by Kyle, Celia
Before long, Deuce’s hips moved in tandem with her caress, compelling her to increase the force behind her ministrations. He upped the speed until he was fucking the circle of her fingers. The precum leaking from the tip of his cock lubricated his passage.
It was Deuce’s words that made everything so much worse. The syllables that reached into her jeans and rubbed her mound, flicked her clit and sank deep into her core.
“Yes… Give it to me… Fuck your pussy… So deep… Take my cock…” He was panting, body heaving and jerking in an ever-increasing rhythm. “God, Elly… So hot and tight… Gonna come in your cunt… Gonna…”
Her pussy spasmed, the barest hint of an orgasm, and Deuce came on her hand. She imagined the musky scent of his release filling the air as his creamy cum spurted from his cock. His hips lurched and body shuddered as the last remnants of his climax slithered through him until he stood still, panting beside her.
Gingerly, she released his softening cock and held her cum-soaked hand away from her body. It’d been…something. And she wasn’t quite ready to dissect her feelings. She didn’t want to think of the tremors of her barely there orgasm when she’d heard her name on his lips and his desire to come in her… No. She wasn’t thinking about it.
“Elly.” His voice was strangled, full of remorse, and she shook her head. She refused to look at him, embarrassment leaching into her body now that all was said and done. “I’m sorry.” Deuce left her side, snatched up a few tissues, and handed one over. “You can’t wash your hands…”
She couldn’t wash her hands because then his scent would be gone. Right.
Elly nodded, still not trusting her voice.
“I-I contacted my friends as soon as you went into the bathroom. They should be here in thirty minutes or so.”
Thirty minutes? That meant she’d spent at least twenty with her hand on his cock, stroking and pleasuring him until he came.
She gulped and nodded. “Okay.”
“Why don’t you see if you can shift one more time?”
“Okay.” She fled for the sanctuary of the bathroom.
* * *
Deuce crumpled the wet tissue in his hand, shuddering at the wet squish it made in his palm. Damn it. Shock had kept him immobile when she’d appeared, his protests dying on his lips when she approached, and then all thoughts simply fled at her first touch.
His mate had pleasured him, stroked him with her small delicate hand until he came all over them both.
God, now that all was said and done, he was sick to his stomach. Bile burned his throat and he pushed back the sour fluid. He couldn’t believe their first encounter had been in a home owned by Freedom and done purely to keep her safe.
The wet tissue in his hand cooled and he remembered he had to spread the scent around the room, fill the space with their apparent fucking. He rumpled the bed, tearing the blanket and sheets from the mattress, and then rubbed the delicate paper over the fabric. He continued by knocking things over in the room, rubbing his drying cum on random spots.
A deep inhale confirmed that the air was permeated with his heavy musk.
He checked the wall clock. Ten minutes.
He’d broken his watch, popped the back, and destroyed the tracking device the moment she’d stepped into the bathroom. The council had several contingency plans and the watch was part of ’em. The only reason for the chip inside his watch to cease working was if he’d been found out, and then they’d bring his internal tracker into play, zero in on him, and send in the cavalry.
Another look. Eight minutes. Elly was still in the bathroom. Damn it.
He took a step toward her hideaway. He needed her prepped and ready to run as soon as the alarms sounded.
Only more pounding stalled his progress. “Deuce!”
Fuck. Alistair.
He stomped toward his door and wrenched the thing open, uncaring that his dick still hung in the breeze. “What?”
The bear’s gaze drifted into his room, into the space showing evidence of a struggle, then encompassed his body and finally returned to his face. “Good. You got it done. Where’s the whore?”
He gritted his teeth and fought back the challenging snarl building within. “Bathroom. I didn’t want her blood staining my shit.”
“Smart.” The leader nodded. “When you’re done playing with her, send her on out to the living room. The other guys wanted to get a little taste and I promised—”
The alarm saved the bear’s life. One more word and Deuce would have ended the man and damn the consequences.
The whirling whine of the siren assaulted his ears, the sudden blinking red lights near blinding him with their intensity.
From the corner of his eye, he watched his bathroom door open a crack.
No. Stay in there a moment longer, Elly.
He couldn’t let Alistair see her healed and healthy. He couldn’t arouse the man’s suspicions.
The polar bear’s roar shook the air, trembling vibrations traveling through the wood, and a half-shifted maw barked orders. “Fucking council. Keep her here. I won’t have her taken.”
With that, the still-transitioning male raced off, leaving him alone with his mate. He pushed the door closed and tucked his cock back into his jeans, ignoring the wet spots that remained.
Deuce reached for the emerging Elly and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Come on. Time to go.”
A tug had her following him to the door and he wrenched it open. A peek down the hallway revealed that they were alone, the occasional shout and pounding of feet the only hints others had entered the mansion.
He moved into the barren area, one destination in mind.
Five doors down to the library. North corner.
They passed the main stairwell and a glance revealed the Freedom members and council soldiers engaged in battle on the first floor. He couldn’t see Alistair, but the polar bear’s roar was unmistakable.
Hopefully someone would kill the man.
With more speed than finesse, he yanked his mate after him, breaking into a jog as the library door came into view. A twist of a knob granted them entrance and he closed the door behind them. Hopefully no one observed them.
“Deuce?”
“Shh…” He kept them moving, racing past row after row of books and along the northern wall.
The click of the door had him pausing in his tracks, stilling, but then he picked up his pace. Someone had found them.
He skidded to a stop in the corner and tugged on books.
The Great Escape. Tom Sawyer. Huckleberry Finn.
One of the columns of books clicked, shifted, and then slid aside to reveal a darkened stairway. Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention and Deuce turned his head.
The man before him had him freezing.
“I’ll fucking kill you. You goddamned traitor!” Alistair McCain.
And he meant every word.
With a fierce shove, Deuce pushed Elly into the darkness and dived after her, hitting the pressure plate that would close the portal once again.
Snarls and roars of rage followed, but the door snicked closed, separating them from Alistair.
Rolling to his feet, he reached down and pulled Elly up. “Come on, time to go.”
“Deuce?” Fear tinged her voice and he stopped long enough to give her his attention.
“I swear to you, Elly. I’m getting you to safety. On my life, I’ll get you out of here.” He pressed his hand to his chest, assuring her the only way he knew how. He’d die for the woman before him without hesitation.
Not waiting for her response, he turned his attention back to the descending stairs and led her into the pitch black. The noises of battle receded the farther they traveled and, eventually, the hallway dumped them into a massive room.
Dim lighting illuminated the space, giving Deuce the ability to avoid various boxes that littered the area.
In moments, a body separated from the shadows. “Deuce? Who’s your friend
?”
“Stone, this is Elly. Elly, this is my friend Stone. He’s with the council and he’s going to get you out of here.”
A draft, gentle blowing air, stroked Deuce’s back and he watched as tension jolted through his handler. “You didn’t.”
“Stone, you don’t understand…”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Listen, she’s my ma—” That was the last syllable that left his mouth. The final word he’d tried to voice before the butt of Stone’s assault rifle collided with his head and sent him tumbling to the floor.
29
“Too bad there’s not a lost and found for people.” — Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville Pride, who was missing one of the twins. If only she could tell them apart and knew who’d wandered off. Kidlet tattoos were in their future.
Elly had slept for twenty-four hours. Twenty-four. At least, that’s what they’d told her.
Now, awake and fuzzy headed, she ached to slip back into unconsciousness. It was easier than facing her family.
Coffee cup in hand, she sat slumped in a cushioned chair, the scents of its previous occupants wafting over her. A sweating tiger, his fear clogging her nose, had been interrogated. Then a wolf.
She traced a watery stain on the left arm. Her mother’s tears. She wondered what they’d told her mom as she sat in the comfy seat. Had she been informed of Elly’s wounds? Her treatment? The fact that she still breathed?
Apparently it’d been iffy for a moment or two.
She remembered Deuce—gentle, gorgeous, careful Deuce… He’d saved her, dragged her from Freedom’s hellacious clutches, and brought her to the council’s soldiers. Stone, one of Deuce’s supposed friends, had slammed the butt of his gun into Deuce’s head and she recalled pouncing on the warrior, pummeling him with her fists.
He hadn’t done anything wrong.
But then… Things got fuzzy. She’d been on top of the stranger and then…she wasn’t. Searing pain blossomed in her side, her back, her thigh.
Pop, pop, pop.
She’d never forget that sound.
Elly hadn’t been conscious of anything. They’d told her about the rest of the rescue. That they’d carried her through underground tunnels to a helicopter waiting a mile away, gotten her to a hospital, and then waited for her to awaken.
Now she was sitting in what she’d deemed the “what the fuck” room.
What the fuck are they doing?
What the fuck have they found?
What the fuck is Deuce?
Okay, that should be where the fuck is Deuce.
Deuce… Her squirrel chittered, the angry tone recognizable. Elly and her squirrel wanted their lion. He’d saved her and he could damn well hold her hand. She’d held his dick, damn it. He could return the favor.
The only memory she snuggled tight against her chest was of the lion. He was her one and only bright spot during her time in hell.
The echoing sound of footsteps reached her. Click-thump-click-thump.
It was too heavy to be a woman, the rhythm wrong for high heels.
A man, then. A council member? Her uncle? Her father?
The doorknob turned, the latch releasing with a gentle slide of metal against metal. When the wood swung wide to reveal her visitor, recognition slammed through her. He was the one, the man who’d struck Deuce, the one she’d scratched and pummeled.
“Miss Martin.” His voice was deep, deeper than any she’d ever heard. Then his scent enveloped her. The ability had returned when she’d awoken. The crooked ridge along the bridge of her nose remained, however. The nurse told her she’d fought when the doctors recommended fixing the break. “I’m Stone Redd.” He reached out, something in his hand. “Here’s my card. I’m—”
Yeah, she’d wanted to keep the imperfection. It reminded her of…
“Where’s Deuce?”
Stone paused midmotion, a nearly imperceptible stutter, before going into action once again. He pushed the door closed and a low click signaled that the latch caught.
His scent drifted toward her, smelling of heavy forests and fresh rain. Gorilla. “He’s fine. Recovering.”
Liar. Lies stunk of rot and garbage, filling up a shifter’s nose with the noxious fumes.
“When can I see him?”
Stone eased into a chair similar to hers, his seat opposite her position. Again with the stilling, and she imagined the gears of his mind tumbling while he picked a new lie. “Prisoners aren’t generally allowed visitors. Especially their victims.”
Victims. She was a victim, yes, but not Deuce’s.
“I don’t think you understand. Deuce never… He didn’t—” Pain strangled her, choking her until it hurt to push words past her lips. How could they ever think he’d harm her?
“Ma’am, we have a therapist on staff. She specializes in rape cases and we have her on standby for you. Would you like me to get her?” Worry and anxiety replaced the stench of his lie.
“Rape?” Elly spat the word. “You think…”
Oh, god, no.
“Miss Martin, should I get the doctor? I don’t want to traumatize you further. My questions can wait.” The unease increased and Stone squirmed beneath her gaze. The big bad gorilla looked afraid of the squirrel.
It was almost funny. Almost.
“Deuce didn’t… He never… I wasn’t raped. Period. Now, where’s Deuce?”
“I see. Perhaps it’s best if you speak with the doc now. Maybe after you two talk we can continue our interview.”
Elly shook her head. “No, I can tell you what happened, beginning to end, without someone here to hold my hand.” She could. She would. And she wouldn’t shed a single tear. She had to be strong, tough, if she was going to get Deuce’s location out of the man. She had a feeling weakness wasn’t going to convince them her lion hadn’t done anything wrong.
Her lion?
The squirrel flicked her tail happily. Her little beastie wanted the man, ached to be in his presence once again, and she had to question her squirrel’s response. They hadn’t been able to scent Deuce, but she wondered…
“I’ll make you a bargain, my story for Deuce.”
Stone shook his head. “Ma’am, it’s policy that victims aren’t granted access to perpetrators. We’ve had some unfortunate incidents in the past. The information he has is too important for one of your family members to engage in vigilante justice.”
“You don’t understand.” She gritted her teeth. “He. Didn’t. Rape. Me. I wasn’t raped. Period. I was beaten, bruised, and a bone or two was broken, but I wasn’t—” She choked on the word. If it’d been anyone other than Deuce who’d won her in that card game, she had no doubt she’d have been violated. “I wasn’t raped.”
Stone eyed her, uncertainty clouding the air, and her heart sank. He had the look of a man who was immovable as a mountain. “Let’s just start at the beginning and we’ll see how the interview ends.”
Elly kept her squirrel’s snarl at bay. “Fine.” She took a deep, cleansing breath. Stone plucked a tissue from the table and held it out to her. She waved it away. She wasn’t going to cry. She had to do her best to convince the gorilla that she was fine. Fine. Or he’d never tell her where to find Deuce. Even if he was in jail, she wanted, needed, to see him.
See that he was whole and well and hers…
Letting her eyes drift closed, she opened the door to her memories, allowed them to rush forward.
“It was the seventeenth— What’s today?”
“Twenty-eighth.”
“Wow.” She whispered the word. “Time flies when you’re getting the shit beat out of you, huh?” She chuckled then, blinked her tears back. “Okay, the seventeenth. I’d gone to bed early. I was opening the library the next day.” She waved a hand. “Anyway. I don’t know how long I slept, but I woke up to the muzzle of a gun pressed against my forehead.”
The powder clinging to the pistol had overwhelmed her senses.
“Metal’s cold, you kn
ow? Chilly. So, a gun to the head, and I went with him. Quiet. It’s very, very quiet when you’re kidnapped. I’d never known that. It’s like you suddenly can’t hear anything but your heart and the man with the gun.” An involuntary shiver overtook her. “I don’t know how long I was in the car. An hour? It could have been five minutes.”
“Could you recognize your kidnapper if you saw him again?”
She nodded. “I can describe every man that hit me. Every. One. That guy backhanded me when he took me out of the car. I think I struggled then. It’d finally occurred to me that there were no sirens blaring, no police chasing us. I was alone.”
Alone until Deuce. Alone until he’d gotten her out of hell and then they’d taken him from her.
“What happened next?” Stone was writing on a notepad, a small recorder resting beside the pad of paper. Funny, she didn’t remember him pulling that stuff out.
But it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting through the retelling and then she’d see Deuce. She was convinced that if she just gave them what they wanted, they’d let her see the lion. She’d prove to them he was a good guy and her uncle could get him released and…
Elly spoke about the first house, then the next, and the next, and on and on until she got to when she’d met Deuce.
“You’re lying.” Stone’s expression was understanding yet sad.
She shook her head. “No.” She wasn’t. She just didn’t want to talk about what they’d shared. It’d been dirty, yet…yet not. “I’m not. Not really. I’m telling what I want to tell and the rest doesn’t matter because I wasn’t raped.”
“Okay.” He nodded with slow deliberation. “Maybe not raped, but sexually assaulted. Your situation left you vulnerable and he took advantage.” He glanced at his notes. “I think I have enough for now. Let’s get the doc in here and—”
Another shake of her head. “No, you don’t understand. You don’t get it. I want to see Deuce. Take me to him.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Stone didn’t return.
30
