by Donya Lynne
After being unbound, he moved his arms and legs, loosening them up, his body coming back alive as he prepared for more.
"Over there." She pointed to the St. Andrew's Cross against the wall. It was a large, X-like rack he was very familiar with.
His cock was already growing hard again, and he trudged to the rack and lifted his arms to the manacles on each side of the upper half of the X. She strapped him on then shackled his ankles to the bottom.
Aaaahhhh, now the real beating would begin.
Trace closed his eyes and smiled blissfully. His power was completely shut down. He couldn't even feel it, anymore. Sweet Jesus, praise God. He was free. For just a little while, anyway, he was free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Io leaned back against the wall outside Sev’s room, his face the visual definition of the phrase, stunned stupid. He wasn’t sure how to feel. His best friend was gay. When had this happened? How the fuck had Ari become a faggot? The two of them had fucked plenty of women, sometimes together. How did you go from fucking women to being gay and mated to a dude? He cringed. What if Ari had been hoping to score with Io during those group scenes? Had Ari wanted to tap his ass instead of the female tail he had been getting?
The thought made him shudder.
He closed his eyes and thunked the back of his skull against the wall. Io had seen Ari with plenty of females, but the fact he had mated Sev was unavoidable. His bestie had taken Sev as a mate.
How did he feel about that? Io’s stomach knotted. Like he wanted to get sick, that’s how he felt.
"I know what you’re thinking, Io," Micah said.
"Oh, you do, huh?" He opened his eyes and scowled across the expanse of the hall to level Micah with a lot of silent eat-my-shit. Micah had taken a male lover before he had met Sam. Did that make Micah gay, bisexual, or just a freak?
"Fuck off, Io. I don't work with labels. And, no, Ari never thought of you like that. He never wanted to 'tap' you, so shut that thought process down right now."
"Get out of my head, Micah."
"Funny. Sam says that to me all the time. And yet…." He cocked his head, leaving the thought unfinished.
Yeah, the message was clear. Micah wouldn't be stopping his thought intrusion anytime soon. As if he could. And Io had learned long ago that he couldn't.
Sam wrapped her arm around Micah’s waist. "Stop it, honey. Come on, aren’t you tired? I am. Let’s go up to your dorm and get some sleep."
The sun was already up, so Io was trapped here until nightfall. Fuck! Trapped with a couple of faggots and a freak.
Trace strode around the corner. "Is he okay?"
"Where have you been?" Tristan said.
"Out." Trace shrugged out of his coat, and it was obvious he didn’t have plans to go into detail about his whereabouts for the past several hours. Wherever it was, the guy looked way more chilled than he had six hours ago.
Micah pulled Trace into a one-armed man-hug, and the two exchanged solemn glances before Trace looked down to the floor. Micah glanced around for Sam and wound his other arm around her waist.
"How's Sev?" Trace asked, looking back up.
Micah gently clapped his shoulder. "He's okay. Ari's in with him." He ran his palm over Trace's bald melon. "Sam and I were just going to get some sleep. You wanna crash with us?"
Trace nodded. "Yeah, sure. I’m beat." The corner of Trace’s mouth ticked as if he'd just made a joke.
Micah grinned and looked away as if he got the punch line no one else in the room was privy to. Then the three turned and headed out without another look in Io's direction.
Tristan stretched. "Me, too. I need to get back to Josie." He looked at Lakota, who stood away from the rest, his head bowed. "Lakota, come on. I’ll find you a room for the day."
"I want to stay here. I want to be near my son."
Tristan shook his head. "I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. Come on, let him rest and then you can try to talk to him tomorrow."
Lakota relented with a sigh and followed Tristan out.
Malek glanced up at Io. "I’m going to go check on the prisoner. You need anything?"
Io shook his head, still too numb to think. "No."
"Interesting night, wasn’t it?"
"You could say that."
"Okay, well give me a shout if you need anything." Malek exited the medical wing, leaving Io all alone in the hall.
Arion. Gay. Homo. Fag. Io felt like punching something. Yeah, like Arion's face. His best friend was…he cringed…gay.
A feminine moan caught his ear from the room across the hall and he looked up. The cobalt overdose.
Io shivered and ran his hand through his thick crop of brown hair before scratching his fingertips back and forth over his scalp like it itched. But that’s what remembering his own cobalt addiction did to him, made him itch all over. He pushed away from the wall and worked his blunt nails up and down his tattooed right arm then over his collarbone as he walked to the door and pushed it open.
The female was sitting up in bed, her head bent forward so that all he could see was long, black hair hanging down over her face.
"Hey," he said quietly.
She lifted her head and brushed aside her hair with one elegant, long-fingered hand. When her crystal blue eyes met his, Io nearly gasped as his blood instantly heated. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Even with brown circles under her eyes and her hair a mess of tangles, she was stunning.
"I feel sick," she said.
He entered her room and found a tray then hurried to her side. "Are you going to be sick?"
"I-I’m not – oh, God." She grabbed the tray and retched but nothing came up.
Io knew what she was going through. His own addiction had become so bad before he got off the shit that a night hadn't gone by when he didn’t throw up at least once.
When she finished dry heaving, he set the tray down and went to the small bathroom in the corner of her room and filled a cup with water. He returned to her bedside.
"I’m Io." He helped adjust her bed so she could sit up then handed her the water. "Thirsty?"
"Miriam, and yes." She took the water and sipped then collapsed back against the pillow after Io fluffed it for her.
"So, Miriam, you like cobalt, huh?"
She rolled her head to look at him, but didn’t say anything.
Io shrugged. "It’s okay. You don’t have to talk. Do you mind if I stay with you a while, though?" He knew from his own experience that addicts didn't willingly talk about their addiction, but maybe if he just stayed with her she would eventually open up. Not like he had anywhere else to go except his dorm, and he didn't feel like going there right now. And he liked the idea of staying with this beautiful creature and learning more about her.
Her eyes ranged him up and down then she shook her head. "No."
"Good." Io pulled up a chair. Suddenly, Ari’s homosexuality didn’t seem like such a big deal. He suddenly had something more interesting occupying his thoughts.
* * *
Malek nodded at the beefy guards outside the holding room where they were keeping Gina, the assassin who had gone after Sev. Pushing open the door, he cleared his throat.
"May I come in?" She may have been a prisoner, but it didn’t mean he had to treat her like one.
He was of the mind that you got more bees with honey, anyway. And from the sound of it, Trace had already verbally worked her over.
She snapped her face to his. "Hey, this is your place, not mine. You can do whatever you want."
"No need to be rude, Miss. We can do this the polite way or we can rough you up. I'd rather be nice, but the choice is yours."
She glowered and looked away, a real tough guy in a female’s body. Her anger seemed to be self-directed, though, and she looked like she had been crying.
Malek closed the door, which locked behind him with a clank. "Not the kind of accommodations you’re used to, are they?"
"Not exact
ly." She huffed and looked away.
He sat down backward in the room’s only chair. "So, tell me what happened."
"I already told the other guy." She refused to meet his eyes.
"Well, tell me now."
"What if I don’t want to?"
"Do we have to have this discussion again? Polite or roughed up." Malek lifted his hands as if they were scales, rocking them up and down. "It’s your decision." Malek hated the idea of getting physical with a female, but this chick didn’t seem like just some ordinary femme fatale. And after what she had done to Severin, he had a feeling Gina could damage a guy pretty good if she caught him off-guard.
"Look, I’m done talking to you people. If you’re going to kill me, then kill me and get it the fuck over with."
"You’re not helping yourself, Gina. Now, drop the attitude and talk."
She jumped up and lunged for him. "I don’t want to talk!"
With lightning speed, Malek burst from the chair and blocked her as the chair went flying. Gina went after him again, swinging haphazardly as if trying to provoke him. He deftly slapped her errant fists away, backing up. He may not have had Sev's hand-to-hand skills, but he wasn't a schlep when it came to self-defense. He was a black belt in several disciplines of martial arts, after all.
Suddenly, the door flew open as the guards realized what was happening.
Gina’s head snapped around and Malek knew what was about to happen.
"No! Close the door!"
Too late. Gina rushed toward the massive guard then dropped at the last split-second to slide underneath his outstretched arms and legs. She snagged his gun from the holster then hopped up and took off down the hall.
Fuck!
Malek hurdled the guard as he fell down in the commotion then sprinted after her.
"Don’t kill her!" He didn’t fully understand why, but he needed to keep Gina alive.
* * *
Lakota paced in the small dorm room Tristan had let him use. He couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was the image of his son with his chest blown open and how he had almost lost his chance to earn the right to call himself Sev’s father.
That bitch had used him. Gina had used him to get close to his son. Anger prickled the hair on his arms to stand at attention and he suddenly needed to get out of this tiny room that felt more like a cell. After rushing out the door, he took the elevator down to the main floor, pacing inside the cramped space until the doors opened and he could walk again. Movement. He needed to keep moving to escape his thoughts. He passed the break room then stopped and backed up. Maybe if he ate something he would feel better. Better yet, maybe they had some alcohol stashed in there. No better time than the present to fall off the wagon.
The sudden commotion and shouting coming from down the hall drew his attention and he spun around in time to see Gina fly around the corner with Malek close on her heels. His anger directed his thoughts. He would take that bitch down. Now.
"Here’s your iced coffee," he said right before tackling her. The gun she had been carrying slid right into his hand. He smiled. Time for this bitch to die. He cocked the gun and sat up before pointing it at her head.
"This is for my son."
She didn't fight back, and only stared up at him as if waiting for him to get it over with and pull the trigger.
* * *
Gina wanted to die. Malek could smell it on her like stale bread as he chased her.
No, no, she can’t die. You have to make sure she lives.
"STOP!" Malek knocked Lakota off her just as the gun went off. The bullet caught Malek in the arm, but it was only a flesh wound. "No! She has to live!" Why he felt so certain of this he didn’t understand, he just knew that killing Gina would be a mistake.
She scurried to her feet to chase after the gun that skittered across the floor again, but Malek jumped back up and grabbed her.
"No!" She screamed at him as she flung her body around to backhand his wounded arm.
Malek winced and she briefly hesitated, her eyes panicked. Then she tried to kick him to get away, but he was too quick and dodged aside.
"Kill me! Just kill me!" She wrestled with him as he fought to get a hold of her wrists.
"You’re not dying today, Gina!" He growled in frustration as she bucked and shoved against his shoulders.
"Please, just kill me!"
Finally, he got hold of her and slammed her back against the wall so hard his own teeth rattled.
"No." In a flash, he had his knife in his hand and up to her throat. She instantly stilled. "See, you don’t really want to die after all, do you?"
Her face contorted in mental agony and tears flowed down her cheeks before she inhaled harshly through a violent sob.
"Please." The fight oozed out of her and she relaxed under his forearm pressed to her throat.
Her plaintive plea choked his heart.
"What?" he said, loosening his grip.
"Please kill me." She broke down, her body convulsing through heavy, anguished sobs.
Malek lowered the knife and pulled her against him with his free arm. Her face pressed into his shoulder, and her arms wrapped tightly around him. Malek got the impression she hadn’t cried in a long, long time. Not like this. Her sobs were too deep, too ragged, feeling as if they spilled unbidden from a part of her she had kept tightly locked and closely guarded. Her sorrow came from a place so deep that it nearly decimated Malek as it crashed over him in a wave of escaped anguish, as if her grief was relieved to be free from the restraints Gina had shackled it with for too long.
"No one is killing you today, Gina. Now, come on, let’s go. I’ll help you figure this out."
He didn’t even look at Lakota or the others as he turned her back in the direction of the holding cells. Malek kept his attention on Gina. Even when he bound her wrists, he did so with tender care then guided her gently by the arm back to her room. Once inside, he cut off the plastic cuff then massaged her wrists as she lowered her gaze to the floor. Why wouldn’t she look at him? All he wanted was for her to look at him. What was it about Gina that touched him? Why did he feel so close to her when he had only just met her?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Io slipped back into Miriam’s room and sat down next to her again after taking off his jacket.
"What was that?" she said.
"Nothing, just a prisoner trying to escape." He placed his hand over hers and she smiled.
"You’re nice," she said.
"Thank you." He hadn't been called nice in a long time. At least not by anyone he didn't have in the throes of seduction.
She reached across her body and traced her index finger over one of the swirls of ink on his right arm. "Wow, that’s some tattoo."
He pulled back and pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt up to show off the tattooed sleeve. "Yeah, me and my best—" Io paused, not sure what Ari was to him, anymore. "Um, me and one of the other guys here got our arms tattooed at the same time. He did the left arm and I did the right."
"You two must be pretty good friends then."
He lowered his shirt sleeve and shrugged. "Eh, maybe. I don’t know."
Miriam – he loved her name – inspected the tattoo some more. "I want to get a tattoo," she said.
"You should. They’re sexy."
She shook her head. "I don’t know. My dad won’t let me."
"Why not?"
"He says that tattoos aren’t proper or ladylike." She rolled her eyes.
"Do you do everything your dad tells you to do?"
She looked away uncomfortably. "Usually, yes. You have to know him to understand."
"Well, maybe I can meet him someday." Io had no idea where those words came from, because he never wanted to meet the parents of any girl he dated, but somehow they sounded right with Miriam. And he hadn't even tried to hold her hand, let alone take her on a date.
"Um, I don’t know." She fidgeted.
He held up his hands and smiled. "Hey, I’m just making
small talk here." Uh-huh. Nice save, stupid.
She grinned almost shyly at him then looked toward the bathroom. "Could you help me to the bathroom, please."
"Of course." He helped her out of bed. She was tall. Almost as tall as he was, which was saying something since he stood at six-foot-six. Where the hell had she gotten her genetic makeup? Damn!
She closed the door while she did her business. Then he heard running water as she washed her hands.
"Oh my God!" she said from behind the closed door.
Io turned, startled. "Are you okay? Is everything all right?"
Miriam opened the door, her face deep red and her gaze averted. "I look awful. My hair." She tried to hide herself behind her hands.
Io stopped her, taking her hands in his and turning her toward him. "You’re beautiful."
Her eyelids fluttered and those crystal blue irises turned up to his. "Really?"
He nodded. "Breathtaking."
She blushed and looked away. "But my hair, it feels awful." She pulled one hand from his and ran her fingers through her black mane.
"Would you feel better if I found you a brush?" He gave her a look that made her laugh. The sound was husky, airy, and perfect, just like she was.
"Yes, please. If you don’t mind."
He helped her back to bed then rummaged through the cabinets. Nothing. "Hold on." He left and found a nurse, who scrounged a brush out of the supply room. When he returned to Miriam, she was wiping a tissue over her face.
"Ah, a brush!" Her smile lit up the room. Io loved a girl who got excited over the simple things.
"Here, let me." Io scooted onto the bed behind her as she made room for him.
He started at the ends of her hair and brushed out the tangles before working his way up, gently pulling the brush through her long hair. She dropped her head back so he could brush even higher.
Before he knew it, he found his mind drifting toward fantasies of reaching around to stroke the graceful arch of her neck before easing lower to cup one of her ample breasts. He had to force himself not to act on the impulse, instead combing his large hand in the wake of the brush as it smoothed over her silky soft hair.