Black As Night (Quentin Black Mystery #2)

by Andrijeski, JC

  I shook my head, gasping against the touch of the cold blade.

  “I’m not his sister,” I managed, my voice muffled through the gag.

  He smiled, leaning most of his weight on me. The smile was knowing. I was still staring up at him, trying to make sense of it, when he shifted his weight, forcing my legs apart with his. He pressed his body against me then and I let out a startled gasp, feeling him hard against my inner thigh. He pressed against me again, flooding more of that heat into me and I groaned, I couldn’t help it. It felt like he’d reached inside me and––

  “I haven’t seen a sister seer in...”

  He paused, and another cloud of heat came off him. That one was so intense it blanked my mind, making my back arch. I fought to breathe, remembering the lobs of warmth Black threw at me on occasion. Those had been blown kisses compared to this. The man pinning me now watched my face as I reacted to him.

  That amplification thing I’d felt with Black caused his eyes to close.

  “...A really long time,” he finished in a low purr. He used the thumb he had wrapped around the knife’s hilt to stroke my throat. “A really, really long time...gaos.”

  He had a Russian accent.

  “I’m going to fuck you until neither of us can walk,” he added softer.

  I let out a cry, writhing under him, but he only shifted his weight, raising his upper body to grab hold of the front of the dress I still wore. I could only lie there, yanking on my bound wrists against where they were tied to that metal ring set in the wall. He cut the dress off me methodically, like he’d done everything else. Tears ran down my face, I felt like a trapped animal. They’d trained us for this. In the military, I mean. They’d taught us how to survive this, if we ever got caught by an enemy combatant––

  “I am supposed to use you,” he said, his voice conversational as he opened the material of the dress. Pausing to look at me, he stroked the bare skin of my belly with his hand before he met my gaze, smiling. “I am supposed to use you to persuade Black. To get him to see reason...to stop his games with us. But now...now, I do not think so.”

  He shook his head, clicking under his breath with his tongue.

  “I thought you were just some human whore he’d fixated on,” he said. He gave a strange, one-handed shrug, something with echoes of gestures I’d seen Black use. “But I will not waste my beautiful sister for a purpose such as this.”

  He met my gaze, his violet eyes catching the light of the sparking torch.

  “Do not worry. I will have a little talk with your friend, Black,” he said, watching my face. “I still have the child...it can still go like we planned. Mr. Lucky does not need to know that I have you, as well. I am thinking he does not need to know that, that he lied to me, sister. You see, I offered to take you. I told him this would be faster...more efficient...but Mr. Lucky did not want me to take you. I am thinking I know why now, yes?”

  Leaning down, he kissed my breast, using his tongue.

  I let out a low cry of disgust when more of his presence flooded into me as he did it, but he barely seemed to notice.

  “I find my brothers are much easier to persuade when it comes to their dicks,” he said, smiling. “Is that not true, my beautiful sister? What would your boyfriend do to get you back, do you think? Would he try to hunt me?”

  Still smiling, he raised his head, massaging the same breast with his hand. Reaching up, he used the knife to cut more of the dress’s material off my shoulder. Once he’d finished, he tugged hard on the cloth to get it out from under me.

  But my mind grasped onto the other thing he’d said.

  “The child?” I managed. I fought to speak through the gag, but couldn’t really. “You’re the one who has Pete? Lawless’s grandson?”

  If he understood me, he didn’t answer.

  He continued to stroke my skin, his other hand holding the knife at the side of my body now, seemingly forgotten as he looked me over. He yanked the last of the material out from around me and tossed it to the floor. Since I couldn’t get my wrists free and his weight was crushing me now, there wasn’t a lot I could do. I struggled, but he barely shifted his seat.

  Another of those shockingly heated plumes hit at me.

  When I looked up, I could see him sweating in the flickering light of the green-yellow torch. His violet eyes looked glazed, but I still saw that restraint there too.

  “I can’t wait very long, sister,” he said, his voice holding regret. “I can’t. The first few times...” He let out a heavier exhale, almost a gasp. “They will be quick, sister...I want to fuck you so badly I am sick with it. I want to beat Black to death with my bare hands. I hate him right now, sister. I hate him for finding you first...”

  Letting out a low cry, I struggled again, harder that time.

  The ropes were burning my hands. One wrist was bleeding.

  But the ropes and the metal ring didn’t budge.

  He barely seemed to notice. He closed his eyes, longer than a blink.

  Then he climbed off me. I could only lie there as he walked the knife over to the table on the other side of the room. He tossed the weapon down unceremoniously, then unbuckled his belt and laid the sheath and a gun holster on the table as well. I watched him tug his shirt over his head, still moving casually, as if he had all the time in the world.

  Gasping, I fought not to panic as I watched him remove his pants. He was big, like Black. Not as tall, or even as muscular, but he was built, his frame reminding me most of a boxer’s with his broad shoulders and the dense muscles of his legs. He had tattoos all over his back, from his shoulders down to his belt. They were bright––brighter than usual for most tattoos, making them look unreal, almost fake. I didn’t recognize most of what was depicted there. Faces. What looked like dragons, some other kind of flying creature with a large, human-like head. Fish swam over his skin next to watery leviathans with tentacle-like legs and tails.

  On his left arm I saw a detailed symbol of a white sun bisected by a long, thin sword, surrounded by blue and gold flames.

  Feeling my panic worsen, I looked around me again, scanning for a weapon, anything that might help me. I looked up, seeking the source of those short whispers of air I felt drifting down from above me in the stifling room.

  I fought to scream through the gag. But there was nothing.

  I didn’t have any options. None I could see.

  When he came closer to me again, fully naked now and visibly hard, I tried to kick him, but it barely slowed him down. I got in three or four kicks which he kept away from his groin, then he had ahold of my ankles.

  He yanked me down the bed again, forcing my legs apart.

  I screamed against the gag.

  I tried to head butt him when he got close enough but he evaded the attempt then smiled at me, as if my trying to do so charmed him in some way.

  Gaos, sister...I’m so fucking hard...

  I froze, panting against the gag. He was in my head.

  The fucker was in my head.

  I want you so badly...I need to get inside you before I extend...

  Letting out another terrified cry, I fought harder, yanking at the rope and the ring holding me to the wall. I tried to scream through the gag, but not much got through.

  I remembered what Black had shown me, the first time we’d kissed in his apartment in San Francisco. He’d shown me what his cock looked like, using his mind, maybe in the hopes of easing me into the whole thing. It wasn’t like a normal, human sex organ. Apart from the basic shape being slightly different––like this man’s was––it had some kind of extra part. That part had been harder, sliding out of the soft head like a curved thorn.

  It scared the shit out of me at the time.

  Black had assured me it would feel good for me. He’d tried to talk me into trying it with him, telling me over and over how good it would feel, how much I would like it.

  He’d admitted that the first few times might hurt.

  “No!” I scr
eamed against the gag, trying to head-butt him again. “No! Stop! STOP!”

  I fought to get my legs between us, to kick him, but I couldn’t get him to move. I was still struggling when the man’s presence seemed to suffocate me. It swam through me, invasive––more invasive than anything Black had ever done to me. I felt this man going after my shield. I groaned as he did it, feeling him breaking things in his determination to get past it. I couldn’t wrap my head around what he broke, or how he did it, but he worked at it methodically, remorselessly, no matter how hard I begged him inside my head to stop.

  At a few of those breaks, my head exploded in pain. I tasted blood in my throat, felt more blood trickling down my face from my nose.

  He didn’t actually hit me though. Not with his fists or even open-handed.

  Somehow, this was worse.

  It took an excruciatingly long amount of time in subjective terms, but he might have only been working over me like that for a few minutes.

  I honestly had no idea how long he did it.

  When he finished, I felt like my mind had been cut open.

  Every feeling in me, every memory, every secret, every thought...every part of me that actually mattered to me felt exposed like a raw, open wound. His presence swam over that openness with a pleased sense of...ownership? entitlement?...that terrified me more than the actual breaking had done.

  He didn’t even pretend to care what I wanted.

  I could only lay there, enduring it, as he explored my mind with his.

  “Gaos, you are beautiful...” he murmured, kissing my face. “Your light is so beautiful, sister...your heart. So very very beautiful...”

  That heat off him intensified.

  When I fought to hide from him, to retreat from his mind’s touch, he hit out at me again in that space behind my eyes, harder, but differently somehow. Whatever it was, it paralyzed me briefly, almost like getting the wind knocked out of me. I felt it in my chest, right before I felt some other part of me open against my will. Then my belly was opening too, in some way I couldn’t articulate to myself.

  Whatever caused it, he groaned, loudly, when it happened.

  I could only lay there, panting, feeling lost.

  I’d been prepared for my body to be violated––more or less––but somehow, this was so much worse. I felt like he’d broken me. Like he’d broken locks I’d manage to hide from people my whole life. Black might have been thinning those walls some, just by his very presence in my life, but he’d never done anything to me that felt against my will.

  I’d never felt...violated. Not by Black.

  This new man positioned his body over me while I lay there, panting. I was still trying to find some way to erect boundaries between us. I fought to pull the threads of my shield back together but found only smoke. I fought to hide from him, but he followed me easily, pulling on me sensually with his mind.

  Before I could wrap my head around any of it, he was inside me.

  With his cock, I mean.

  He groaned again, louder, once he’d sunk into me up to the hilt.

  I cried out too...more in shock than pain. I yelled louder when his presence swam deeper into mine, until it felt like he was taking me over for real. Panic exploded over me, making me struggle, but he held me down easily, and then he was thrusting into me slowly and heavily, going deeper with each stroke.

  Sister...gods. His violet eyes met mine, shockingly bright with tears. You are so beautiful...you feel so good...so so good. I could die right now. I could die...

  Fuck you... I snarled at him with my mind. I hope you do die...

  It was the first time I’d spoken to him in his mind, and the heat coming off him abruptly intensified. His presence swam deeper into me. I felt him all through me, like he’d reached inside my chest, like some part of him had taken over my heart, my throat, the deepest parts of my sex and belly and even my hands and feet.

  It was beyond invasive. It was like having my heart spilled out on the floor.

  Fuck you... I sent again, fighting tears. Fuck you...rapist pig...

  I am fucking you... he sent back, letting a groan out from his lips as he continued speaking in my mind. I’m going to fuck you until I can’t make my cock work, sister, and you can call it whatever you want. I am feeling so possessive right now I want to kill your boyfriend...

  It wasn’t just him feeling me, I realized. I felt him, too.

  I felt that possessiveness, the desire, the wanting.

  I even felt a flicker of that wish to commit violence against Black.

  I felt loneliness on him too, but it didn’t have the self-awareness that I’d felt on Black when similar emotions seethed off him. This felt animalistic, single-minded in its want. I didn’t matter to him. I was simply a means to an end. Because of that, there could be no reasoning with him. Nothing I said would make the slightest bit of difference.

  I couldn’t get away from him.

  His presence suffocated me, merging into mine, bombarding me with his desire, with pleasure and those animalistic pulls as he continued to rub his cock deeper into me. I felt how good it felt for him, and I didn’t want to feel that either. He was losing control and I could tell my body was confused, maybe partly at what he was doing but I suspected more for how far into my mind and heart he’d forced himself.

  I was gasping, tears running down my cheeks, when he arched into me even deeper, coming to a sudden stop. He hung over me, panting, his cock angled up and into me in a way no man had ever done before. Maybe it was his different shape, but my mind turned it into interlocking puzzle pieces, like he could reach into a part of me that other men couldn’t.

  Once he had, I let out a groan, I couldn’t help it.

  That part of me was so sensitive it felt like he’d just pressed down on my clit.

  Yes, he murmured in my mind, stroking my face. Yes, you like that. You like that, don’t you, beautiful sister? You need seer cock. You need it...

  I groaned when he used the end of his sex to rub up against me there even harder.

  Tell me you want it. Tell me how badly you want it...

  Go to hell...I don’t want it. I don’t want it, goddamn it...stop this...please...

  He smiled. I don’t believe you, my lovely sister, although your loyalty is very beautiful, very touching. Pressing against me, he kissed my face, his lips and tongue hot. Even if Black is doing this for you, he is young...too young to fuck you correctly. I intend to fuck you for real...a seer’s fucking. I want to hear you scream when you come...

  He was sweating as he held me still, hanging over me, groaning between pants. I felt him lose control then, saw his arms abruptly tense...right before he arched his back, thrusting up into and against me harder, all the way inside.

  Now, sister, he murmured, pressing his face against mine. He let out a softer groan. Now...now it is good? I cannot wait any longer...

  Before I could answer, it was already happening.

  Then...God.

  Pain. So much pain.

  It ripped me in half, completely blacked out my mind.

  I screamed, writhing under him.

  He cried out, stopping long enough to stare down at me, his violet-colored eyes wide. I felt surprise on him, then a sudden heated flush of understanding.

  “Sister,” he groaned. “Holy fucking gods...sister...you’re a virgin...”

  I screamed again, choking on the gag.

  It wasn’t enough. No scream would ever be enough.

  I felt like I was being stabbed by a hot iron.

  He groaned, thrusting into me harder. I felt his control slide away, until it was gone, completely gone. He went into a fugue state where he just fucked me, mindless, his whole weight behind each thrust, his hands clenched on my waist. His eyes went half-lidded, his face slack even as his pleasure washed over me in waves.

  Nothing had ever hurt so much.

  That sharp, thin end of him slid up into me again and again and I felt like my mind was going to brea
k. There was some kind of opening there in me, but it was so insanely tender it felt like someone had reached into my body and touched my heart with their bare hands. I screamed again when his cries grew weaker, as he started thrusting harder, on the verge of coming. His pleasure exploded over me in more intense arcs, and I couldn’t evade that either. It mixed with my pain and then he was rocking up against me so intensely I couldn’t move, even apart from where he held me down with his hands.

  He stopped somewhere in that, long enough to regain control and then to smother me in more of that heat, stroking my body with his hands, then his tongue. He wanted me to relax. He was fighting with some part of me to get me to relax, but I couldn’t. My whole body was in full-on lockdown panic mode; I couldn’t think about anything else.

  I wanted to die. I was sure this would kill me.

  I almost wanted it to kill me by then.

  What seemed like an endless time later, he came.

  That hurt too.

  It felt like too much forced into too small a space.

  His pleasure almost blinded me, so overwhelming I whimpered against his neck, and his sounds grew helpless, even vulnerable. Tears ran down his cheeks as he raised his head, still thrusting against me. I saw his face go childlike in those few seconds as he slammed into me harder. He spoke in some other language. I didn’t understand him, but the feelings off him were affectionate by the end...almost loving.

  I was numb. I didn’t know where I was anymore.

  I didn’t know who I was.

  When he finally finished, he hugged me, wrapping his arms around my back without pulling out. I felt that sharper part of him retract but he remained inside me, still mostly hard as he pressed up into me with another flood of that heat. I felt warmth and affection plume off him in another dense cloud as he held me tighter, panting against my chest.

  “You’re mine,” he murmured, clenching my hair in his hands. “You’re mine.” He kissed my face, then my throat, speaking to me in Russian, then in that other language, the one I’d heard Black speak once, while he read strange writing off the walls inside the Legion of Honor.