The Bargaining Path

by T. Rudacille

  ***

  After spilling some secrets to Savannah, I felt lighter, but there was one issue still plaguing my mind: Caspar Elohimson. Though I knew that I should have confronted Adam first, I also knew that Caspar was an adult and therefore, I could go directly to him with my demand that he stay away from my sister. He was one of the five trainers for the recruits, because he knew the land so well and how best to utilize it in times of war. A small rumble of thunder sounded overhead as I began to trek over to the training hall. All the while, my eyes kept moving upward to watch the swirling gray clouds, knowing that soon a torrential downpour would begin. I am not speaking in metaphors here; I simply did not want to get wet.

  The door to the training center banged against the wall when I pushed it open, and it was then that I realized my adrenaline was pumping. I had no intention of killing Caspar; I had no intention of hurting him, at all. Threats would be the worst of it, and I was unsure if it would even come to that. Perhaps he would tell me what he and Violet had done to Dr. Miletus, and then I would tell him that he was to stay away. If that did not work, I would threaten to speak to his father. If that did not work, I would warn him that I had a history of protecting Violet by whatever means necessary, and that he should take that for what it was. As I walked calmly up the darkened hallway of the training center, looking into each darkened room, I prepared to fight him with only my mind.

  It was hard work, turning off my killing instinct. Violet was not being threatened physically, but her way of life was being threatened. Her poor decisions were the result of Caspar’s influence. If I did not cut off that influence, I strongly suspected that I would lose her. Was it any of my business? I suppose I should say ‘no,’ but she was my younger sister. She was my de facto child now that our parents were gone. She was my responsibility. I loved her and wanted the best for her. I wanted her ambition and talent to lead her to success and fulfillment. But she was weak when it came to her boys. She and Nick spent every waking moment entwined together, and she and Caspar got up to no good. Caspar was danger, and Nick was safety. She wanted them both, but she could not have the former; he would destroy her, utterly and completely, and she would let him.

  At the end of the hall, the sounds of a fist hitting repeatedly into a heavy, hanging bag of sand continued monotonously. There was so much force behind those hits that the sound reverberated throughout the whole complex, it seemed. When my enhanced hearing homed in on the sound, I could hear feet pounding into the mat as he jumped forward or moved, the sounds of his heavy breaths, the occasional grunt that showed the effort it was taking to keep up the intense physical movements. It was not until I was pushing open the door, though, that I heard the thoughts, and I realized it was not Caspar in the gym.

  Lightning flashed, and half a minute later, a deafening rumble of thunder made me jump. It did not startle James, though. His eyes were trained on that punching bag, narrowed slightly as he concentrated on hitting it just the right way. Immediately, my eyes took in his arms that had become so impossibly muscular. They certainly were not the arms of some freakish bodybuilder whose biceps were the size of small children, but they had expanded in size and toned so much that his skin seemed to be shrink-wrapped around them, and believe me, I mean that in the best way possible. The black ribbed tank top he was wearing clung to his midsection, and even from afar, I could see that his abs were as toned as his arms. My mind was racing as I watched him; I felt every part of me throbbing again, but this time, it was not for the emotional intimacy or the constancy; this was the primal part of me, the part driven to a senseless, animal lust that erased all ill feelings towards him. James always had that effect on me; sometimes, all I had to do was look at him, even if he was doing nothing remarkable, and I would want him with such longing, it was as though my entire body would cease to feel if I did not throw myself into his arms, wrap my legs around his body, and claw my nails down his back. In that moment, after missing him for so long, after not having him for so long, that feeling was amplified one hundred-fold; my cheeks were flushed; my skin was hot; and my hands, lips, breasts, thighs, hips—everything—wanted to feel him again.

  But as my lips parted, and my voice readied itself to speak to him, I was barraged by an image that was at the forefront of his mind: Him and Janna, in an alley, her back pressed to the wall, her perfectly thin body—managing to have both smooth curves where curves were most appealing, and sharp angles where angles were best—in his tightly wrapped arms, his lips trailing down her neck feverishly, his hands on her breasts, his mouth on them… And then, she was on her knees in front of him, her face moving forward and back between his legs, and his eyes were closed, his breathing deep, and he was trying so hard to force my face from his mind. He did not want to pretend that it was me below him, because he was so angry at me, and would not have let me touch him even if I wanted to, because why should he let me when he was not the man I really wanted?

  “Stop.” He had told her, and several moments of blurriness passed in his mind, and then, she was turned around, her back to his front, her hands holding his hands to her small yet perfectly round and supple breasts, and he was downright fucking her, and her head was tilted back, she was moaning, coming, calling out his name, loving every second of it… And he was loving it, too, wanting nothing more than for me to come around the corner, to see them, but even if I didn’t, Janna was so good… So attuned to him and his needs, to his rage, to his need to release it all. So attuned to what his body wanted, so experienced…

  Another bolt of lightning cut blinding, jagged lines through the sky outside of the window, and for a moment, I thought that it had struck me. My mind was blank, but my heart was beating so quickly that it hurt, and every one of my limbs was paralyzed. Tears rushed into my eyes, admittedly, and more than anything, I wanted them to be tears of rage, and though some of them certainly were, the rest were just tears. It hurt me. Seeing it so clearly in my mind, hearing it, feeling what he had felt… It cut me deeper than anything he had ever said or done. It hurt me worse than I had ever allowed another human being to hurt me.

  I had been backing away, wanting to blot out his image from my sight, but at the same time wanting to preserve it. Why? I did not know. But whatever the reason, I had to get away from him. Before I could do that, though, a roar of thunder sounded so loudly that he looked up.

  Immediately, his face took on an expression of shock, and almost immediately after that, the shock had dissipated.

  “Hey.” He said softly, and he began to duck out of the ring, but before he could get one foot under the elastic bands, I zoomed forward and pushed him back inside of it, my eyes blazing the color of fresh blood.

  “You saw it, didn’t you?” He asked, his voice so soft, so apologetic. “I gotta get it out of me, baby. That’s why I was seeing it. That’s why I’m here. I…”

  I was in the ring, and my open hand was striking him hard across the face. His words cut off, and he exhaled, but then, he tried to speak again.

  “I know I deserved that. Brynna, I’m…”

  I slapped him even harder than before and then pushed his chest hard. When he walked towards me, I slapped him with one hand on one of his cheeks, and then I slapped him with my other hand on his other cheek immediately.

  “Alright.” He said fiercely, “Is that making it better? Is that fixing it?! Go on, then; hit me!”

  And I did. I slapped him so many times and with so much force that my handprints shone pure white behind the black stubble on his unshaven cheeks. Every time he walked towards me, I pushed his firm chest as hard as I could, and he stumbled back several steps. My fangs were out, and I wanted to bite him, but I did not know where or how hard. My hands were pushing his chest, but then they were gripping two handfuls of that tank top and twisting it, trying to rip it from his body while simultaneously pulling him closer. My fangs bit into my bottom lip, but when I had pulled him close enough to me, and I had claimed his mouth with mine, I was biting his lip. His ha
nds had been trying to lessen the force of my assault, but now, they were running down my back, tucking under my butt, and pulling my hips closer to him. His breaths were coming deeply and quickly; he wanted me to such a point that he needed me. His hands did not know where they wanted to be, and neither did his mouth. One second, his hands were running over my butt, then they were squeezing my back, and then they were up my shirt and under my bra, caressing both of my breasts hard, as his lips pressed hard to my lips, my neck, my shoulders, my chest… He was falling to his knees in front of me, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans. He pulled them down my legs with one hand, and with the other, he was pushing my shirt up so he could kiss and lick his way down my stomach. His mouth was kissing me over my underwear, and then, they were down my legs, too, and his tongue was running slowly up and down, stopping to push hard and fast over and over again just where he knew I liked it. My eyes closed, my breathing deepened, and my body swayed. One soft sound, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, left me, and he exhaled deeply, stopping his devouring of me so he could look up at me. There was such hunger in his eyes; he was utterly famished for me, my body that he worshipped, my voice moaning out his name, the sounds I made that left no doubt in his mind that he was pleasing me…

  “Again, baby. Please.” He whispered breathlessly, “You don’t know how I’ve missed that sound.”

  His lips began their work on me again, and I did not want to give him what I wanted, but he was so expertly skilled with his lips and tongue that I could not help but make the sounds that he loved so much. My body was leaned back on the ropes surrounding the ring, and my breasts were pushing upwards into the air, and my head was tilted back… The orgasm ripped through my body like a wild animal loosed from its cage, cascading outwards from where his mouth was pressed up to my breasts, which pushed further towards the ceiling, out from the pit of my stomach, to the tip of my head. I exhaled deeply, moaning for that final moment, and then, my body slumped forward, my knees so weak, they could not support me. His arms were around my middle, and he was holding me up, still on his knees in front of me.

  When my strength returned, I dropped to my knees in front of him so our faces were level. Then, without warning I pushed him back onto the mat, and in a blur of movement he barely saw, I was on top of him, my legs on either side of his torso, my body curled over him, my long hair flipped over, hanging down, my eyes burning into his. His pants were gone before he could realize it, and my hand was rubbing him over his boxers, feeling how hard he already was, and feeling him becoming harder and stiffer with each downward slide of my hand. My hand dipped below the hemline of his boxers and wrapped around him. Because I knew it drove him crazy, I moved my hips forward and back in synchrony with my hand. Whatever words he was trying to say dissolved away into soft grunts and deep breaths, and when his eyes closed, and his body stiffened, and in my hand, he began to throb… I let go.

  Gathering myself up, I rose onto my feet, hearing his pathetically confused thoughts and then, his aggravated realization of what I was doing.

  “Oh, you have got to be shitting me…” He murmured.

  “I am not.” I said vaguely as I pulled my black lacy thong back on.

  “No, no! Do it slowly. Slowly!” He begged, but my pants were already pulled on, zipped and buttoned before he could even grasp a hold of himself.

  “Goodbye, James.” I said, and I extracted a cigarette from the pack I always kept in the back pocket of my jeans, lit one up, and began to saunter away, exhaling smoke.

  “Fine, but FYI, you don’t have to do jack shit, and I’m still going to get off. Even now, you’re just walking away, and… and…”

  He grunted and laid back, breathing heavily, his head turned sideways so he could watch me go.

  “That is all well and good, as they say, but is your hand as good as me?”

  “Baby, just come back. Come back, and I’ll do anything you say. I’ll go down on you for the next eight hours. I promise.” He stood up, pulling his boxers back on, as he ran after me, “Baby, I’ll do it for nine hours. Ten hours! We don’t even have to talk. All you’ll have to say is ‘down,’ and I’ll go to work. Okay? Is that what you want?”

  “Do I want for you to perform oral sex on me for almost half a day? While that would sound lovely, maybe, in another circumstance, we are in this circumstance, I’m afraid. So, no, that is not what I want. What I want is for you to find one of the many million innovators on this planet, have them make you a time machine, and for you to then go back and erase all of your epic fuck-uppery. God, I have become so salty! You are a terrible influence! You are an awful person! God, you rode her like she was a fucking horse! You loved it, and she loved it.”

  “I didn’t.” He said firmly, “She was nothing compared to you. Nothing, do you understand me?”

  “Yes. I am sure, James.” I reached down and patted him between the legs, “Make sure you put on your pants before you leave.”