Wraith: A Second Chance Dark Romance (Masters of Mayhem Book 1)

by Renee Rocco

  Always the latter.

  But Jamie? Goddamn. She’s a gift created just for me. One I’ve craved for eight years. Dreamed about. A fantasy come to life. And when I lean in and run my tongue up her slit to the sensitive nub, she damn near falls to her knees. But it’s all good because I’ve got her.

  I’ll always catch her.

  As long as I’m alive, Jamie Ellis will be safe.

  I grip her by her ass and hold her right where I want her. And by the time I’m done with her, she’s panting and sweating, and her limbs are shaking. Stripped raw of her defenses. Laid bare body and soul. Mine.

  “That was incredible.” Her statement is breathless as she stumbles backward onto the bed.

  I give her a cocky grin. “Wasn’t it, though?”

  “Arrogant bastard.”

  “But I’m your arrogant bastard.”

  Her gaze rakes over me, a physical touch that lights me up and sends all the blood to the tip of my dick. “Damned right, you are.”

  Goddamn, this girl.

  Jamie scoots back on the mattress. There’s frenetic energy sizzling between us as I climb on top of her. I want to kiss every one of the tiny freckles that sprinkle her nose. I missed looking at them when she was gone. I committed every nuance of this woman to memory before she left, and since we’ve been in Mayhem, I etched the grown version of her in my mind. Dug it deep down it my gray matter until I don’t know where I end and she begins.

  “Your expression is way too serious.”

  I kiss the tip of her nose. “That’s because I’m about to fuck you proper.”

  “I see.” Her eyes spark with golden fire.

  She’s so tiny. Warm and open, and I feel like a behemoth. But I need to feel her. Skin on skin. Mouth to flesh. In one slick slide, I bury myself inside her. I hiss out a breath and drop my forehead to hers. Her muscles tighten around my cock and I nearly shoot my load and end it before we even begin, like some fumbling teenager screwing for the first time.

  “I fucking love you.” The words push out of me, a declaration and a promise.

  A damnation.

  Didn’t plan to say it, but once said, I wouldn’t take it back if I could. I’ve loved this woman since I was sixteen. Am I pissed we lost eight years because she’s stubborn? Yes, but the dungeon taught me not to take shit for granted and I’m done holding grudges. She’s home now, and most folks don’t get a do-over. For whatever reason, life gave us a second chance, and I won’t squander this gift.

  I drive into her, my deep and steady strokes building friction. Igniting an inferno. I flip her on her stomach. She tosses her hair over her shoulder. I gather the dark, silken strands in one hand and brace my weight with the other. I inch into her, shallowing her pussy with the tip of my dick. Teasing the nerves right at her opening.

  “Beg me,” I growl.

  She doesn’t, so I torture her until the words I want to hear are pulled from her. “Please, Wraith.”

  I push in farther, but still just a tease. “Please what?”

  “Please fuck me.”

  An inch deeper. “Like this?”

  She shakes her head. “Deeper.”

  Still shallowing. My balls tighten. The build working its way up my spine. “Say the words, Jamie. Tell me what you want.”

  She pushes back against me and rolls her hips on my dick. “Deep and hard. Fast, Wraith. Make me come.”

  Never say I don’t give my woman what she wants.

  I grip her hips and rock into her, slamming to the hilt. The view of her pussy swallowing my cock is epic. Her muscles clench, and her body tenses. A flood of wet washes over my shaft as she rides her orgasm.

  “I’ve always loved you.” Her confession is a rasped whimper that digs its way into my heart and brands itself on my soul.

  No fucking way I can hold back. Not now. Not after hearing that. The pressure is too much. My climax comes rushing up on me, and I slam into her with a force I’m positive will leave bruises on her uterus. She fists her hands in the sheets and pumps her hips in time to my thrusts, pulling every drop of cum from me.

  I reluctantly pull out of her, and quick as lightning, she pops off the bed and hurries to the bathroom. She comes back with two towels—one of which she tosses at me.

  “Now that I’ve allowed you to distract me, care to tell me what happened at the meeting?”

  Without a hint of modesty, she wipes between her legs. Then she tugs on her clothes while waiting for my answer. The little general is back in action.

  “Holy shit, you’re ruthless.”

  She arches an imperious brow at me. “And...”

  I wipe my dick, then climb off the bed to pull on my jeans. “Your intel worked. Everyone but Crane has been arrested.”

  Her delighted gasp is music. “Seriously?”

  I return to the bed and lean against the headboard, my arms out to her. “Seriously.”

  She doesn’t fall into my embrace. Instead, she gathers the ankle-length skirt of her dress and sits beside me, cross-legged. “What happens now?”

  I drop my arms and shrug. “We go to Gomorrah and burn it to the ground.” I can actually see her pulling up her wall. “No, you’re not doing that.”

  Her brows slam together, and her chin lifts. “What?”

  I point at her. “That shit right there. We didn’t do the whole ‘I love you’ thing for you to hide behind your defenses at the first whiff of trouble.”

  She gives me a sheepish shrug. “Old habits…”

  “Better die a quick goddamn death.”

  She swallows hard and wrings her hands. “I’m scared.”

  “I’m not going alone, Jamie. Everyone is coming with me. Roger said Crane’s got a skeleton crew. His asshole friends are gone. We outnumber and outgun him. He’s got nothing. And when I’m done with that motherfucker, you’re going to be a merry widow.”

  She stops wringing her hands and nods, as if she’s done working it out in her mind. “Of course, he’s too evil to live. I just don’t trust that bastard not to have a trick or two up his sleeve.”

  I grunt out a laugh. “No worries, Runt. We’re counting on him having tricks up his sleeve. Prick like that? It’s all he has because he can’t fight a man fair.”

  Jamie is desperately trying not to dive for cover. I know it because I see the fear sparking in her eyes. “I really do love you, Wraith. I have since kindergarten.”

  My brows shoot up at that revelation. “The fuck? That long? And you waited all this time to tell me? What other secrets are you hiding?” I meant it lightheartedly, but Jamie reels back like I hit her. The color drains from her face, and she looks like she’s going to puke all over herself. “What?”

  But a pit opens in my stomach, and my blood is liquid nitrogen as warning bells force the monster to crack open an eye and curl its fingers around the bars of its cage.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Christ.

  “What?”

  She inches away from me—moving out of striking distance. “It’s my fault.”

  I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Not now. Not when I just handed this woman my fucking heart. The betrayal will be too much, and I’ll go full beast. But I open my eyes and push off the bed and fight to keep control no matter what she tells me. Force myself to hear her confession before I condemn her to hell. “What, exactly, is your fault, Jamie?”

  “I’m the reason David brought you to Gomorrah.” She lowers her head and drops her gaze. She’s crying but I don’t give a single shit. “I watched videos of your fights.” She swipes tears off her cheeks, and when she looks up at me, shame stares back at me from her haunted eyes. “David must have tracked my internet use and found those videos. He chose you because he was jealous. I’m sorry, Wraith. Please don’t hate me. I missed you so much. I should have let you be, but I just wanted to know if you were okay. Oh God, I’m sorry.”

  When I drop on the bed next to her, she shoots away. I haul her back and ta
ke her in my arms.

  “This is your big secret? That you internet stalked me, and it got your psychotic husband’s balls all twisted?”

  When she nods, the top of her head bumps my chin. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “You think what he did to me is your fault?”

  “If I’d left you alone, David would have never known who you were.”

  I wipe her tears away and press my forehead to hers. “Did you pay a bitch to roofie me?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “No, of course not,” I repeat. “Did you have a bunch of men fuck me up? Put me on a plane? Lock me in a dungeon, and do all that other shit to me?”

  “Oh God, no.”

  “No. You were the one who put everything on the line, and risked her friends’ lives, to get me the hell out of Gomorrah. Because of you, all those corrupt bastards and child rapists in Marion County are out of power.” I jab a finger at her chest. “You did that, Jamie. Not me. Not anyone else. You. Whatever guilt you’re feeling, you need to let that shit go. You aren’t to blame for what Crane did, and I promise you, I don’t, and will never, hold you responsible for what that fuck did to me.”

  “How can you not blame me?”

  “Because you didn’t do a damn thing wrong.” I cup her chin and brush my lips over her. “And I’m so fucking glad you stalked me because If you didn’t, I never would have ended up in Florida, and we wouldn’t be together now.”

  She gives me a sheepish smile. “I would have eventually come home.”

  “Yeah, well, apparently, the universe thought you were taking too long and sped shit up.”

  She’s killing me slowly, tracing over the lettering of my Unholy tattoo. “You know I won’t stop beating myself up about this, right? It’s what I do best.”

  “Yeah, well, from now on, you’re sitting shit out, because I’m taking the beatings since I’m bigger and stronger.”

  She stiffens. “Not funny, Wraith.”

  “Not meant to be, Jamie.” I tilt her face so she has no choice but to look at me. “I told you the other night it was all in or all out. You chose all in. Your defensive wall? Gone. I’m your wall now. The world has to get through me to get to you, and trust me, Runt, if anyone’s stupid enough to fuck with you, they’re going to find out why the Unholy named me Wraith.”

  22

  Wraith

  “The fuck you mean she’s gone?”

  My fingers tighten around the AR-15. I drop the weapon in the black duffel bag and ignore Malice, who mouths what to me as my hand tightens around the cell phone I’m holding to my ear.

  “Gone, Wraith,” Jester hisses into the phone. “I got out of the shower, came down to the kitchen, and saw the back door open. I searched the entire house, but she’s not here.”

  I flex my fist as the monster slams its body against the bars of its cage. “She likes to take walks.”

  Lame rationalization for her disappearance, but my brain can’t wrap itself around the fact that Jamie’s missing.

  “No, Wraith,” Jester clarifies. “She’s gone.”

  Dread poisons me. It whips the monster into a frenzy, making it bang around inside my skull, and for the first time since I stood in the octagon, I get out of its path of destruction.

  “I’m on my way.” I end the call and shove the phone in my pocket. “Fuck.” For a fraction of a second—that feels more like an eternity—panic nails my feet to the floor, making me forget how to walk. Shit, I can’t even think. I’m numb, every part of me frozen before I snap out of the stupor and jump into motion. I turn to Malice. “Crane sent someone to the house. My fucking house, Malice. They took Jamie.”

  “Havoc.” Malice’s shout echoes across the armory.

  Havoc looks up from loading ammo in the back of his pickup. “What’s up?”

  “It’s Jamie. Crane got her.”

  “Christ.” He zips the bag before palming his phone. “Crow. It’s bad. Crane got Jamie.” He pauses, listening. “Don’t know.” Another pause. Then to me, “Wraith, Crow’s calling you.”

  Sure as shit, my phone rings seconds later. I answer it as I’m running out the door. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion because each second that ticks by puts my girl farther away from me and closer to that psychotic scumbag.

  “What happened?” Crow snaps.

  I’m heading toward my truck as I answer. “Right now, all I know is that Jester got out of the shower and Jamie was gone.”

  Crow’s quiet for a moment. “I have to be the dick and ask the hard question. How do you know she didn’t leave?”

  I grit my teeth, biting back the automatic response to tell him to go fuck himself. “Because Jamie didn’t leave me, Crow.”

  “This is fact or speculation?”

  “Fact,” I spit.

  If there was a note, written in her handwriting, telling me she never wanted to see me again, and for me to take a flying fuck off the tip of Jester’s dick, I still wouldn’t believe Jamie left of her own accord. Some walking corpse had the balls to come to my goddamn house and take her right out from under me.

  Crow’s quiet again as I climb in the Raptor and start the engine. I plug the phone in the charging station to activate the hands-free mode before speeding out of Sanctum.

  “So, this is what’s going to happen,” Crow tells me. “You’re going to calm down and keep a level head. We’re going to finish loading the trucks. Then we’re going to pick up you and Jester and head out. Understood?”

  I say nothing. Just keep my gaze on the road, with my mind in Gomorrah as I race down Route 6. But my hands are already around Crane’s throat, snapping the bastard’s neck.

  “Wraith,” Crow barks. “Is that understood?”

  “Yeah,” I growl as I blow a red light and nearly cause an accident. “I’m not running off to Florida alone, half-cocked, to get Jamie and me killed, Crow. I’m not stupid.”

  “No, you’re not.” I can hear the door to Crow’s office bang open, and there are muffled voices in the background. “I’ll call you back. Voodoo and Rotten are here.”

  Crow ends the call, and by the time I pull in the driveway, my entire body is humming with rage.

  Jester’s waiting at the door. “I don’t know what happened, Wraith. I came downstairs, and she was gone. No struggle. Nothing. Only this.”

  He hands me a folded piece of paper.

  Just you.

  Scrawled bold as you fucking please by a man’s hand.

  I storm past Jester. “Where was it?”

  Jester follows me inside. “On the kitchen table.” He jabs his hands in his pockets. “Fuck, man. They were right here. Right fucking here, and I didn’t hear them. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I look around for something. Anything. But there’s nothing. No signs of a struggle. Nothing but empty space where Jamie should be. Silence where I should hear her voice. No smell where her summery aroma would be. “She knew who took her.”

  “Okay, but who? Could have been anyone. A friend. Family—”

  “Only family she has, she wouldn’t trust,” I say, cutting him off. “Other than who she knows here, she has only two friends. Roger stayed behind in Gomorrah. And Thomas…”

  I let the sentence trail off as my blood turns to sludge, oozing through my veins. Each heartbeat is a slam against my sternum as fragments of my conversations with Thomas comes back to me. It was a mostly one-sided discussion during my recovery after that last torture session, with him telling me how after Jamie married Crane, she set up a charity to funnel money to him and Roger. That money got them off the streets. It’s also how she kept in contact with them. How, if it hadn’t been for her, Thomas wouldn’t have met his wife. He wouldn’t have his daughter.

  I fist my hands, needing to make that treacherous prick bleed. “I’ll bet my right nut Thomas took Jamie.”

  “No fucking way.” Jester paces the kitchen. “He helped you guys get out.”

  I grip the counter,
rage battling the monster for space inside my head. “Who else, Jester? There’s not a soul in Mayhem who’d flip. But a desperate man who needs to protect his kid? Yeah. That man would sacrifice anything to save his family, even when he knows they’re going to die anyway because the devil has no mercy.”

  “Okay, we got shit to do, so let’s get it done.” Jester’s already in motion. “Go pack a bag. Take a shit. Do whatever you gotta do, because we have to go murder some motherfuckers, and bring our girl home.”

  I don’t miss the our in that sentence.

  Jamie is family. She’s Mayhem. And she’s coming home.

  Put a period on the end of that.

  Problem is, there are a lot of hours separating now and when we get to Gomorrah. Gives that sadistic sonofabitch too much time to hurt her, and my stretch as his prisoner taught me that Crane is inventive when it comes to pain. I swore the world would have to go through me to get to her, but I already failed her because all it took was a knock on the door for Crane to snatch her right out from under me.

  And now she’s in hell alone.

  But I’m coming for her—and I’m bringing a reckoning with me.

  23

  Jamie

  The echo of heavy footsteps bang against concrete. I bolt upright on the mattress after drifting in and out of sleep for God knows how long. My brain and body struggle to catch up with each other after being drugged and dragged from Pennsylvania to Florida.

  I fight back nausea as I peer through the murky light The hum of the flickering fluorescent bulb truly is a special torment in this otherwise silent, claustrophobic prison.

  Hunger gnaws at me, bringing back a familiar void from when I was homeless and my meals were few and far between. But if David thinks he’s frightening me by depriving me of food, he’s underestimated me. Again. He believes I’m weak. Wraith thinks I’m strong. The reality is, I’m somewhere between both. Not quite fearless but too durable to crumble.

  Thirst turned my mouth to sand hours ago, and after I realized the sink-toilet combo didn’t work, I learned the extent of David’s subtle deviousness. Already I want to claw at the wall in a desperate attempt at freedom. I honestly don’t know how Wraith lasted as long as he had, and did it with his sanity—and humanity—intact.