“Connor!” She called out his name, though she still couldn’t see him.
And then, it happened. She crashed past the final obstacle of suited men who kept her from the man she loved, and all at once, he came into view. Or more specifically, the whole awful scene did.
Swallowing hard, her brain tried to take in the sheer horror of what she was witnessing. Connor was there, strapped down over a bench, and behind him was his brother, strangling the life out of him.
Chapter Fifty-Two
She was screaming, or at least, she thought she was. For sure, Molly’s mouth was open, and she was commanding noise from her throat, but no sound seemed to come.
“Connor!”
She heard that, and based on the response of Malone, and the others assembled around the Reilly brothers, she knew that it had been audible.
Molly lurched forward, throwing herself onto Dalton’s back. “Get off him,” she screeched, as she flung her fist hard against his back. “You’re killing him! Get off Connor now!”
Dalton rose, almost sending Molly crashing to the floor, but his left arm swept around her body to stabilize her. Molly cried out, though this sound was propelled more from rage than fear, and as her feet found the floor, she slammed her fists against Dalton’s torso again.
“What have you done?” she demanded, twisting to look at the limp body of her lover. “What have you done, Dalton?”
Molly’s brain was racing as Connor’s brother gazed down at her.
“I did what he asked,” he murmured, sadly. “What he wanted me to do.”
She blinked up at him wildly. “He wanted this?” she hissed.
“You know he did.” It was Malone talking now, his imposing presence having joined them as the furor at Molly’s entrance vibrated around the dark room. “This was his penance. The one he accepted, and asked for. The one he knew would finally grant him the absolution he craved.”
Molly shook her head at the two of them, backing away to the place Connor’s body lay slumped over the bench. Her heart was in her throat once more as she fell to her knees beside him. She could see the red marks at his neck, where Dalton had throttled him. So it had been real then, the scene she had witnessed. Somehow, she’d hoped it had all been a construct of her twisted mind.
“Is he d-dead?” she gasped to the man who loomed over his head, his fingers were at Connor’s neck, checking for signs of life.
He stared down at her, his face solemn. “No,” he told her flatly. “He has a strong pulse, and has had for the entirety of the ritual.”
Molly gulped at that, her mind filled with the contradiction. Of course, she was thrilled that he was alive. It was more than that. She was overjoyed! And the relief that emanated from her was a real, palpable thing. But still, knowing that he was safe made the fury in her spike again. The fact that he had been stupid enough to submit to this ordeal made her shake with anger, never mind the sentiment she held toward those who had been complicit in his foolish plan. Malone, who had no doubt conjured it, and Dalton who had complied. Dalton, his own brother, for fuck’s sake! He had tried to strangle Connor. These men were crazier and more dangerous than even Molly had given them credit for.
“Will he be okay?” she murmured, stroking the side of his lifeless face.
The man withdrew his hand from Connor’s pulse, offering her a faint smile. “He should be,” he told her. “With rest.”
Gesturing toward the other men assembled, he rose from his crouched position. “Get everyone out of here,” he commanded. “He needs air, time and his bed.”
Malone nodded as four or five men began to push the assembled crowds away. “He needs to be absolved,” he said quietly. “Officially, and in the eyes of God. It is I who has to do it.”
Molly’s head turned sharply to face the priest. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” she barked.
Malone’s expression shifted into a smug smile. “I have done what needed to be done,” he told her. “We all have, and Connor will see that when he wakes.”
Molly’s head was banging with frustration. “Get out of here!” she ordered. “If I have my way, you’ll never see Connor again.”
“You should watch your tone,” Malone mocked, edging closer to the place Molly knelt. “I know he wouldn’t let you speak to me that way.”
“Enough,” Dalton cried, his voice booming above both Molly and Malone. “She’s right, Malone. You have done enough. We both have.”
Molly raised her face to see Dalton’s dark expression.
“How could you have done this?” she implored him. “You love him, Dalton. I know you do.”
Dalton gazed down at her distress, his eyes passing between her face and his sleeping brother. “It was bloody stupid,” he mused, as his voice cracked under the weight of whatever emotion he carried. “I knew it was wrong, but he begged me, Molly. He fucking begged me, and you know what he’s like when he gets an idea into his head, he…”
His voice trailed away, his grief more than evident. Molly swallowed at the look of him. Clearly, Dalton was overwrought with guilt and contrition at what he’d done, which was more than she could usually say for Connor himself. Dalton’s words though, were absolutely true, she did know what Connor was like. She knew better than most.
“McColl, get the others and help me carry my brother back to his rooms,” instructed Dalton. “Molly, will you come?”
He leaned toward her, offering her one large palm. Molly’s eyes fell over his hand, shuddering at the thought of what it had helped to do. What was wrong with the men in his family? Were they all secretly monsters? Did the shadows of devils lurk just beneath the surface of every man who bore the name?
“Molly?” Dalton’s voice was insistent, making her nod as she moved to take his hand.
One other question came to her mind as she slipped her much smaller palm into his. If they were both monsters, then why did she keep giving in to them? Why could she never say no to their demons?
Connor opened his eyes, blinking into the shadows. Where the hell was he? As soon as he turned his head to try and identify his location, a flash of pain sliced through his neck. His hand rose to the area at once, and at the same time, the memories of his last moments of consciousness flooded back to him.
The bench, the straps, the burning black pain… All of it came back, hitting him in the face like cold water.
Connor gasped, trying to rise to his elbows, but his head began to pound with even the slightest movement. “Oh fuck,” he murmured, shifting his hand from his neck to his temple. “What have I done?”
“Good question, Master.” Molly’s voice vibrated through the darkness, making his heart leap inside his chest. “I’ve been asking myself the same question for hours.”
“Kitten?” he whispered as he turned his face tentatively in the direction of her voice.
Connor’s own voice was so hoarse it was barely audible, no doubt another happy consequence of his earlier strangulation.
“What were you thinking?” Molly’s voice was strained to the point Connor could actually hear the pain there.
His body stirred at the sound, half aroused and half disgusted because he knew he was the one who had caused it. Again.
“About redemption,” he croaked as best he could. “About suffering for the pain I’ve caused her, and for the pain I caused you. I deserved it.”
Molly snorted beside him. “Yes, you did,” she retorted, “but not like that. Not in a room full of baying animals. Not at the hands of your own brother, and not without me, Master!”
Evidently, his kitten was angry, and he sighed quietly at the angst in her voice. “I thought it was for the best,” he tried to explain. “I didn’t want you to be there. I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
A heavy silence fell over the bed, and for a long moment all he could hear was the sound of her ragged breathing, and the relentless pounding in his own head.
“I’m sorry,” he conceded at last, his mind flit
ting once again to the final sensations he’d recalled when Dalton’s fingers had so effectively cut off his air supply. “It wasn’t supposed to hurt you more.”
He paused again, closing his eyes as he tried to rationalize his actions. Not many people had ever been able to bring him to heel this way, and it was ironic that the one person who had done so already belonged to him.
“Kitten?” he whispered out into the darkness. Connor knew she was there somewhere, but still, she was slow to respond.
“Yes, Master,” she murmured, rolling in toward his body. “I’m here.”
He swallowed painfully, trying to ignore the banging in his head as his hand reached out for her in the blackness. “I thought it was the right way to make amends,” he went on. “The only way to understand what I had put her through.”
“And did it help?” she mumbled in reply. “Do you understand now?”
He inhaled, wishing he could erase the burning sensation in his throat. “I have a pretty good idea,” he told her. “I know a little about the fear she must have felt, and the panic. And I know the black expanse I sent her to.”
“And do you feel better for it?”
Her question lingered in the air between them like an unpleasant scent. Connor twisted his head away, as though the act would repel the words, because as normal, Molly had hit the nail on the head with her astute query. Did he feel better now that he comprehended the true enormity of what he’d done? With a resigned sigh, he realized that he honestly didn’t know. Yes, he understood her pain. He empathized. It was the one thing he’d never been good at before, and meeting his kitten had finally taught him to appreciate its significance. But, more than that, did he feel better? Was his conscience content?
“I don’t know,” he admitted hoarsely. “Perhaps, I think I do. I know I’ve paid a price for my crimes, but…”
Molly’s hand found his thigh in the darkness. Slowly her small digits stroked the muscles there, the act somehow bringing him back to life. “But?” she prompted quietly.
“But it doesn’t take away what I did. Or who I am.”
There he’d said it. Once a monster, always a monster.
“No,” she agreed. “That’s true. Nothing can change what you’ve done, or the choices you’ve made, but that’s the same for all of us, Master. All we can decide is to make better choices in the future.”
Connor turned back toward the place she lay. “My wise little kitten,” he cooed with a smile. “You really are the better half of me.”
“Now, there’s finally something we can agree on,” she replied with a chuckle.
He laughed at that as much as his throat would allow, unable to muster the energy to counter her.
“Thank God,” he muttered in an even gravellier tone than usual. “Thank God for you, kitten.”
Molly edged further in his direction, her fingers burning a hot line over his hip and across his naked abdominals. “Enough of your God, Master,” she breathed into his shoulder. “I should think your debt to him is now paid in full.”
“In full?” he repeated, his voice burning against his throat as it passed between his lips. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes,” she insisted. “I most certainly do, Connor.”
He smiled at the sound of his name on her lips. In the past, Connor would have looked to punish her for not addressing him properly, but now, everything was different. Now, she was everything. And now that his conscience could finally be absolved of Lydia’s death, nothing else but Molly seemed to matter.
“I hope you’re right,” he whispered. “But really, more important to me than what any God may or may not think, is you, kitten.”
She shifted beside him, rising to her elbows. Connor could feel the weight of her palms against his skin, and the soft crush of her breasts as they were flattened over his flesh. The sensation stirred his cock, which was apparently well over the trauma of his earlier ordeal.
“What do you think?” he asked again, despising the lack of power in his voice, despite his every effort to the contrary. “Have I done enough to redeem myself to you, Molly? Can a monster like me even be redeemed?”
Connor could feel the heat of her breath as it tickled his jaw. His hips rolled reflexively, the stimulus at his jaw reminding him of how wonderful her kisses were at his chin, at his cheek, and his mouth…
Molly let out a small sigh, the sound hardening his cock even further. “Considering everything that has happened, Master, I cannot think of anything else you could have done.”
He swallowed, the action causing yet more pain. “I could have given myself up, and served my time for her murder.” Connor could barely believe he was saying the words, but there they were, out there in the open for his little kitten to hear. He had no intention of doing any more time inside, but he understood, to people outside of The Syndicate, that was how justice was normally served.
“If you hand yourself in, then they won’t let us be together.” Molly’s words sounded tiny in the expanse of darkness that spread around them. “I feel for Lydia, Master, I really do. She did not deserve to die at your hands, and that’s why I asked you for more contrition, but…”
There was a pause and for a moment all there was, was the heat of their bodies, and that unrelenting instinctive connection that existed between them. Connor waited, knowing the words would come. Knowing his pet better than anyone else.
“But I cannot accept a world without you, Master. I need you. I need your darkness.”
Connor’s hand reached for her head in the shadows, finding her long mane of silky hair, which he drew toward his aching body. “And I need yours, kitten,” he purred. “Your darkness, your light. All the color and the shadows. Every last fleeting one.”
Her lips grazed the expanse of skin at his chest, and slowly, unhurriedly, she kissed the soft hair there. A small groan escaped Connor’s mouth, and despite the pain it caused, he welcomed the sensation. Her caresses were light, yet lingering, and they promised so much sensual intent.
“We need each other,” she told him in a firm tone, despite the tenderness in her voice. “Connor, you complete me in the most fundamental way. I swear, I didn’t even know I was lacking the things you bring me, but now I know without them, I can’t survive. I don’t want to.”
“Kitten.”
His voice sounded pained as it left his lips, and in a way that was how he felt. It wasn’t only the damage at his neck that injured him, but the weight of the intimacy. How could he survive it? How could either of them get out of this alive? Or maybe, he mused, that wasn’t the point. Perhaps you just had to endure the vulnerability of being in love; the powerlessness it presented you in the heat of passion? In all his years, Connor had never felt more alive, more exposed, or more defenseless. It was awe-inspiring and maddening in equal measure.
“Mmmmm,” Molly’s reply came between the hot kisses she was delivering, her lips now making their way down his torso to his groin.
Oh fuck, he thought, his left hand reaching for his erection out of instinct. This felt so good. She felt so good, and he was helpless to resist her advances.
“I want you,” he told her, the timbre of his voice weak as the pounding in his head finally began to ease. “I need to be inside you.”
“You’re not well enough for that, Master,” she chided, continuing on her tantalizing journey down the length of his body.
Molly’s lips found his thigh, blazing a line of fire along the muscle as his cock jutted eagerly only inches from her face.
“Please,” he begged, knowing how desperate he sounded, but for the first time in years, not giving a fuck. “Please, kitten.”
Her mouth paused, and he felt her head turn toward his face. “Please what, Master?”
“Oh,” he moaned, the sound escaping his lips in frustration although he had not permitted it.
What temerity his pet had, after everything he had put her through. Everything they had been through together, and now, she wanted to tea
se him, and taunt him, and maybe deny him. Connor’s cock ached urgently at the thought. Something about it was oddly alluring, in the same way he’d been rock solid the day he’d taken Molly to the precipice and denied her after their jaunt in the woods.
“Please, Molly,” he tried again. “Ride me. I don’t have the energy to take control, but you can, kitten. You can control me like nobody else.”
She laughed at that, the sound delicious as it whipped around their bodies. “I like it when you beg, Master,” she purred, every inch the feline he’d identified from the time he’d taken her. “Do it some more.”
Connor smiled into the darkness. She really did want to play.
“You like it, huh?” he asked, reaching out for her body with his free hand.
“Oh yes,” she panted, but already he could feel her weight shifting. “I love it, Master. Beg me, again.”
In a flash, Molly was astride him, the warmth of her thighs pressing against his as she edged closer to his throbbing manhood.
“Please, kitten.” His words sounded strangled, and the fitting analogy made him chuckle as he caressed the flesh of her calf. “Please, I need you. Ride me, fuck me, do what you like.”
She leant over him, her gorgeous tits grazing his chest as her face appeared in the half-light. “Can I tie you?” she demanded softly.
Connor gazed up into the place he knew her face was. He could feel the heat of her breath, and the strands of her hair as they skimmed his shoulder blades. “Tie me?” he repeated, as though his brain couldn’t make sense of the request.
“Yes,” she whispered sensually. “I’d like to bind you for a change, Master.”
He shook his head at her answer. This was crazy. Nobody bound him in bed. Ever. So, why was his cock going crazy at the mere idea?
“You do trust me, don’t you, Master?” she goaded.
His answer was immediate. “With my life, kitten,” he replied. And it was true. Connor felt a bond to this woman that he’d never experienced before, and he knew he trusted that, as well as the pet who inspired it.
Entwined: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 3) Page 28