Twisted Together

by Pepper Winters

  The limousine went around a corner, sending Tess sliding over the leather. Her body nudged against me. The instant her shoulder touched mine, everything that’d been pulled tight snapped back into its rightful place inside. Who was I kidding? I’d give her anything. I wanted to give her everything. She deserved everything.

  But that twat still wasn’t coming.

  “You have nothing to be jealous of.” Tess smiled. “I was just thinking aloud. They aren’t deal breakers.”

  “Deal breakers?” My eyes narrowed. “What you’re saying is, you don’t want to get married unless those conditions are met?” I couldn’t believe this. My stomach twisted. It meant yet more time not having her as my wife. More time not having the commitment and piece of paper I needed.

  Tess’s lips parted. “What? No! I have no conditions, Q. None at all. Marrying you is already one dream come true. I don’t need any others.”

  Then what did that make me? A heartless bastard who was rushing her into accepting me, all because this was how I wanted it? I wasn’t being fair.

  You won’t change your mind, though.

  Nope. I was so close to having her sign her soul to me. I ached to hear her say the vows. I bled to sink inside her hot body the night she became Mrs. Mercer. I may want to change my selfish ways, but I wouldn’t.

  “Good. Because I’m not stalling or changing.” I couldn’t manage anymore. I didn’t want to admit if she asked right now to give her time, I’d buckle and give her anything. I needed this more than her. I was the weakest—wanting to marry her my fucking way.

  Tess nodded; happiness painted her face with a healthy glow. A few minutes passed as she looked out the window, watching passing motorists, colourful buildings, and sunburned tourists. She turned to face me. “Where exactly are we?”

  Forcing my body to shed the remaining jealousy, I said, “The Canary Islands.”

  Tess laughed quietly. “I can’t believe before I met you I’d never travelled apart from one family holiday to Bali. Now the world is open to me. Not that I’m counting Mexico and Brazil as part of my travels.”

  The pain in my heart made me gasp. Goddamn, her flippancy. Her strength to make jokes would’ve made me fall to my knees if I wasn’t sitting down.

  “I’ll take you wherever you want to go, esclave.” I would spend the rest of my life creating new memories for her to suffocate the ones living inside her.

  We fell silent as Franco drove us through congested streets of weathered locals and quaint shops. Buildings favoured plasterwork and pastel colours. The Spanish archipelago had never been a favourite destination of mine, but it’d proven to be a worthwhile investment with a few developments and one mid-size hotel.

  It also had a low tolerance on sex slaves, unlike the rampant mess and disgusting trade done in Spain. In fact, I’d only accepted one girl from the Canary Islands in turn for a bribe on a condominium, which was nothing compared to the fifteen from Spain.

  The sun beamed through the windows, making my skin prickle with heat. Tess unwrapped her scarf, and shrugged out of her cardigan, before settling back wearing a white singlet top.

  She didn’t do it coyly or to get my attention, her focus remained outside, but my eyes locked onto her chest. The contours of her lacy bra indenting the cotton made my mouth go dry.

  I’d never get used to the need I had for her, or the joy at knowing she could withstand my unconventional needs. My fingertips ached to stroke her flawless skin; my cock throbbed at the thought of her touching me. I wanted her hot slick mouth between my legs.

  I clenched my jaw. “You have no thought for my sanity do you, esclave? J'ai tellement envie d’être à l’intérieur de toi.” I need to be inside you so fucking bad.

  Her head whipped around, blue eyes blazing with sudden lust. Her nipples hardened beneath the cotton, reacting to the desire in my voice, perfectly programmed to me.

  Her mouth parted, but she didn’t speak.

  I didn’t move. If I did, I’d end up stripping her and forcing her to sink down on my straining erection. Looking away, I muttered, “Next time I touch you, you won’t freeze up on me. I’ll guarantee it.” I’d guarantee it because I’d make her so fucking wet she’d pant and gasp and beg for me to fill her. I’d bind her and stroke her and worship her in every way I knew how.

  A second ticked past before she cleared her throat. The thick tension simmering between us sat heavy and unresolved. Her lips twisted, asking, “So, how big is this island?”

  I chuckled as she raised her eyebrow in a lewd way, deliberately making an ass out of herself. The power she had over me was crushing. How could she make me laugh when all I wanted to do was shake her and tumble all her sadness away? How could she make me care so fucking much even while pissing me off?

  Her gaze locked with mine, darkening with desire. I lashed out, grabbing her hand, giving her a hard smile. Ever so slowly, never taking my eyes from hers, I pinched her forefinger and slid it into my mouth. Inch by inch, I sucked, tasting her, cursing the fucking need in my blood.

  Her eyes snapped closed, shuddering as I swirled my tongue around her finger. I intoxicated myself on her subtle feminine taste. A hint of orange remained from the fruit she had for breakfast on the plane.

  Just as slowly, I withdrew her digit from my mouth, murmuring, “Big enough.” I smiled, but there wasn’t anything jovial in my face. I transmitted a warning—a message that the moment I had her alone, I was taking her. The monstrous craving in my blood was a ticking time-bomb ready to explode at any moment.

  Awareness and intensity fogged the interior. I couldn’t breathe without dragging her into my lungs. I couldn’t think without her being centre place in my mind.

  My eyes fell to the bandage on her neck—the tiny piece of protection hiding the brand from others eyes. I wanted people to know she was mine now, not when it was healed. I needed to see it, so the urge to bite and consume would stay dormant.

  I released Tess’s hand. Franco took another corner at hyper speed, and we jerked to a stop at our destination. Thank God we were there because another few minutes in the limo and I would’ve locked the doors and not cared if violent rocking gave us away.

  Franco jumped out, coming to open the door for Tess. Bright island sunshine beamed into the shady car no longer inhibited by the tinted windows. The heat scorched my skin, making me wish I’d worn something cooler. Coming here had been impulsive. After Tess’s nightmare, all I wanted to do was run. Run far away from evil, madness, and responsibilities.

  I wanted to be happy, but I couldn’t snap out of my mood. It wasn’t just Brax being mentioned but a combination of things. And just like Tess wouldn’t share things with me, I couldn’t share my worries with her.

  She’s about to become mine for eternity. She loved me. So why did I sense something awful coming?

  I hadn’t been to Volière in years. The last time was when my house was a convalescent home to five saved slaves all of who were mentally destroyed. I did what I could—hired what therapists were available but then had to leave. Hearing their screams down the corridors or their sobbing while trying to work proved too similar to listening to my father torture his harem in the east wing when I was a boy. I’d been a fucking pussy and run to Volière where I stayed until they were well enough to return home.

  “Looking forward to seeing paradise?” Franco asked Tess. His muscular form was crisp and professional in his black suit and no doubt sweating his fucking balls off. I lost sight of them as they walked around the back of the car. The familiar burn of rage of another man touching the most precious thing in my life reminded me Tess might have issues to work through, but so did I. I trusted Franco with my life. I had no reason to be jealous. Try telling that to your fists.

  Quickly exciting the car, I glowered at Franco until he dropped Tess’s hand. He grinned. “Should I wait here, boss? Or do I get a ticket to utopia, too?”

  “You’re coming.” Never again would I go without a man with reflexes like Fra
nco’s and a license to carry concealed weapons. Frederick, my business partner and the man I left in charge, was right. On our daily phone calls discussing property projections and what the future meant for Moineau Holdings, I knew I’d painted a bull’s-eye on my back. More would come for me, and I had no intention of being unprepared.

  A loud bang sounded from a piece of rigging along the pier. Such an everyday innocent noise but Tess fucking leapt like a gazelle. Her curls flurried as her head turned to the noise; her eyes round and terrified.

  Goddammit.

  I knew she struggled with loud noises or surprises. I watched her jump and freeze if Suzette dropped something in the kitchen or Franco slammed the front door too loudly.

  “Tout va bien, personne ne peut te faire de mal ici” It’s okay. Nothing can hurt you here. I stalked toward her, jerking her close. Whispering in her ear, I said, “Stop letting it have power over you.”

  She pulled away, a slight flush on her cheeks. “Sorry. I’m just tired. My reactions are a little jumpy.” She smiled, cupping my cheek. “Truly. I’m fine.” Her eyes dropped, hiding her lies.

  Lies had a scent. The stench of decay and terror. I hated when she told untruths—she undermined me every time.

  “Tess, what did I—”

  “Bloody hell, I’m hot,” Franco said loudly. I looked up to snarl at him for interrupting, but his eyes pierced mine. They blatantly said ‘you’re in public with a lot of people milling around. Let’s get on the fucking plane where we’re safer.’

  As much as I wanted to brush off his warning, he was right.

  Swallowing my frustration, I let the tension between Tess and I disperse. Stepping backward, I nonchalantly looked around. Everyone was a suspect. It was time to get somewhere less populated. Just in case.

  “Wish I’d packed a pair of shorts,” Franco grumbled. “I’m bloody steaming in this suit.”

  Tess chuckled. “I agree. Q dragged me out of bed so fast this morning, I have no idea what I packed. I’m hating these jeans with a passion. I’d give anything for a skirt.”

  My mind instantly thought of how convenient a skirt would be. A skirt would let me touch her, finger her, all while she remained hidden and dressed. It seemed I couldn’t think about Tess without getting fucking hard. The incessant need to fill her built behind my eyes. The churning in my gut filled with darkness as my ears roared needing to hear her cries. My mouth watered at the thought of tasting her—all of her—her blood, her tears, her desires.

  But then the need rushed to another part of my body.

  My heart throbbed with tenderness plaiting with the ugliness of my soul. I wanted her symphony of screams, but not as much as I wanted the glittering sounds of her laughter. My body filled with terrifying softness and warmth.

  She’d changed me.

  Through hurting me and showing me compassion even while I was a bastard to her—she changed me. The chilly exterior I favoured melted with one look of her dove-grey eyes.

  Fuck. I’m ruined.

  Needing to redeem my manhood, even if it was just to myself, I growled, “You’re not putting a skirt on.”

  Tess’s eyes flew to mine, confusion making them flare. “Did you just tell me what I can and can’t wear?” The soft blue turned to steely grey. “I love you, but if you think you can dress me—like you did when I first arrived—you have another thought coming.” Her temper rose from nowhere swirling around me like a blustery breeze.

  The tenderness switched to lust once again, and I wanted to reach out, squeeze her neck, and kiss her fucking stupid. I was turned on by her meekness, but her temper turned me feral.

  I needed to get away from her. We needed to leave.

  “Fine.” Stalking away, I called over my shoulder, “Bring the bags, Franco. I’ll tell the pilot we’re here.”

  The pier was the same as always. Tenerife was nectar to holiday-seeking newlyweds and families. The port acted as the gateway for island hopping, sightseeing, and was always manically busy. However, I had a long standing arrangement with the top seaplane pilot whenever I came. The gruff old ex-RAF commander knew when I visited not to accept any other jobs but remain on call for me. I paid him a shitload to be at my every whim.

  So where the fuck was the plane?

  I stomped down the pier, looking in the distance to moored vessels, trying to glimpse the white and black twin prop Otter somewhere on the turquoise water.

  Nothing.

  “Are you Mr. Mercer?” a youngish man asked. He had short black hair and a face that’d been tanned and weathered by the sun. My fingers twitched in preparation. I no longer trusted anyone—especially foreign strangers.

  Scowling, I nodded. “Yes. Captain Morrow was supposed to be here. He’s on call.”

  The man shook his head. “I’m Bill Castro. I’ve been assigned instead.” His white uniform, with gleaming black buttons and a crest of an embroidered wave on the pocket, marked him as one of the many yacht crew in the port. “I’m afraid the captain is currently in hospital, sir. Triple bypass, unfortunately. I’ve been asked to escort you to where you want to go on one of the newest speedboats in our fleet.”

  Twisting his torso, he pointed at a sleek white and silver vessel that looked like a bullet on the water. Mahogany and cherry wood decorated the interior panels gleaming richly in the sun.

  A boat? No fucking chance.

  “I’m not sailing. I always fly.” Flying was my thing. Flying was my one passion—the air was meant to be explored with the help of thrusters and powerful turbines. The ocean—that was meant to be avoided at all costs. I hated the water. I hated how innocent it looked at first glance, but beneath the depths it hid monsters, while the surface was home to waves eager to drown unsuspecting victims.

  “We wouldn’t sail, sir. It has a top speed of fifty-eight knots. You’ll be holding on for dear life while tears stream from your eyes.” The captain grinned.

  I wanted to punch him. What if he’d been hired to take us out to sea and dispatch us on behalf of Emerald Dragon and his concubine hoard, or the Rattlesnake assholes in Australia with their harem of drugged-up slaves?

  “Surely there’s another pilot who can fly the Otter?”

  “Q?” Tess appeared by my shoulder, flanked by Franco. Her eyes landed on the man who I wanted to throw off the pier.

  “Everything okay, boss?” Franco asked, eyeing up the speedboat captain with a glint best described as wolf-like. Franco had embraced what we’d done in Rio, and I had no doubt he’d like to have a reason to do it again.

  “Apparently our pilot is on his death bed, and our transportation now includes a flimsy dingy.”

  “Not a dingy, sir. It’s a top-of-the-line vessel. And unfortunately it’s your only option as the Otter is in for its regular maintenance and the other seaplane operators are fully booked this week with a Japanese tour group.” Bill raised an eyebrow. “If you want to travel, I’m your only option.”

  “A boat doesn’t sound so bad,” Tess said, smiling at Bill. She may look unafraid and cool but no one knew her like I did. The nuances of the way she held herself hinted she didn’t like being around strangers.

  I glanced at the line of boats all bobbing like fucking corks in the water. So unreliable. So rudimentary. “How long will it take?”

  “Depends on where you’re going. I’ve been sworn to secrecy and was told you’d provide coordinates.”

  Shit, yet another bribe-able human who would know about Volière. Was there another way?

  Bill seemed to hear my thoughts. “I’m your only choice, unless you want to swim.”

  I glanced at Tess. She seemed fairly relaxed—not too tense. I trusted her instincts and she wasn’t throwing off alarm signals.

  “Fine. It’s 29.0580 North and 16.8796 West. How long?”

  Bill’s forehead furrowed, doing some quick math. “About thirty to forty minutes. That’s at thirty-five knots. Can’t have you falling overboard at top speed.”

  I glowered.


  “If it’s the only option, it’s the only option,” Franco said, stating the fucking obvious.

  We’d only been away from home for five hours, and I already missed the security and sanctuary of my chateau.

  “Fine,” I muttered. “Let’s go.” Grabbing Tess’s elbow, I guided her toward the sparkling white speedboat. State of the art instruments and glass radar screens refracted the sun, blinding me as I stopped. How the hell were we supposed to get on board?

  Bill dashed past us, hurling himself onto the deck looking nimble and a regular seafarer. The creaking of the salt-drenched pier sounded haunted as he placed a small platform across the gap. In another second, he’d attached a handrail, beckoning us across.

  “You go first.” I motioned at Franco. He rolled his eyes but took our bags, striding over the plank. Bill took the duffels and placed them inside one of the mahogany bench seats.

  Tess went to move forward, but I couldn’t unwrap my fingers around her wrist. I hated the thought of letting go—even though I’d be able to touch her the moment we were on board. Let go of her, you idiot. My fingers released, and I cursed the burn deep inside me. I needed the ‘Q’ branded on her neck to be in full view. I needed everyone to see who her master was.

  Flashing a fleeting smile, she crossed the gangway, following Franco’s example. A lash of anger filled me when Bill’s eyes lit up. He offered her his hand to jump the small distance into the boat.

  Franco might have rights to touch my woman but no other male did. Never fucking again.

  Ignoring the plank, I leapt over the side, narrowly missing an embarrassing plunge into the sea, and spun to offer my hand. The roll and buoyancy of the boat beneath my feet gave me instant seasickness. Give me planes, helicopters, even gliders and parachutes, and I was fine; put me on a boat, and I fucking hated every moment of it.

  Tess looked between me and the captain, her lips pressed together. She knew what I was doing. She knew I wouldn’t let him touch her, and she knew exactly what I would do if she took his hand over mine.