Fixed Parts

by J. A. Wynters

  My eyes trailed the length of the rope that bound her. It was a single length that bound her hands behind her back and her ankles just below them, stretching her limbs and restricting her movements.

  I could hear her muffled scream behind the gag and see the pleading in her eyes as I stood and waited. She pulled on her hands, forcing her feet up. She pulled her feet back and her back arched in response, the rope chaffing her delicate soft skin. She looked like a frenzied, feral animal. Her wild, big eyes bulging as she squirmed and fought her restraints.

  I waited.

  It couldn’t be that easy.

  I inched into the room and stood with bated breath, my eyes never leaving Mia’s face. I waited for movement, an attack, the flicker of fear in her eye, or the flaring of her nostrils. She was the bait and I was the great, white whale.

  My body tightened, tensed and coiled. Nothing happened—and it was petrifying.

  The dull, fearful expression on her face turned to hot anger. Her muffled sounds became louder, angrier. It was almost amusing. It was also completely intoxicating in all the twisted ways my body wanted it to be. The pulse of her heart throbbing in her elongated neck, the swells of her breasts through her tight singlet, her back arching as her legs spread.

  I pushed the thoughts away and slid further into the room, my back firmly attached the brickwork. My eyes, finally wrenching themselves away from Mia, scanned the space. A hollow in the roof allowed just enough light to give the broken space a grey, dour look. I searched along the walls and began rounding the room, seeking any potential attacker.

  I took my time, being careful. I listened and waited, shifted behind broken wood and burned out carcasses of furniture. When I found nothing, I finally detached myself from the wall and approached Mia. Her fight had dwindled, her chest rising and falling as she sucked urgent breaths from her nose.

  The crisp, white envelope tucked into her waistline was as out of place as the door. It was too clean, too perfect against Mia’s dishevelled clothing. I picked up the envelope and pulled out the letter.

  ‘Do you see how it feels when someone takes something that belong to you? You know what I want. Consider yourself warned.’

  I read the words over and over again, the chill spreading from the base of my skull along the length of my back, and soon it coated my entire body in a shell of trepidation. None of it made sense. Why take Mia and set her free so easily? What was this game they were playing at? The pieces were falling all around me, but I couldn’t put any of them into place—too many jiggered edges that cut right through one another. My mind reeled.

  Something was stirring. A monster. I couldn’t see it yet, but I could feel it. It was coming for me, and I had to be ready.

  Her screams pulled me from the paper, from my thoughts. Muffled and frustrated, she glared into my eyes. Her face red with effort.

  Tentatively I grabbed the back of the rag and pulled it over her head discarding it on the floor. I reached for the fabric stuffed into her mouth and, as soon as I removed it, Mia gulped the air—mouthful after mouthful.

  “You asshole.” Her voice was gravely and scratched.

  “I had to be sure there was no one else here.”

  “Untie me.”

  “Who took you?”

  “Untie me.”

  “Did you see who took you?”

  “Gabriel.’

  “Did you see?”

  “No,” she huffed.

  “Who did this to you?” My hand hovered just above her injured eye, resisting touching her.

  “I don’t know. The last thing I remember was leaving the shop; next thing, I have a headache and I’m tied up like an animal in this chair.”

  “You look like an animal.” I couldn’t help myself.

  “Fuck you.”

  “I would like nothing more—right here, right now—to tear those clothes off your body and take you just as you are,” Her eyes flashed with recognition. A primal, beastly need that she wanted to meet. “But you’re hurt, and I’m going to take care of you first, then I’m going to make sure no one ever touches you again.”

  At that she stilled, sucking in a muted gasp, crimson flushed across her face.

  With my promise, I made her mine and she knew it.

  I bent down and drew out my knife. I pushed her knees apart—not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. The force jolted her hands and she arched her back, tossing her head back and letting out a pained whimper. I growled at the sight of her, bruised and broken and so fucking beautiful.

  I sliced through the rope, her legs kicked out, and her body sagged in relief. My jaw clenched as I took in the bruised, chaffed skin and the deep marks left by the rope. I stood up, rounded the chair, and clasped her arm. I sliced through the constricting bondage. She moaned as I released her. The sound was somewhere between pain and pleasure, a desperate, ecstatic sound. It took all my will power not to take her just then, like the animal she was—filthy and angry, injured and tamed. I wanted to free her, not just from the restraints on her body.

  I swallowed hard and offered her my hand. Mia glared at me. She looked fucking sensational, all angry and desperate.

  She gave me her hand and I yanked her out of the chair, eliciting a soft cry from her. Her muscles would be aching and heavy from being hog tied, but I wanted her in my arms; I wanted to be around her, beside her, inside her. I wanted to be her world, to revolve around her forever like she was my universe.

  I drew her into me and she tilted backwards, her legs faltering. I lifted her and attached her body to mine, holding her in a tight embrace.

  “Let go of me, you asshole. You left me all tied up like that for ages.”

  “If I let you go, you’ll fall.”

  “Let. Go.” Her bruised fists, battering against my chest, had no force.

  “Don’t be angry with me, luce mia. I just had to be sure we were alone. I can’t save you if I’m dead.”

  “Save me? I don’t need saving,” she huffed and one of my eyebrows shot up.

  “We all need saving sometimes.”

  “From what?” Her voice was suddenly unsure.

  “From everything.”

  “And who’s going to save me from you?”

  “You should have saved yourself when you had the chance.” We locked eyes and my lips longed to taste hers. I pulled her into me.

  “Gabriel—” she moaned against my chest. I fought every urge primed into my DNA and pushed her gently away putting her down.

  “Let’s get out of here.” She leaned into me, and her weight was a comfort. It seemed an odd thought to find comfort in her while I was the one who held her up.

  She shuffled against me as I led her outside. We both squinted at the glaring sun that hung too high in the sky.

  I helped her into the car and put the seat belt across her. My skin grazing hers as I leaned against her, the touch sending electricity across my body.

  The drive home was charged. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, so many gaps I needed to fill, but I also had to take care of her—to soothe her, to balm her wounds.

  I pulled up by the shop and led her inside. I lay her on my bed, where she stretched and uncurled her body.

  “Don’t move,” I growled at her.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She flayed me with a deafening look, and I had to force my legs to move.

  I went to the bathroom and turned on the tap. The hot water spluttered and the shower filled with steam.

  I returned to the bedroom to find her still on my bed. A fractured diamond. I went over, grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting you cleaned up.”

  She swallowed and allowed me to remove the sticky, dirty singlet stuck to her body. It peeled off like a second skin that didn’t belong. Her body glistened with sweat and was decorated in grey ash, like a warrior after a battle.

  One at a time, I stripped her from her clothing till she la
y before me naked and breathtaking. My entire body hardened and screamed; my chest expanded with desire. I ignored it and removed my shirt. She watched me undress, her eyes hungry.

  “You’re all beat up.”

  “So are you.” I reached out a hand and she took it.

  I helped her into the shower and followed her inside. I grabbed the soap and poured some into my hands, working it over into a foam and started the delicate, agonising task of washing Mia. I massaged her neck and shoulders, the length of her back, her weary feet and long legs. Every inch of her. She moaned and the sounds made my hands heavy and my cock hard, pushing against my jeans, begging for release. Each touch of her skin was a delightful misery. I washed her long hair; streams of black ash ran down the drain.

  I spun her around so that she faced me and pinned her to the wall. My soapy hands, breaking all the rules I had set for myself, breaching all the barriers, gliding around her curves. Her perky breasts responded to my touch. Her eyes grew with need as I moved along her shoulders. She whimpered as I soothed her swollen wrists, and she bit her lip as I washed between her legs.

  “Gabriel,” she moaned for me. My heart stammered at the sound, and my resolve begun to wash away like the bubbles in the drain.

  Mia gripped my face and her eyes searched mine. Then she kissed me—a kiss full of desire and fire. We were tangled tongues and grasping hands; we were frenzied bodies and wild need. My swollen cock pressed against her belly through my jeans and, without warning, she undid my zip. Her fingers slid beyond the fabric and curled around my painful erection. Mia stroke up and down in rhythm to my answering hips, eliciting a desperate groan from me.

  I grabbed her wrist, “Mia…No.”

  I wrenched myself away from her and growled at the pout she threw me.

  “Let me take care of you first.” She remained pouting but allowed me to rinse her off.

  When we were done, I handed her a towel and peeled my wet jeans and tight boxers off my body. Her eyes flashed over my aching erection; I covered up, led her to the bed, where I lay her down and withdrew from her warmth.

  “Gabriel.”

  “Don’t move,” it came out as a gruff bark. I retreated into the bathroom and returned with a soothing cream. I sat on the edge of the bed, my back to her pink, flushed abdomen and held out my hand, “Give me your wrist.”

  She moaned as I lathered the swollen, bruised skin with the cream. Her forehead creased and I wondered which she felt more—the pleasure or the pain. It’s such a thin line that I don’t think the distinction matters as long as I was the source of it, as long as I would be the only one to ever force that sound from her lips.

  “What do you remember Mia?”

  “Only what I said,” she purred as I moved to her other wrist.

  “There has to be more. What kind of car took you? Did you hear voices?”

  “I don’t know, it’s all a blur.”

  I moved to her feet, and she whined as my fingers trailed the swollen path of coiled rope drawn perfectly into her skin, “It’s a very long drive, Mia.”

  She snatched her foot away from me and sat up, her face crinkled in a scowl, “You don’t believe me?”

  “I’m just trying to figure this whole thing out, Mia. Someone is coming after me—after you,” I wrenched my fingers through my hair and exhaled, “I told you, I’m not strong enough to lose you. I need you to help me piece this whole thing together.”

  At my words, she softened and traced her fingers along my bristled jaw, “I know. I’m sorry, I just don’t remember.”

  I nodded and allowed her to settle back down. I took her foot once more and begun to rub the cream into her skin.

  “Does the name Emilio Rocco mean anything to you?” Her entire body jolted. It wasn’t more than a micro-movement, but I felt it as it reverberated through my hands.

  She remained silent.

  “Who is he?”

  “A monster,” She choked on the word and tears filled her eyes.

  “Mia, do you know who he is?”

  “All I know is that wherever he is, death follows; and I’ve brought him to your door.”

  “I met death a long time ago. Do you know where I can find him?”

  Hot tears ran down her face, “I’m sorry.”

  “Mia, luce mia, don’t cry. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again,” I wiped the tears from her cheeks, the heat scalding my aching skin.

  I pulled away from her, my body already missing her heat. “You should get some sleep.” I stood up and lifted the blanket, indicating she should roll beneath.

  “You're not going to join me?” The hurt in her eyes tugged at my heart.

  “I don't think that’s a good idea.” Her eyes burned into mine, her jaw clenched tight.

  “But you said—”

  “That I’ll never let anything hurt you again, and that includes me. You are under my protection now, Mia. That doesn't mean we get to be more than this”

  “Gabriel.”

  I forestalled her with a wave of my hand, “No! This is the way it has to be. Get some rest.”

  I tucked her under the blanket and fought every urge and desire to tear my towel away and take her like a savage, hungry animal. My aching cock twitched under the towel, and I threw it down reaching for dry boxers. I could feel her eyes on me but I couldn’t turn back to meet her eyes. If I did, all my will power would crumble and all would be lost.

  I sat on the chair facing the bed and locked eyes with Mia. She was so close and still the furthest away she’d ever been.

  “Goodnight.” I closed my eyes and wished for sleep.

  A scratch at the door jerked me away from my dreams. In it, she was mine—and sweaty and naked. All my dirty, angry fantasies played out in slow motion, every pleasure lasting a life time.

  He scratched again and whimpered. I sighed, standing up, my body stiff and sore. I opened the door for Spots who came hurtling into the room, his tongue hanging from his mouth. He leapt onto the bed and wagged his tail wildly. Mia squealed in delight and surprise, the sound resounding through my heart.

  “Get down!” He jumped off and leapt onto me. “Ok, ok. We’re going,” he barked in response and ran to the door.

  I turned to Mia apologetically, “I have to take him for a walk.”

  “Have fun. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “No, you won’t. You’re coming with us.”

  Mia looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  “Get dressed, we’re going.”

  “You go. I’m warm and sleepy.” She pulled the sheet to her neck and curled her legs beneath.

  “I’m not leaving you here, and I’m not letting Spots walk alone. Get dressed or I’ll fling you over my shoulder and carry you bare-assed. Either way, from now on, you’re going to be where I am.”

  “Gabriel, I’m not coming.”

  I ignored her pulling my t-shirt on.

  “Gabriel, did you hear me?”

  She tried again as I plunged my feet through running shorts and fished for socks in my drawer.

  “Gabriel.”

  “You’re running out of time Mia.”

  “I said…”

  “Five.” I pulled a sock on.

  “Are you fucking…”

  “Four.” I pulled on the other.

  “Gabriel, I said I wasn…”

  “Three.” I pushed my foot into my shoe.

  “Fuck you…”

  “Two.” I was fully dressed. I stood up to my full height at the side of the bed.

  “One.”

  I grabbed the sheet and yanked it off Mia. Her splendid, naked body taunted me; my own growing rigid at the sight. I went to reach for her when she squirmed and jumped out of my grasp.

  “No! What are you doing?”

  “I warned you.” I made for her again, my hands wrapping around her waist and lifting her from the bed. I threw her over my shoulder, her bare ass exposed and delectable.

  “Ok, ok, ok! Stop it! Put m
e down!” She huffed and tried to wriggle out of my grasp.

  My hand rose, as if by itself, and the smack reverberated against the room, “Ow! What the hell, Gabriel?”

  I put her down watching her rub away at the red handprint on her ass. I smirked. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, the savage in me wanted to brand her, leave a mark, remind her who she belonged to. My skin prickled with the thought.

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  A smile crept on my lips, “I think you look perfect as you are.”

  Mia frowned, her hands landing on her hips. It should have made me laugh; instead, she floored me with the smouldering look of her exquisite body. I swallowed the rock in my throat and turned away, fighting the urge to take her, to claim her like a beast—savage and feral, and completely out of control.

  Instead, I dug around in my closet for anything that would fit her. There wasn’t much. I threw a t-shirt and shorts in her direction, both of which were too large.

  “We’ll have to go past your apartment later and pick up some clothes.”

  “And why is that?” She asked as she pulled on my oversized shirt and tied the string of the shorts, which were completely hidden by the shirt. My body shivered knowing she had no underwear on, and one tug at the slim string would reveal all of her to me. My fingers itched for her.

  I ran a hand over my face trying to calm the need. I cleared my throat, “I’ve already told you, you’re going to be wherever I am, and I live here.”

  “Gabriel—”

  “I can’t protect you if you’re not here. This is what you wanted. Accept it, it’s final.”

  Mia grumbled something under her breath and made her way to the front door. I stopped her before she opened it, all my old instincts and fear rushing back. I went to the window and scoured the street, looking at every shadow, studying any unfamiliar shape. When I was satisfied, I opened the door. Spots looked to me, I nodded, and he leapt out into the street running ahead. Mia and I stepped into the road behind him.

  “Tell me more about Spots, what happened after Simone fixed him?”