Blood & Lies (A Twisted Duet Book 1)

by Bella J

I leaned forward, whispering so that no one else could hear me. “Be brave, little mouse.”

  Abruptly I tore through the rest of the rag, leaving nothing to cover any part of her front. Her whimpers quickly turned into sobs, and I smiled, loving how humiliation brought the faintest of pink to her cheeks. A quick glance down to what hid between her legs and my cock responded, instantly pushing painfully against my pants, wanting inside her bare pussy.

  Fuck, I needed to get my shit under control.

  I stepped to the side and pointed toward her naked front. “Take a good look at this woman before you. This is the reason we buried my father and my brother. This is the reason we have all been grieving for the last few months.” I glanced at her, the tears on her cheeks glinting under the lights. “But tonight this family starts its journey to healing.” I looked back at the crowd. “I swear, on my life, that I will not fail this family, and that I will make them pay for taking my brother and my father’s life.”

  Cheers echoed through the dining hall, men clapping and clinking drinks. I saw pride in all the eyes focused on me. This was what a leader did. He motivated, he inspired, and he provoked strength in each of his subjects. This was what I was meant to do. Inspire. Not think about sinful acts, and sordid fantasies about the enemy.

  Tatum stared at me, her eyes pleading for mercy, but there would be none. Not for her.

  I turned around and started to walk away.

  “Castello.”

  I paused when I heard Vico from among the crowd. There was a prickle of warning in the back of my skull knowing my little brother was up to no good.

  I turned to face him. “Vico.”

  “Don’t you think we deserve to see her punished?” The way he squared his shoulders, pushing out his chest made him look a damn arrogant peacock.

  “She will be punished, brother.”

  Nicollo stepped beside Vico, his black hair sleeked back. “You say that, yes. But as you so eloquently put it, we are all grieving. So don’t you think we all deserve to see her get punished?”

  His gaze were etched on mine, filled with amusement and vindictiveness. If I ever had the option to eliminate one person from the Fattore family, Nicollo would be that person.

  With controlled calmness I straightened my shirt sleeves while I secretly fumed on the inside. “Miss Linscott will be taken care of as planned.”

  “That’s not enough,” Vico said, loud enough for every member in the dining hall to hear. “We want to share in it. We have the right to witness some of the penance she pays for her sins.”

  This wasn’t just a mere request. It was a challenge, in front of all the men of our family. He might never admit it, but I knew that deep down he thought he was the better man to lead the family. On numerous occasions he would make it known that I didn’t have the spine or the balls to take our family to the top. What his idea of ‘the top’ was, I didn’t know. We already had everything—money, power, respect. What the hell more did he want?

  “What exactly did you have in mind, little brother?”

  Vico lifted a brow, clearly taking offense in my use of the word little. Good. It was intended to be offensive.

  Nicollo leaned in whispering something to Vico. Immediately I knew that whatever was about to come out of Vico’s mouth next, I wasn’t going to like it since Nicollo was the devil sitting on Vico’s shoulder, urging him to do his wicked bidding.

  A sly grin started at the corners of Vico’s mouth. “Lashing. The slut needs to be punished with lashes. Let her experience just a slither of the pain we have to bear because of her.”

  There were a few voices echoing around in the dining hall in agreement, and I knew right then that this was a request I couldn’t ignore or deny.

  Vico stepped forward. “You are the boss, and the pleasure of getting revenge is yours. But I lost a brother too, a father. So let me be the one to deal the lashes. Give me the chance to feel like my pain is also being acknowledged.”

  Motherfucker. He was playing the sympathy card. And by the way most of the men nodded and answered in agreement, it was fucking working. Vico was forcing my hand, putting me in a corner where I had no choice, unless I wanted to show weakness—which in this case, I didn’t. I couldn’t afford to show any kind of weakness, not when everyone came tonight to see me play the part of the new Boss.

  I glanced at Uncle Gino who gave me a slight nod, confirming that I had no choice.

  “Fine.” I didn’t look at my brother. “Five lashes.”

  “Ten,” Vico countered, his eyes sparkling with malice. The solid determination on his face, and the clear support of the crowd left me no choice but to concede.

  With a deep sigh, I lifted my hand gesturing for him to go ahead. Another round of cheers erupted, the sound of glass clinking together echoing in my ears like nails on blackboard. As I watched every face around me, beaming with excitement at the prospects of a woman getting beaten a chill ran down my spine. We were fucking savages. I was a fucking savage.

  I gritted my teeth as I watched Vico remove his belt, folding it in half and snapping the straps together, sounding like a gunshot.

  Tatum squirmed, more blood running down the side of her mouth from the rope cutting into her flesh. Vico stalked around her, circling her while never taking his hungry, vicious, black eyes off her. It was there, on his face, his intention to hurt her as much as humanly possible. I’ve never seen this amount of hate, this intense need to harm and destroy in Vico before. It’s like he flipped a switch, and went from just a mere arrogant pain in the ass to a resolute warmonger.

  But did I not have the same intention when all this started? Did I not still have that intention brewing inside my gut, to destroy and harm Tatum Linscott?

  I moved through the crowd unintentionally stepping in next to Uncle Gino. He didn’t say anything, but I felt the apprehension radiate from his stance.

  Vico came up behind Tatum, placing his hands on her shoulders, whispering something into her ear. I could just imagine what kind of disgusting, perverted things he was saying to her. Her eyes closed, more tears streaming down her face. I’ve never seen a person cry so much.

  The sound of fabric being torn resounded around us. Vico had torn the entire rag off her body, leaving her completely and utterly naked.

  A slight twinge throbbed against my ribs, but I ignored it. I also ignored the urge to walk up to Vico, punch him in the face, and then carry Tatum out of there, to my room…where I would be the one dealing the lashes…right before I fucked her.

  My heart stuttered as Vico gave a step back, lifting his hand in the air. And then the sound of the first lash caused my ears to wring. Tatum moaned with the rope in her mouth, the chains above her rattling and clinking together as she swayed from the force.

  The second lash was even louder, Tatum’s scream muffled by the rope. Then the third blow fell. The more Vico struck her, the darker his eyes became, his features hard and unyielding. He loved it, and the worst part, I couldn’t blame him. All I could think about was whipping her ivory skin into a gorgeous shade of red, to give her pain…but for an entirely different reason.

  Four…five…

  Tatum’s screams and moans got softer and softer, her head no longer held up high. It seemed like she had somehow cut off from what was happening to her, like she no longer registered the pain being inflicted on her body. The very unwelcome twinge inside my chest intensified with every lash. I bit the inside of my mouth, desperately fighting the urge to stop it all. Her soft cries and whimpers, the way her body swayed, and the sound of the chains complaining above her had me feeling like I could tear my own goddamn skin off—or Vico’s.

  Six…seven…

  “You need to stop this, Castello.” Uncle Gino turned toward me. “Stop this now.”

  I didn’t think. I just acted by storming through the crowd toward where Tatum hung like a rag doll from the roof.

  “Stop!”

  Vico’s hand paused mid-air, and I grabbed the belt from h
is grip. “That’s enough.”

  “You said ten.” Vico’s dark eyes glared at me, malevolence pouring from his gaze like molten lava.

  “I said five. You wanted ten. Seven is a great middle ground.”

  Vico leaned closer. “Do you dare show weakness in front of all these men, big brother?” Another challenge.

  I moved even closer, gritting through my teeth, “It’s not weakness I’m showing, little brother. I’m showing my dominion…over you.”

  His eyes instantly burned, his cheeks blood red from fury, and I tasted the goodness of victory.

  “Now back the fuck off, Vico.”

  After a few seconds of never taking our eyes off each other I wasn’t sure whether Vico would back down or not. But then he did.

  Of course in typical Vico style he had to make sure that he got the last laugh. He pulled out his cellphone, and aimed the camera at Tatum.

  “Smile, slut,” he taunted, before his flash started going berserk with all the photos he was taking.

  I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Having a little photo-shoot,”—he looked at me and shrugged—“you know, to send to daddy-dearest.”

  Well fuck. Vico might be a motherfucker, but right now he was being a real sly, clever motherfucker—I had to give him that.

  As soon as he felt like he had enough pictures and stepped away, I started on getting Tatum down from the chains. I had no idea what it was, but there was something inside me urging me, fueling me to do it as quickly as possible.

  Uncle Gino came up to help, and when her wrists were finally free, she collapsed like dead weight. Before she hit the ground, I swept her up into my arms and cradled her against my chest.

  I glanced at Uncle Gino, and he nodded. “Get her out of here. I’ll take care of the guests.”

  “Thank you.”

  Carefully I made my way out of the dining hall, carrying Tatum’s seemingly lifeless body in my arms. The corners of her mouth were cut and bruised, and I didn’t even want to think what her back looked like. Vico didn’t hold back. He was merciless with each and every lash he dealt.

  That twinge that thumped against my ribs earlier was now a pounding ache, and for the life of me I didn’t understand it.

  Where was my hate? Where was my hunger for revenge? Where was my need to break this woman now that she seemed battered and beaten with no guarantee that she could be mended?

  Where was Castello Fattore now?

  13

  TATUM

  I was in hell. The way my body ached, my back burning like it had every inch of skin torn off was like being tossed into the flaming pits of Hell.

  My head pounded. My mouth hurt, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue. There wasn’t a part of me that didn’t throb with pain. I couldn’t feel the lashes anymore, but I heard them. I still heard the sound of it cutting through the air, the crack as it landed on my skin. Over and over and over I heard that sound resounding in my head, making my body shiver as I waited for the pain to slice through me.

  But it never came.

  Instead I felt heat that slowly flowed through me, thawing the cold that had possessed every bone, every blood vessel. I grabbed ahold of that heat, squeezing it tight against every inch of my body. I never wanted to let go of this heat.

  “Tatum?”

  I didn’t want to open my eyes in fear that the welcome heat would disappear.

  “Tatum? Open your eyes and look at me.”

  Even my eyelids ached, felt heavy, and I wanted to keep them closed. I wanted to sleep. Just let me sleep.

  “I need to put you down now, okay?”

  Some of the heat dissipated, and I groaned, clutching harder, not wanting it to go.

  “Tatum?”

  Finally, with effort I managed to open my eyes. Big, brown, almost black, familiar irises stared back at me.

  “Tatum, you need to let go of me so that I can put you down.”

  I noticed the scar next to his eye, his elongated pupil, and that’s when everything came rushing back like a disease.

  Castello…Vico…the woman…the lashes…

  Fear, panic, pain, every bad, soul-sucking emotion known to man crawled its way back into me. My lungs no longer took long, deep, steady inhales. Instead I only managed a few shallow breaths, my chest too tight to allow anything more.

  “Tatum. Loosen your arms so I can put you down.”

  Flooded with confusion I glanced at my arms, only noticing now that I had them tightly clutched around his neck while he cradled me against his chest. That was the heat I felt—the warmth. It was Castello. How was it possible that a hard, stone cold man like him could be so warm to the touch?

  With a jerk I pulled back my arms, but Castello’s eyes remained focused on mine.

  “Can you sit?”

  “Yeah.” My cheeks flushed crimson thinking that I had held onto Castello for dear life—a life he was determined to take.

  “I’m going to start the shower, then I need you to get in, okay?” I heard the concern in his voice, saw it in his eyes, but I didn’t trust it. Especially since his words kept on repeating in my head…“I swear, on my life, that I will not fail this family, and that I will make them pay for taking my brother and my father’s life.”

  On his life. He swore on his life that he would make me and my family pay. In other words, kill us—kill me. So why all the concern for me now? Or was it all part of the game, part of his plan to break me?

  I couldn’t look at him, letting my gaze fall to the floor. The warmth was gone, my body shivering and trembling, aching with such force that I was sure it had the strength to break me in half.

  “Come on. You need a shower.” He placed his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.

  I got to my feet, not caring that I was completely naked, my legs shaking beneath me. “Because I stink?”

  “Because it will help ease the pain.”

  Confusion settled in the pit of my stomach, and I looked up at him. “Why the sudden concern whether I’m in pain or not.”

  He pulled his hand through his hair. “Just…please just get in the fucking shower.”

  For a moment I was stunned. Please…Castello just said please.

  The way his eyes remained on me with concern was unnerving since I wasn’t sure whether I could trust it or not. But the fact that he had just said please had my heart beating just that little bit faster. With every ounce of defiance that had pulsed through me the entire time I’ve been here, I couldn’t ignore the use of that word—which is why I forced my body to obey, and turned toward the shower.

  “Wait.”

  I froze, apprehension sending chills down my spine. See, I knew not to trust the sudden change in him. My stomach turned, bitterness creeping up my throat. I was completely naked and alone with him in a bathroom I didn’t recognize. We weren’t back in the room he kept me in. There was no trace of a bathroom in that room…unless there was another hidden door I wasn’t aware of.

  He moved closer, my heart pounding louder and louder with every footstep. Waiting, anticipating, fearing what his next move would be, I closed my eyes pretending that I could shield myself, that I could protect myself from him…my mind at least.

  Then the softest, most gentle touch against my spine took me by surprise, and I sucked in a breath.

  “Does it hurt?”

  I bit my lower lip, pushing back tears that I forced myself not to cry—not now. I was tired of crying, of being weak.

  My reply was a mere shake of my head because the truth was I didn’t feel the burn on my back anymore, not when I felt his touch on my skin. The trepidation curdling in my stomach overruled every other physical feeling, yet his touch caused my insides to coil tight.

  Slowly he traced his fingertip down my spine and I fought the shivers that threatened to spread throughout my body. I didn’t know why his touch had so much power over me, but I was determined to fight it. If I surrendered to it, it would mean the en
d of me.

  “You did well tonight.” His finger dipped, tracing all the way down the hollow of my back. This time I couldn’t stop my body from trembling from his touch, the brief determination evaporating like mist in front of the sun.

  I closed my eyes. “I don’t care whether you think I did good or not.”

  His finger started upward again. “I’m sure you don’t.”

  “And you were wrong.”

  “About what?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. “About me craving pain.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t wrong.”

  “Then why couldn’t I handle the pain from Vico’s lashings? Why did my body give in?”

  His fingertip reached the nape of my neck, then slowly descended downward again. “Because he wasn’t the one. Your body doesn’t respond to him.” Abruptly he gripped my hip, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh, and I gasped softly. With that pain came a bright flare of desire that shot straight through me all the way to my core, and I felt my body’s need for something—for him getting stronger.

  He leaned closer, his beard brushing softly against my cheek. “Your need for pain, for pleasure, is rooted to your deepest, darkest desires that can’t be met by just anyone.”

  Then he was gone, leaving my skin hungry for more. I didn’t dare turn around when I heard him shuffling behind me. I couldn’t. My body was on fire, and it wasn’t because of Vico’s belt. It was because of Castello’s touch. One simple touch and he managed to turn my body against me. So easily he affected me, igniting that craving I’ve carried around inside me for so long. This man who seemed to have one goal, which was to destroy me, had the power to bring my body to life with nothing more than a simple stroke of a fingertip. Not only was he the devil of my hell, but he had the demonic power to wake my most carnal desires, leaving my body aching, and my mind in chaos.

  I had to try harder.

  “You’re wrong about me.” My voice lacked conviction, my body recognizing the lie in every word.

  “I don’t think I am, Tatum.”

  I sensed him before I felt him. His scent surrounded me, his heat enveloping me. The air around us was laden with desire, the tension making it almost impossible to breathe right. The second he pushed his naked body against my back, I whimpered from the contact.