by Tawny Taylor
Drako inched his gun to the right. Still no good. “So we’re here to talk philosophy?”
“Not exactly.” His uncle pushed the Glock harder against Rin’s temple, and Rin visibly tensed. A fat tear dripped from her lashes.
“You want The Secret. You know I can’t give it to you.”
His uncle tightened his arm around Rin’s neck. “We don’t have the right to keep it hidden away. We’re playing God.”
“No, we’re protecting millions of innocent people.”
“I’m not in the mood for a debate.” His uncle lowered the gun, and before Drako could react, before Drako had even realized what he was about to do, he shot Rin in the leg.
Her scream tore through Drako’s body, the shock of what he’d just witnessed freezing his muscles.
“You fell in love with her, didn’t you, boy? That was your first mistake. You know a man can’t think straight with all those sissy emotions turning his brain to mud. Look what it did to your father.” Drako’s uncle jerked Rin, now sobbing and shaking, tighter against him. “Clock’s ticking, Drako. It’s not a mortal wound yet, but if she bleeds for too long it will be.”
“Drako.” Rin’s bottom lip quivered. Her eyes bored into his. She mouthed the word, no.
“Call your brothers,” his uncle demanded. “Have them bring it to us.”
Drako tightened his fingers around the gun, wishing he could get a decent shot. But he couldn’t. Rin’s head was too close to his uncle’s, and her body blocked most of his chest, stomach, and groin. At best, Drako might be able to shoot him in the hand, but he was too afraid Rin would get shot again to try it.
“Call them,” his uncle repeated, calmly. “Now, or I’ll have to speed up the clock. And tell them to come alone. This party’s already too crowded.”
Rin whimpered and mouthed, nonono.
“Okay.” Drako jerked his phone out of his pocket and dialed.
“They have exactly fifteen minutes to get it here, or she’s dead.”
Talen’s phone rang once, twice. He answered on the third ring. “Did you get to her in time?”
“Yes and no. Talen, Uncle Bob isn’t dead. He’s the one holding Rin hostage, and he wants The Secret brought to this spot. Or he’ll shoot her. He already has once.” He couldn’t help staring at the growing stain on her leg. “Sheldon Road north to six mile west. Down a few miles, past Ridge. You’ll see a pair of metal gates.”
“Holy hell. Got it.”
“You’ve got fifteen minutes,” Drako told his brother.
“What’re you going to do?” Talen asked.
“I wish I knew.”
“Hold him off. We’re coming.” Talen ended the call.
Drako shoved his phone back in his pocket. “They’re coming.”
“That’s good.” His uncle shot Rin again, in her other leg. “Now, to make sure they bring it.”
Drako’s heart stopped for a split second and then started racing as white hot rage ripped through his body. He shot, intentionally aiming high, hoping his uncle would move. He didn’t bat an eyelash.
“Call them back and tell them to bring The Secret.”
Drako yanked his phone out again and dialed. When Talen answered, he said two words, “Bring it,” and hung up. “There, I did it.”
Rin was trembling, visibly weakening. Her eyelids were heavy, her lips milky white.
He couldn’t stand there and watch her die. He couldn’t lose her. She was his world, she was his reason for taking his next breath.
“Rin,” he said, sure she was about to lose consciousness. Her eyes were rolling around in the sockets. Somehow she managed to focus on him. “I love you, baby. I love you.”
The corners of her mouth lifted slightly. “I love you too.”
He dragged his hands down the sides of his legs. His fingertips were burning, like he’d held them against a stove’s burner. “I need you.”
“Me too. I won’t leave.” Even as she said the words, Drako could see her slipping away.
“I hope Talen and Malek are fast drivers,” his uncle said, so calmly and casually it made Drako want to shriek.
The rage inside him swirled hotter, faster. He could almost feel the heat racing along his nerves, down his spine, his arms, to his fingertips. He curled his hands into fists, but the pain grew unbearable.
The gun in his hand fired. He hadn’t meant it to.
Time seemed to slow, each fraction of a second lasting an eternity.
Drako looked up and saw his uncle, surprised, clap a hand over his arm. The Glock fell to the ground. Rin slid from his grasp, falling like a lifeless rag doll. Drako lurched forward, swept her into his arms, and, praying his uncle wouldn’t shoot him in the back, ran to his car.
A bullet whistled by his head.
There was no way he could go back for his phone or to try to warn his brothers. He raced to the nearest hospital, every mile stretching forever, every minute more excruciating than the last.
He screeched up a U-shaped driveway, rammed the car into park, and yelled at the security guard, “My wife’s been shot!” Everything happened in a blur from that point on. Doctors and nurses came running; she was put on a gurney and wheeled out of his sight. He answered questions in between asking when he could see her, and once he was told she was being taken up to surgery, he found a phone and tried calling Talen.
There was no answer.
Torn, he told a nurse he’d be back as soon as he could and left, hoping his brothers had found nothing but a corpse and an empty truck. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just sent them into a trap that might cost them their lives.
21
Drako’s worst fears had come true.
No sooner had he turned the corner onto the dirt drive did he see them. His two brothers, standing with arms caught behind their backs, their posture telling Drako what their faces couldn’t, because their backs were to him. Why were they just standing there? Why weren’t they fighting?
He didn’t bother cutting the car’s engine, he just tumbled out of the driver’s seat and raced toward them, the 9mm ready. With every footstep, he made a promise to make his uncle and the rest of the Chimera pay for what had happened.
But before he was close enough to get a decent shot, somebody hit him from behind, knocking the gun out of his hand. It sailed through the air, landing in some scraggy brush about ten feet away. Drako swung around to face his assailant, but the bastard slammed his head with something hard. Drako dropped to his knees, stars obliterating his vision. By the time it cleared, Drako’s hands had been tied behind his back and he was standing next to Malek and Talen.
Where the hell had this asshole come from?
His uncle sneered, a large scarlet stain covering much of his shoulder and arm. “So glad you decided to come back, Kane. How I love family reunions. It’s been what. . . ten years? How you’ve all grown.” It was hard to believe that cold voice belonged to a man Drako had once trusted and respected. Who would have ever imagined they’d have to worry about an ex-guardian joining the enemy? “Unfortunately, this isn’t going to be much of a party. Your brothers forgot to bring my present.”
“They didn’t forget.”
“I kinda figured that out already.” His uncle lifted the gun he’d recovered as Drako had raced off with Rin. He aimed it at Talen.
Drako’s heart jerked up into his throat. He was about to watch his brothers being slaughtered. Then he guessed he would be tortured until he either died or gave up the information.
He would never do that.
Maybe this was all for the better. It would be over soon, the stress of keeping such a vital secret for so long, the heavy weight of duty, responsibility lifted from his shoulders. With the three brothers gone, The Secret’s location would be lost, at least for a while. With any luck, the Chimera wouldn’t find it until mankind was ready for it.
Drako glared at his uncle. “We won’t tell you where The Secret is. No matter what you do to us.”
“I got that too.” Their uncle squeezed the trigger. A sharp pop echoed through the air. “Good-bye, Eagle.” Talen jerked to one side. And a couple of heartbeats later, he silently sank to the ground.
Dammit! Drako started trembling. His blood burned. His fingers curled into fists. He clenched his jaw as the temptation to give up and give the bastard what he wanted charged through him.
Be strong. At least he wasn’t tortured.
With absolutely no warning, his uncle fired again. “Farewell, Lion. Two down, one to go.”
Drako spun around, met Malek’s gaze. He watched at least a half dozen emotions play across Malek’s face before his eyes became empty and cold. Slowly, Malek fell next to Talen.
Both brothers were down. Drako looked at the men and saw the boys they had once been. Full of life, full of hope. Was it all over for them? Had they failed?
Had he failed them?
On the tail of horrid, gripping despair came tooth-gritting fury.
No. It wasn’t all over. Not until he’d taken his last breath.
He charged his uncle. As he ran, as hard as he could, his vision narrowed to a single point, the end of the Glock’s barrel. The bullet would be coming soon. In the next blink. Or the next.
Something grabbed him from behind. The same bastard who’d caught him earlier. He fought. He kicked. He swung his body, using his rage to give him strength. Nothing worked, and he knew why. He’d been so fucking busy strategizing, and sitting in fucking vans, watching video feeds, he hadn’t been keeping himself in top condition. Another fuckup.
Soon he was standing next to his brothers’ still bodies, facing a man who, thanks to two mistakes on Drako’s part—Drako wasn’t convinced anymore that falling in love had been a mistake—was about to take everything that mattered from him, including the future he’d hoped to share with Rin.
“Why not just shoot me?” he spat.
“I’m going to, Dragon. But I wanted to let you know something first.” His uncle’s smile was pure evil. “That sweet little wife of yours is going to suffer every day until I get The fucking Secret in my hands. She’s going to beg to die.” His gaze sharpened. “She won’t have a minute’s relief, not a fucking second without pain, until I have what I want. And it’ll be your fault.”
Something inside Drako snapped. He and his brothers had lived with the knowledge this day might come. But Rin, sweet, innocent, loving Rin . . .
His skin felt hot, on his back, up over his shoulders, along his neck. Blistering.
His uncle laughed. It was a hollow, empty sound, nothing like a real laugh. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to fight it. You fell in love with her.” His uncle actually tsked him like he was still a little boy. “How many times had I warned you? Was it the way she kissed you? The way she touched you? Or was it something else? Something . . . deeper? Maybe I’ll figure it out for myself.” He winked.
All the anger and rage seemed to charge like an electric current through his body. The heat on his skin seemed to seep inside where it sizzled and whirled and churned deep in his gut. It grew stronger until Drako felt like he had been consumed by an inferno. It was out of control, and he was at its mercy. His wrists broke free and he pointed a finger at his enemy. “Go to hell, you bastard!” A scarlet flame arced across the space between them like the blaze of a flamethrower.
What the hell? He looked at his hand. Not a burn in sight. His toe caught something as he took a step back. The plastic handcuffs. They looked like they’d been heated and stretched out of shape.
At the sound of a scream, Drako glanced up, finding the bush next to his uncle was nothing but a charred skeleton and his uncle’s shirt was on fire. His hair. His uncle screamed again, the sound almost inhuman. While Drako watched, confused, his uncle wheeled around in circles, arms flailing. The man who’d tied Drako’s wrists came around the side of the black truck, raced toward the screeching man, now fully engulfed. He knocked the burning man to the ground, trying to smother the fire.
Snapping out of his stupor, Drako lunged for his brothers. He hefted Talen onto his shoulder and half carried, half dragged Malek. He stuffed them into the car, dashed around to the driver’s side, and climbed in. A curl of smoke wafted from his fingertip as he curled his fist around the gear shift.
Not knowing if it was too late to save his brothers, he drove straight to the hospital.
22
She’d waited so long for this day. Waited, hoped, despite everything that had happened, even though more than once she’d feared this day would never come.
She was ready to finally face all the pain, to cleanse her soul, and break down the walls she’d built around it. She had realistic expectations; she knew D/s wasn’t a replacement for therapy. Yet she’d read the stories online, in which people described very powerful, tangible benefits from exploring BDSM. Were there other ways she might get the results she was looking for? Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
She wasn’t afraid as she dressed, as she rode to the dungeon with her husband, or as they walked side by side to the room. She wasn’t excited either. She was at peace.
After they entered the room, Drako told her to take off her gown. She removed everything, draped her dress over the back of a chair, and set her G-string on a table next to it.
“Remember, Yellow means slow down, Red means stop.” Drako guided her to a kneeler and positioned her on it. “I’m here to help you, to guide you. Use me.”
“Okay.”
He blindfolded her. And in that dark space, she found herself focusing on her other senses, monitoring Drako’s movement around the room by the sound of his footsteps, the occasional draft of air caressing her bare skin, the scent of his skin growing stronger as he neared. As she waited for him to move her into position and secure her arms and legs, she started wondering what would happen. Would she recognize that moment, when she slipped into “headspace”? Would it be as life-changing as she’d read, or a complete disappointment?
“Are you ready?”
“Ready.” She liked being bound, being completely under Drako’s control. There was no doubt she trusted him. Perhaps that was why she wasn’t worried she couldn’t move, couldn’t signal to him, couldn’t see what he was about to do to her. Rather, the bindings felt like extensions of him, his fingers curled around her wrists and ankles, holding them in place. His body supporting her stomach as she rested against him. She felt safe, cherished.
No, she felt free. Free from responsibility, from obligation and duty. She couldn’t step into his place and take over for him, like she had with her mother, over and over again. That alone was enough to make her want to weep with joy.
The first sensation was soft and tickly, something soft cascading over her shoulders, pattering across her back. There was no pain, but the sensations still made her warm and relaxed. She breathed in slowly and evenly, enjoying every minute, knowing it was only the beginning.
A part of her wanted to move on to the next thing already, the next pleasure, but she trusted Drako to know when the time was right. She knelt bent over a padded support and fought to concentrate on what she felt right now, this second, rather than wondering what was coming next.
The next tool he used was the bristle brush, and ohmygod, it felt good. The bristles scraped across the skin of her shoulders, easing the tickling. He followed the line of her spine with the brush, scrubbed over her bottom, leaving her skin burning and tingling. It was easier to focus now, the sensation was a little stronger, and she noticed when he stopped for a few moments, she was breathing a little faster and shallower than normal.
She hadn’t reached that magical plane yet, at least she didn’t think she had. “Drako, is it working?”
“Patience, love. Concentrate on the sensation. What do you feel?”
“My skin is burning a little. It’s a good burn.”
“Are you ready for more?”
“Yes, please, yes.”
She heard a sharp smacking sound before the
pain registered. When it did, it sent the air rushing from her lungs, and she had to gulp in a mouthful to reinflate them. Where he’d struck her, the skin burned hotter, a slightly more intense tingling heat than what had followed after the brush.
The second strike, on her other buttock, didn’t surprise her as much. Still, she spent a second or two in a breathless state in which time seemed to crawl at an impossibly slow pace, where fractions of a second lasted an eternity. After the third and fourth time, she felt like she was sliding deeper into herself. All thought swept from her mind and she just was, existed, the pain more a part of her than her own mind.
Behind her closed eyelids, colors swirled and took form. She saw her grandmother, her mother, and Lei, but they were younger. Lei was barely out of diapers. Their voices echoed in her ears. Laughter.
When had there been laughter in their family?
She looked into her mother’s eyes and saw something she couldn’t ever remember seeing—the glimmer of happiness in their dark depth. She didn’t remember her mother this way at all. She’d been hard, cruel, detached.
Rin wanted to ask her what had changed, why she’d turned her back on her children, but something stopped her. There was a touch, gentle but firm, on her back. The whisper of words she couldn’t quite understand in her ears. A voice calling.
When she blinked against the light burning through her eyelids, Drako was holding her cradled in his arms and was kissing her cheeks, eyelids, nose. The blindfold was gone. She wasn’t bound anymore either. “What happened? Did I pass out?”
“No, you were awake. You responded when I asked you questions. You don’t remember?” Gently, he stroked her hair back from her face.
“No.” Feeling a little odd, like she’d just woken up from anesthesia, she glanced around the room. They were still in Drako’s suite. Drako was sitting on the love seat, holding her.
“How do you feel now?”
“I feel . . . like I want to laugh and cry at the same time.” She dragged her hand across her face. Her hand was damp.
“That’s exactly what you were doing.”