by Neal, Toby
There had to be somewhere she could go on horseback where he couldn’t follow.
Her eyes scanned the landscape. To her left were flat plains, but to the right were boulders and gullies, part of the same land formation that was behind the housing project.
She pointed with the reins, stretching her arm where she wanted to go. Beauty swerved, following her direction. Sweetie was glued to Beauty’s side and Melody’s leg was pressed between their heaving bodies.
If she fell off she would die.
Melody’s rein hand bounced as her other fist gripped the pommel. Her body was rigid, bouncing up and down, sending pain and terrifying memories ricocheting through her.
She wasn’t going to get raped. He wasn’t going to catch her. No way. She’d die first.
Melody glanced over her shoulder again, and almost lost her balance. Snake was closing the distance, his bike blowing up dust behind it as he followed her off the road.
Beauty and Sweetie swerved between the sagebrush and followed her pointing arm aimed into the rocky landscape.
They flew between two large boulders, entering a canyon, and galloped on, following the curve of the rocks as pebbles flew up behind them.
Melody bent over Beauty’s neck, urging him on. “That’s it boy, come on!” His hooves suctioned into mud, but he kept pushing forward. Sweetie stayed next to him, stretching her neck and galloping, her ears flat, nostrils flaring, and saliva streaming from her mouth.
Melody saw a barrier up ahead. The canyon was blocked with debris from the flood. Rocks, mud, and trash as high as the horses’ chests filled the space between the narrow walls.
Beauty and Sweetie didn’t slow down. Melody grabbed the pommel with both hands, holding on for when they had to stop short and gripping with her legs so she wouldn’t fly off.
Instead, Beauty lengthened his stride, going faster and faster, and they were only feet away from the barrier when he jumped. Melody screamed, bending over his neck, trying to follow with his movements. Sweetie leaped, too, and for a moment they were weightless and free, making it clear of the debris. Snake would not be able to follow!
They landed hard and Melody was thrown into the pommel, her breath blasting out of her as the saddle horn punched into her stomach. Beauty stumbled, his gait slowing, but then regained his footing, slowing to a trot as Melody tipped to the side. She grabbed for his mane and righted herself as the horses broke back into a canter.
She could still hear the bike’s terrifying rumble echoing in the narrow pass.
Then she heard Snake’s voice. It was in her mind, in her body; she’d never forget it. She’d hoped to never hear it again. And yet now it was calling her name.
“Melody! We’ve got your pretty boyfriend!”
She urged Beauty forward, but the passageway become too narrow; there was nowhere for him to go. He turned around to return but Melody held him back, her hands tight on the reins, pulling them into her stomach.
The barrier was about a quarter mile back. Snake stood on top of it. It was too far to see his expression but his body language exuded confidence.
“We won’t hurt him if you come back. Let me have a taste and I won’t need to hurt your man.”
Horror made her whole body jerk and sweat. Dante’s handsome, angelic face swirled in front of her vision, his expression twisted with agony. She pushed the thought aside, focusing on Snake.
Maybe Snake wouldn’t hurt Dante if he didn’t think it would get him anywhere with Melody.
“He’s nothing to me!” she yelled. “Do what you want with him. You’ll never touch me again. I’ll kill you first!” She unholstered the shotgun with her free hand, keeping Beauty in line with the reins as he snorted and pawed his hooves.
“If you won’t let me taste you, I’ll have to fuck your boy. I’ll work him over good.” Snake laughed. He sounded like a coyote that just made a kill, wild and hungry, excited and expecting to be satiated.
Melody held the gun up with one hand, propping the stock on her thigh. The weight of it made her arm shake, but the adrenaline surging through her system kept it in place, giving her the strength to use it.
Snake jumped down from the debris pile and started in her direction, his gait nonchalant, none of his weapons drawn. “Come on! A slut like you will enjoy yourself. It will be fun for all of us.”
Melody wanted to fire but he was too far away to hit. Should she wait until she was more likely to strike him? Or would a warning shot keep him at bay?
“Your man’s pretty enough for us all to enjoy. Bent certainly seems to think so.” Snake spoke as casually as if they were having a friendly conversation.
She set up the sights, putting one triangle in between the other two, right at the center of Snake’s chest. Melody’s finger tightened on the trigger. He carried a gun and a knife on his belt, but he hadn’t bothered to draw either.
Did he think she was such easy prey?
His nose was a bloody, mangled, swollen disfigured mess because of her. Where did he get his confidence from? Didn’t he realize who he was dealing with? She wasn’t getting raped. Never again.
“You’re not gonna use that gun, sweetheart. You’re shaking too hard. You’re too scared. Don’t worry, I know how to calm you down.”
Melody fired the weapon.
It wasn’t a decision she made rationally. Her finger just pulled the trigger.
Snake ducked and turned, running away, as Sweetie reared. Beauty snorted and stomped his feet, backing up nervously.
Melody kept a tight hold on the reins as she broke open the shotgun and shoved in more shells. She racked the weapon and raised it to her shoulder.
Snake was already up on the barrier, diving over it. “See you later! I’m gonna go fuck your man now. And after I kill him, I’ll come back for you.”
She heard the motorcycle start up, then its roar as it faded away.
Melody lowered the shotgun. Her entire body shook. Sweetie huffed, pawing at the ground. Beauty tugged at the reins. Melody was holding on too tight. She dropped the reins and Beauty stretched out his neck, shaking his head in relief. She shoved the gun back into the holster, gasping out a sob. Her body shuddered with each painful breath.
Melody had survived. But at what cost?
Chapter Nineteen
Dante
Dante woke up by degrees, unwillingly.
But consciousness came anyway, beginning with his tender hearing: Bent’s voice in his ear.
“Wake up, pretty boy. You gotta be present for the fun, or it’s not a real party.” Bent’s voice was smoker-rough, and his breath on Dante’s face smelled of cigarettes and just a hint of chili.
He probably had a can for breakfast, followed by a smoke.
Dante was sitting upright on something hard, a wooden chair. His hands were bound behind his back, throbbing with cut-off circulation. His nakedness was telegraphed by thousands of tiny hairs over his skin, all of them vibrating with terror and violation.
He kept his eyes closed, but his vision was filled with the redness of backlighting as Bent caressed his nipple with the cold edge of something very sharp. That warm, flavored breath touched his face like a rough hand.
Dante had wished a million times throughout his life that his senses were not so acute. Yesterday, in his passion with Melody, the bliss he’d felt was almost overwhelming; and for the first time, he’d reveled in his sensitivity.
But in this moment, misery was as acute as ecstasy had been, and it was only going to get worse.
This was his life, his autism, and how it affected him. This was how he was different from other men. He felt everything more.
But he’d make Bent work for the sadistic pleasure he clearly took in hurting others.
Dante popped his eyes open, lowered his head, and heaved his body forward. His feet, planted on the ground, provided a platform for his lunge, and he felt the impact of his skull with Bent’s as a reverberating shock through his body. The slice of the knife at his nipple
cut into his chest like a line of fire, strengthening and motivating.
His head butt caught Bent off guard. The man went down with a grunt and a curse as Dante, tied to his chair, landed on him.
Dante ground his head into Bent’s body, trying to crush him. All thought ceased as the elemental need to live and escape took over, and Dante rocked the chair back and forth, heedless of the rending of his arms and hands behind the wooden slats of the chair back as his feet scrabbled for purchase so he could stand and run.
“Son of a bitch!” The chair flew up suddenly as Dante was heaved off of Bent, crashing back into an upright position. Snake punched him in the face, rocking his head to the side. Pain blasted through him and exploded in his head like a missile strike.
He endured another punch from a different angle, longing for the merciful blackness he’d been in before.
“Don’t mess him up too bad,” Bent croaked from the floor. “I like him pretty.”
Snake paused, his fist still cocked. “I think it’s a little late for that.”
Dante opened his swelling eyes to see the two men standing above him. His teeth felt loose, and his mouth was filled with the salty thickness of blood.
“Just thought I should tell you that I almost caught your girl, and man, is she a looker. She said we could do whatever, she didn’t care what happened to you.” Snake paused, waiting for some reaction from Dante. “But I’m guessing you know where she’s run off to, and it’ll go easier on you if you tell us.”
Bent grabbed and twisted Dante’s crotch. The blast of pain wrung a cry from his throat as the biker stood beside Snake, leaning down into Dante’s face. “I’m not gay. I’ll always choose a woman if I can get one. You’re a poor substitute for the real thing, pretty boy. We want your girl.”
Nausea swamped Dante. He panted shallowly, trying not to vomit from the pain in his groin. “Fuck you.”
“Oh, that can be arranged.” Bent squeezed, and Dante arched up in agony.
Melody said that they could do whatever to him? That she didn’t care what happened to him?
He didn’t believe it.
If she had said it, it was so she could get away, and he wanted her to be far away from these animals.
Dante would die to keep her free from a monster like this.
Snake probably threatened to hurt him and Melody called his bluff. It didn’t matter that they were doing this to him because Dante would have hated for her to come back even more than he hated what was happening to him. Please, God, keep her safe. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.
He leaned over and spat a mouthful of blood on Snake’s boots. The man raised his hand again with a curse.
Bent let go of Dante’s crotch and caught Snake’s fist. “No. I like the taste of blood.” He flung Snake’s fist away, and leaned over to stare into Dante’s eyes.
It felt like being stabbed.
Dante turned his head and shut his eyes to avoid Bent’s lust-filled, dark brown gaze.
The man grasped Dante’s jaw, digging his fingers into the bones, and forced his head around. The other hand grabbed Dante’s crotch again, squeezing. Dante gasped, but shut his eyes tighter.
“Look at me, boy.”
Dante looked, and it hurt almost as bad as the hand on his balls to see the expression of pleased anticipation in Bent’s eyes.
One brutal grip at Dante’s jaw and the other holding his male vulnerability immobilized him. His arms burned with strain as he fought the ropes and his legs were off-kilter and unable to provide any support, and oh God, that breath on his face.
“I’m going to kiss you. And if you bite me, you’re going to regret it. Down here.” Another squeeze.
Dante inhaled involuntarily, his mouth opening.
And then came Bent’s foul-tasting mouth on his. A tongue swiping inside, a sucking sensation, an emptiness replacing the salty liquid filling his mouth.
“That’s it, boy. Let me clean you up.” Soft words. Bent released his grip on Dante’s face and caressed his cheek. Dante kept his eyes shut to hide his soul, and felt the reward of a loosened hand on his private parts.
“You really are bent.” Snake’s voice sounded ripe with disgust. “I’ll leave you to it and come in later when you’ve loosened him up.”
Dante kept his eyes shut as he felt the vibration of the other man’s boots walking away.
He’d rather have had the honest explosions of pain from Snake than the touching he endured from Bent.
Soft touching.
He hated soft touching. Only Melody could coax him into enjoying the feel of fingertips stroking him. His skin shuddered and crawled and a moan of horror came from his throat as Bent’s tongue licked the cut on his chest.
“Yeah, I like the taste of blood and pretty boys.” Bent licked his ear and nipped the lobe.
Dante flinched.
“Oh, you like that, do you?” Bent did it some more.
Dante had to control his reactions or it was going to get worse and worse.
But he didn’t know how to stop feeling.
He had to fight. He had to find a way to escape and get to Melody.
His mind shied away from the thought, as if by thinking about Melody and the dude ranch, the information might be pried out of him by Bent’s tricky invading fingers, teeth, tongue, and hands.
Dante heaved himself to the side this time, and landed away from Bent on the filthy carpet. The wood of the chair back dug into his bound arm on the downward side as he hit the ground, and the breath was knocked out of him by the impact.
Red spots danced before his eyes. He gagged from the pain.
“I have to get you out of that chair,” Bent said. “It’s no good, anyway, for what I have in mind. But right now we’re having some communication issues.”
Dante struggled for breath but finally drew air into his lungs. Bent pulled off his leather belt and leaned over, reaching for Dante’s legs. Dante kicked at him, but Bent managed to wrap the belt around his ankles so that he was pinioned.
Bent yanked the chair out from behind Dante, wrenching a groan from him as the wood dragged across his wrenched, bruised arms.
Bent looked down at him, and smiled that gap-toothed grin.
“Now, that’s more like it. I think that couch is a good place for what we’re doing next.”
* * *
At some point, Dante stopped feeling his body and escaped in his mind to Melody.
She opened her arms to him and he drew her in, breathing deep the smell of her: musky and hypnotizing.
The feel of her: firm and silky-soft.
The sounds she made: breathy music that made her name perfect for her.
The way she looked: all curves and hollows, dips and valleys, everything about her beautiful, the hot emerald green of desire in her eyes.
The plump shine of her lips after he’d kissed her long.
The way Melody looked up at him when she was on her knees; the way Dante looked up at her when he was on his.
All of Melody was his safe place, his oblivion, his escape.
He left his body there, on the couch, and went away with her to a secret place where only they existed, and all was good and sweet and pure, blissful ecstasy. It didn’t matter what happened to his body. He was buying time for Melody to get away and be safe, and that was all that mattered.
He went deliberately, and he didn’t plan to come back.
Melody had already endured what was happening to him, and it was only right that he be the “poor substitute.”
Chapter Twenty
Melody
The puppies popped their heads out of the saddlebag and seemed to be enjoying the walk while Melody sobbed, her vision blurred and her hands gripping the pommel. Her eyes were swollen, her throat raw, her lungs tight and body exhausted. It was like she’d been in a brawl, a massive fight with her emotions, and they’d beat the ever-living crap out of her.
Melody, Beauty, and Swe
etie had walked out of the canyon as the horses started back toward the dude ranch again, their instincts taking them home.
The gentle, steady rocking of Beauty’s gait brought Melody no comfort. The sublime landscape, bright blue sky edged in pink over the orange-red mountains, brought her no comfort. When they reached the dude ranch and there was no sign of Snake, it brought Melody no comfort.
She untacked the horses, paying special attention to how the saddle was affixed. Her fingers were numb and hard to use as she undid the girth, but a part of her mind was paying attention.
She’d watched Dante saddle the horses but had no experience. Even in her wrecked state, Melody knew she needed to know how to tack up Beauty again in order to survive.
Melody pulled the saddle off, the sweet smell of horse and leather coming with it.
She laid it on the ground and then leaned into Beauty’s chest, letting the tears flow again. Beauty nibbled at her hair.
Melody returned Sweetie and Beauty to the pasture, and then walked toward the cabin she and Dante had shared. The puppies played at her heel, wrestling each other and yapping, like the world wasn’t ending, like Dante wasn’t a prisoner, and like Melody wasn’t a coward.
Staying at the dude ranch was stupid. Snake and his friend could come looking for her. They knew she was on horseback. It would not be a stretch to find her here. But as Melody walked back to the cabin, the shotgun in her hand, a part of her wanted them to show up.
If Snake came here, then he wasn’t raping Dante.
Melody entered the cabin, and it smelled like her and Dante, and the scent they’d made together: man and woman, musk and spice. Melody flopped onto the bed as the sun set, the sky outside turning a deep midnight blue, stars twinkling in the dusk.
She cried some more, though there were no more tears, just painful wracking sobs.
Dante’s capture and Snake’s threats were like an earthquake, shaking the very core of her existence. The boulder of her independence had split and crumbled. All that remained was a pile of sand: unsubstantial, easily dispersed, individual granules.
