Hellfire (Stonewood Saga Book 2)

by Ally Vance

  “Shower and change,” Quinlan barks, then spinning on his heel he turns and leaves me alone.

  I’m confused. Is this a trick, or a test of some kind? I don’t know why he’s left me by myself, but the reality is I don’t have a way of contacting anyone or a means of escape. There isn’t a house phone installed, and my mobile is in my handbag which is with Quinlan. I could attempt to climb out of the bedroom window, but I’ve never been very good at heights. I do know I’m desperate to get clean and feel refreshed, though. All of my muscles are aching, and I'm still very aware of the dried remnants of Frollo’s and my orgasms on my skin as well as the grime from the clock tower floor. A shower sounds divine, and right now, whatever Quinlan’s ulterior motive, I’m going to take this opportunity to get clean.

  I grab a fresh set of underwear, socks and jeans from the dresser, and a top from my wardrobe. I peek out of my bedroom into the upstairs landing which is deserted. I can hear the sound of Quinlan moving around downstairs, and I seize the chance. I dart across the hallway to the bathroom, and hurrying inside, I shut the door firmly and lock it behind me. I doubt the lock would keep him out if he decided to force his way in, but at least it’ll slow him down a little. Besides, it makes me feel safer, knowing the door is secured.

  Stripping out of my filthy clothes, I discard them into the wash basket next to the door and start the water running. Soon, the small bathroom is warm and steamy, and I get into the shower. I let out a contented moan as the spray rushes over my body, running down my skin as the heat soaks into my tired muscles. I squirt some of my favourite shower gel onto my purple body puff, then lathering up my body, I scrub every inch of my skin until the soothing scent of ginger and shea butter fills the air and my nose. Finally clean, I stand under the shower-head a while longer, washing my hair and relaxing beneath the hot water until a sharp knock on the door jolts me from my relaxed state and puts me on edge once again.

  “Are you done yet?” Quinlan calls, and I let out a tense sigh.

  “Nearly,” I answer.

  I was sorely tempted to ignore him, but I figure such defiance would result in him breaking the damn door down to get to me. I’d prefer to prolong the refuge I've taken in here for a while longer before he disrupts my peace of mind and my body again.

  I shiver when the water starts to run cooler, and I reluctantly switch the shower off. I don’t want to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom. I don’t know who awaits me on the other side of the door: the Quinlan I first met, the one who’s my friend, or the handsome demon who wants to defile me?

  I’m just stepping out of the shower when the light goes out, shuttering everything into darkness. I manage to locate my bath-towel, and I wrap the fluffy material around my body and let it absorb the droplets of water coating every inch of me. Fumbling around, I find my clothes, but getting dressed is a much harder task than it should be due to the absence of light, my shaking hands, and my clothes sticking to my damp skin.

  Now I’m out of the shower and dressed, the fear starts to return, full force. I can’t shake the ominous feeling that there’s more to Quinlan letting me shower than a mere act of kindness or a way of making amends. I know he’s stolen me from his uncle, but have I been rescued, or has my prison simply taken on a more familiar and safer appearance?

  I keep going around in circles in my mind, replaying every minute and every thought, over and over, until I feel like I’m about to go insane. I can’t seem to calm my racing heart. I’m so frightened and confused, and I don’t even know which of those emotions is the more dominant right now. However, there’s one irrepressible question currently playing on my mind…what’s going to happen to me when I finally open that door?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Quinlan

  Esme’s been in the shower a long time, and my body burns with an itch I’m desperate to have her scratch, but I must be patient…at least for a little while longer. She's afraid and no longer trusts me, and I’m not entirely certain how to reverse the damage to our relationship. The overwhelming need I have for her has blinded me to everything other than how I feel about her, and it’s made me act recklessly. Esme’s allure is so damn powerful, but I’m not the only one she has under her spell.

  One thing I can’t deny, letting her shower had more than one purpose. It gave her some space to regain her dignity, and it was the perfect way to remove my uncle from her luscious skin, cleansing her of his essence. She's nigh on impossible to resist, particularly as she's currently bare-skinned and dripping wet on the other side of the door, and we’re only separated by a mere inch or two of wood. I squeeze my half-hard cock through my jeans and swallow the groan at the contact. I need to regain some semblance of self-control; otherwise, I’m going to end up breaking down the barrier between us to get to her.

  I move away from the bathroom and temptation and head for Esme’s bedroom. Suddenly, all the lights go out…presumably a power-cut. There have been several in the town over the last few weeks since I came back to Stonewood. They usually only last a short while. Remembering the candle and box of matches I spotted on the table by the front door, I move through the darkened house to locate them using the light from my mobile phone. Once lit, the candle illuminates the hallway with its flickering light. Hopefully, the power will be restored soon.

  I head back upstairs and enter Esme’s room which is flooded with her scent, and I inhale deeply. Her fragrance washes over me, and my cock becomes painfully rigid and throbs as it strains against the denim and metal teeth of the zipper. I need some relief because I’m a hair’s breadth away from powering back down the landing, smashing through the bathroom door, and fucking her against the shower tiles.

  I lie down on her bed, free myself from my jeans, and squeeze the tip of my cock between my thumb and forefinger before wrapping my fingers firmly around the shaft. I hiss between my gritted teeth and start to move my hand, slowly to begin with and then harder and faster, picturing Esme straddling my waist, naked and wet from her shower, while I fuck her into oblivion. I want to fill her pussy over and over until she's sore and dripping with my cum. I want to erase every trace of my uncle from her, overtake her mind like she's done mine, and help her realise that I’m the one she's meant to be with.

  The vision of Esme combined with my silent vow to make her fucking mine overwhelm my mind, and I grip my cock more firmly and move my hand faster. The sensations flowing through my body unleash a powerful orgasm, and I let out a shout of ecstasy when it hits with unexpected force, ripping through my body like a goddamn tidal wave. Cum spurts out of the tip, covering my hand and shirt, and all I can do is lie on Esme’s bed, boneless and panting, while my whole body shudders with the aftershocks wracking through it.

  The haze of lust starts to clear as my heartbeat slows to a regular, even pace. What’s this woman doing to me? Something about her draws out an insatiable need to possess her. I don’t think there’ll ever be a way to curb the appetite she's awoken within me or my uncle.

  Shit! Uncle Frollo! I left him on the floor of the church, out cold and all alone. I can’t believe I was so violent towards him, but seeing him with Esme and noticing how she responded to his touch while he ploughed into her from behind brought a furious jealousy to the surface. I want, no, I need her to be like that with me. I need to have her pliable and willing.

  Family or not, I can’t simply let him have her. I can’t let him win. She was supposed to be ours, but he changed the rules. He altered the whole damn plan to suit his own desires. Well, he’s not the only player in this game, and if he can change the rules, then so can I. Angrily, I fist the sheets I’m lying on, not caring that the release still coating my fingers is transferring to Esme’s bedding. Soon it'll be more than her bedding I'll be marking. She’ll be mine in the end…I'll show them both.

  Sitting up, I rip off my ruined shirt and toss it into a corner of the room before tucking my flaccid cock back into my jeans. As I’m about to get to my feet, I hear the bathroom door slowly ope
n. My head jerks up, and I’m drawn in her direction like a shark sensing blood.

  I get up from the bed and stand shrouded in the semi-darkness, listening intently to her soft footsteps as they approach the open doorway to her bedroom. Does she sense I’m here, standing so close to her? My anger abates with the thrill of the hunt, only this time I’m not chasing her, I’m lying in wait, ready to pounce.

  Some part of me deep down knows I shouldn’t be excited by such things, but I can’t help the way my blood is spiked with an almost feral hunger for this woman. At this rate, I’ll lose my mind before I ever get a true taste. I take a silent step backward, moving behind the door as she enters. My heart races in my chest, and I hold my breath, not wanting her to know I’m here. Watching her has become my obsession; she's a deadly rapture I can’t look away from. If I were to ever lose my sight completely, it would be her image I’d want branded into my fucking brain forevermore.

  I step away from the door, and closing the distance between us, I wrap an arm around her body and clamp a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. She jumps and squirms, but I hold her steady, leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

  “You’ve no idea how irresistible you are, Esme. You’re going to fucking kill me one of these days, and there’s no doubt I’ll enjoy it when you do.”

  Her hair is damp and smells sweet, and the warm scent of her body-wash fills my nose. I groan, feeling the familiar ache in my groin as my cock twitches, already starting to harden again. I can hardly think straight when I’m around this woman. It’s getting beyond ridiculous. The urge to bend her over this bed and fuck her until neither of us can remember our names is mounting. I need to find myself some space, or I’m going to lose it completely. I want to regain her trust, but I can’t do that if I’m pawing at her twenty-four-fucking-seven.

  Still pinning her to my body, I attempt to ignore the way I’m responding to her proximity, and I walk with her towards the dresser.

  “Quinlan! Let go of me, you creep!” Esme cries as soon as my hand drops from her mouth.

  “No, I can’t. Don’t you understand? You belong to us…to me, and now I've had a taste, there’s no going back. Can’t you see I’m trying to be more than the bad guy you believe me to be? Have I touched you or hurt you since I rescued you from my uncle? Everything bad that’s happened to you was all his idea,” I grit out.

  I pull open a drawer and rummage inside for anything I can use to restrain the beautiful woman still fighting to break free of me. I've no idea what I've retrieved in my rush, but it doesn’t matter, I’m sure it'll serve its intended purpose.

  “I thought you were my friend?” she pleads, and I spin her around to face me.

  I let out a snort. “I never wanted to just be your friend. You knew that, Esme, and don’t bullshit me that you didn’t. I never tried to hide it from you, and I know as well as you that those feelings were mutual. You may not want to admit it, especially after everything that’s happened, and that’s fine, but don’t fucking kid yourself and don’t lie to me.”

  Esme falls silent, and despite my intense anger, I manage to think clearly enough to haul her over to the bed. Throwing her down onto the small mattress, she lies still and submissive while I bind her wrists to the posts. Just as I finish tying the last knot, I hear a crash from downstairs, and Esme lets out a scream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Frollo

  The sound from upstairs of running footsteps reaches me where I’m standing amidst the shattered remains of Esme’s front door. The hallway is illuminated by a thin taper candle standing in a holder on a table by the entrance. The small, bright flame is flickering wildly in the breeze blowing through the gaping hole left by the force of my destructive power.

  “Uncle Frollo, what the fuck are you doing here?” Quinlan asks from the top of the staircase, sounding incredulous.

  He’s clearly amazed to see me standing on the threshold of the house.

  “You were seen entering,” I snarl, inching toward the bottom of the stairs.

  “By whom?” he snaps, backing away from me with a sideways glance towards the upstairs landing.

  I follow his gaze, but a wall blocks my line of sight. It isn’t hard to guess what’s drawn his attention…Esme. Lifting my foot, I place it slowly on the bottom step and grip the banister.

  “Lillian saw you dragging Esme into the house and then came to find me. Imagine her surprise when she discovered me out cold on the floor of my church with the front doors wide open,” I reply, keeping my voice falsely light, even though I’m barely able to maintain the forced air of calm I’m exuding. “So, where’s Esme now?”

  “Safe,” he spits, but I detect a hint of worry in his voice and raise my eyebrow at him.

  “Really? She's safer with you, her stalker, than me? You’re the reason she was afraid of me in the first place,” I state sarcastically.

  He lets out a bitter laugh, “That’s not the only reason, but sure, I’ll let you believe that.”

  “I never said that was the only reason, just the start of it.” I shrug, ascending another couple of steps, but Quinlan doesn’t move away. “I’m sure I’m as much to blame as you are. However, things might not have gone quite this way had you not interfered.”

  “Interfered?” He shakes his head. “Had you stuck to the plan we made, we wouldn’t be here right now. We could have both been back in the clock tower, or even at home, with Esme between the two of us, keeping her sweet, satisfied, and ours. You’re the one who fucked everything up!”

  “I never intended to share her with you in the first place!” I bite out, the anger deepening my tone.

  Quinlan’s pale eyes flash with rage. He hurtles down the stairs towards me. I jump backwards, so he doesn’t ram into me when he reaches the bottom. He lunges at me, and using the force and speed of his movement, I knock him off course and shove him into the wall. Pain crosses his expression when his head and back connect with the hard surface.

  Quinlan is my nephew. We grew up as close as brothers, and now we’ve been reduced to fighting and competing against each other for the same woman. Esme isn’t just any woman, though. Only someone extraordinary like her could create such a rift between us. As much as it pains me to be so at odds with Quinlan, I've neither the wish nor the will to back down. I knew Esme would be mine from the moment I met her. I need to end this little feud between us, but I've no idea how.

  Quinlan takes advantage of my momentary hesitation and takes a swing. He’s disoriented, though, and when I duck he misses his target and only grazes the side of my head.

  “Selfish bastard,” he curses at me, and I scowl.

  I crowd into him, crushing him against the wall as he prepares to take another swing at me. He groans as my body squashes him. Neither one of us is in the best of shape, so it doesn’t take much before he’s crumpling under the pressure of my weight.

  “Where’s Esme?” I growl, searching his eyes and face for an answer.

  “I’m not telling you,” he rasps, but his eyes flicker behind me, and I smile at his error.

  “You just did,” I respond, releasing him.

  Quinlan slumps to the floor, clutching his head, but he tries to grab for me when I step away from him.

  “Wait,” he pleads, and I pause at the urgency in his voice.

  I gesture for him to elaborate, and he jerks his head towards the front door, “Look.”

  I turn to see what he’s babbling about and then I see it. The hallway is brighter than it was a moment ago, and a great deal warmer. At some point during our little altercation, the table with the candle sitting on it must have been knocked over without either of us realising, and instead of extinguishing when it hit the floor, it’s set the carpet alight.

  “We need to get out of here,” I say, all anger forgotten, as I bend down, grasp Quinlan’s hand and haul him onto his feet.

  He stands, leaning against the banister for support, with his hand held to his head. There’s already
a wall of heat between us and the front door, but thankfully, the flames aren’t too high at the moment. I glance around, looking for an extinguisher, but not seeing one, I decide to get us out of here.

  “Esme!” Quinlan exclaims as I drag him from the house.

  “Where is she?” I demand, shaking him.

  “Upstairs bedroom.”

  I’m already hurrying back into the building before he’s even finished speaking. It’s hotter in here than before, and the fire is slowly starting to spread as it eats away at the carpet on the ground floor.

  “Esme! It’s Frollo, where are you?” I call out as I dart up the stairs, taking them two at a time and coughing as thick, acrid smoke fills the air, obscuring the stairs and upstairs landing.

  “Frollo!” she responds, and I hurry to the only room with a closed door.

  Throwing it open, I halt in surprise when I see the scene before me. Esme is bound to a single bed, fully clothed with wet hair plastered to her face and a pillow beneath her head.

  “Help me,” she pleads, coughing.

  Smoke is beginning to fill the small house, seeping into the bedroom and slowly replacing what little oxygen is left.

  “I don’t have anything to cut through these restraints,” I tell her and start fumbling with the knots.

  Visibility is low, and it’s getting more and more difficult to breathe, but after what seems like forever, I finally loosen the last of the knots. The floor is hot, the room is turning black with smoke, and I can see the flames starting to lick at the upstairs landing, slowly moving towards us. We’re trapped

  “We can’t get out,” Esme whimpers in-between coughs, clutching at my arm as she squints through watering eyes.

  My own eyes are burning, but I’m too focused on trying to come up with a solution to let it bother me.

  “The windows,” I tell her, dragging her over to them.