strike through my veins.
It was tiny, dwarfed by all the other books in the box, large enough to fit inside a pocket. The blood-red leather was creased along the spine, was it worn from her…or from Alma?
“This is it…” I murmured.
Movement crowded me. I could feel their tension…their excitement and their fear. Emotions swirled around me like a tornado, causing my fingers to tremble as I reached for the soft leather cover.
This book belongs to no one and everyone. I don’t want anyone to read this…I don’t even want to read this myself. But I have to tell someone…
I jerked my head up with the words and stared into their eyes; blue and brown crowded in. “This is what I’ve been searching for.”
“Maybe you should wait…” Orange flames danced in Rival’s eyes as he glanced at the journal in my hands. “Maybe it isn’t safe.”
I shook my head, “It doesn’t matter.”
And it didn’t. Darkness hummed through my body, deeper than any sigil could reach.
She was here…in my veins…in my mind and with the whisper of a ghost in my head, I opened the first page.
July
Jay…Jay…Jay…Jay.
He’s not my type. But then again, who is? No one’s going to love a quiet, weird girl like me, and Mom would KILL ME if she found out. But I’m nineteen…and I’m not gonna stay a teenager forever.
He says he’s into me. He says we don’t have to tell anyone just yet. We can just sneak out and meet up to see a movie or something. I want to know what ‘something’ actually means, but I don’t want to be one of those giddy girls who swoon and giggle, but I like him.
He’s different and I like him, and I think I am going to go out with him. Maybe tonight after Mom goes to bed, maybe tomorrow—God this is hard! Just do it. Stop being such a wimp. Okay. Gonna sign off now…
not a diary…(snort)
Not a diary. That’s what she called it, but words had power…I knew that better than anyone. And this was her power, right here…maybe not written in blood, but written with the kind of energy that left a mark.
Love. Hatred. They were just as powerful as each other. And I didn’t need to turn the page to feel both calling me.
Feathers rustled as Gabriel leaned forward, fingers outstretched, reaching for the journal in my hands. “Can I have a look?”
No!
The word was a scream in my head. I snatched the book from his grasp and shoved to my feet. They were looking at me with that strange, confused expression…looking at me with that same fear. I stumbled sideways. “I’m sorry. I’m not ready. I just…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Titus answered, and reached out his hand.
I’d seen this movement a hundred times. You spoke to unhinged people this way…people you’re unsure of—people you don’t trust.
And the sad, lonely expressions made sense.
They think I’m acting crazy.
I turned my head to glance at the soft plush sofa. I’d had sex there, opened myself to them…gave myself to them.
Come, Lorn. You belong to me.
Out of the dark empty pit, the beast came with a guttural voice that wrenched me back to that lonely highway.
Fingers snapped in front of me. Titus had his hands on me, gripping my shoulders…when did he grip my shoulders? I flinched as Rival snapped his fingers in front of my face one more. “Hey, you hear us?”
I swallowed hard, clawing myself away from the memory to whisper. “Yeah…yes. What happened?”
“Where the fuck were you just now?” Titus snarled. Those bleary eyes were wide open now, shining bright with fear. “Lorn, talk to us.”
“I…I don’t know. On the highway, there was a…a…” my voice drifted along with the memory. Dark eyes surfaced as a shudder tore free. “A hag maybe.”
“A hag? What kind of fucking hag?” Titus growled.
His fingers were hurting, grinding into my bone.
“Dude, easy, hey?” Rival broke in.
