"Where's the boss man?"
"Taking a shower," I told him, shrugging.
"Does he know you're out here in the hall?"
"He didn't tell me to stay put," I said, getting a smirk from Daemon.
"I like the way your mind works," he decided, moving forward, draping an arm around my shoulders. "How about I tag along while you break some more rules? Want to dig around in the basement? Deface some of the fine art? Rip some random pages out of pivotal books in Ace's library?"
I understood that while he was being playful about it, and giving me the illusion of freedom, that Daemon was just a different kind of prison guard.
"I would like to raid the kitchen, actually," I admitted.
I'd been served exactly two kinds of meals in my time with these people.
When Lenore fed me, it was very much the "twigs and leaves" variety of food. She was, I had been informed, vegetarian.
When Minos was the one feeding me, it was usually uncooked pieces of random vegetables like celery or zucchini along with a slab of some sort of meat that was cooked without any sort of seasoning. And "cooked" was being generous about how rare the meat was.
I hadn't eaten a carbohydrate in what felt like ages.
"Then to the kitchen we shall go," Daemon declared grandly, leading me down the stairs and into the massive kitchen.
"Lenore?" I asked, waving toward the oversized windows where dozens of herbs and flowers were lined up.
"She had a massive outdoor garden in the summer. She has some things growing now too. In, ah, cold frames or something like that. Ly is building her a greenhouse."
"Can I?" I asked, waving toward the fridge.
"Help yourself, princess," he invited, hopping himself up on the counter, reaching for a mug of coffee there.
I could feel his gaze on me as I went through the fridge, finding some vegetables that I could cook, then rummaging around the pantry to find some questionably old pasta to make with it.
I'd just dropped the shells into the boiling water when Ace's roar seemed to sound loud enough to make the walls shake.
"Uh oh. Daddy's mad," Daemon said, a wicked smile pulling at his lips when he looked at me.
"Damn it," Ace roared, tearing down the stairs, almost falling forward with his momentum when his gaze fell on me and he tried to stop quickly. "What the fuck?" he asked, looking between the two of us.
"The pretty lady was hungry. I showed her the kitchen."
"I didn't say she could leave the room," Ace snapped, giving Daemon a hard look.
"You also didn't lock the door," Daemon shot back, surprising me with the challenge in his tone.
It didn't escape Ace, either, whose eyes went harder than usual as he looked at the younger man.
"Why don't you go change the oil on the bikes," Ace suggested, a clear punishment for the younger man's attitude to someone who was supposed to be his boss.
"It's freezing out there, man," Daemon complained, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Yeah, that's not going to be enjoyable," Ace agreed, chin lifting. "You're still going to do it."
To that, Daemon sighed and jumped off the counter. "Maybe we will have some more adventures together in the future, pretty lady," he said, then grabbed a coat off a hook by the door, and moved outside.
"Did he really do anything wrong?" I asked, stirring the pasta.
"Are you really questioning how I run my club?"
"Yes, I am," I said, smiling. "He was clearly trying to keep an eye on me until you became less... indisposed."
"He's a headstrong little shit," Ace said, making his way to the coffee machine.
"Well, yeah," I agreed. "But he's harmless."
"None of us are harmless, Josephine. The sooner you learn that, the better," he said, reaching into the cabinet to grab a mug, holding one up to me, a question in his eyes.
"Yes, thank you. But do you have sugar?" I knew from the fridge that milk wasn't an option.
"Yeah. What are you making?"
"Well, your pantry and fridge are woefully empty," I informed him. "But I found some ancient pasta, some tomatoes, and spinach. Do you think Lenore would mind if I stole some herbs? This will barely be edible without some."
"Take whatever you want."
"That's not what I asked," I told him, shaking my head.
"It's fine."
"Again, that's not what I asked."
"Lenore is the only one of us who might be considered generous," Ace clarified. "She won't mind sharing. She comes from a society that shared everything."
"Oh, that must have been nice."
"It's antiquated and backward."
"Why are you so cynical about everything? Just because something isn't for you doesn't mean it isn't for someone else."
At that, his lips twitched ever so slightly at one side. The beginnings of a smile. Miracles would never cease, it seemed.
"Give you a little freedom, and you get an attitude on you," he mused, tone close to playful.
"See, your mistake is thinking I didn't have an attitude all along," I said, shrugging. "I was just scared and then drugged and then in isolation from everyone, so you didn't experience it fully. But I figure if you saved me from the elements, I am on pretty safe footing here now. You can expect more attitude from now on. I think someone needs to put you in your place once in a while," I added, shooting him a smirk.
The surprisingly warm look in his eyes suggested he might not mind it, either.
"Come on," he said a while later. After I'd cooked, eaten, and left my mess for Daemon on Ace's orders because 'he could use something to do other than eating pussy every minute of the day.'
"Back to banishment," I declared, feeling a little happier with a stomach full of pasta and two cups of coffee.
"No one has checked on Red in hours," he reminded me, making me feel guilty. True, she seemed as stable as she was going to get, but she still needed to be cared for.
"I think she is going to need someone," I said as I followed Ace up the stairs. "For, you know, whatever is going on inside her. I don't understand why she is still so out of it," I admitted as Ace opened the door, leading me inside.
"Don't think it will come to that," he told me, moving to his usual chair, picking up the poetry book off the nightstand.
"Do you really think Red likes poetry?" I asked, checking her for a fever, then looking over her wounds. She was healing, slowly but surely. In another week or so, I would likely be able to take out most of the stitches.
I wasn't sure what was going to happen to me after that, though. It was a thought that made sleep difficult some nights. If I stopped being useful, what would they want with me? I mean, I knew their names. I knew their faces. But I also had no idea where we even were. If they just drove me to another state or something and dropped me off, I wouldn't have nearly enough information to provide to the police to get them involved.
"Probably not," Ace said, snorting. "She would be sitting here rolling her eyes at me."
"Then why would you read it to her?" I asked.
"Because I can't read the shit she reads."
"What does she read?" I asked, watching as he gestured to the nightstand.
Curious, I reached inside, shuffling some papers around, several of which with the same name written on them.
Marceaus.
"Mar-see-us," I read, sounding it out. "Who is that?"
"Mar-kay-us," Ace corrected. "He's someone important to Red."
"Does he know what happened to her? Why isn't he here?" I asked, offended for her. It was us women against the shitty men who didn't appreciate us. I might not have known Red, but I was going to go ahead and be angry for her.
"She hasn't seen him in a long time," Ace told me, shrugging.
She was still clearly hung up on him, though.
My heart ached for her as I went into the second drawer, finding the book Ace was making me look for.
"Denver," I said, reading the title. The cover didn't gi
ve much away. "What is it about?"
"A woman who has an affair with a man she calls Denver because she doesn't know his real name."
"It's a romance," I said.
"It's a sex book," he scoffed.
"How do you know that if you haven't read it?" I shot back, rolling my eyes.
My mother had been a hardcore romance reader. We used to spend a lot of weekends at the library since it was one of the few places you could go and not have to spend any money. I would head to the kid section and grab books about fairies and wizards and trolls. My mom would go to the adult section and clear half a shelf of romances every week. She used to tell me that they were more than love books, that it got a bad rep, that I should never, ever judge someone by what kinds of books they liked to read because I didn't know what they were going through in life, and what kinds of stories helped them escape from it for a while.
I'd been a hardcore romance book defender in her honor, even if I hadn't ever had the kind of free time that allowed me to read much. If I did, I was pretty sure I would pick up her favorite genre as a tribute to her.
"You want me to give it a chance?" he asked, brow raised.
"Yes. Is that too much to ask?"
To that, he shrugged, holding out his hand so I could press the book into it.
"Fine," he agreed, flipping open to the bookmarked page of the well-loved book as I turned to make my way back toward the couch.
His voice filled the room, stopping me dead in my tracks with his words.
This time, not because they were calm and soothing.
Oh, no.
"With my ass fully plugged, Denver bent me over the desk in the office, admiring his handiwork, the bright red handprints that had to have been marring the pale white skin of my cheeks. I tried to turn my head to look at him, to see his black eyes, the way his jaw got tight when he was imagining fucking me, like I had seen so many times before. But his hand slammed down on the back of my neck, holding me in place. A long, tense moment passed of him just staring at me before, suddenly, his finger flicked the hot pink plug buried deep in my ass, sending an unexpected surge of desire through my system, making my pussy even wetter than it already was, something I didn't even think was possible.
'Tell me you want my cock buried in your wet cunt, Eva,' he demanded, making my hips buck up toward him in silent invitation as his hand moved from the back of my neck to slip into my hair, sliding down the strands until he was halfway down, knowing it hurt more there, knowing how much I liked that. Then yanking hard enough to make me arch as far as my body would allow.
Denver didn't like to be kept waiting.
Or to be disobeyed.
Or even to give me his real goddamn name.
But I didn't need to know his name to know I wanted his giant cock stretching me as I was helpless to do anything but take it, but beg for release from the relentless ache of desire.
'I want your cock buried in me,' I told him, hearing the rawness of need in my voice.
'That's not what I said,' he scolded.
I knew it was coming a second before the belt snapped across the lowest part of my ass, the bite of it stinging against my pussy at the same time, the pain—and the pleasure it brought me—so intense that I nearly came right then and there.
A part of me wanted to pretend like I didn't know what he wanted me to say, to get more of that sharp, perfect pain I loved so much, the pain that no other man had ever given me, the pain that only Denver knew I enjoyed so much.
The other part of me, though, needed to feel him inside me. And if I kept testing him, he wouldn't fuck me as punishment. He would whip my ass, then push me down on the bed and fuck my mouth instead."
I turned back at Ace's sudden silence, finding his gaze on me, his head cocked to the side, reading my face as soon as he could see it.
"Not a sex book?" he asked, voice as rough as my nerve endings felt.
"I, ah," I started, needing to stop to clear my throat. "I'm sure there is a plot somewhere," I insisted.
"Hm," he said, flipping randomly to another page.
"'We can't do this here,' I insisted as Denver's fingers slipped inside my panties, pushing inside me, and thrusting hard and fast.
I could hear the conversation of a couple walking down the street, commenting on the decor in the window of the store we were currently down the side alley of.
'It looks like we already are,' he corrected, lowering down up under my skirt, licking up my cleft, sealing his lips around my clit..."
"Okay," I said, swallowing hard. "It's a sex book," I agreed, feeling the pulsating sensation between my thighs.
"What's the matter?" he asked, rising from his chair, stalking over toward me. "Having trouble hearing?" he asked, opening up the book again like he planned to keep reading.
"Don't," I demanded, feeling like there was a heavy weight pressing on my chest, making breathing hard.
"Why not?" he asked, towering over me. Close. Way, way too close. I would swear his nearness was making the air thicker, harder to breathe in.
"Just don't," I demanded, voice small, airless.
"Having flashbacks?" he asked, lips curving up slightly. "To me on my knees, sucking on your clit?" he asked.
God, that felt like forever ago. And yet only yesterday somehow at the same time.
"Ace, please," I demanded, my resolve to dislike him disintegrating with each passing second.
"Please what?" he asked, taking one more step forward, sucking up what was left of the air away from me as I craned my neck up to keep eye-contact. "Please walk away right now? Or please eat you out until you lose your voice?" he asked, and I swear I could feel him between my thighs with just his words.
"We can't," I objected, proud I could force any rational thoughts to form when my head felt slow and foggy.
"We can," he corrected.
"I... I think I have Stockholm Syndrome," I admitted out loud.
"Do you feel grateful toward me?" he asked.
"God, no," I admitted, getting a small chuckle out of him, a sound so rare that I found it fascinating.
"Do you admire me or agree with my plans?"
"No."
"Do you care about my needs or happiness?"
"Ah, not particularly," I said, feeling like he was talking me into a trap, but not sure how to free myself.
"Do you think that sleeping with me will help save you, or gain you something?"
"No."
"Then maybe it isn't Stockholm Syndrome. Maybe you just want to fuck me."
He made it sound so rational, so easy.
I couldn't tell anymore what was logical and what wasn't. What was fact, and what was a manipulation of the truth.
All I knew was he was right.
The heaviness in my chest, the weight on my lower stomach, my shallow breathing, the ache between my thighs, it all spoke to one thing.
I wanted to sleep with him.
Captor or not.
Weird psychological survival mechanism or not.
My body wanted his right then.
And I was having a hard time thinking of any reasons to deny it any longer.
"Josephine," he called, making me look up, finding him watching me with those strange red-flecked eyes. "If it's no, it's no. I don't want it if you have to talk yourself into it," he told me, shrugging.
"It's wrong," I told him, my hand lifting, fingertip running up his chest.
"Most likely," he agreed, nodding.
"It's a bad idea," I went on as my hand went to the side of his neck.
"Almost certainly," he agreed, clearly having his own internal struggles with the idea of it happening, but too far gone to care.
Judging by the way my skin seemed to hum when I pressed my body close to his, I was at that point as well.
Too far gone to care.
It was probably wrong.
It was definitely a bad idea.
But I wanted it. He wanted it.
There would be time for
a proper psychological analysis and therapy down the road.
Right now, this was going to happen.
Chapter Eleven
Jo
I should have been nervous.
Sex with a new person always had that effect, and it should have been more amplified with him seeing as he was my damn captor and all.
But all I could seem to feel as his hand grabbed the back of my neck, and his lips crashed down on mine for the first time, was a bone-deep kind of rightness, like everything in me was responding to him.
He kissed like I expected for a man like him. Hard, deep, almost bruising with his intensity, but thoroughly, focusing on that one thing for what felt like hours, until my lips felt swollen and tingly, until every inch of skin felt heated and over-sensitive.
His fingers slid upward, sifting into my hair, curling, and pulling hard, making my head jerk back as a surprised gasp escaped me. Leaning down, he ran his lips down the side of my neck, teasing his tongue over my pulse point when he found it.
His hands moved, grabbing me at the waist as he turned, pulling me down on his lap as he dropped onto the couch, giving him better access as his fingers snagged the hem of my shirt, dragging it upward.
As soon as my head was free, though, he stopped, yanking it back down, trapping my arms at my sides as he leaned forward and sucked my nipple into his mouth. A jolt of need shot through me, a white-hot spark that moved down my spine to settle between my legs, making my hips wiggle against his lap, needing the movement, the friction.
A low, growling noise rumbled through Ace as his teeth nipped for a second before he moved across my chest, continuing the same torment there. Until my nipples were hard and aching, until my breasts felt heavy, until a flush had broken out across my chest, making me feel warm all over.
His hands grabbed my hips again, yanking me up off his lap, so he could slide my pants down over my ass, helping me out of the legs.
But just as I was going to settle back on his lap, his hands sank into my ass, yanking up so hard and fast that I couldn't do anything but gasp and flail out my arms as he practically tossed me up on the back cushions of the couch, leveling my sex right over his face.
The Healer (Seven Sins MC Book 2) Page 10
