A Cruel Love: Cavalieri Della Morte

by Soto, S. M.

  As if he can sense my struggle, Percivale yanks me off the floor and drags me after him. My head and body feel heavy and sluggish, still not able to process. I watch through heavy lids as Percivale runs to the nearest vehicle and opens the door. He slides inside the driver’s seat, and I watch on unsteady legs as he does something beneath the wheel.

  Suddenly, the taillights flick on and the engine roars to life. Through narrowed eyes, I take a step closer to see what he’s done, but by the time I take a step, he pushes out of the car and stomps toward me. He just about stuffs me into the passenger seat, and instead of walking back toward the driver’s side, he turns on his heel, heading straight into the roaring fire that’s licking at the structure of the gas station. I twist on my seat, my eyes widening as his silhouette disappears in the flames.

  I can’t explain why—I don’t even want to analyze it further—but as I anxiously wait for him to slip out of the flames, my heart bangs against my chest and the stupid organ squeezes in a vise.

  What if he doesn’t come back out?

  And almost like he could hear me, he walks out of the fire, that stupid black duffel slung over his shoulder while he’s at it.

  He slides into the driver’s seat and tosses his duffel in the back. Throwing the car in drive, he peels out of the shopping center that looks even more deserted than it did before. As we’re getting back on the freeway, there’s a booming sound that jerks the car so forcefully, we almost swerve off the overpass. I whip around, looking in the rear window, and see orange flames devouring the structure of the entire shopping center. I watch in horror as everything goes up in flames. Slowly, I glance at Percivale out of the corner of my eye and realize he blew the rest of the place up. Tears spring to my eyes as I watch the glow of orange get bigger and bigger even as we drive away.

  “There were innocent people there.”

  He doesn’t respond, but I know he heard me. He had to.

  “You just killed people for no reason!”

  His hand tightens along the steering wheel, and his lips thin into a grim line. “Not my problem.”

  My eyes widen with disbelief. “You’re a monster.”

  Slowly, his eyes meet mine and I suck in a sharp gasp at the lack of emotion there. “You finally figuring that out, princess?”

  We don’t say anything else during the drive away from the crime scene. I don’t ask about those men who started shooting. I don’t ask what’s going to happen next. I don’t even ask if we’re safe; instead, I sit with him in uncomfortable silence until I fall asleep.

  Bring the Pleasure, Baby, I’ll Bring the Pain

  Percivale

  We make it to Louisiana in record time, considering everything. I originally planned on heading straight to Arthur, but that was before Blossom, and now…now the plan is all fucked.

  We won’t be heading into New Orleans just yet; I’ll stay outside, away from Arthur, until I’ve decided what I’m going to do—how I’m going to handle her.

  While Blossom is asleep, I use this time to get everything else done to avoid a steamroll of questions from her. I pull into some hole-in-the-wall shopping center and wait until I find the perfect person. It takes longer than I’d like, but under the circumstances, it’s necessary.

  I would do it myself, but that poses one too many risks. With facial recognition being what it is today, any chance I take stepping out of this car with Blossom is a chance Arthur will see me and know I’m here. I’m not ready for that yet.

  When I spot a young teen walk past the car, I beckon him over. Rolling down my window, I show him the bundle of hundreds in my hand.

  “I got a job for you, boy.”

  His eyes widen when he examines the thick bundle of cash, so I prattle off what I need from him. Sliding out three hundred-dollar bills, I dangle them in front of him.

  “Go inside and get me girl shit. A pack of underwear, some shirts, sweats and jeans or some shit. Get deodorant. Shampoo. Shavers. Shit like that. Understand me, boy? Bring it back when you’re done and this”—I wave the rest of the bundle before him—“is yours, got me?”

  His eyes widen in disbelief. “Y-yeah!”

  When the teen comes back with bags filled with shit, I know he did good. I hand over the bundle of cash but snatch his wrist in a vise, prompting him to stare at me in fear.

  “Anyone ever asks where you got the cash from, you don’t say shit. Understand? We’ve never met. Got me?”

  He nods his head quickly. His Adam’s apple bobs as he works a swallow.

  “Good. I’d hate to have another run-in with you. It won’t be pretty.”

  “I never seen you. I found this cash on the floor and got lucky.”

  I smirk. “You’re a smart kid. Try not to waste it all on dumb shit.”

  With that, I pull off and head for the nearest motel. I haven’t gotten much sleep during this fucked-up cross-country trip, so I’m hoping Blossom will actually behave tonight while I get some rest before the real shit hits the fan. Even if she doesn’t behave, I’ll strap her to the bed and tape her pretty mouth shut until she does.

  As if on cue, she starts to stir around the same time that I pull into the parking lot. She lets out a loud yawn and stretches her arms above her head. Of their own accord, my eyes trail across her chest and the creamy skin peeping out from where her shirt has ridden up, exposing a small glimpse of her flesh. When those blue and green eyes clash with mine, it’s hard to ignore that blatant innocence that stares back at me. It’s like a slap to the face each time I look at her. I fucking hate that I see more than the woman in the file. I hate that I’ve noticed there’s more to her at all.

  What’s worse? I hate that there’s some sick part of me that wants to defile her innocence. That wants to break her down and make her bleed. Watch those gorgeous tears spill down her cheeks. A man as broken and disturbed as me should never be allowed near a woman like her, and yet, here we are.

  She’s a temptation.

  She’s the forbidden fruit.

  Blossom darts her gaze out the windshield, and her face slackens. A small groan rumbles in her chest.

  “Seriously?” She doesn’t even look at me when she asks this; she just continues looking straight ahead at the motel that I’m sure is no better than the last, but I don’t give a fuck. As long as they take cash and don’t ask too many questions, I don’t care at all.

  Reaching for the bag of clothes in the back, I sift through until I find something suitable for her to put over her dirt-riddled clothes. My lips twitch when I see the sleeve of a hoodie at the bottom.

  The little shit actually did good.

  “Put this on.” I toss the hoodie at her and don’t wait to listen to her argue. Instead, I slip out of the car and say, “C’mon.”

  I hear her follow immediately. She slams the door shut, her feet shuffling in the pebbles and gravel beneath us. The place doesn’t even have fucking sidewalks. Christ.

  “You’re actually letting me out in public?” she mock gasps. “What a surprise.”

  I fight the urge to smile. She makes it hard not to.

  When we push through the main doors, there’s only one man behind the dingy antique-looking desk. By the looks of him, he’s as ancient as his establishment. He doesn’t greet us or smile, instead gets straight to the point, rattling off the nightly rates for a double and sliding over a fraying journal where he expects us to sign our names—his books.

  Grasping the pen, I fill in two lines with the names Mr. and Mrs. Knight and spin the journal back toward him. After handing over enough cash for five nights, he hands over the key.

  “Room 2A is vacant and all yours, Mr. and Mrs. Knight.”

  I hear Blossom’s sharp intake of breath but pay it no mind. Instead, I take the keys and grip her hand in my own, tugging her after me.

  “What a wonderful place to bring your wife for the week, Mr. Knight. Totally not suspicious at all.” Her voice is filled with sarcasm, and there’s no hiding how much she detests m
e—it’s obvious.

  “Only the best for my wife,” I reply coldly, and I swear I see her flinch.

  Ignoring her, I push through the door, and much like I suspected, it’s almost identical-looking to the last motel we stayed in, save for the now-mustard-colored carpet and retro furnishings.

  “Wait here,” I tell her, giving her a stern look. She rolls her eyes. Still irritated but thankfully, for her sake, she doesn’t move.

  Good girl.

  I make the short trek back to the car that’s parked right in front of our room. I glance over my shoulder, my eyes scanning the area surrounding us, looking for anything out of the ordinary. After the gas station incident, I can’t be too sure. It’s a normal occurrence, running from criminals just like me. I’ve just never had another person to think about while being ambushed. Hell, I could’ve let them take her, have their fun, then kill her; it would certainly have saved me time. But that would pose a risk. If they didn’t get rid of her properly, I couldn’t risk having any of it traced back to me.

  When I get back to the room with all the shit from the store and my duffel, I toss everything onto the small, rickety table near the TV. Blossom notices the bags right away.

  “What’s all this?”

  I toss the bags toward her, letting them plop on the bed. “Shit for you. Clothes, toiletries.”

  Her brows jump into her hairline. “You bought me all this stuff? When did you have time to do that?”

  I ignore her by giving her my back and shuffling through the contents of my duffel for the stuff I’ll really need. I have one last job to finish before I meet with Arthur, and in order for that to go over smoothly, I need to make sure Blossom won’t try any more escape attempts.

  When I glance up, I catch Blossom watching me with a weird expression on her face. It’s not anger or hate; it’s something soft, and I can see the “thank you” practically rolling off her lips, so I shut her up. She shouldn’t be thanking me. I’m a bastard. Plain and simple.

  “Just go take a fucking shower, Blossom. Quit asking questions.”

  She snaps her mouth shut and slips into the bathroom. What’s more surprising than her going in without arguing is that she didn’t even bother shutting the door.

  She’s learning. And fuck if that doesn’t make me happy as shit.

  My eyes linger as she strips out of her clothes, and I feel like a fucking bastard for watching and not giving her privacy, but fuck me, her body is a work of art. I expect her to cover her body from me much like she did last time, hide everything from me, but this time, as she strips off her clothes, it’s different. Her movements are methodical, slower even. When she takes off her shirt, she doesn’t give me her back; she keeps her eyes trained on the floor but leaves her front facing me. When she unsnaps her bra and frees her breasts, my cock tents in my pants.

  They’re fucking perfect. Just like I knew they’d be. Her nipples are the perfect shade of pink, tightened into little hard buds. The longer I stare, it becomes glaringly obvious they’re more than a handful, and fuck if that doesn’t make me want to feast on her.

  Her chest seems to be heaving now, her tits rising and falling faster. Blossom undoes the button and zipper of her jeans and hooks her fingers inside, sliding both her panties and the obstructing material down her legs. The golden bush between her legs hides what’s hidden beneath, but like all my other senses, I know her pussy is going to be just as magnificent as the rest of her. And the cherry on top of all of this? It’s when Blossom slowly glances up at me beneath her lashes and I see the blush painted all over her face. She’s giving me a show. She’s willingly showing me her body, and Jesus Christ, I almost blow my load right then and there.

  Turning my back on her, I curl my hand around the edge of the table and grind my teeth together so hard, my jaw aches. I close my eyes and count to five slowly, waiting for the calm. When the sound of the water spurts from the pipes, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  What the fuck was that?

  If sweet little Blossom thinks she can win me over with her pussy, for her freedom, she has another thing coming to her. I clench my teeth with resolve.

  Using this time to get everything ready, I dig in the black duffel, pulling out the essentials. The dog chain that I measure from the bathroom to the bed, making sure it’s the correct distance. I then test the distance from every place in the room to the door. So long as this chain is bolted to the bed, she won’t be able to get anywhere near the door. It’s perfect.

  I dig through the dresser drawers, search on the floor and practically every crevice and corner of this room looking for anything she can use as a weapon—or anything she can use to free herself. Can’t have that.

  By the time Blossom is finished showering and dressed, she pads into the bedroom and pauses when she sees the chain connected to the headboard. Her eyes dart from me to the bed, then back again. It’s like watching a pinball machine. Finally when she settles those turbulent eyes back on me, I see the anger that I’ve been waiting for. I knew it was coming.

  “No,” she clips, lips pursed in anger.

  I chuckle at her. “You think this is optional? Try again, princess.”

  “I’m not putting that on, Percivale. I’m not a fucking animal.” She crosses her arms over her chest like that proves a point. It doesn’t. I take a predatory step forward with the chain resting in my hand, and her eyes widen. For every step forward, she retreats a step. It’s all a game, and I’m enjoying it far too much.

  “Stop it.”

  “Don’t make me chase you, Blossom. You won’t like the outcome.”

  Her nostrils flare, and I see the second she makes a decision. I know what she’s planning even before she does. So when she fakes right, I let her think she can run past me, but at the very last second, I snake my arms around her waist, and then she’s airborne, like a fucking feather in my arms as I toss her on the bed. Her body flops and she struggles, so I press down on her, subduing her with the weight of my body.

  “You’re such an asshole!” she growls, face now just mere inches from mine. I smile down at her, loving the way she feels beneath me.

  “Oh, I know.” My voice comes out much huskier than I intended, and she notices. How can she not? Her body suddenly goes lax beneath mine, and she’s staring up at me with those wide, different-colored eyes. I feel the tremor that travels through her body; I see the flush coat her neck and cheeks and the flash of heat in her eyes. I see all of it just before her lips are on mine and we’re kissing. She’s too soft and pliant beneath me, so I grip my hand around her hip and squeeze, pressing my body more firmly against hers. Her lips move over mine faster, and she opens for me. I oblige. My tongue slides in, swiping over hers, tasting everything she has to offer.

  My cock hardens against her thigh, and unable to help myself, I press my hips into her and she fucking moans, into my mouth, setting my body on fire. That does it for me. I slide my hand between our bodies and slip it into the waistband of her tights and underwear. My eyes widen in shock when I find a smooth canvas, save for a small patch of hair. Apparently, she used the shaver for a lot more than her legs. I press the pad of my finger against her clit, dipping down to her channel, and find her wet as fuck. She’s fucking soaked.

  I dip the tip of my finger into her pussy, and she makes a choking sound as her hips make a little twirling motion. Using her own lubricant, I rub it around her clit, pressing in soft circles.

  “Oh god,” she moans in between kisses. I trail my lips down her neck, sucking on her skin. The darkness that lives inside me makes me want to cause her pain. So I do. I scrape my teeth along her skin, and my cock hardens at her pained hiss. She smells divine. Like soap and her natural scent all mixed into one. A fucking aphrodisiac.

  “Feel how wet your pussy is, Blossom?” I ask with my lips poised against her ear. To make my point, I slide a finger inside of her smoothly. Her pussy clamps around my digit.

  She’s perfect.

  Every time I pump my fi
nger in and out of her, it sounds like squelching liquid or something thick being stirred. She pants into my ear, her walls squeezing my finger so tightly I can already imagine what she’d feel like around my cock. “Your cunt is so fucking tight. So fucking wet. You like this don’t you, Blossom?”

  “Yes,” she breathes, and even I can hear how much she hates that it’s true. She hates that her body is reacting to me. I press my thumb against her clit more firmly and rub her until she’s writhing beneath me. I crook my finger inside of her, pushing against her wall, and she jolts on the bed and her jaw goes slack.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispers throatily.

  I trail my lips across every inch of her exposed skin, sucking, nipping, and biting until her skin is red from my ministrations. Until I mark every inch of her exposed skin. I use my chin to push the cup of her bra down, and I take one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking on the peak until she groans. If possible, her cunt gets even more wet. I trace my tongue around her nipple and glance into her eyes at the same time I slide a second finger into her.

  She squeaks with surprise and her arms slap against my neck and back, where she digs her nails into my skin, holding on for support. Her hips rub in circles now, in time with the rhythm of my fingers. It’s hot, the way she’s fucking herself to reach her climax.

  “That’s it, Blossom,” I praise. “Fuck my fingers, just like that, princess.”

  And she does. She meets my fingers with each pump and lets out those soft, breathy moans each time. She’s getting closer—I can tell by the way she’s squeezing me now. The way her nails are biting into my skin, drawing blood. I clamp my palm around her throat and squeeze in warning, just to watch the fear flare in her eyes. She doesn’t disappoint, only this time, there isn’t just fear there. No. She’s fucking enjoying it—getting off on my darkness.

  The need to taste her pussy is so strong, I slip down her body, still sliding my fingers in and out, and force her tights and underwear down her legs, spreading them open for me. I withdraw my fingers and she cries out in distress, those beautiful blue-green eyes flinging open, landing on me. They widen when she sees where my face is.