Micaden’s Madness

by Mason, V. F.

  Her whimper fills the space. “I don’t want to.” But her hips gliding up to meet my tongue contradict her words.

  Her scent, her taste, the feel of her skin against my cheeks and hands is everything… like the softness of velvet and silk combined, and a man can get lost in her in heartbeat.

  Not any man. Just me, because no one’s had her but me.

  Primal need fills my bones while I drag my tongue over her folds, scooping up her essence and nipping on her sensitive skin, returning to push it in and out of her, giving her the prelude of what’s to come.

  I feel her hand on the back of my nape, but I pick it up and place it back on her stomach. She laces her fingers with mine while I continue to lap at her, driving her to the brink of an orgasm with each lick, only to pull her back when she’s too close.

  I devour her on this bed, my hands sliding under her ass and lifting her up so I have better access to her pussy. I scratch it with my beard, which earns me several moans and whimpers, and demands. “Brochan, I’m so close. So close—just keep—” She hisses when I drop her ass down and then run my mouth from her stomach to the underside of her breast, closing my lips over her hardened nipple as my hand cups the other, thumbing it.

  “Beautiful, seductive, and eager.” God, a woman doesn't exist in this world who can rival Emerald to me. “And mine.” I move to the other breast, and she wraps her body around me, her nails digging into my back. “Always, only mine.” I finally reach her mouth, and we pause, both breathing shallowly, and then I take her mouth in a melting, passionate kiss. The taste of her and me together only arouses us more, turning us into two people who desperately need to love each other.

  My cock drags over her wetness. When I press it to her clit, she lets go of me, arching her back and gulping breath while her legs try to wrap around me, but I don’t let her, pinning her thighs on the bed. “Are you mine?”

  She nods, but then licks her lips and her lashes flutter open while she focuses her gaze on mine. “Yes.” We meet in a raw kiss laced with desire and desperation, happiness and sorrow, and finally love and hate, and that’s when I glide inside her, hard.

  I swallow her cry, pushing back and then entering her again with deep, slow strokes, dragging my dick between the walls of her pussy, stretching her to the max while her unbelievable tightness envelops me.

  My lungs burn, calling for oxygen, but I don’t give a fuck. In this moment, every one of my parts has to be connected with her, so we will be one and nothing can separate us.

  She removes her lips, breathing in air while her hips meet my every thrust, and I finally allow her thighs to press around me, pushing me deeper into her, if it’s possible. Her raspy breath, barely audible moans, and the complete bliss on her face only fuel me to continue this torture while my body screams for me to give us what we both need.

  But instead, I continue to glide in and out, watching her flush from all the emotions she’s experiencing, and that’s when possessiveness rushes through me, almost knocking me out.

  This woman is mine. She was mine ten years ago. She was mine when I hated her, and when she came back to me.

  Nothing, nothing in this world will change this fact.

  A tingling in my spine alerts me I won't be able to keep this up for long, so I speed up my movements, powering into her harshly, which makes her drag me back to her, kissing me with all her might as if our lives depend on it.

  That’s when her pussy clamps around me, squeezing me so fucking tight I can barely breathe as she cries out, although it’s barely audible with my lips covering hers.

  My hands slide under her ass, and I plow inside her, one, two, three harsh stokes before my release hits me, running from my calves to my fucking hair, and I spill inside her, instantly filling her with myself.

  Perspiration coats our skin while I lie over her, probably squashing her, but she doesn't say anything.

  No, instead, we stay like this for a while with my forehead pressed against hers, because the minute we stop… everything ends.

  Because this puts an ending to star-crossed lovers.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Emerald

  My eyes snap open and I tense when I feel the hot body pressed next to me, but then images of last night come back, and I relax in Micaden’s hold, rolling to the side to find him asleep, facing me while the blanket covers us both.

  Softly, I touch his cheek, trailing the scars present there and all over his neck while a myriad of emotions I can’t name pass through me.

  Regret, sadness, depression.

  Love and hate.

  For the last ten years, my life has been nothing but never-ending suffering, only because I dared to love a boy my family didn’t approve of. And the boy had his life ruined, because he wanted to be with me.

  So much pain, so much hurt, so much disappointment. And so many lost years that no one will ever give us back.

  I loathe all the things he has inflicted on me; I do. Our love brought nothing but disaster to us. It’s toxic, and we can’t get away from it.

  Well, we couldn’t, but now with all the truths uncovered… maybe we finally have a chance to move on and put it behind us.

  Put us behind us.

  I come alive in his arms, my soul seeking his to find peace, but at the same time, it burns in the inferno of agony neither of us escaped. Our love has no future, just like Romeo and Juliet’s.

  Struggling to breathe, I get up, removing the blanket, and quickly stand up but then wince. I probably woke him up. The last thing I want to do now is explain myself or my decisions. Although I’m not sure Micaden will argue with them much, since I think he wants peace too. And peace is possible only if we are apart, because together we are chaos.

  I peek over my shoulder and exhale quietly in relief when I notice him still lying on his side, frowning a little in his sleep. I grab my dress lying nearby, throw it over me, and put on my panties. I’m not sure I want to meet him without my underwear, even if the man knows my body better than I do.

  I walk upstairs to the deck and inhale the rich smells of the cool morning air. I look around me and see nothing but endless water, but the climate must have changed a bit, because it’s awfully chilly.

  Spotting a blanket near the steering wheel, I place it on my shoulders and pour myself a cup of warm tea from the thermos. “This is beautiful,” I murmur, going to the edge of the deck and resting my middle on the railing as my eyes drink in the magnificent view of nature around me, and the water that glistens in the sunrise. One might think this kind of view only emphasizes my loneliness, but in truth, it only shows how we have endless possibilities, and while the ocean is scary and endless… at some point, it’ll bring us to the shore.

  I close my eyes and lift my face to bask in the sun. Without warning, a cloth presses to my mouth and strong arms wrap around me. I struggle, but it’s short-lived, because my knees wobble and I can’t stay upright.

  The last thing I remember before darkness claims me is the smell that drove me nuts.

  I’ve smelled it before, but where?

  Micaden

  “Emerald?” I call, putting on my shirt and jeans while I practically run upstairs, afraid of what I might find there. She seemed stable enough last night, but after her emotional outburst, I don’t know what to expect.

  I don’t even know what to expect from myself. My lifelong revenge no longer has merit, because she’s as much a victim in it as I am.

  Shaking my head from the internal struggle that already drove me insane last night, I look around but can’t find her anywhere. “Emerald,” I call again, alarmed energy surging through me, reminding me of the time in prison when anything could mean danger. “Emerald!” I shout louder this time, running to the deck. But she’s not there. “She didn’t jump into the water, did she?” I wonder aloud, fear unlike anything I felt before rushing through me, awakening every protective and possessive instinct inside me.

  But then I feel cold metal press against
the back of my head, as a steely voice informs me, “She didn’t.” And my eyes widen, because I would recognize it anywhere.

  Slowly, I turn around to face the man who gave me everything, but at the same time asked for a high price in return.

  His cold, blue eyes scan me from head to toe before he removes the safety from the gun and points it at my forehead. “You have exactly five seconds to tell me where Emerald is.”

  Fuck! “She’s not with you?” The relief I felt just seconds ago is replaced with panic, because if my Emerald is not with them, then where is she?

  “Enough is enough, Micaden,” Arson says from behind Lachlan, coming into view holding his own gun. “You have no control over your emotions. We are taking her away.”

  Wrapping my hands around the tip of the gun, I push it away, and bark, “Do you really think I would have lied? She’s not here, Lachlan!” I finally address him while all her comments during our month and a half click in my head, making sense to me when before they only created confusion or continuity errors in her story.

  Kaden, my brother.

  Kaden, he’s always there for me.

  Kaden has always been on my side.

  Kaden. Kaden. Kaden.

  Indeed, Kaden Lachlan Scott found her, but then again, if I knew it was him, I never would have doubted her words.

  Lachlan always protects his own or those he considers his own.

  I grab the lapels of his suit, shaking him and not caring in the least if I don’t follow the rules. “Where is she? Where is she, Lachlan?”

  He places his hands on mine and tears them away, stepping back while Arson curses, and then Jaxon hops on the boat as well, holding two guns in his hands. “Who has her, Lachlan?” he asks as well, as we all freeze, awaiting his answer.

  Only he can have it, because I draw a blank. I killed anyone who was involved in our downfall ten years ago.

  There’s no one left.

  But then Lachlan utters a name that fills me with overpowering fear and anger that has no mercy. A loud ringing in my ear starts, and I can barely breathe through the fury zipping inside me. “Elijah.”

  One name that never made it to my list, because by the time I started my hunting, he was dead. Although I had no idea he hurt my woman, he was involved in the case nevertheless, spouting bullshit about me left and right. I knew his psychiatric center had been shut down by Lachlan when he ambushed it several years ago because they needed to get Amalia out. Not that anyone ever gave me the full story on that one, but Arson burned the place to the ground once they got her out, and I just assumed Elijah died with them.

  But he seems to be very much alive now.

  The man who destroyed our lives.

  He has my Emerald now.

  But I’ll be damned if I let him have her.

  Emerald

  Groaning, I wake up, wincing a little at the discomfort niggling my side, and glance down to see a deep bruise on my hip, handprint-like purple bruises as if someone grabbed me too hard.

  “I’m sorry for this, my love. I was too excited to see you.”

  The sinister voice from my nightmares stills me and the air catches in my lungs, but I follow the sound, unable to look away. He looms above me, resting his hand on the cage’s bars while his brown eyes study me tentatively and he rubs his chin with a gun he holds.

  “Although, I had the desire to do it all over your body to remove his marks from you.”

  Oh my God.

  He has a beard now, more muscles, and several tattoos. I guess in daily life women would be drooling over him, wanting to get his attention. But only a few know about his dark nature and psychotic tendencies that have no mercy for those who want to escape him.

  The man lives on the anguish of other people, needing it daily like crack. But what he truly loves the most?

  Disobedience, because then he inflicts agony in the name of the greater good. And the minute the person gives up… he disposes of them. One of the reasons I survived long enough for Kaden to show up and save me was because I couldn’t accept the fate he wanted for me.

  I take the time to glance around and my stomach drops. There’s nothing but endless metal in my vision. Several boilers hum so loudly around us I cover my ears. I notice weird smells I can’t name; it seems like we’re in the bowels of a transport ship. The cage I’m in reminds me of those people use in the zoo to hold big animals. I see a blanket on the floor and some food in a dog bowl.

  Far away is a sink and small table with some ship graphics, so it was probably made for someone who has to check the boilers and pressure. “We’re on a ship.”

  “Quite an easy guess. It transports metals. But don’t worry, it’ll take us to Mexico and then all this”—he swirls the gun in his hand around—“will be nothing but a bad dream.” His tone is almost reassuring, as if this information is supposed to bring me happiness or something.

  “It took me years to earn money and several operations to fix this face… not to mention, I patiently waited for you to remember me. But instead, you came here, back to him!” he shouts and then takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t wait anymore. My patience can last for only so long.”

  “You are sick,” I mutter and then remember how I called Micaden that. While both of them are not right for what they are doing to me, Elijah certainly is the psycho in this equation.

  And he’s solely responsible for my fall ten years ago.

  “No, my love, I’m persistent. You are mine. But you didn’t understand it back then, and you forgot about it now, once again with him. But no more.”

  “He’ll come after me.” If for no other reason than to kill him. This I know is a truth set in stone. Either Micaden or Kaden, my brother. I don’t care that we’re not related and he just took me under his wing. All these years, he has been a family to me; he’s my person. And he loves me enough to save me.

  I chuckle at the thought that the only saviors I expect are serial killers, a title that would have triggered a panic attack just a few days ago. But now they’re the only ones who can calm me down in this situation. “Please, by the time they figure out who has done it, we’ll be long gone.”

  “You will die,” I reply, fed up with this bullshit, but he doesn’t take it kindly.

  He comes closer and kicks me in the stomach, making me cry out, but then he kneels next to me, squeezes my palm in his, and mutters, “Let me remind you of something, shall I?”

  Micaden

  “Can this fucking boat move faster?” I snap, tightening my hold on the rail while Arson and Jaxon exchange looks but stay quiet.

  Lachlan, though, has plenty to say. “No, it can’t. And you wouldn’t have been in this situation if you’d kept on updating Arson. You went against the rules.” He hits me with his cane, but I don’t even budge, because fuck that and anything else.

  “Or you could have saved her from me!” I tell him, not understanding how he would allow her to come to me, knowing my intentions.

  “This story had to end at some point. You were both ready to face your past,” he states and then exhales heavily. “Everyone always controlled her life. I gave her the chance to make a choice, and she did,” he says, and I understand. While Lachlan is closed off and fucking lethal, he indeed has a soft, brotherly spot for Emerald.

  Because he protects her and that’s his only sign of affection. Unless you are his woman, that is. But for now, I don’t care about our argument.

  The only thing that matters to me is Emerald. With no help in sight, she’s probably scared out of her mind by a man who’s already brought so much destruction to her. “It’s been three hours. You know how much he can do in three hours? What are we waiting for anyway? The ship is so fucking near, but we are moving at a snail’s pace!” I shout in his face and Jaxon clears his throat.

  “We’re waiting for them.”

  I look to where he points and notice a smaller boat, low-key, driving toward us with three men wearing black uniforms and all of them with guns ready.<
br />
  We all are, for that matter.

  “My brothers are here, and Tony.”

  Jaxon is the leader of the Brooklyn Mafia Brotherhood, operating it there and within the region. Nothing goes on in the city without his, Gael’s, or Don’s approval. He has three brothers, and one sister, who takes no part in the business.

  First, up hops Killian, who salutes me, and then two of the triplets, Duncan and Douglas, follow, the last one whistling. “So many scowls. Whose girl are we saving?”

  “Mine,” I reply, and expect Lachlan to comment on it, but he stays silent. More like dangerously brooding.

  “Good to know, because we need to move now. Tony swam there and gave us a signal. They are on the upper end of the boat, which means they have a blind side on the left. If we swim through there, they won’t see us before we attack.”

  Then Duncan pitches in, his stare calculating as always. “We will go on our boat, but because the motor running will bring attention, we’ll use the paddles.” He looks between us all. “Who is going first? Once we take out the guys on watch, we can signal and the rest can come.”

  “How many men are there according to Tony?” Jaxon asks.

  Douglas replies, “Give or take a few, twenty-five? All have guns.”

  Twenty-five against our eight. “We could use Sociopath and Shon right now,” Arson mutters, but then flashes us a grin. “So like the old times, huh? You go make a mess, and then I’ll puff”—he makes a motion with his hands—“and blow this fucking thing.”

  Hold on, Emerald.

  Just hold on, my mermaid.

  Emerald

  Breathing heavily, I rock back and forth as the sound of water dripping far away echoes through the space.

  Blood drips from my forehead down the bridge of my nose as the metallic taste of it fills my mouth, but I barely register that. Or the cold that penetrates every bone from the rusted floor.