by Marni Mann
My fingers dug into the top of the leather seat, the cushion indenting from the pressure. He was talking about meds. Not painkillers, but Valium and sleeping pills. I’d used them for years. When weed or vodka hadn’t worked, they were the only things that could knock me out for a few hours. But then I’d found the screams, and I didn’t need the drugs anymore.
It had taken me a long time to find those sounds.
And Bond had reminded me of that place. Of the darkness that had held me and wouldn’t let me go. Of the years I had been so desperate, I had done plenty of my own screaming.
Of the time Shank had had to stick a tube down my throat and pump my stomach.
Bond had known what this conversation would do to me.
He had lifted the bandage on my wound.
And, now, he wanted me to go home.
Home.
There was only one place I was headed.
“Nah,” I said, “I don’t need any pills. I’ve got everything I need.” I walked past his seat, and when he said my name, I turned around. “Yeah?”
“Don’t wear her out. She’s mine next.”
I didn’t respond. I just faced forward and continued moving toward the back of the plane.
“Can I get you something?” the chick asked as I approached her.
“Fuck yes.”
She smiled.
She knew the drill.
She reached forward and ran her hand over the outside of my jeans, up and down my cock. “I can fix that; don’t worry, honey.”
There was a reason I wasn’t hard.
And I wasn’t fucking worried about it.
I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the bedroom. It was just big enough to fit a double-size bed, a seat that folded against the wall, and space for the two of us to stand.
She slipped her hands under her skirt and started wiggling, like she was trying to get her panties down.
I cupped her face in my palms. “Leave them on.”
She grinned even harder. “Anything you want, baby.”
Anything.
I immediately cuffed her hands behind her back and threw her face first onto the bed. Gripping one of the pillows, I shoved it under her mouth and leaned my lips against her ear. “I want you to scream.”
No one outside this room needed to hear the sounds she was going to make even if they had nothing to do with my cock. The thick layer of feathers would help mute them. So would the door and the humming of the engines.
“You want me to—”
“You heard me,” I growled. “I want you to take a nice big breath of air, and then I want you to scream as loud as you can.”
Her shoulders lifted, and her back rose as she filled her lungs.
Waiting for it was like holding a blade right against a prisoner’s throat, pausing for just a second before piercing his skin and causing him to bleed out. It was that second—the one before anything happened, the one that felt like a moment of silence that lasted forever.
But then it came.
The high pitch. The urgency. The desperation.
Fuck.
My chest loosened. The feeling returned to my limbs. The emotions subsided, and a smile filled my lips.
I was home.
I pushed my ear onto the side of her face. “Scream like it fucking hurts.”
Tyler
Four Years and Six Months Ago
“I think you want to come with me.”
As I glanced from the store awning to my apartment building and back to Jae, I couldn’t get his words out of my head. Did I want to go with him?
I had less than five minutes to make that decision.
I didn’t know why I was even considering it. Even if I wanted to, I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere with him. I shouldn’t even be standing next to him on the sidewalk. If Mina found out about this, she would kill me. Literally, according to what Wynter had said. I could try to come up with an excuse for talking to him. But leaving with him? I’d have to say I was kidnapped to get me out of that one.
“I can’t come with you,” I finally said, hoping that would be the push to make my feet start moving.
They didn’t move. Not even a step. I wasn’t sure why I was frozen in this spot when I should be sprinting the three blocks to my apartment and tucking myself securely inside.
And I wasn’t sure why, every time I felt like I was about to start walking, his face would take that urge away.
“If you couldn’t come, then you would have left already.”
There was that voice again. The one that hit me in all the places it shouldn’t. In the spots on my body that desperately needed a man like him. Spots influential enough that I wanted to ignore Wynter’s threats and cave to Jae’s request.
“I can’t.”
And then I felt myself take a step. Then, it was just a few more paces, but they were in the wrong direction. I found myself hiding in the darkness of the doorway, the awning protecting me from the street. My arms wrapped around my stomach, my teeth chattered. It’d begun to mist, and my hair had gotten a little wet. I didn’t have an umbrella. I didn’t want one. Not wanting one was a decision I could make. Leaving with Jae wasn’t.
I hated that.
I was almost twenty years old.
And the choice to speak to this man, go home with him, cover myself in his attention had been taken away from me.
Jae came closer and handed me his jacket. It didn’t look thick. Sort of like a military-style made of khaki in the color of camo green. “Wear it. You look like you’re freezing.”
“I’m not.”
He leaned into the doorway. It felt like the space was too small for him. It was definitely too snug for the both of us. A few inches more, and he would be touching me.
The thought of that terrified me—but not for the reason it should.
“Why are you shaking?”
Because I wanted this stranger to stand here. Because his presence eased me and excited me at the same time. Because I never wanted his eyes to leave me.
Because I feared getting branded by The Achurdy was the biggest mistake of my life, and I didn’t know if there was a way out. According to Wynter, there wasn’t. Was she right? Did she know from experience? Had she lied?
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Take my jacket.”
I shook my head.
“Take it,” he repeated. “And tell me your name.”
I could tell him anything—a spin-off of cheeseburger, Wynter, or Mina. Or I could borrow a name from any of the other girls in The Achurdy. But I said, “Tyler.”
“Tyler…”
“My parents thought they were having a boy.”
The way he stared at me made me want to tell him everything. His eyes hadn’t even lightened a little. His jaw was so defined. He had a nose that I was sure had been through a few fights. But his features weren’t what made me speak. It was the feeling he sparked inside me that told me he had a hunger to know more.
“It’s what they wanted.”
“I wouldn’t have been upset if I were them.”
He wasn’t sweet in the traditional way. Not in a way that made me blush either. But in a way where I knew he wasn’t feeding me bullshit, like I did to every mark. Each of his words mattered, and I felt them.
A black car pulled up along the curb and parked right across from us. The windows were tinted, so I couldn’t see inside. Jae didn’t turn around to look at it. He seemed to just know it was there, and it was the one he had ordered from his phone.
“Are you ready to go?”
The beer started to churn in my stomach. It threatened to come up with the burger and fries. I couldn’t take a deep breath without the air stinging my lungs.
“You can,” he added, “and you want to.”
With the way he gazed at me, I was sure he could see the fear. We were so close, he could probably feel it, too.
“One drink, Tyler. Then, I’ll take you anywhere you want to g
o. Even if that’s home.”
“I shouldn’t drink any more. I’ve had”—those eyes…their intensity deepened—“too much already.”
“Come with me.”
Warmth touched my fingers. Then, slowly, the heat turned into a strong hand, and it clamped around mine.
“Come with me,” he repeated.
I didn’t know how it’d happened, but my feet had begun to move. They weren’t running in the direction of my building. They were following him, clinging to his heat, the gaze that I wanted so much more of.
And then I found myself in the back seat. The side of my body was suddenly pressed to his. His hand was moving over more of my skin, adding to the warmth and sparks inside my stomach.
“Please,” I whispered, my lips going to his ear so that only he could hear me, “don’t take me anywhere public.”
He said something to the driver that wasn’t in English. As long as it wasn’t in Armenian, I wouldn’t be throwing myself from the car. I’d heard enough to know it wasn’t.
“Stop shaking. You’re safe.”
Safe.
That word was like a vibration. Like the time Wynter and I had been standing on the catwalk at the club, and the speaker had made our bodies tingle.
I didn’t know how he could be so sure of himself.
How he knew it was what I needed to hear.
But every part of me wanted to believe it was true.
I was normally so good at calculating time and distance from all the nights I’d been in the back of the limo without a phone, watch, or the ability to see outside. But here, I couldn’t even estimate. I just knew there were turns, and I could hear the sound of the blinker.
And breaths.
Mine. Jae’s.
And there was more heat. That only came from him. I felt like a cat sitting on a window seat, purring, as it rubbed its face over the glass frame, taking in all the rays. Jae’s heat made me want to lie across him and open every one of my zippers so his warmth could slip inside.
I felt the car pause, unsure if we were at a red light or a stop sign.
“We’re here.” Jae reached for my hand and pulled me out of the back. Still holding me, he took me across the sidewalk and through a door that he unlocked.
There weren’t any lights on, and for some reason, I preferred that. Following him, I listened to his instructions and climbed the stairs until we reached a landing. I heard the click of a lock and the sound of another door opening. Then, the lights finally turned on.
I’d never been inside a tree house, but this was the way I’d imagined one to look like. The adult version, that was. The wood was rich and dark. Masculine. When there was a break in the lumber, the space was filled with leather or steel. The finishes had an industrial flair, the color of the light bulbs giving an almost antique glow.
“You live here?” I took a step inside and then another.
He nodded, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I’m a little too old to bring you to my parents’ house, don’t you think?”
My question was stupid. Of course he had brought me to his place. I knew he was too old to live with his parents, but I hadn’t even considered his age until now. Mid-twenties? Late twenties? I wasn’t good at the age-guessing game. I always thought my marks were much younger or older than the number listed in their files.
“It’s nice.” My eyes went across the room and back, scanning it all again because twice just hadn’t been enough. “Shockingly nice actually.”
He laughed.
I hadn’t heard that noise from him before. Up until this point, all his sounds had been so serious. His laugh wasn’t light, but it made me smile. And it made me want to think of something else to say, so I could hear it again.
When I attempted to, he left my side and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge. He fit perfectly in this place. The ceiling was extra high to accommodate his height, and the whole space was completely open, so it didn’t cage him in.
“I have beer and water. I might have some soda, but I can’t promise it isn’t flat.”
“Water’s fine.”
He took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with a jug from the fridge. Then, he grabbed himself a beer and brought both drinks to the couch, dropping down onto one of the cushions. It looked higher and deeper, comfier than the one I had at home.
“Come here.”
It was then that I realized I was still standing by the door.
“Sit,” he added.
My feet couldn’t resist him. They moved whenever he demanded them to, and this time was no different. I took the spot next to him, and as I reached for the water, he stopped me. His hands sandwiched mine, and he turned my wrist, so the top of my fingers faced him.
“Interesting tattoo.”
I hadn’t worn my tiger ring tonight to cover it. I never did when I went out. Even though Wynter had told me the marks would never recognize us, it still made me nervous. The ring was too distinct. Too memorable.
“What’s it mean to you?”
A year ago, the deer skull had signified family, loyalty, and friendship. It had made me feel secure and financially free. A little of that was still true. I had plenty of money. Friends. But, as the days had gone on, I felt more restricted. Controlled. I felt shackled to The Achurdy.
I hated lying to Jae.
“I saw it online and thought it looked neat.”
“Is it your only one?”
“Yes.”
“It’s your first tattoo, and you put it on your ring finger? Because you thought it looked…neat? That’s ballsy of you.”
His response told me he didn’t believe me, and that was his way of calling me out.
I didn’t blame him. I would have called me out, too.
“I was checking out your art,” I said. “It’s impressive.” I pulled my hand out of his grip and surrounded the cuff on his wrist. “Can I?”
He nodded, and I tugged his sleeve as far up as it would go, checking out the designs on his hand and the ones over his forearm. The shapes were so varied. I saw the outline of California and the water surrounding it; there was also a fish and a boat.
“Neat?”
I laughed. It was desperately needed, too. It relieved some of the tingling in my chest that had started the second he grabbed my hand. “Very neat.”
He moved his sleeve down and said, “Do you want to tell me what happened back there?”
Was he referring to the hiding in the doorway? Or all the times I had told him I couldn’t leave with him? Or when I had asked him not to take me to a public place?
I couldn’t give him the answer to any of that.
“No,” I whispered.
I followed his eyes down to my hand.
“I don’t see a wedding ring.”
“I’m not married.”
“Then, why so much hesitation?”
Being here felt like I was having an affair. Because, if I got caught, it would be more horrible than a breakup. I could lie. But there was a chance Mina wouldn’t believe me. If she didn’t, she’d hurt me.
No, she would kill me.
I’d seen her snap. I’d heard her scream. I’d felt the harshness and slap of her words when I talked back. It had happened more than once, and each time seemed to get worse.
What the hell had I done?
I had to get out of here.
“Calm down, Tyler.”
What was he saying?
I heard words, and I felt them swish over my face, but I could barely make them out. His hands were on my shoulders. I felt shaking, my body moving back and forth.
“Take a deep breath, and try to calm your heart rate down.”
Take a breath? Calm my heart?
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t breathe.
My chest burned. My throat felt like it was closing.
I couldn’t stop my brain from thinking the worst. If Jae didn’t know CPR to get me breathing again, he’d have to call an ambulance
that would take me to the hospital. How could I hide those records? What if they wanted to keep me overnight? When Mina asked where I’d been, what would I tell her?
“Take a breath, Tyler.”
His voice was louder, sharper.
I was trembling even more.
And his hands—they were trying to urge me to do something, to snap me out of whatever was happening inside me.
“Good. Now, do it again.”
I didn’t know I had done it at all, but I tried so hard to follow his command.
“Now, again.”
I felt my chest rise, my mouth open. I felt air blow out.
“Deeper. Draw it out, so it’s not such a shallow breath.”
I focused on his dark eyes. The way they watched me. The way they demanded, even without his words. The way they took me in and held me.
“Perfect. Keep doing it. You’ll feel relief in a minute.”
Whatever that feeling was—that restriction in my chest, the clogging in my throat, the shaking that went much deeper than his hands—it was starting to clear.
He was right. It took several more breaths, and then, suddenly, a calm trickled in, like all the electricity had been shut off inside my body.
“Tell me how you feel now.”
A couple of more breaths, and then I said, “Better, I think.” I fell back against the cushion, and his hands left my shoulders. I missed them, yet I was embarrassed they had been there at all. “What just happened?”
“You had a panic attack.”
“I…what?”
He took his beer off the table and gave it to me. At first, I held the cool bottle up to my face, trying to lower my temperature. That was, until I realized there was a much better use for it, and I started guzzling.
A panic attack?
God, I wanted to die.
It was my first one, and it’d had to happen here.
“I have more beer; you don’t have to pound it.”
His hand touched mine, and I pulled my lips off the bottle, noticing I’d drunk more than half.
“Sorry, I…”
Freaked out in front of you? Chugged too much of your beer?