by Renea Mason
“You need to stop showing off in front of my men. Yes, I fucked up, but do you really want them to give in to their urges? Do you think you can fend them off? I could toss you to them and see how far you get. Is that what you want? Maybe I should let them have their way with you and pull up a chair to watch. I want you to think about something before you start to defy me. I’m the only one who can keep you safe. So it’s best you stop being a smart-ass for five seconds and listen to me. I’m going to do something that will piss you off. I’m warning you now it’s for your own good. You need to go along with it, no matter how angry you are at me. Don’t fight me. I’ll try to fix this but until then, I need to take a few precautions.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. If I thought something, could he hear me? Was this two-way communication? I tried to push him away.
He tightened his grip and his voice was in my head again.
“Stop it! Let me remind you that I have a special connection with these men. Not only can I read their thoughts but I can’t block them. I don’t have to try to receive them. I know exactly what each person in this room, besides you of course, is thinking right now.”
So that’s what Overton meant when he said Cyril had ways of finding out.
“The thoughts that assaulted me when I entered this room would make a porn star blush; every one of their little fantasies featured you.”
I giggled.
The voice growled. “Don’t laugh. I won’t pretend I’m not jealous and angry. I am. But if you knew the things they were thinking you’d better understand why I need to do what I’m about to do. Do you see Dominic over there? Let’s just say his tastes run a little dark. Ever spend considerable time naked with your hands bound behind your back and a ball gag in your mouth? He’s picturing you that way, this very instant.”
I stiffened. That didn’t at all appeal to me.
“Thor seems to think that you’d enjoy all of us taking you at the same time.”
And he seemed so quiet and sweet.
“Sinclair wants to shove his cock down your throat until you choke, all the while telling you how it’s your entire fault. Rhys is thinking of how you would look sprawled out on the hood of his new sports car, and Overton…”
“NO!” I yelled.
It seemed like a violation of privacy with Overton. Unlike the others, I considered him a friend. I respected him too much.
“See, like it or not, I’m going to tell you what he’s thinking since it pisses me off the most. He thinks I’m going to fuck you right here on this counter, to lay my claim. Once he gets past the fantasies of watching me fuck you, which he finds exceptionally arousing…”
There was a momentary pause to the voice and when he started again, he was angry.
“He then knocks on your bedroom door after you run crying from the room. You invite him in and he holds you in his arms while you cry about how I violated and humiliated you. He wants to comfort you. He wants to be your savior. He wants to save you from me. But he knows he can’t.”
I felt the moment he left my head, because a sudden wave of dizziness came over me.
With no more words, he tilted his head and placed his lips against mine. I fought the rigidity that tried to seize my body. I knew it was best to give in. I wouldn’t fight him, but I knew every time he got close, I ran the risk of losing myself. I was still way too angry to just give up.
His lips danced with mine as he nestled himself between my open thighs.
Was Overton right? How far would he take it? If it did go too far, would I be able to stop him? He was such a fucking weakness for me I honestly didn’t think I would.
He was gentle and softly stroked my back as his tongue made love to my mouth. With one hand he cupped my ass and pulled me flush against him, and with the other he reached up, cupped my breast, and squeezed hard. His kiss grew frantic and I became caught up in the sensation, forgot where I was, and that I had an audience. He pushed me hard against his erection as he rubbed himself rhythmically against my core. “You are mine. You belong to me. Now say it! Let them all know who you belong to.”
Was he kidding? I hesitated.
He ran his fangs up the side of my neck in warning. He whispered in my ear, “Say it. You need to say it. Let them hear it come from your lips.” His hand drifted from my breast to the hem of my nightgown and pulled up one side so it rested in the crease where my leg met my hip.
Somehow the part of me that knew he was right surfaced, and the stubborn part of me took a momentary vacation. If I was his, they wouldn’t dare defy him. It would keep me safe.
His fingers toyed with the edge of my panties before tugging the fabric to the side to allow him to stroke my moist skin. He positioned himself at the juncture between my legs, allowing my naked flesh to gather friction from his cloth-covered cock.
“Yes, Cyril, I’m yours.”
With that, he struck. His fangs pierced my neck. The second of pain from his bite passed and the pleasure grew, igniting my veins with liquid desire. One arm tightened around me, pulling me harder against his cock. The other held my head while he sucked harder. Each pull he took was linked to the sensitive place between my legs. He ground his hips into mine and I moaned. The first wave of climax hit, tensing muscles and pushing my breath out in a rush. This was new. He could do this just by biting me?
I shook in his arms as he drank. Tremor after tremor seized me as he took his fill. I was so caught up in the sensation I only vaguely noticed the moans and growls that escaped from behind his teeth. With one final pull, and a thrust of his hips, he finished with a crushing embrace as he removed his teeth from my neck.
“Mine!” he roared. He enveloped me in his arms and held me close. He dipped his head to lick closed the small punctures on my throat.
I threw my head back. My breathing slowed as the cloud that had invaded my head receded.
Son of a bitch! I just came in front of everyone while sitting on the kitchen counter!
I was afraid to open my eyes but when I did, he stared back.
He nuzzled my cheek. “I’m sorry. I only want to protect you. If you’re mine, no one will dare touch you. I needed to lay my claim but I didn’t want to take anything you hadn’t already offered. Since you’ve replenished me before I thought this might be more acceptable.”
I was angrier with myself than him.
He caressed my arms and back. When I mustered enough courage to look around, we were the only people in the kitchen, with the exception of Overton, who stood in the doorway holding the keys to my car.
Cyril softly lifted my chin so that my eyes would meet his. “Again, I’m sorry. I know I end up saying that far too often. But I need you to know, hearing those words from your lips…ah, hell. I can’t even explain it. Perhaps someday, you’ll utter them in truth.”
He placed his forehead against mine, took a deep breath. “Fuck. Maybe Overton is right. Maybe someone should save you from me.”
I said nothing but breathed in his masculine scent. So soothing. Better than any drug.
“One thing before you leave,” he said as he ran his thumb back and forth over my cheek. “Do you remember the book I gave you?”
I nodded.
“Do you still have it?’
“I don’t know. I hid it in the cemetery, but that was over ten years ago.”
“Do you remember where?”
“Yes, in the back of one of the cannons. I hid it there after leaving the hospital. I didn’t want Michael to find it and think I was crazier than he already thought I was. I wrapped it in a Ziploc bag and put it in a metal lunch box. I doubt it will still be there.”
“Would you mind getting it for me?”
“No, not at all.” I wondered why his voice took on such a somber tone.
“Linden, if anything should ever happen to me, Overton will take care of you. Promise me that you’ll go to him.”
“What on earth could possibly happen? You’re immortal. Besides, I can take care of myself.�
�
“I could be indisposed on another continent or something like that. I don’t doubt your ability to survive, but things are different now.”
“All right if the bogeyman comes for me and you’re ‘indisposed,’ I’ll call Overton.” I sounded like a petulant child.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone and handed it to me. Cyril was the only man who came to breakfast fully dressed. Thank goodness.
“This phone has every number you will ever need. Every member of my family is listed here, and a few close allies. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“Cyril, I’m just going to work. That’s not exactly risk-taking behavior. You act like I’m saying good-bye. I’m stuck here for at least the time it will take for me to find another apartment.”
“You might not be leaving, but I am. I’ll be away for a while, which is why this display needed to happen this morning. I didn’t want there to be any questions about my intentions for you while I’m gone. Especially with you staying here. I’m going to find a way to fix all this; I’ll find a cure. I need to help my men and release you from your tie to me. I can’t do that here. I do however, need the book.”
“Cyril, this all makes me nervous. Things don’t always go as planned for you. I’ll get you the book if it’s still there, but what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know exactly, I have a few theories.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head.
“Cyril, please, is there any other way? I could just move out and avoid everyone.”
“I don’t think that would work. It will be OK. Go on, go to work.”
What I wanted to say I couldn’t bring myself to verbalize; why did it feel like he was saying good-bye?
All of a sudden I was filled with more ridiculous thoughts. How long would he be gone? Would he call me? Would he miss me? Fuck. I needed to get a grip.
I looked over and saw Overton staring at the floor.
Cyril wrapped me in his arms one last time and kissed the top of my head. He moved to place his lips softly against mine, lingering to savor the contact, and then helped me off the counter.
I looked up at him. “Be careful, Grim; don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t.” He rolled his eyes.
Overton held up my keys to my car and I snatched them from him. With my freedom in hand, I was no longer a prisoner but rather a guest.
“Thank you.” I placed a quick kiss on Overton’s cheek.
Cyril’s growl rang through the kitchen.
Chapter Fifteen
Book
The symphony hall used to be a place that grounded me, but today I felt like a stranger. Gone less than two weeks, it felt like a lifetime. Excitement and apprehension filled me at the prospect of seeing Clarence again. I couldn’t share all I’d discovered, so how to explain my absence? Damn, I needed a story. Time to improvise.
Thankfully, I didn’t encounter a single soul between my car and the development office suite. When I opened the large metal fire door, it thrilled me no one manned the front desk. I slipped into my office unnoticed.
After stepping inside, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Nothing could convey my relief. They hadn’t packed up all my things. My name was still on the office door and nothing had been touched. Guess I was still employed.
I was booting up my slow-as-shit computer when all Clarence broke loose. “Where the fuck have you been?” His face red, arms flailing, anger creasing his brow.
I couldn’t let him get to me. “I’ve been busy.”
“Bullshit, Linden. I called you so many times. Couldn’t you at least have picked up the phone? Don’t give me Overton’s canned bullshit. What happened?”
I hoped teasing him would lighten the mood. “Careful there, Clarence, someone might think you care.”
“I do fucking care. Don’t be a bitch. First Olivia goes missing, then that fucking British bastard starts feeding me lies. I thought they killed you. If you didn’t return Saturday after your trip, I was going to the cops. You didn’t marry Hotness, did you? Lying British fuck!”
“Clarence, it’s OK. I’m fine. No, I didn’t marry him. It’s a really long story.”
Clarence paced, palming his bald scalp with both hands, then stopped to glare at me. “Fuck you. I think I deserve the long story.”
I ignored his outburst. “Oh good, my login still works.” I shot him a smile.
“Of course it fucking works! You’re never getting fired; in fact, you’ll probably have to escape. How did you do it? Was it from him?”
“Do what? Was what from whom?” I was confused and a bit distracted by the flickering icons on the screen.
“Are you serious?”
“Ah…yes?”
“An anonymous donor pledged five hundred thousand dollars a quarter to the symphony for as long as you work here. The first payment already arrived. Fucking Edwin creamed his jeans. He’ll stay stuck at the goddamn podium for as long as you live. That creepy fuck will probably lock you in the basement. I was hoping next season would be his last. We need a conductor that doesn’t feel like he could be a character in Silence of the Lambs.”
“Ewww…trapped in the basement with Edwin. Thanks for changing my dream into a nightmare. But you do know the audience loves him. They don’t care if he’s creepy. It’s his theatrical conducting they love.” I chuckled.
“It’s not funny. Where were you and is the donation from Peters or whatever the fuck his name is?”
“Overton knew what he was doing after all. That clever bastard,” I mistakenly said out loud.
“Overton? Linden, what is going on?”
“It’s complicated. I think you need a raise, and a day off. How about a field trip?”
“A raise? A field trip? Have you lost your mind? Did they drug you? Have you even been listening to me?” He huffed and stabbed his finger in my direction. “You don’t need anyone. You’ve made your goal from now to the end of time. You don’t need a team. Have you listened to anything I’ve said? Or did they fucking eat your brains or something?”
“Money or not, I do need you especially since it seems our schedules have cleared. Thank you, Mr. Overton. I’ve got a project for us.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Go, get ready, and bring your things. You’re not coming back here tonight. I’m going to authorize your raise, look through my mail, and then we’ll get going.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” I shot him a big grin.
“What the fuck, Linden?”
With a bigger smile I said, “I have to get a book.”
“A book? Can’t you do that yourself?” His irritation was tangible.
“Yes, I probably could, but I’d like the company. Besides, you can bring me up to speed on Olivia’s investigation. Just go, we have a lot of work to do.” I shooed him out of the room.
When my e-mail in-box popped open, there were two thousand eight hundred and fifteen unread messages. Over half of the messages were from Clarence and Allison. Even though I didn’t read them all, in skimming I noticed Clarence’s messages grew more colorful as the days went on, and they sounded like a journal. He speculated about all of the things I might have been doing. I severely underestimated how my absence would affect him. We had been close but never sure if it was just a close professional relationship, or if he considered us friends. I now knew the answer, and owed him.
I sorted through the paper junk mail, redundant memos and forms when something caught my eye. It was a small cream-colored envelope. The paper was thick and it was obvious the stationery was quite expensive. The only thing listed on the envelope was my name in expert calligraphy. I hesitated to open it. I retrieved a small plastic letter opener in the shape of a treble clef and sliced open the top. I retrieved the beautifully simple card from within. The elegant script read:
Linden,
I have something you want. You have something I want. Care
to make a trade?
When you are ready, call 555-555-5555 on my secure cellular line.
The letter contained no signature. The first thought that came to mind was Michael. But why take Olivia?
Without thinking, I picked up the office phone and dialed the number. A man’s voice answered. I didn’t let him speak.
“Who the fuck is this?”
* * *
I didn’t tell Clarence about the note or the phone call.
“Where are we going?” he asked again.
“I’ve told you. We’re going to get a book.”
“No shit! But where are we going to get it?”
“A cemetery.” That shut him up.
The Solstice hugged the curves of the winding Pennsylvania roads like they were old friends. The leftover leaves made for slick driving, but I didn’t care. I was on a mission.
The radio blared to discourage conversation with Clarence. Things were about to get complicated, and I needed to think. Clarence tapped his fingers on the dash, thick nervous energy pouring off him. When I signaled to enter through the large iron gates at the entrance of the cemetery, I lowered the music out of respect.
“You weren’t fucking kidding. Did they give you a lobotomy?”
I gaped out the window, leaning forward as if getting closer would make it more believable. “You asked me once where I met Cyril.” I motioned toward Clement Burleighes’s grave. “Well, it was right over there, next to the stone with the Masonic symbol.”
“Were you one of those morbid, clove-smoking, patchouli-wearing depressed chicks?”
“I’ll have you know I didn’t smoke or wear patchouli.”
I wound the car up the hill and looped around the circle of cannons in the memorial park. After driving onto a grassy area so other cars could get by, I reached across Clarence to retrieve my flashlight from the glove compartment, then turned off the car, exited, and headed for the nearest tree.