Millions

by Pepper Winters

  Everywhere.

  A thick vibration distorting my pain to new wavelengths. My adrenaline switched to endorphins, my anger evolved to relief, my franticness mellowed to contentedness. The humming grew louder, living behind my eyes, dancing in my veins, taking every chemical in my bloodstream and turning it into a toxic cocktail I couldn’t avoid drinking.

  My eyes lost their ability to focus.

  My mind lost its ability to think.

  I became lost to nothing.

  Nothing but Pim and what she was doing to me.

  My head fell back against the headboard as I floated from my injuries—up, up away, away, leaving pain behind until only two things remained.

  Pim and how incredible she made me feel.

  I was...serene.

  I was...happy.

  I no longer had to fight...anything.

  And on the heels of such potent serenity came thick, aggressive need. Lust amplified as pain de-magnified. My gunshot shoulder and distended elbow no longer had government over me as I wrapped my arms around Pim’s waist and tugged her back to lie against my chest.

  My hips never stopped working, driving into her, but she no longer held my knees for balance—I held her. Draped and hot, shivering in my embrace.

  She moaned as I bit her neck, her body splaying heavier over mine, her head thrown back, her hair sticking to my bandages, her skull pressing against my stitches.

  Yet I felt none of it.

  Only how good and warm and soft she was.

  I crushed her closer, licking her neck, tasting salt and foreign soap and cherished Pim.

  She shivered then cried out as I drifted my hand down her front, over the tautness of her belly, and found her clit.

  She bucked as she stretched backward in my hold. Her mouth opened; her breath noisy as she scrambled for release from my pressure. “El...”

  My eyes were utterly useless now—just blackness and buzzing. I closed them as syrup filled my head with yet more dopamine and chemicals, switching the world from nonsense to dreamy.

  I’d never endured anything like this. Never swam in arousal so inviting, so intoxicating I had no power whatsoever.

  I wasn’t the one moving, the trance was.

  I wasn’t the one thrusting, the chant was.

  I forgot who I was.

  I forgot sentences and speech.

  I forgot where we were and why any of that shit mattered.

  I became one purpose.

  One nucleus.

  Come.

  The moment I thought it, I was done for.

  Pim rocked in my arms, but I didn’t understand male or female anymore. The only thing I recognised was warm electricity humming in my veins and the staggering storm crackling in my cock.

  Pim screamed, her body clutching mine with rhythmic spurts.

  The animal in me knew she’d come.

  The sex in me knew I was free to do the same.

  Come.

  I sparked and fizzed like a live wire. Thick, thick heat. Delicious, delicious wetness.

  The electricity increased until it spat and crackled, dangerous and demonic in my veins. I shivered and gasped as the pain I’d escaped from shot into all areas and became one blazing phenomenon.

  Red.

  Hot.

  Blistering.

  Too much.

  Too intense.

  Too perfect.

  It was addicting. Better than any joint. Deeper than any drug.

  I was mad with it.

  Obsessed with it.

  And fuck, I’m coming.

  But unlike all the other times before, I smelled colours, I felt sight, I heard sensation.

  I was in a wormhole of space where stars and asteroids pummelled me to pieces.

  I spun and swam and shouted in the vast void of nothing.

  And then, it was over.

  Murmurs and words drifted over me like droplets, sending my mind reeling with pictures of oceans and wetness. I wanted to swim. I wanted to cool down. I wanted to stretch and give in to the calm serenity.

  But then something was tugging me, reclining me, rolling me onto my side and wedging itself into my embrace.

  I opened my eyes, but the wonky world of nothing came back. I tried to speak but the uncomprehensive world of language avoided me.

  I buried my face into the strands of silk in front of me. I cupped the soft mountains on the cliff’s side that I clung to. I thrust into the lush sea so soft and willing.

  More sounds. More mewls. More words I didn’t understand.

  I might not comprehend, but I did recognise the voice.

  The woman I loved.

  The girl I wanted more than anything.

  The soul I would never let go.

  “I don’t know where you are or what’s happened, El, but rest now.” Tears echoed. “Please be okay.”

  My brain rearranged nonsensical into something I remembered.

  Language.

  Why was this goddess sad?

  I wanted to ask her, but my tongue wouldn’t work.

  Awareness quickly faded, filling my thoughts with a blaze of reds and blues and masks and feathers and blood.

  My heart slowed.

  My mind blanketed.

  I inhaled the rich scent of the woman I’d killed for and then...nothing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ______________________________

  Pimlico

  A NEW DAY.

  A new morning.

  And I’d hoped a new Elder as well.

  I’d envisioned him waking up, fully healed and ready to triumph.

  But he didn’t.

  The sun shone over his strewn body, dappling his bandages, soaking into his strained face. He looked at peace rather than in agony. His fever had broken sometime in the night, and whatever had happened during sex meant he’d somehow forgotten his pain. However, even slumbering and peaceful, his face never stopped being severe. His dark eyebrows and thick eyelashes permanent domination on his tanned skin.

  He’d slept curled around me all night, and I’d remained cocooned in his arms. I hadn’t dared move. If I did, he groaned, his body seizing from his wounds. As dawn broke, he’d rolled away, hugging a pillow and slipping into a deeper rest.

  Now, as I stood over him doing my best to figure out what the hell happened last night, he lay on his side, his booted ankle peeking from beneath the covers tangled around his legs.

  What did happen last night?

  I wished I had an answer. I hadn’t slept while tucked in his arms—that question on a never-ending loop. And now night was day, and I still didn’t have a clue.

  I’m scared...

  What had happened in his mind?

  What made him switch from coherent to unintelligible?

  How had he ignored every pain and seemed so happy? So complete? So sated?

  Rubbing my arms, I worried he’d done too much. That he’d hurt himself even more by giving in to whatever games his brain played.

  What if he doesn’t wake up the same?

  What if I’d scrambled him so completely he was a vegetable?

  My heart froze over.

  I’d wanted to stay here to protect him, but perhaps, I’d been wrong.

  Maybe he needs to be back on the sea to heal properly.

  We’d been here almost three days, and he was no better than before—if anything, I’d made him worse.

  Stupid, Pim. So stupid.

  What was I thinking sucking him after washing him? I’d been greedy and selfish, and now look what I’d done.

  He’s broken.

  If we left today on the Phantom, Elder might rally round faster, but it was only a matter of time until the Chinmoku found us, and then what? Would Selix fight on Elder’s behalf? Would Elder stay out of it?

  I rolled my eyes.

  As if.

  Elder would be at the front of the cavalry despite dislocation, fractures, and bullet holes.

  My heart bruised to think he�
�d been living with violence for so long that he no longer knew how to truly find peace. He’d forgotten how to reconcile with a family he still loved. He’d forgotten how to be happy.

  But despite all that, I couldn’t keep him prisoner here. I’d been in that situation, and I would never do that to him. I would let him choose. I’d been wrong to make that decision without his input—thinking I was saving him just like he’d saved me.

  Because he did need saving. Absolutely.

  But love might not be enough. Perhaps only his own forgiveness could do that, and there was no quick way to make self-loathing switch to self-acceptance.

  Either way—setting sail or spending another day here—he wasn’t in a state to move yet. When he woke, we’d plan, but for now, my stomach was empty and my mind a mess.

  I needed to walk to give myself space to figure out what happened last night. If I was permitted to explore this chateau, I would head through the manicured gardens. I would unravel the symptoms of Elder’s strangeness, so I would know if he’d taken a turn for the worst or if it was a normal part of healing. Then, hopefully, the fresh air would allow me to be mentally strong enough to command Elder not to be an idiot and to accept that he had a long healing road ahead of him—even if we sailed with the tide today.

  No more battles permitted until he was at least halfway healed.

  My shoulders straightened. I was glad I had a plan instead of standing here fretting while he slept.

  Tiptoeing toward the door, I tossed my still-damp hair over my shoulder. I’d had a shower and dressed in simple jeans and dusky pink hoodie. It made me feel my age. Made me remember in numerical value I was still so young, but in life value, I was ancient.

  Elder never woke as I looked back one last time and headed down the corridor.

  Treading down the stairs, my mind flittered once again to his oddness last night. How he’d vanished on me. How his body had switched from pain-brittle to sensual-smooth. How his words made no sense. How his eyes held no focus.

  His body had remained inside mine—he’d come and ensured I did the same—but the Elder I knew...he’d gone somewhere.

  His mind had...not exactly broken—but he’d lost the ability to speak or see. He’d been high as a damn kite and hadn’t had any weed.

  How?

  I’d never seen someone so mellow and woozy, so utterly focused on sex before.

  More fear filled me, throwing around terrible words like aneurysm or stroke. I’d been petrified as he came a final time then immediately slipped into sleep. Even now, that terror hadn’t left. I wanted to tell someone I might be responsible for scrambling Elder’s mind to the point of destroying him, but how could I ever confess such a thing?

  If I was responsible, what did that mean? Would Selix kill me for hurting his friend? Would I once again be cast out for doing the wrong thing when I only tried to do right?

  He’ll be fine. You’ll see...

  The meek reassurance hadn’t worked as Elder held me, and it didn’t work now I’d moved farther away. The only thing I could do was ask Q to call his doctor again. An expert would know and I could finally stop driving myself crazy.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, female voices flittered from the lounge followed by a baby cooing.

  Damn.

  My stomach turned to lead. As much as I wanted to talk to Tess again, it hurt too much to be around baby Lino.

  She was right before—when Elder was only seconds from arriving and bringing disaster—right about her chosen profession saving slaves from cruel masters and having a baby around. Either the women were too fragile to see such innocence or they only saw evil in the infant from their own past. It had the potential to pour salt into festering wounds and make them worse.

  Like me.

  Torn apart by a bastard never to conceive.

  Fading back against the doorway, I held my breath, eyeing another way to leave the house. The front door beckoned as Suzette’s French accent reached my ears. “Another bruise worn with pride, huh, mon amie?”

  Tess’s soft laugh echoed. “Another for the collection, I guess.”

  They giggled together, whispering something that, even soft and murmured, vibrated dirty reminiscing about sex.

  Tess spoke louder as they laughed again. “I know, I know. I should play harder to get. But my God, Suzette. He really knows how to make me lose myself.” Her feminine lilt teased with something sinful. “I should be used to the man by now. But nope...he still manages to surprise me.”

  “You think I didn’t see what happened between you two before you managed to make it up the stairs?” Suzette snorted. “He has you so well programmed you sink into subspace the moment he gives you that look.”

  I really shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this.

  I wasn’t exactly comfortable being around those who were openly in a sexually explicit power play. I would never judge those who enjoyed domination but with a past like mine...it made me wary and even slightly afraid of Q, despite his wife sounding completely besotted with their untraditional love life.

  My feet itched to leave, but my body swayed forward to listen. Naughty, disgusting habit to spy on others’ conversations, but I’d heard that word before.

  Subspace.

  It prickled my skin, making old memories come back. It made me wonder...

  “What look?” A baby rattle sounded while Tess couldn’t hide the smirk in her voice. “There’s no look.”

  “You know exactly what look.” Suzette added a flirt to her tone. “The look that ought to terrify a normal person. He’d just had a fight. He was covered in blood. That look he gave you was one that said he wanted you to be the one covered in blood. And what do you do?” She sighed dramatically. “Fall into subspace like a good little esclave instead of run for your life.”

  Tess lamented theatrically. “Ah...yes, that look.”

  The two women dissolved in a fit of laughter.

  Tess lowered her voice. “But it’s so addictive, Suzette. It’s scary at how quick it happens, too. He just alters my mind until I can barely see and definitely can’t talk. All I want is him.”

  “You’re hopeless.” Suzette snickered.

  A baby’s chatter interrupted the very adult conversation and the topic switched to if it was too soon for Lino to learn how to build skyscrapers with the Legos Franco bought last week.

  I stayed where I was, lurking in the foyer, thinking over what Tess had mentioned.

  Subspace.

  Did she engage in sexual pain to capture such a thing?

  I’d heard of it before I was kidnapped. Stumbled on a blog or two that broke down the physiological and psychological pros and cons of being in a Dominant/submissive relationship. My mother was fascinated with the idea that a human’s brain could have the power to switch off sensory reflexes if it reached an oversaturation of pleasure.

  She had a wild theory that hypnosis worked on the same principles as subspace. That triggering such a mind state was similar, if not entirely related to the cataclysm of sexual depth.

  I slammed to a stop.

  Elder...

  Did he reach subspace last night?

  Was that what happened to him? He hadn’t made any sense. His eyes didn’t focus on mine. His lips couldn’t form words. All he could do was fuck me then snuggle close as he passed out.

  In one of the studies my mother made me read, it mentioned entering subspace for the first time required a careful balance of prolonged pain and heightened erotic pleasure.

  Well, he had copious amounts of pain running in his system. Couple that with his OCD on needing to reach three orgasms before being able to relax, it could be possible he’d slipped. He could’ve entered a singular focus and forgot to care about anything else.

  Enough to push him past logical thought and into a trance?

  And if he had been in subspace...could he enter it again? What was it like? Could he tell me if he had? Would he recognise his behaviour as unusual or felt nothing diff
erent?

  Could he teach me to do it?

  I wouldn’t deny the thought of giving up all motor and cognitive control terrified me. But to have someone I trusted with utmost certainty take care of me while I gave in.... To have someone show me nothing but mind-stealing bliss? The idea was intoxicating.

  I looked over my shoulder, debating if I should run to him and climb back into bed. To touch and stroke and thank him for the strange gift he’d given me. But the front door opened and in walked the older woman Q had kissed in the kitchen carrying grocery bags with a fresh baguette sticking out the top of one and celery sticks from the other.

  She looked me up and down as if she fully expected me to be lingering, uninvited in the lobby. “Ah, you must be Pimlico.”

  Conversation in the lounge ceased immediately as I eyed the woman, stomping on the residual fight or flight whenever I encountered new people. Forcing myself to smile instead of snarl, I nodded. “I am.”

  “Great, lovely to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you already.” She gave me a kind grin and passed over a bag of groceries, somehow making me feel part of the family. Her white hair matched her blouse while her navy skirt clung tight to generous curves. “I’m Mrs Sucre. Mr. Mercer’s chef and kitchen minion.”

  “Minion? Where on earth did you learn a word like that, Mrs S?” Tess appeared, bouncing Lino on her hip, giving me a sweet smile. “Morning, Pimlico.” Her smile carried another element too—something that hinted she knew I’d overhead more than I should and didn’t care in the slightest. Her blasé comfortableness when it came to sex made me tense and relax at the same time.

  “Morning.” I returned her smile, looking at her son then back to her. I didn’t know why, but Tess made me strong and weak within the same breath.

  I wanted her as my friend, not because I was starved of female interaction, but because she came across so self-assured and happy.

  I wanted to learn how to be like that. I wanted to be self-assured and happy.

  I’d had flashes of self-assurance and definitely tasted happiness, but my past still cast shadows no matter how bright the sun. I still needed to learn, once and for all, how to walk away from that darkness and lock the door forever.

  Mrs Sucre answered her, shuffling past her and into the lounge with her bag of baguettes. “I learned that delightful word from Despicable Me that maître bought for Lino.” She tutted under her breath. “That child is too young for international thieves and terrorist plots, even if it is wrapped up in a kid’s movie with yellow sausages with glasses.”