OWNED_Satan’s Kin MC

by April Lust

  “Natalia,” he says quietly.

  I turn towards him and notice our faces are just inches away. My lips part and my eyes feel heavy. Just when I think he’s about to kiss me I hear a loud crashing sound in the front room. It’s only moments before I hear someone scream for Beast.

  “I should probably figure out what’s going on.” He brushes me aside and puffs up his chest, once more the macho man.

  I roll my eyes – I’m onto him, and it’s only a matter of time before he figures out how much I can really handle. “Yeah, sure. Of course,” I say. Moving out of his way, I go to put the bottle and ointment back in the cabinet. Out in the main room, I hear footsteps and laughter. His friends are probably running around, drunk. I assume they’ve just broken a beer bottle.

  When I close the cabinet, I jump. Beast is still standing behind me. He is standing so close to me that I could reach out and touch him. God, something inside of me wants to touch him so badly, but I know I can’t.

  “Thanks,” Beast grunts. His breath was warm on my face, and I close my eyes, letting his masculine scent wash over my senses.

  “You’re welcome,” I said sarcastically, staring into his blue eyes. The tension between us is so thick, and internally, I’m begging him to grab me and kiss me. Just touch me in any way.

  Finally, Beast nods. Then he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with my throbbing heartbeat and a confused mind.

  Chapter 6 Beast

  I found out about Natalia because of Doc. It was difficult at first, trying to figure out something to screw over Abram with. I dug up information on his past but all I really found were various crimes, jail dates, and a few murder leads that were never accurately documented or solved. When Doc found out about Natalia, I felt like my dreams were coming true. This was the bait I needed to lure Abram towards me. It was brilliant, a flawless task. That is, until I realized how attractive Natalia is.

  She’s been here for about two weeks now, and it’s been pretty easy to avoid her as she’s staying in a room down a long narrow hallway, several feet away from my room and the rest of the house. But it’s not easy to avoid thinking about her. She’s been haunting my thoughts since the moment we met. When I’m in the shower washing myself, I imagine her hands running up and down my body. I fall asleep wondering what it would be like to hold her against me beneath the thick blankets. We’re in the heart of winter now, and it doesn’t seem to be warming up anytime soon. Luckily, I’ve got enough money saved up to heat the warehouse until early spring. And by then, Abram will be cold and dead in the ground. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.

  A friend gave me the plot of land I am living on. It was an old manufacturing warehouse, though I have no fucking clue what it was originally used for. The rooms are enormous and lofty – the kind of rooms that would give a kid nightmares. I can’t explain why, but I feel at peace now that I have Natalia in the house. At least when I fall asleep in this drafty, nearly-empty house, I can be comforted by the fact that she’s breathing lightly and dreaming just out of earshot.

  At first I was keeping her in the room, just to show her I was the boss. I didn’t want her to get any funny ideas about me letting her go anytime soon. But the more I thought about it, the more depressing it seemed. Having her eat and sleep in there felt like I was her warden and she was my prisoner. I don’t want any harm to come to her, though Abram doesn’t need to know that. After all, Natalia’s Russian Mafia Royalty, even if she doesn’t know it.

  Last week I invited her to eat with me out in the dining room and she obliged. Things are still awkward between us. She fights me every chance she gets. I’ve never sparred with a woman like her before. She’s a real live wire. I can tell she’s always ready to attack, even when she’s eating.

  We are sitting down at a table by ourselves, a plated sandwich in front of Natalia. I’ve already eaten half of mine, though the last bite is sticking in my throat, calling attention to how nervous I feel.

  “What?”

  Natalia grimaces. “Do you always talk with your mouth full?” I watch as she daintily tears a piece of crust off the bread. “It’s disgusting, Beast.”

  “What do you care about how I eat? I thought you wanted me to die or something.”

  “Oh, I still do. It’s just easier to hide poison inside a salad than, say, a greasy sandwich.”

  With this last comment, she smirks at me, and I can feel myself getting hard under the table. This is a fucking problem, that’s for sure. The absolute last thing I need is an erection, especially when I’m trying to concentrate.

  “What’s wrong?” Natalia smiles at me with an eyebrow raised, innocently, like she didn’t know what she was doing. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “You really don’t know how to respect your elders, do you?”

  “Why, Beast, would I ever respect you?”

  I won’t admit it, but she has a point. After all, I did kidnap the girl. With a shrug, I take another bite of my sandwich.

  “I’m going out in a few hours. You’ve got to go back to your room.”

  “Why can’t I hang out here?”

  “I’ve told you before: not everyone here is as nice as I am.”

  Natalia raises her eyebrows. She sticks her slender, muscular leg out from under the table. “Why not put an anklet on me? Then you could really make me feel like a prisoner,” she adds tartly.

  I roll my eyes and stand up from the table, pushing back and shaking my head. “Do what you want,” I tell her warily. “But if one of the other guys catches you, just know they’re not gonna be as forgiving as me. You know that, right?”

  Natalia doesn’t reply. I leave her sitting there, gnawing on the crust of her bread. Despite her captivity, I notice her body is looking as taut and hard as ever. I figure she’s probably keeping up with her ballet in her room, whenever she isn’t reading.

  Even though I’ve told her to stay in her room, I know she doesn’t ever listen. I’ve found things around the warehouse in odd places, even my room. One night I got back last week and my towels were damp. They’d smelled like a girl, like a woman. It was crazy. It wasn’t like I’d given her perfume or anything. She just had a naturally sweet scent to her—well, that and the vanilla-citrus soap I’d bought her from the store after she complained about having to use “boy soap.”

  It is enough to drive me wild.

  Natalia sneaks around when no one’s looking and, for some reason beyond me, it’s thrilling. We’re involved in a game of cat and mouse, and I’m not sure who’s winning, though it’s probably Natalia. There’s nothing I can do to prevent her from looking around after I’m gone. I’m not going to lock her in her bedroom. No, having her roaming out in the open is just fine with me.

  She leaves her scent everywhere like some kind of fruity ghost. Sometimes when I’m off biking I catch a whiff of her emanating off my jacket, and then I’m off daydreaming about her tight little body, naked in the shower, soaping herself with those delicate hands.

  She missed her production of Swan Lake the other night, because of me. In fact, she hasn’t spoken once about ballet since the first night. I’m not sure if she’s angry or sad, but sometimes when I knock on her room I find her standing in the very center, glaring at me.

  “What?” she always asks, irritated that I’ve interrupted whatever it is she’s doing. And I’m guessing she’s dancing. Rehearsing, probably trying to remember what it feels like to be back in the studio. If we were under any other circumstances, I would design a room for her to practice in, with a barre and a mirror just for her. Unfortunately, we don’t live in a world where I do nice things for girls. The nicest thing I can do for her is not lock her up and that’s about as far as it goes.

  When I’m almost out of the room, I hear Natalia’s voice. “Where are you going tonight?”

  Turning around, I see she’s still sitting at the table, fingering the remains of her sandwich.

  “Since when do you
care?” I pull out a cigarette and prop it against my lip, tasting the paper and breathing in the scent of tobacco.

  “That’s a gross habit.” Natalia smirks. “I used to smoke, but my manager, Patty, made me quit. I missed it for a long time, but now I just think it’s disgusting.”

  I roll my eyes. “Great, thanks for that,” I say. I light my cigarette and blow the smoke in her general direction, challenging her to act. Half of me expects her to start coughing, but she stares me down until I feel like a complete idiot. Who knows, maybe I should think about quitting sometime. The doctor gives me shit for it, every time he has to patch me up from a fight.

  “I’m going to this bar downtown with a few of my boys. I know the owners; they’re this huge Italian family from Positano. We’re pretty tight, and they’re having some drink specials tonight.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “Do you want to go?” I ask before I think about what I’m saying.

  Shit . What the fuck did I just do? She’s a fucking hostage, she’s not my girlfriend! I stare at Natalia, hoping to God she thinks I’m just being an ass.

  Instead, she cocks her head to the side and blinks. “You’re an asshole,” Natalia says sharply. “I’m not going anywhere with you”

  Relieved she hadn’t said yes, I shrug trying to play it cool. “Too bad,” I say. “Not like you’d be able to leave this place anyway. It’s too dangerous with my rivals prowling the streets right now, as we speak.”

  “Aw, you care about me!” Natalia grins, clearly mocking me. When I don’t reply, she huffs and looks down at her plate. A few seconds later, she pushes her chair out and disappears into her bedroom. I won’t see her for the next couple of hours, though I suppose it hardly matters. I’ll just come home drunk and angry like I always do, and hopefully not covered in blood this time.

  There aren’t enough words in the English language to explain how it felt to be touched by her. The way she tended to my face, her soft hands rubbing ointment on my nose. When her hands went down my chest to my stomach, all I wanted to do was scoop her up in my arms, pin her body against the wall, and kiss every inch of her. But I held back. I always hold back. I’ve got to keep reminding myself she’s not mine, never will be. She’s my captive, and I’m her warden. Nothing more, nothing less. Once I’m out of her sight, I throw the cigarette down to the ground and crush it out with the heel of my boot with decisive force. Maybe I’ll quit sooner than I expected.

  # # #

  When we get to the bar I notice it’s almost completely empty. Even if they’ve got specials on tonight, it doesn’t seem to be working. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the place was deserted. Though I know it’s probably empty because it’s a complete dive bar, I can’t shake the feeling that something strange is going on. There should be more people here, regulars hanging out at the end of the bar and a few drunks lounging near the pool table. I’m surprised to only see the bartender and one or two lonely schmucks smoking cigars in the corner. I’m guessing they’re businessmen, bored and desperate to get out of their hotel rooms.

  A glance outside tells me the weather’s turned for the worst. It’s sleeting and snowing, but that still doesn’t make sense. After all, a little inclement weather never stopped me from drinking before. It’s Saturday night – where the hell is everyone?

  The second Doc steps into the empty bar he turns to me and says “I don’t like this. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  I look at him and nod. He’s right. There is something off about this place. “Yeah I know. Doesn’t it feel a little bit like we’re being—”

  “Set up?” he asks, finishing my thought for me. Doc smirks. We’ve known each other for a long time, and he’s usually pretty quick on the uptake.

  “Yeah I agree.”

  We walk over to the bar and take our seats, all twelve of us with me at the center evoking the image of The Last Supper . The bartender hands us a round of drinks before ducking into the back. I turn around to check out the scene and notice the men with cigars have gone, as well. It smells strange, like a mixture of alcohol and kerosene. I wonder if there’s been a gas leak of sorts. As a shiver runs down my spine, I glance around the room trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m not used to shivering like that – maybe once or twice in my whole life. I’m usually a pretty confident man, and I can hold my own. Cross me and my boys and I’ll snap your neck. But something about the emptiness of the bar and the chill outside just doesn’t sit right with me. Unfortunately for everyone involved, I’m right. First, I hear the pounding of footsteps on snow and then there’s shouting.

  A few seconds later a bunch of men burst through the door, clad in black from head to toe. A few of them have crosses and teardrops tattooed next to their eyes, and they all are carrying heavy guns, big knifes, and a few baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire. I have a lingering suspicion that some of these goons have killed some of my men before, but I keep this to myself. There’s no point in bringing up bad blood when we’re about to split each other’s noses open on the hardwood floor. I glance over to the bartender and find the bar completely empty. That’s when it hits me. These have to be Abram’s men. And somehow, I don’t think they’re just here for a casual drink.

  “What the hell are you looking at with your ugly mugs?” I hear Doc sneer at them as his chair scrapes across the floor when he stands up. He balls his hands into fists and squares his shoulders, breathing like an angry bull.

  “Just sizing you up for the body bags.” One of them, the biggest, steps forward with a stupid look on his scarred face. He’s got a bald head covered in black stripe tattoos. He looks like a neo-Nazi and is carrying a crowbar in his hands.

  Doc and I never go anywhere unarmed, though we’ve only got knives on us. The rest of my men have a few hand guns and pistols, and I can hear them shifting their hands to their pants, revealing shiny silver weapons.

  “Oh, I’m really scared that a bunch of girls like you can carry around purse guns,” the man says with an ugly laugh. He glances to his side at his men. They’re all ready to fight, I can tell by the way their muscles are bunches and coiled under their tense skin.

  “Quit talking down to us, or I’ll cut that smirk off your face, Mack,” Doc snaps. Apparently, Doc knows this asshole’s name. I think I’ve probably seen him around in local dives and alleys. Knowing him, he probably sells coke and pills, just like me. He’s been around the block a few times: his nose is squashed flat at the bridge, like a boxer’s, and there’s a large scar trailing from his elbow up to his shoulder.

  Doc looks enraged but excited at the same time. It’s been a while since he last had a good fight. The scrap at the bar the other day was just with a bunch of drunken frat boys. Compared to these guys, it was child’s play.

  “If you guys are gonna fight take it outside,” shouts the bartender from the back room. While I’d be willing to bet anything she’s used to this kind of shit happening in her bar, she’s not gonna stick around for it. She grabs a leather jacket and darts off towards the back of the bar, ducking her head low to the ground as she runs.

  “Doc, are you gonna do this all night?”

  “What are you talking about, Mack?” he asks, his face set in a sneer.

  “Are you gonna be the spokesperson for your boyfriend or can he stick up for himself?” Mack exhales so powerfully his nostrils flare.

  I feel a lick of excitement and adrenaline in my stomach. This is it. We’re gonna fight now, and I can tell it’s not gonna be pretty.

  “That’s it, asshole.” Doc leapt to his feet, holding his fist high in the air. I can tell he’s ready to strike.

  I watch with amusement as Doc lurches forward and punches the man straight in the face. Mack recovers quickly and tries to knock Doc out with his crowbar, but it barely affects him. Doc lifts hundreds of pounds every single day and his pain tolerance is over the roof. When we first met, he told me he’d just gotten back from the dentist where he got a few fillings without anest
hetic. I recruited him immediately.

  The second Doc’s fist meets Mack’s face, my men charge. I’m in the middle of it all, being pushed around by dozens of arms and legs. I can hear metal hitting skin, loud hissing noises as knives tear open flesh. It’s all a blur, especially because the bartender has turned off most of the lights so the cops don’t find us. So much for going outside to fight.

  In the middle of throwing a punch towards someone, I receive a sharp blow to the back. Falling towards the ground, I land on my stomach. It’s as if I’ve landed on a concrete slab, for my stomach explodes in pain. Though none of my ribs are broken, they’re definitely bruised. That is going to take a while to heal. I can’t see what the others are doing. I can’t tell if we’re winning or losing. All I know is my eyesight is fading.