by M. S. Willis
The impact with her face was hard to enough to knock her several feet from where she’d been standing.
Chapter Twelve
It was a cheap shot, but one he used to introduce her to the fight. He wasn’t lying when he warned her that he wouldn’t go easy. He understood that she was lethal — even injured and weak, she was a person who should not be underestimated.
She recovered from the hit quickly, pushing herself back up into a standing position in one fluid and graceful motion. She moved the same way a person would dance, long sweeping motions, with a quiet speed that made you believe she cut the air like a sharpened blade. Her eyes narrowed in his direction, but not from anger. No. She was studying him, plotting how she’d overcome his strength and size. He recognized her behavior, her motions — he’d fought against the same almost every day while growing up.
She stood stock still, the silence in the room pressing against his ears, the rush of blood in his head, the only audible noise. He anticipated that she’d rush forward to attack him, her hands set in a way to render damage where they came in contact with his body; but when she pivoted to turn, when her long legs powered her in the opposite direction and towards the exit doors, his brows shot up and he launched forward to stop her from opening the doors where Aaron waited.
“Fuck!”
His feet pounded across the floor of the gym, his strides barely longer than hers. He noticed how she appeared to hover as she ran, her feet never touching the ground beneath her. When she neared the door, her arm extended out in front of her body ready to throw the door open wide, and ready to open a door that would lead to her death. He sped up, the muscles in his thighs working his body forward. Her fingertips touched the wood, pushing it open just before he wrapped his arms around her, tackling her to the ground. Rolling over each other, he felt her fingernails cut across his face while he attempted to move their bodies into a position where he’d trap her beneath him — where he’d have the advantage. He raised his head in time to see Aaron’s green eyes looking in the room just before the door closed.
Once Xander had regained control, he pinned Hope beneath him, using the weight of his body to restrain hers, the strength of his arms to hold hers. She was a slippery bitch, her body able to bend and contort in such a way, that she was able to slide out from his grasp. When her closed fist beat against his temple, he flinched against it and moved to avoid it. She took the shift in his weight as an opportunity to move out from beneath him. She attempted to scramble to her feet and he grabbed her ankle, only for her to twist around and plant the heel of her foot between his eyes.
Pain thundered along his skull from the kick and he was disoriented for the brief second she took to kick out again, catching him in the shoulder. Flame burst out over the skin where he’d been hit, but he rolled over, pushing himself up, keeping low and lunging forward, wrapping himself around her waist, bringing her back to the ground where their weight difference worked to his benefit.
Catching her wrists in his hands, he squeezed knowing the bones of her wrist could snap from his strength. He felt the shiver flow through her body from the pain he inflicted. Pinning her hands above her head, he spread her legs apart with his own, holding them open with his knees while wrapping his feet over hers. She was trapped beneath him, the wound to her shoulder still rendering one of her arms useless against him. Pressing forward he allowed the heat between her legs to slide over him while his eyes hungrily took in the way her body reacted to his touch.
She sneered beneath him, still struggling to free herself of the hold. If he’d intended to kill her, he’d have done so right then, but those were not the plans he had for the feral beauty pinned down by his body. Bringing his face lower, he ran his nose along her skin. “Are you ready to admit defeat, or should I ravage you further?”
A growl emanated from her chest and he smiled to know she wasn’t ready to give up, that she may never be ready until she’d been beat fully into submission. A task he had every intention of accomplishing.
He hardened almost instantly to feel her bare breasts brush against his chest from beneath the thin shirt he’d given her to wear, to feel as her labored breath pushed their bodies tighter together. Pressing forward more, he rubbed between her legs and he could see the fight in her eyes to resist the rush of sexual need he was adding to the already physically charged encounter. He let his guard down for a split second to savor her reaction and she bucked up, twisting suddenly so that she threw him off balance. Her body moved like liquid as she moved from beneath, attempting to crawl to a point where she could push up. Turning quickly, he moved over her, his chest pressed to her back, only for his head to be met with the bone of her elbow, the resultant crack shooting like lightning through his skull. He released her only for a second and she stood up, turning immediately, her feet held in a fighting stance her gold eyes glowing with lustful furry. She was fully awake, that much was certain, and despite her weaknesses, she was intent to win. Even as pain pounded through his head, he smiled, always impressed with the willpower, the sheer carnal need within her to not be tamed.
He noticed how she favored her right side, holding her torso in a way that hinted of a cracked rib or torn muscle. If it were his intent to kill, he’d use the injury against his opponent, but not her. He wanted her whole, her body intact, he wanted to deliver the pain and darkness she craved, but not by destroying the perfection of her form.
Her eyes tracked him when he pushed up to his feet. They circled each other, their skill matched, her speed a perfect counter to his strength.
“I think playtime is over, don’t you?”
The brows furrowed over her enraged eyes. “It’s been fun.” The tone of her words could have sliced his skin.
He laughed at her response and lunged forward. Reaching out, he gripped her hair in his hand just as her fist hit heavily against his cheek and her knee impacted with the inside of his thigh. Twisting the silken threads between his fingers, he extended his arm — pulling, dragging and launching her across the room, the force of his throw so hard that her body slid after impacting with the floor. It was time to end this.
She rolled over and crawled away from of him. Her arm was weak from her shoulder and she held her side with her other arm. Her body moved sluggishly and he knew she’d come into this fight already weak. It hadn’t been fair, but fairness had never been his intent.
He walked behind her as he teased, “That’s right, Sunshine — crawl for me.”
Giving her time to continue to fight, to continue to push herself up, only to fall back to the ground when the combined injuries had become too much to allow her to move quickly. When he stood above her, he reached down, grabbing her hair again and flipping her over. She looked up at him, the haze of the hell she’d gone through the last few days clouding her gaze. “I’ve won, Sunshine. It’s about time I take my prize.”
She hissed out her response. “I fucking hate you.”
He smiled. “You won’t be saying that much longer.”
He dropped one knee to the ground on her right, before lowering down on the left. Straddling her, he watched as she became lost inside a wave of pain. Her skin prickled and flushed and he grabbed her by the throat pulling her into a seated position, pressing her back against the wall behind her. His other hand reached to slide beneath her shirt, up along her skin until he pinched the tip of her breast hard enough to add to the deluge of pain. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth opening in a silent cry. He was rock hard within seconds.
“I’ve taken you drugged, and now I’m taking you after giving you the opportunity to fight back. I’ve defeated you, Hope. Accept it.” Leaning down, he growled into her ear. “Consider yourself owned, beautiful.”
Releasing her breast, he ripped the pants from her body, his hands coming up to find skin swollen and ready for his touch. “I love a girl who gets turned on by a fight.” Forcefully, he slipped his fingers over the skin, forcing them inside. She cried out and he lowered his head to bite d
own into her skin, to mark her, to claim her, to take control over a body he would never let escape.
Her body bucked and quivered beneath him, her hands moving up to wrap within the thickness of his hair. Her fingers twisted in deeper as he nipped along her skin, kissing the sting before moving to the next spot; his hand working in a slow rhythm against her. Her muscles loosened and he let go of her throat to rip his own pants from his body, to grasp her hip, lifting her, then sliding her over him, spearing himself inside her heat. Her head fell back and he reached up, twisting his hands tighter into her hair, pulling her head back, her chest forward, and bending down to bite her breast through the thin cotton of her shirt.
~ ~ ~
She didn’t want to melt around him. She didn’t want her body to grip him, desperate for him to move; but her body was a traitor and her mind was overcome by the mixture of pleasure and pain, adrenaline and endorphins, by the chilling heat of his body mixed with the biting cold of her loss of control.
Like a sedative injected in her system, her body relaxed when the first bits of electricity coursed along her nerves. The sensation of being filled, of being bitten; he’d seized her body and mind, rendering her loose and malleable in his arms. Floating within a cloud of sensation and heat, her lips parted to release a guttural moan, something that her body had produced to relieve her of the waves of passion and pain that consumed her.
Raising his head from her breast, she groaned at the loss, only to open her eyes and notice how he smirked up at her, fully aware how he drove her body without gaining permission from her mind.
“No worries, beautiful girl. I’ll give you what you need. But first …” His hips swiveled beneath, stretching her, invading her. “… I’m taking what I want.”
With one hand on her, he forced her hips tight to his; his fingers traveling up her back, the tips digging against the bruised and overworked muscles. She responded out of instinct, her body moving in a carnal rhythm, desire sparked by violence and stoked by her ache for darkness and abject need.
His hands gripped into her hair again, pulling her head back and exposing her neck as he trailed his lips across the taut skin, nipping and kissing away the pain it caused. Small moans escaped her lips, but when those sounds grew louder and wilder, he covered her mouth taking not only her body, but her breath as well.
She came apart suddenly and her mind splintered; the shards strewn and scattered. She opened her eyes to see the heat in his, his own mind obviously lost to his domination of her — to the possibility of taming her. It had been systematic — her body, her mind, her ability to defend herself. Methodically, he’d conquered her. And now, as his touch destroyed her, he gave her life at the same time. She awakened in his arms, ripped from the obscurity she sought and thrown into a world of sensation, of ecstasy, of a dream hidden within a nightmare.
His entire body tensed when he found his release and she split apart to feel him swell inside her and his teeth bite down onto her exposed neck. Forcing parts of her darkness out of her, he replaced it with his own. Her mouth opened and a scream burst from her chest and throat. She was marked — she was defeated — and she was now hopelessly and irrevocably owned.
Chapter Thirteen
She went limp over him, a consequence of her exhaustion from captivity combined with the physical exertion of the fight. But, it wasn’t sleep that found her. He knew that she floated within a dream, her body so responsive to sensation that, finally, her mind had been granted divinity and bliss.
Pulling away was difficult, but he knew that Aaron would come slamming through those doors if the room went completely silent. Placing the sweatpants back on her body, he also dressed himself and picked her up to leave the room. Pushing the wooden door open with his shoulder, he looked at Aaron.
“I won.”
An eyebrow arched in mockery on Aaron’s face when he responded, “So, I heard.”
Xander didn’t respond, his intent to return Hope to his room too urgent for polite conversation. He groaned when he heard Aaron following behind him.
“Do not forget, Xander, she has information that we need. Was it absolutely necessary to knock her out after fucking her?!”
Xander stopped in his tracks, allowing Aaron to catch up and walk beside him. When they started forward again, Xander answered, “I didn’t knock her out. She passed out.” Under his breath, he quickly added, “She has a tendency of doing that around me.”
“Get the information, Xander. You’ve played your bullshit game. I’m not happy about how much fucking time this is taking!” Breath
Stopping and turning to look into infuriated green eyes, Xander responded, “As soon as she wakes up, I’ll get whatever information we need.”
Aaron stopped in the middle of the corridor, allowing Xander to march off carrying Hope in his arms. Reaching his suite, he opened the doors and quickly traversed the space to his bedroom where he laid Hope on the freshly cleaned sheets, binding her wrists just in case she woke up and he wasn’t there to restrain her.
After securing her, Xander went into the bathroom to retrieve hot water, a cloth and a medical kit he kept in order to tend to minor injuries. He cleaned the blood from her body where the wound on her shoulder had ripped and he also cleaned the wounds on her ankles and wrists from the shackles that had also seeped wisps of crimson liquid. Searching her skin, he found areas that had started to swell with the beginnings of a bruise. Cleaning those, he then applied a salve in an attempt to keep the wounds from becoming worse. Once he’d completed what he could, he walked back into the bathroom and examined his own body in the mirror. After looking over the developing bruises and cuts on his face, he stripped off his shirt to find the matching bruises to his arms and chest. Laughing to himself, he was impressed with the amount of damage she’d done to him in so short a period of time. He wondered, if she’d been at full strength, if the fight had been fair, would she have managed to break bones, to tear at his skin, to win against him.
Returning to the bedroom, he looked her over, noticing how the pain of her injuries still affected the way she held herself even when unconscious. He wanted to wake her and take her again, but the stitches in her shoulder had split and he forced himself from the room in search of someone who could help him repair the damage.
~ ~ ~
“She’s been stitched up again, but there will be a scar. The wound has been reopened too often and the skin torn.”
Hope wasn’t sure she heard the small, delicate voice that spoke whisper soft somewhere within the room.
“Why are you looking at me like I’m the monster? It was her stubbornness that caused it.” Another voice; deeper, more wild — his voice.
There was no response, just the sound of boots as they exited the room and the muted sound of a door closing in the distance. Without opening her eyes, Hope knew someone was still close by, watching her while she slept.
Her arms were bound, but she didn’t feel the same cold bite of steel encircling her ankles. She moved to relieve the muscle and flesh of her body where it lay against the mattress. Blinking the room into focus, she saw Maddy sitting at a table in the corner of the room. She held a book open in front of her, laughing quietly at something written on the pages. Hope pushed herself up into a sitting position, crossing her legs at the ankles and bending her knees to bring her legs up in front of her chest.
“How are you feeling?” Maddy closed the book and placed it on the table. Her hair flowed down her back like ebony silk. Her blue eyes shone out and caught the small bits of light in the room, sparkling like precious jewels set into the smooth, alabaster skin of a porcelain doll. Her beauty was unreal.
“I’ve been better.” Hope answered after deciding that struggling against Maddy was pointless. “I could really use some water.”
Maddy stood quickly and disappeared into the bathroom before reappearing with a filled glass in her hand. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she handed the glass to her. Hope took it, eyeing the glass while her
hand shook from the weight — her body having been pushed to limits that made her weak. Maddy must have noticed her hesitancy.
“It’s only water. Drink, it’ll make you feel better.” Reaching up, Maddy helped steady the glass when Hope brought it to her chapped lips. The liquid flowed over her tongue and throat, cooling the skin and muscle that burned from a lack of moisture. When she’d finished, Maddy placed the glass aside. Both women had nothing to say to one another and after a weighted pause, Maddy finally spoke into the silence.
“He’d be pissed to find me sitting here. Both of them are overprotective to an extreme.” Her face scrunched up in annoyance. “Sometimes, I don’t know what’s worse: this place or being made to feel like I’m fragile and easily broken.”
Hope blinked in surprise, her mind not comprehending how Maddy could be calm in the light of everything that had happened. “They kidnapped you. How can speak about them with endearment in your tone?”
Maddy’s blue eyes were relentless in their depth. “Joseph Carmichael kidnapped me. Aaron and Xander did what they could to help me. Their methods were not their choice, but the only option they had.”
“And what were those methods?” Not being able to hold her curiosity, Hope quickly voiced her question.
“They trained me.”
“To fight?”
“To be a slave.”
The confusion must have been evident in Hope’s expression because Maddy elaborated, “Sometimes, when you are trapped in a situation with no escape, taking a role of weakness protects you. Fighting against a force you have no expectation of defeating will only make the despair that much more devastating. I see Hell in your eyes, Hope. I see a nightmare behind the gold — a nightmare that once existed in mine.”
“You’re still here,” Hope interrupted.
Maddy smiled. “There is beauty in everything, even in the things we hate the most. I am still trapped by The Estate, yes; but I chose to remain here.”