Hellfire (Stonewood Saga Book 2)

by Ally Vance

  Both of these men are beyond the realms of morality and decency. Why am I so afraid of one and so drawn to the other, when both have the same evil flowing through their veins? On some level I feel like Quinlan is the loose cannon, the wilder and less controlled of the two of them, but that doesn’t make Frollo the safer choice.

  My thoughts are sluggish, my limbs feel boneless, and I can’t find the strength inside me to move. I should’ve known I’d never elude him, but a small part of me enjoyed the thrill of the chase. When did all of this change? Why am I suddenly so damn weak all of a sudden? I mentally shake myself, but I can’t seem to shift the haze in my mind that’s preventing me from thinking and seeing more clearly.

  “So irresistible, isn’t she?” A distant and faded voice reaches my ears through the fog.

  I raise my head to see who spoke, and my heart stutters fearfully when I see Quinlan standing by the corridor door, watching. Frollo’s hands tighten possessively around my wrists and waist when I struggle to move. Without thinking, I wiggle my hips, trying to dislodge him. I shiver and a tiny whimper builds in my chest when Frollo’s cock twitches inside me and starts to thicken again.

  Thankfully, he spares me further indignity and pulls out, dragging me upright against his body. My skirt drops from where it sits around my waist, covering my exposed skin, and I’m suddenly aware of the sticky fluid dripping between my thighs. His blatant disregard for protection makes me glad I’ve always taken precautions of my own to prevent pregnancy.

  “You seem to think you have the right to sneak into my church and touch her behind my back,” Frollo snaps at Quinlan, his breath hot in my ear.

  Quinlan tilts his head to one side and raises an eyebrow.

  “Your sense of duty makes you as possessive over this place as you are of Esme. But if your parishioners knew how corrupt their pastor really was, you’d have nothing,” he spits out, gesturing at the building and then at me.

  “I’m not going to stand by and let you take her,” Frollo laughs, and the subtle threat directed at Quinlan makes my skin erupt in goosebumps.

  These two men are twisted beyond all belief, and I’m trapped between them with no hope of escape. Small towns are supposed to be quiet, peaceful havens, but it seems I've picked the one which is anything but.

  “You can’t just lock me up and expect me to be okay with that!” I blurt out, cutting across their argument.

  Quinlan narrows his eyes at me, and the menace gleaming wickedly within them shatters the final shards of my illusion there’s any true friendship between us. A foolish part of me had hoped that the Quinlan who tried to force himself on me in the room was just an aberration. I believed he was my friend, but he's obliterated any regard I’ve ever had for him.

  “I’m leaving,” I say firmly.

  “No,” Frollo growls, wrapping his arms tightly around me like a band and bringing me even closer to him.

  “Frollo!” I shriek, squirming.

  Once again I’m a captive, imprisoned within his embrace, while Quinlan watches silently. The edges of his lips are curved upward with amusement, and I turn my head away. I can’t bear to look at him.

  “So what’s your plan, huh? Lock me up and have your way with me whenever you feel like it?” I demand, twisting my head around to face Frollo.

  “For now,” he responds with a nod. His gaze is hard, resolute.

  “No!” I scream, thrashing about as he drags me back towards the room beneath the clock tower.

  “Need some help, Uncle?” Quinlan pipes up, taking a sideways step to let us pass.

  “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?” Frollo bites out harshly.

  Quinlan chuckles and follows after us as I’m forced down the corridor. I kick and scream, cursing the two of them, but Frollo seems unfazed, and Quinlan is grinning broadly at my display. The bolt on the door is smashed, and a small flicker of hope blossoms in my chest. Maybe they won’t keep me here now they have no way of locking me in. Frollo continues to drag me against my will through the room towards the door leading to the clock tower itself.

  “No! I’ll go mad up there, Please don’t make me,” I plead.

  “What about your office?” Quinlan suggests. His voice is light, almost too calm for the current situation.

  “Anywhere but the tower, please,” I beg, unable to keep the desperate edge from my tone.

  “Fine,” Frollo begrudgingly agrees, turning and leading us all the way back through to the main body of the church.

  We get to his office, and with one hand, he pulls out his keys. As he prepares to unlock the door, air whips past my face, followed by a fist and the arms around me slacken as Frollo falls to the floor with a thud. I grab the keys, and I’m just about to run when a hand fists my hair and yanks me backwards. I yelp in pain and stumble, nearly falling on top of Frollo’s prone figure.

  “You’re coming with me, and this time you won’t manage a lucky escape,” Quinlan hisses, seizing me by the throat and pushing me so my back’s up against the closed office door.

  I bring my knee up with a jerk and try to slap him at the same time, but neither action causes him to relinquish his solid grip. When he begins to squeeze tighter around my neck, I try once more to beat him off, but it has no effect. My movements begin to weaken as dark spots flash across my vision, encroaching until everything turns black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Quinlan

  That went smoother than expected. I gently scoop the unconscious Esme up into my arms. She’s light and limp, and I find myself missing the fire and anger she'd be spewing my way if she were awake. It’s almost enough to tempt me to wait until she comes to, but I can’t. I need to get her away from here…away from him. We were best friends, growing up, but now Frollo thinks he’s so much better than me with his position in the church, and his status as my uncle. I’ll give him one thing, though: he’s never made me feel inferior, because of my imperfect vision.

  I hurry out of the church with Esme, thankful for the crap weather keeping the locals inside. The rain falls hard and fast, splattering us with icy droplets of water. She stirs but doesn’t wake, and I move faster, taking her back to the house so I can plan my next move. My uncle will be coming round soon, and this is the first place he’ll look for us. Spotting his car on the driveway, a brainwave hits me, and I smile to myself.

  Awkwardly, I adjust my hold on Esme, and reaching into my jeans pocket, I pull out my uncle’s set of keys. I press a button on the fob and the locks on the car doors disengage. Opening the boot to my uncle’s hatchback car, I set her down in the dark cavity and lift the cover so she’ll be able to breathe more easily. It may be raining and no one’s around, but there’s still a risk someone might notice I’m driving Frollo’s car and I’ve an unconscious woman in the back. I can’t do much to obscure my identity, but I throw a sheet over Esme to hide her presence.

  I quickly go back to my uncle’s house and pick up Esme’s handbag before returning to the car. I make my way around to the driver’s side, and opening the door, I slide into the seat. I place the bag in the passenger footwell and then wipe my glasses while staring through the rain lashed windshield at the dark street ahead. Starting the ignition, I shift into gear and slowly reverse down the driveway and onto the road. I’m not the best driver; thankfully, my eyesight hasn’t deteriorated enough for my license to be revoked, but I shouldn’t drive when there’s low visibility due to bad weather or at night. It’s only a matter of time before I won’t be permitted to drive at all. Uncle Frollo will kill me when he finds out I’ve taken his car, but right now I couldn’t care less.

  Driving extremely carefully and slowly through town, I take Esme to the one place my uncle has never seen or entered, the only place I can think of where he won’t find us. I just hope he doesn’t figure it out or somehow locate us. Esme and I need some alone time together without his constant interruptions. She needs to see that I care for her, and I’m not the bad guy here, whatever my actions back th
ere may have been. I need to fix the damage I’ve caused.

  I pull up in front of Esme’s house, and grabbing her handbag, I rifle through the contents to locate her house key. On finding it, I get out of the car and go to open the boot. In the faint light from the street-lamps, I notice there’s movement under the sheet; she's starting to wake-up. Fuck! I need to work quickly before she alerts the neighbours and I end up in deep shit. I wouldn’t be the only one who goes down, though.

  I wrench the boot open and clamp a hand firmly over Esme’s mouth while lifting her out bridal style and setting her down on the ground. Then, slamming the boot shut again, I proceed to force her towards her house. Esme fights against me the whole journey to the front door, but I easily overpower her. My blood is pumping fast, and the power struggle between us gets my cock hot and hard, leaving me aching and hungry, eager to sate my desire on her delectable body. Esme isn’t as unaffected by me as she wishes. It’s evident in the way her breath catches and her skin heats at my touch. I may be half-blind, but I can still hear and feel.

  “Stop it, Esme. You don’t want the neighbours to see me bend you over the front steps and spank your arse until it's pink and throbbing with my handprint, do you?” I whisper harshly in her ear.

  Esme freezes, and ceasing her struggles, she reluctantly walks up the three steps, covered by a small porch, to her front door with my arm curved around her slim waist. I give her the house key, keeping a warning hand on her lower stomach while the other is still pressed against her mouth. I see her eyes narrow in a glare, and I chuckle.

  Moving closer to align the front of my body with her back, I nestle my jean-clad cock between the cheeks of her pert arse. To my utter surprise, she grinds back against me, and I groan at the sweet friction and the heat of her body through our clothes. Suddenly, pain radiates through my hand as a set of teeth clamp down on the soft flesh of my palm, and I let out a yell as my hand slips.

  “You fucking bitch!” I roar impulsively, holding her tighter.

  Her high-pitched scream pierces through the night, and I can only hope the rain muffles it enough so no one hears. Urgency overcomes the need to keep her silent, and tearing the key from her hand, I unlock the door.

  “Help! Somebody help me!” she howls, and I wrap both my arms around her thrashing form.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I seethe as I shove her into the house, and following after her, I lock the front door behind me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Frollo

  I wake up on the floor of the church beside my office door. My cheek and the back of my skull are throbbing. That little shit sucker punched me. I’m irritated to see the open front doors and noticeable absence of Quinlan and Esme. I've no idea how long I've been out, but it’s safe to assume I’m going to have my work cut out, finding them. Letting out a heavy sigh, I get to my feet and straighten my clothes.

  The sound of the rain lashing the windows surrounds me, and the dim lights in the church create an eerie atmosphere. I've sinned so freely within this sacred building, and I’m feeling the weight of those sins on my shoulders. It’s my fault, but I’m not the only one who’ll carry the blame for what’s happened inside these walls.

  “Pastor Frollo?”

  A soft voice cuts through my thoughts, and I look up in surprise. One of the last people I would’ve expected to see is standing there just inside the door of the church, shivering and dripping wet. Her long hair is hanging limp, and the colour darkened by the rain makes her complexion seem paler than usual.

  “Lillian? What are you doing here so late and out in this weather? It can’t be healthy for you or the baby.” I question, but I’m unable to keep the scolding tone from my voice.

  She scowls, but then her expression softens as she cradles her bump with her hand.

  “I just saw Quinlan,” she says.

  “What? Where?” I blurt out, unintentionally loud.

  “I heard a noise as I was heading upstairs to my bedroom and saw him through the window going into the house next door. Not Landon’s, the one on the other side,” she explains. “He wasn’t alone. My new neighbour was with him, but she didn’t look happy about it.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police? Why come here?”

  “I-I don’t know. I guess I just trust you more,” she says evasively, avoiding my eyes.

  My stomach clenches as I recall the last time she'd had any contact with the police. They were taking Landon away after he broke into her father’s house. Shaking my head, I cross the church until I’m standing in front of her.

  “Come on, I’ll take you home. You shouldn’t have come out in this weather, even to see me.”

  I grab my jacket from the coat-rack and help her put it on, pleased when she doesn’t put up a fuss. Lillian was going to wear it whether she liked it or not.

  “Thanks, Pastor,” she says, smiling gratefully as she quickly fastens the zip.

  I escort her from the church and lock the door behind me. We hurry down the path and up the long driveway to my home. I let out a curse when I see my car is missing. I’ll kill him. Lillian giggles, and I frown at her in confusion.

  “I've never heard you swear before. You’re always so composed and…well…” Lillian trails off, looking thoughtful.

  My lip twitches as I fight back the smile at her observation, but I push it away. I’ve more pressing matters to deal with. Keys still in hand, I thumb through them for the one to the house, and having located it, I open the door and incline my head, signalling for her to enter. She steps inside and I follow. I need to get a waterproof jacket before I head back out. I could call a taxi, but by the time it’d arrive, I’d make the journey quicker on foot.

  “Stay here. I’ll take you home later. Let your dad know where you are,” I order.

  Lillian’s posture stiffens, her back straightening at my words.

  “I don’t have to tell him anything. I’m an adult now, and besides, it’s not like he can come to collect me,” she replies sharply.

  I raise my eyebrow at her tone but don’t push, ignoring the niggling feeling I always seem to get around her and Kellen these days. One day I’ll ask one of them what happened to make their relationship fall apart, but right now I need to track down that wayward, backstabbing nephew of mine and the woman who’s driving us both into madness.

  The quickest route will be to cut through Berkley woods, but I’m not going to attempt it blindly in the dark. I quickly grab a torch from the cabinet by the front door and a waterproof jacket from a hook in the hall before taking off back down the driveway. The sky is heavy with black clouds which create a more absolute darkness, and even though the rain is subsiding, I can tell the reprieve won’t last long.

  I switch on the flashlight and hurry into the woods, darting between trees and moving as quickly as possible while taking care not to trip over protruding roots and loose twigs. A few low hanging branches nearly catch my face, and one snags on my jacket and tears it. In what seems like no time at all, I see a light peeking through the trees from up ahead, and I increase my pace until I burst out of the trees onto the street where Lillian lives.

  I spare her home a cursory glance and look towards the neighbouring house. I spot my car parked by the curb and grit my teeth angrily. I stride across the road, and I’m just about to storm up the steps to the door when I hesitate. What if I break in and Quinlan hurts Esme? What if Lillian was wrong and Esme has invited him here? Jealousy burns in my stomach, and the memory of watching him fuck her mouth floods into my brain like a tidal wave before morphing into an image of him tasting, fucking, and claiming Esme.

  Making a split second decision, I ram my shoulder against the door, but it holds. I repeat the action, harder this time, and break through with a crash of splintering wood.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Esme

  I don’t know what to think right now. I’m being held prisoner in my own home by Pastor Frollo’s psychotic nephew. I’m scared because I’ve no idea what
he plans to do to me, but if his actions back at the church are any indicator, it’s not going to be pleasant. I've stopped fighting him for now as it wasn’t exactly doing me any good. Besides, at the moment he’s acting strangely, kinder and gentler, more like the Quinlan I got to know before I was held against my will and my dignity stripped from me. I’m hoping I may be able to use this to my advantage and somehow escape. My chances are slim, but it may be the only chance I get.

  He takes me gently by the hand, and when my reaction is to pull away from him, I see the monster that lurks behind his eyes, rising to the surface. I inhale deeply to calm my nerves, and then release a shuddering breath as I reach out to clasp his hand and allow him to guide me up the stairs. My heart thuds erratically in my chest as we draw closer to the only bedroom in the house…my room. A heavy sense of foreboding floods my brain, and all my instincts are screaming at me to run, to fight, and to flee as far from him, his uncle, and this town as possible.

  My chest is tight, and I realise I've been holding my breath. My fear is making it hard to stay calm. How can I keep my composure, though, when I've no idea what’s coming next? Damn! I’m not sure whether it’s our location, the calmness Quinlan is exuding, or the fact that when Pastor Frollo catches up to us there’s going to be hell to pay, but I was less scared at the church than I am now, and a part of me blanches at that even being a possibility. I have the dreadful feeling I’m not going to make it out of here unscathed. I’m certain I’ll be the one to suffer in the end.

  Quinlan opens and closes doors, checks the windows are all locked, and familiarises himself with the layout of the upper floor of the house before he leads me into my bedroom. He flicks the light switch on, and the yellow bulb illuminates the warm room.