Entwined: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 3)

by Felicity Brandon

  There was a small gasp from the woman beside him, and he glanced over to see her eyes wide as his words resonated.

  “I don’t mean to scare you,” he reassured. “Not this time, at least.”

  His quip seemed to ease some of the tension in her shoulders, and she giggled in response, the sound waking his recently-satiated cock.

  “That makes a change,” she laughed. “So, what do you mean that’s it? If you tell me, are you going to have to kill me?”

  It was quite a bold statement to make to a man who’d already confessed to killing another woman, and for a moment he merely stared at the side of her face, stunned by her audacity.

  “Is that a yes?” she joked, but he could hear the tremble in her voice, the very real evidence of her trepidation.

  “No, kitten,” he replied, patting the surface of her small hand as it wrapped tantalizingly around the gear shift. “But if I tell you, then there’s really no going back. No going back to America, no going back to your old life, ever again.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Molly could barely take another breath at his words. As always Connor relayed them in a rather matter-of-fact tone, but the reality of what he’d just told her made her head spin.

  “Wh-why?” she stuttered. “I mean, not that it matters. I went back to all that, and I missed this. I missed you, Master. After my friends and family find out I’ve fled back here to you, I don’t think there’ll be much of a life to go back to.”

  She glanced left to catch his expression as her explanation registered. Connor’s face softened perceptibly.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I want to write this new chapter with you, Molly, I really do, but…” He hesitated, apparently searching for the right choice of vocabulary. “But, I want to be honest, and if we go down this road, then there really is no going back.”

  Now, he really was frightening her.

  “Okay,” she replied, physically steeling herself for whatever was to come. “Tell me then, Master. I mean, we’ve laid ourselves bare so much already. What can you possibly divulge now that will make any difference?”

  Connor snorted. “Fair point,” he laughed. “But this isn’t just about me, kitten. This is about a whole group of people. A group I’m not at liberty to discuss, even to you. So, if I break that rule, then it means you’ll need to be assimilated into us.”

  She blinked toward him, her attention temporarily diverted from the road. Assimilated, she thought. Is that what he just said?

  “Eyes ahead, kitten,” he commanded in that old tone which made her pussy clench.

  With a gasp she complied, embarrassed that she had been so readily distracted. Embarrassed, but not surprised. If anyone knew how to perplex and mortify her, it was Connor.

  “So, you belong to some sort of secret organization?” she concluded. “Like superheroes or something?”

  He sniggered at her assessment. “Some superhero, pet,” Connor snorted. “What’s my superpower? Catching little kittens and dehumanizing them with my fatal dominance?”

  He was laughing at her again, and on some level, Molly knew the fact should rile her. As she glanced in his direction though, catching sight of his happy face, she couldn’t bring herself to be irritated with him. And anyway, he was right. He may be a lot of things, but Connor was no hero.

  “I guess not,” she mumbled as she turned into the small parking lot where his car sat waiting for them. “Although you were pretty good at that, Master.”

  Applying the brake, she halted the engine and shifted left to face him.

  “So, you really want to know?” he asked, that dark brow arching deliciously over his incredible green eyes.

  Molly took a deep breath. It felt like she was on the precipice again. On the edge of something deep and significant. “Yes, Master,” she replied, making sure she met his eye. “I need this story to continue. We both do, so yes. I really want to know.”

  Connor lifted his chin, his gaze flitting to the back window for a moment. By the time those green orbs fell over her again, his expression had shifted, somehow. It wasn’t darker exactly, but it was definitely more determined.

  “If I share this with you, kitten, then I’m going to need you to do something you’ve never done before.”

  That made her startle, her mind racing at the prospect of what he could be referring to. All things considered, there were really very few things she hadn’t done with this man, whether by choice, or via his personal brand of coercion.

  “What, Master?” she whispered at length. “What will I need to do?”

  Connor reached for her body, his long limbs finding her with ease as he unfastened her safety belt, and guided her back over the middle of the car to nestle onto his lap. Molly gulped at his strength and dexterity, the way she always did whenever both took her breath away, but she didn’t resist. She didn’t want to resist him.

  His hands were at her face in an instant, those long fingers stroking the length of her hair as one hand fell to her nape. “You’re going to have to trust me, kitten. Your life could depend on it.”

  The look in her eyes was a picture, both her shock and adoration evident in those alluring orbs. He bet he knew what she was thinking without even having to ask. He had asked for her trust, but could she offer that after everything they’d been through, after everything she knew? He didn’t blame her for the skeptical light which flickered in her eyes, but nonetheless he meant it. He meant every word. If Molly didn’t trust him completely at this point, things could go very badly wrong.

  The Syndicate was largely made up of men, and the vast majority were in roles of position and great power. Its halls were lined with judges and politicians, its membership infiltrating much of British society. To introduce a woman who wasn’t on the payroll was unusual at all, but one like Molly; that was going to be harder still. He had sought Morrison’s permission, and it had been granted, but Connor was no fool. There would always be opposition to a change like this, and the fact that Molly was an American made things even more difficult. The collective of predominantly white, British men in the London division would likely have a heart attack when they realized his little kitten would now be one of them.

  One of them.

  That’s right. That’s what she would be. And membership came with its own set of rights and responsibilities. His pet would be granted the protection she deserved, but in return, she would be expected to step up and defend the collective. And he needed to make this point clear to his little kitten. She needed to understand.

  “Can you do that, kitten?” he asked her directly. “Can you trust me?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice was barely even a whisper. “I want to, but…”

  There was no need for her sentence to conclude. Connor understood entirely.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  By the time he had finished explaining himself, Molly began to understand his initial reticence. She had guessed at the backdrop of her lover before. She knew there must be some organization behind him, funding him and offering him support. When he’d first taken her, Molly had thought him a lone wolf. One isolated, deranged lunatic. An obsessed fan who had taken his favorite author captive. Later, she had come to realize this was less likely. Connor had referred to powerful friends who had helped him clear up the mess after Lydia’s murder, so some part of her brain understood those people were out there. Somewhere. But this. This news of the so-called Syndicate hit her hard, and now she was to understand that she must also become part of it.

  “But, why?” Molly murmured in disbelief. She already knew the answer, and yet still the question came to her lips. “Why must I join this Syndicate?”

  Connor offered her a wry smirk. “Simply because you know of their existence, kitten. The Syndicate exists only in the shadows. It must be invisible to the rest of society. What do you think people will do if they realize there are powerful individuals pulling the strings?”

  Molly snorted. “I should think they alr
eady know. Is that not the way British society has been run for centuries?”

  She laughed at that, and Connor had joined her.

  “Perhaps,” he drawled. “I didn’t expect an American to be so… savvy.”

  “You know me better than that, Master,” Molly replied. “I think the same is true for all places. There are always some individuals with protection and impunity.”

  Connor nodded. “So, you understand?”

  “I understand how societies work, Master,” she said with a sigh. “But not why the rest of my life must be consumed by this secret organization.”

  “It’s not so bad,” he assured her. “My friends will ensure your safety, and you will be able to take your place by me. Always.”

  That made her start, the thought warming her as she imagined a future with Connor. A real future with the man she was in love with. The man, and the monster, she thought dryly. And the murderer… the nagging voice in her head concluded.

  “That is what you want, kitten?” he asked again, watching her responses carefully. “For us to be together, as we were at the house before my arrest?”

  Molly gulped at the intensity in his eyes. Is that what she wanted? It must be, she decided. It was the reason she’d sought him out again in the first place, the reason she’d got back on a flight to the U.K. and it was the only thing on her mind as she drove here to meet Connor this morning.

  “Yes,” she whispered, though her mind was resolute. “It is what I want, although, I hadn’t expected it to come with a host of other members.”

  Connor sighed. “I know,” he answered, reaching out to stroke the side of her face. “Not everything transpires the way we expect.”

  He was damn right about that.

  “I have something for you.”

  Connor’s words made her heart race, and she looked past the palm at her cheek to meet his eye.

  “A present?” her voice was small, but excited.

  “Yes, a present,” he agreed with a smile. “Just a little something for my kitten.”

  “Where?” she asked, although she surely already knew the answer. It had to be in his car, unless it something small about his person.

  “In the Mercedes,” he told her softly. “Let me grab it for you now.”

  He was gone before she could reply, slipping from his seat belt and out the passenger door as her mind sought to keep up. Shifting back to the driver’s seat, Molly tried to rationalize everything she’d learned. She had only intended to meet him today, not to pledge allegiance to anything else. Yes, she wanted Connor, and she wanted her stories, but, was that really enough to give up everything? To swap the freedom she had found with a new form of slavery? Molly rolled her eyes at the thought. What kind of freedom meant you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t want to eat, and you couldn’t write?

  What kind of a life was that?

  Nonetheless, things were happening rather faster than she’d imagined, although Molly didn’t know why that surprised her. That’s how things were with Connor. That’s how they always were. Connor’s arrival back at her rental car interrupted her train of thought.

  “Kitten?” His tone was inquiring, and as she blinked up at his looming form outside the door, she noticed Connor was hiding something behind his back. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she quipped, watching as he slipped back into the passenger seat.

  As he moved, Connor was forced to reveal the present he had been concealing. Her eyes widened as she looked upon the flowers in his hand. Three wonderful amaryllises were balanced across his palm, their petals just about to reach full bloom.

  “Oh my God, Master!” she gasped, her hands rising to her cover her mouth. “They’re beautiful.”

  “I remember you said you loved these flowers,” he mused as he passed the long stems across the gear shift. “And when I saw them, I thought of you.”

  “They’re perfect,” she agreed, eyeing the intricate arrangement of petals as she received them. “And yes, they’re my absolute favorite. Thank you.”

  His gaze drilled into her flesh as she examined the red flowers. “I’m glad you like them,” he purred. “It’s good to see you smile. I want you to smile more often, pet.”

  Molly’s eyes flitted north to meet his insistent green gaze. As their eyes locked, she was sure of one thing. If anyone could make her smile it was Connor. That man had made her laugh and cry more than anyone before him. He always made her feel.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  He watched her small rental car leave the parking lot, his insides clenching as she disappeared from his rear-view mirror. Fuck, it had been good to see her. And the scorching sex was more than he could have ever hoped for. Too good, he told himself, as he threw the Mercedes into reverse, but still. There were no guarantees about anything. Yes, Molly had seemed keen to see him again, and in many ways, she had taken the news about The Syndicate better than she might have done, but that meant nothing. No promises were exchanged, because they both knew there was no point. Connor may have told her that knowledge of his powerful friends would be enough to hook her in, but he didn’t mean it. Not really. He had tried to take the woman against her will once before, and despite the undeniable fun he had enjoyed at her expense, Connor was determined to do the right thing this time. For once there would be no more force, and no compulsion. If Molly wanted to be his, she would have to come to him.

  Connor screwed up his face as the realization washed over him. This was going to be harder than he’d imagined it to be. Much more difficult, in fact. He was a man who was used to getting what he wanted without question, so this new approach was going to take some getting used to. Even having to let her go just now had been physically painful, his chest constricting as the memory played through his mind.

  He drove to the rendezvous point, brooding on what would happen next. Dropping the vehicle with a man he didn’t recognize, he was met by Dalton in another dark, saloon. His older brother eyed him cautiously as he climbed into the sleek, leather passenger seat.

  “How did it go?”

  The question hit Connor right between the eyes. “Yeah, pretty good,” he exhaled. “Pretty damn good.”

  Dalton’s brow rose at the response, but he was already pulling the expensive car away. “So, what does that mean? Is my little brother happy now?”

  Connor sighed, the sound audible, even over the irritating radio station Dalton insisted on airing.

  “Evidently not,” chuckled Dalton as they joined the traffic on the main road.

  “I’m happier,” he offered, but even Connor wasn’t convinced that was true. “Now I just have to wait.”

  “Back to fucking waiting, huh?” snorted Dalton. “Fabulous.”

  Connor’s stomach knotted his brother’s wisecrack, but the worst of it was, Dalton was right. He was back to fucking waiting, the idea making Connor feel impatient and impotent in equal measure.

  “Have you arranged to meet her again?”

  Connor glanced out of the window. The days were starting to get longer now, but even so, the light was already beginning to bleed into darkness on the horizon. He must have been with his kitten for hours.

  “She’ll be in touch.” Connor’s throat tightened with the explanation, the bleak reality of it punching him in the face.

  “Fuck, Connor,” Dalton blew the words out as though he could barely believe what he’d just heard. “You must have it bad for this woman?”

  Connor’s head snapped back to meet Dalton’s words. His brother’s last remark had sounded downright imperious, and his instinct was to attack. As his gaze landed over Dalton’s worried face though, something about his sorrowful expression made him hesitate. Perhaps his older sibling hadn’t meant to mock him, after all? Perhaps the question had been genuine.

  “Yeah,” he murmured sadly. “I think I really have.”

  Dalton met his eye for a moment. “I never thought I’d see the day you fell in love, mate.”

  Connor smirked
at that. “It sounds fucking ridiculous when you put it that way,” he laughed.

  “Not ridiculous,” Dalton insisted. “Just unexpected. You’re always such a loner, I never thought you could settle with anyone. Especially after Lydia.”

  “That’s just the point though,” Connor told him. “Molly’s not like Lydia. Nothing about Molly is settling.”

  Dalton nodded, his attention returning to the road ahead. Connor watched him quietly for a moment, recalling some of the experiences they’d shared together over the years. He owed his brother. A lot. Before he had moved into the privacy of his own home, he and Dalton had been virtually inseparable. It was Dalton who had introduced him to Morrison and The Syndicate after their parents’ death. Dalton who had watched over him as he grew, taking him to martial arts competitions and sharing his joy as he grew into a fierce competitor. And it was Dalton who’d always been there at his side when he landed himself in trouble. As well as that, Connor had discovered Dalton shared his edgy, sexual proclivities. Three years his senior, Dalton was more rugged-looking than his younger brother, but just as handsome in his own way. Together, the two of them had been an unstoppable force when it came to women, literally able to take their pick from the BDSM clubs they’d frequented as younger men. For Dalton, that seemed to have been enough. He was happy to enjoy a different girl each month, binding her and tormenting her, sometimes in front of an audience. It had never satisfied Connor though. His urge to dominate was like an itch he could never quite scratch enough. Having the woman on her knees, and hearing her whimpered cries were never enough. Connor needed more.

  Molly, the little voice reminded him. Connor needed Molly.

  Connor had no idea if his words had really helped his brother to understand, and a part of him still didn’t care. Dalton was right. Connor was instinctively a loner, and there would always be a part of him like that. He neither craved, nor needed the approval of the majority to take action. Connor followed his gut, and it rarely let him down. That’s why life back inside The Syndicate had been such a readjustment. He had grown used to the luxury of his little house, and the solitude it brought him. Having to answer to Morrison again was harder work than he’d remembered.