Combust (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 6)

by Holly S. Roberts

  After those words, she goes silent. I work for hours getting the front skeletal arm perfect. I have her slide the blanket down as I continue. Running the soap over her bare breast is excruciating for my cock. Having her watching me while I work is the same. It was easier when I couldn’t see her eyes or her lips. Easier when I thought I didn’t care.

  I end the session before I’m ready because I’m fighting too hard to control touching her in a very different way. She trudges slowly to the wall, completely subdued.

  As I’m walking up the stairs, she asks, “How much time do I have left?”

  “Five days.” I’ll finish tomorrow night if I do two sessions tomorrow. The next four days will be aftercare. I want the colors to stand out. I want her brother to see how I’ve branded her. I want his hate until I have his blood on my fingers.

  ∞∞∞

  I spend a restless night thinking about Melina and the nightmare she’s lived. We’re two of a kind, but she’s not the monster I am. There’s still a softness about her. I can actually picture her holding a baby and being a good mother. Her child would not grow up as I did. I also don’t see her putting up with a man like her brother.

  With a flip of the switch, I turn on the light and open the basement door. Slowly I walk down the steps knowing I’ll miss this. Melina’s eyes are open and she is waiting. She doesn’t say anything. She hasn’t complained since the first day. Not about the food I cook or lack of food, like this morning when I know she was hungry.

  Nervous energy fills me. I’ll be done tonight and the anticipation of seeing the finished product is exhilarating. Years ago, when I began working on actual skin, not grapefruit or pig skin, Victor’s guards took the brunt of my beginner’s technique. They didn’t complain and for most it was a huge step up from the prison tats that decorated their flesh. Since my late teens, I’ve become much pickier with my clients. Most comment on the lack of ink on my own skin. I won’t sit under anyone’s machine and I won’t tat myself. I never bothered explaining because the simple fact is I want no identifying marks on my body. With a dark pair of shades to cover my green eyes, I go unseen for the most part and that’s how I prefer it. My clients pay a lot of money for one of my designs, not to know why I do things or how I do them. No one has ever complained.

  I wipe ink off Melina’s skin knowing the morning session is over. “I’ll bring breakfast in a few minutes,” I tell her after she sits up. I allow her to walk around while I go upstairs and start breakfast. She’s standing against the wall when I carry it down. She remains quiet when I chain her foot. She’s punishing me in the only way she can. It would be laughable if it weren’t for the fact that I miss her voice.

  After I clean the kitchen and double check the lock on the basement door, I drive back to the homestead. Two of Fernandez’s men who helped my thief are waiting for me. My men leave the small back room while I work. This time I remove my clothes and just use a rubber apron to work. After Melina’s silence, I need to feel blood and hear screams. I need to kill.

  As blood cascades down the plastic lined walls and floor, I think of Melina. She’s my peace. Her words soothe me and give me something I didn’t know I was missing. Companionship maybe? Killing is a lonely sport and these men’s screams do little to take me out of my funk. But, Melina says one word and I’m at attention. I can’t care about her because I’m a scarier monster than her brother. I won’t care because she means something to me and she deserves a decent life after her brother dies and I plan to give that to her. Without me.

  I wash myself down with a hose in the garage where we have a floor drain. If a ticket-happy cop pulls me over, I don’t want him to see the evidence of the recent blood bath inside the homestead. My men looked away when I walked past them. I’ve left them to clean up the mess again.

  I return home and head straight to the shower. The warm water washes away the remainder of my crime. My cock rises because I can’t stop thinking about tonight’s session with Melina. I run a soapy hand under my balls, around, and up the length of my dick. The image of Melina and her glorious back floats through my mind as I add pressure and increase the pace of my sliding hand. The ink and colors are perfect for her skin and accent the natural curves of her back. I lose it as I imagine running my fingers over the tattoo—following each line and curve with my tongue—fucking her until she can’t walk. Loud groans fill the shower when I find release.

  I prepare a light dinner for us. When it’s ready, I head downstairs to the waiting canvas. The thrill of completing the ink is more than enough to celebrate. I replaced the batteries in the small flashlight I left her and I notice the light before turning the overhead one on. She’ll be leaving in only a few days. When she’s gone, I’ll start the next step in my plan, and it will put her that much closer to taking charge of her own destiny.

  She glances up as I walk closer. She’s been crying, and I feel someone’s pain other than my own. I don’t like this feeling. Maybe in my fucked up mind I’m using Melina to replace Cindy. I mentally shake myself. No, my dick never got hard over Cindy. This woman is nothing like her. Even with the rough life Victor lived, he kept Cindy out of the illegal part of his empire and protected her. Cindy didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Melina is different. Melina is more than capable of murder. Death is in her eyes especially tonight.

  I gaze down at her, wondering if things were different, could we be together. I doubt it, but there’s a part of me that wishes our lives were different. “We’re eating upstairs to celebrate,” I finally tell her.

  Her cold, hard eyes warm my heart. I know she’d kill me if given the opportunity.

  Chapter Ten

  Melina

  I say nothing. It’s been a bad day. Yeah and that’s laughable. The days have been bad since I found myself in this godforsaken hellhole. My thoughts have been crazy, and the hours stretched on and on. There’s a berserker rampage happening inside my head. It’s the certainty that I’m going to die. But first, my brother will peel the tattoo from my skin. The picture in my head is so real, I actually feel the burn.

  I pull the shirt down as far as it will go and pull the blanket around the rest of my body. Today my feelings are raw and I don’t want Austin seeing any of me. I won’t deny I have quasi-feelings for him and it’s not just hatred. I hate admitting this to myself because Austin has given me little to like. Then he’ll do something that shows he’s human. I’ve never seen a man how I see him. It’s not only his looks which would attract any woman, it’s something about him that brings out tender feelings in me where once there was only hatred. I want to soothe his demons. If there was ever a man who could take on my brother, it’s Austin. The sad truth is that many have tried, and my captor will die like them. His death, as with my own, leaves me sad. It would be easier to die if I knew my brother was next.

  I hike up the blanket and climb the stairs. At the top step, I see the table flickering in candlelight. There’s red wine waiting too. This is a celebration for the end of my life. I pray, which isn’t something I’ve done much in my life, that my death is over quickly even knowing it won’t be. After I’m home, my brother will drag it out for as long as possible.

  “Sit down and I’ll pour you a glass,” Austin says from behind me. I inhale sharply and his musky scent fills me. Chills also run down my back at the timbre of his voice. I feel it clear to that desperate place between my legs.

  I don’t look at him because I don’t want him to read desire in my eyes. We’re the same, really and maybe that’s what has me twisted so tightly today. I understand revenge. It would be easier if I knew the outcome wasn’t death for both of us.

  Austin reaches over, lifts the wine from the table, and splashes deep red liquid into my glass. I don’t normally drink. I always thought if I started, it would be impossible to stop. I’m placing that thought on the back burner right now. I need the horrible thoughts consuming me to fade into the background where I normally keep them. With one long pull, the wine is gone before
Austin fills his glass. When I look up, he’s watching me. Funny how I don’t see his eyes as lifeless anymore. Their green, crystal beauty captivates me. Of course they’re the only eyes I’ve seen in weeks and that must be why I’m attracted to them now. His eyebrows arch after he looks to the empty glass I’ve placed back on the table. What the fuck does he expect? I’ve been locked up in a dark, cold room shitting on a bucket. How can he possibly think I don’t need the entire damn bottle? Hell, a case.

  He refills my wine without commenting.

  I pick it up and twirl the liquid around several times, watching it sparkle in the light. Tonight could be my chance at escape. If that’s the case, I need a clear head. Placing the glass down slowly, I turn and watch Austin in the kitchen. He opens the oven and amazing smells waft through the room. I breathe in the scent, which causes my stomach to growl. I could be the best-fed prisoner in history.

  Austin carries over a platter filled with spaghetti. A salad bowl is already on the table. I add greens to our plates, playing my part in this mess. Dinner is surreal. My ass and boob burn where he inked me earlier. The one down my back itches. I also know he isn’t finished. And here I sit like a lamb being led to slaughter.

  “Eat.” His gruff voice makes my gaze snap to his.

  Maybe it was the pity party of one I had earlier or just my impatience to die, but I am tired of playing nice. I push my plate away. “You kidnapped me, you’ve permanently marked my skin, you’re sending me to die, and now you feed me a last meal. How the fuck could I possibly be hungry?”

  His gaze, with those cold burning eyes, doesn’t leave mine. He calmly pushes my plate back in front of me. “Eat.”

  I see red.

  The dinner knife is in my hand and swinging at Austin before I think about what I’m doing. The tip barely goes into his shoulder. I fall from my chair when he shoves his arm into my chest. I scramble away trying to catch my breath. I run as fast as I can for the front door. I’m surprised when the knob turns beneath my fingers. Two men holding automatic weapons stare at me from about thirty feet away with wide eyes. I fly down the red brick stairs and run to the side of the house. I need to get off the property, and I know the men won’t help me.

  “Let her go,” I hear Austin yell.

  He can’t possibly be allowing me to leave. The fence surrounding the property is higher than it looked from inside. I run full out at the fence, place my right foot flat against the concrete, and do everything I can to swing up and over the top. I miss by more than a foot. When my hand catches air, I end up on my ass.

  “Want to try once more before we go back inside?” Austin says from behind me. I actually hear humor in his voice which doesn’t help the festering anger burning inside me.

  “Fuck you,” I reply, hoping tears don’t turn this into a messy exhibition. “Why haven’t you died of blood loss or infection? I licked the damn knife before I stabbed you.”

  He actually chuckles. “Dinner’s getting cold, let’s go back inside.” He lifts me under my arms and stands me up. He has a small smear of blood on his shirt, but obviously the knife wound isn’t deep. Why the hell can’t I get anything right?

  My fist lands with a solid thud on his jaw. He steps backward with his hand to his chin. “I don’t know if you feel better, but I do,” I say with no smile. My damn hand hurts, but I refuse to rub it in front of him.

  Very slowly his eyes change. They no longer appear cold. It’s like he’s seeing me for the first time, and his mouth widens into a full grin. “Where has your feisty side been hiding?”

  That’s all it takes for me to unleash. I hit and kick then bite his arm until I taste blood. The hard slap he gives my jaw jars my teeth. It doesn’t matter, I keep fighting.

  “Need help, boss?”

  I barely hear the words. I’m going to kill Austin or die trying. His hand in my hair and arm around my throat cutting off my air finally stops me. He shifts his body so my back is to his front, pulls me against him, and continues squeezing until I have no oxygen. It’s impossible to fight when you can’t breathe.

  “You finished?” he whispers gruffly.

  All I can do is nod. He lets me go and I fall to my knees inhaling air like it’s chocolate. Slowly, I glance up. He doesn’t even look angry. His hand comes down in front of me. “Come on, tiger, let’s get inside. My guards are having a field day.”

  I look behind us and both guards are standing there with huge smiles plastered to their faces. I lift my middle finger. “Fuck both of you too.”

  Austin makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Get back to work,” he tells the men before zeroing in on me again. “I’m not carrying you.” With that, he walks back around the house.

  I drop down, pound the ground with my fists, and scream as loud as I can. Forget tears, I’m too damn angry to cry. I need a gun. Just one lousy gun and I’m out of here. With a last pound into the dirt, I stand and walk back to my last meal. I’m out of options.

  With my head down, I enter my prison. Austin is not in the kitchen, so I check his bedroom. I hear the water coming from the sink before I peek around the corner of the bathroom. His shirt is off and he’s using a washcloth to clean the wound at his shoulder.

  “You might as well help repair the damage,” he says lightly.

  I don’t get it. I figured the price for trying to escape would be death, not a fun conversation about the injuries I inflicted. He is by far the worst kidnapper in history. “I’m hoping you die of gangrene. You’ll need rabies shots for the bite too.”

  He cocks his eyebrows in the mirror. I walk to his side and take the offered washcloth. I’m a fucking freak I guess. Or it’s the fact he’s naked from the waist up and I like what I see. He’s not over the top muscle. He’s lean without an ounce of fat. I lift the washcloth to the knife wound. It’s merely a scratch. “I need to work on my knife wielding capabilities at the first opportunity,” I say breathlessly. He’s too close and too damn gorgeous.

  “I’ll agree, but take it from me your biting technique is perfect.”

  I glance down at his arm and see the indent of a perfect set of teeth. I only broke the skin at one side but the entire bite is red and angry. I ignore his statement and ask for a bandage. He points at a cabinet next to the sink. I open it and see a first aid kit, which I grab. I use a medium-sized Band-Aid and cover the half-inch scratch on his chest. Why the hell does he smell so good? Probably because he hasn’t been locked in a cellar, staring into the dark, sitting in his own stink.

  Now I’m pissed off again and I attack the bite with more gusto than needed.

  “Oww,” he complains like a baby.

  “Shh,” I snap back, but I do go a bit softer. I wet the washcloth again and add some soap. “I need to clean it good. Do you need something to bite down on?” I glance up when he doesn’t answer my snide comment.

  Our faces are inches apart and I see something in his eyes I didn’t suspect. Desire and not just the hard dick he gets from seeing me naked. After all this time, it took a lousy bite on his arm to turn him on. “Yes, there’s something I want to bite on, but you’ll be occupied cleaning the wound,” he says with wicked passion burning in his eyes.

  He’s made a sexual joke and heat floods my face. Why the hell is he doing this now? I tear my gaze from his and start scrubbing even harder. He doesn’t make a sound. A much larger bandage is needed this time and I apply it without looking anywhere but his arm.

  “I don’t understand you,” I finally say.

  He slowly lifts my chin, his touch sending unseen sparks of fire through me. “I was feeling bad about sending you back to your brother. Now I know you can take care of yourself.”

  He’s an idiot. “My brother will kill me just as easily as you subdued me. If it makes you feel better to think I’ll survive past the first hour I’m home, knock yourself out.” I jerk my head from his grasp and walk from the room.

  For the first time since coming here, I long for the cellar and darkness. Austin follows
me a minute later, grabs the platter of food, and heats it in the microwave. I sit, down my leftover wine, pour another glass, and down it too.

  Austin places the food in front of us and we’re back where we started. Thankfully his shirt is on now. He pours himself the last of the wine and lifts it to my glass. “To a great failed escape attempt,” he says with a smirk.

  Yeah, I clink his glass. It takes everything I have not to burst out laughing. “What are we actually celebrating?” I ask because I need it spelled out.

  “The finishing touches to your ink.”

  “I’m soooo excited,” I deadpan.

  “I know I am,” he answers in the same cheerful tone.

  “When?” I ask after placing my fork beside my plate. It’s too risky to keep it in my hand while we have a conversation.

  “If you’re done, now’s a good time.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Austin

  I’ve been waiting for her to try something since she arrived. If she’d done it sooner, there would have been consequences. Her timing and fighting me like a wildcat put me in a forgiving mood. The pending completion of her ink is another factor. I want her to feel the same exhilaration I do. That won’t happen if I punish her. But fuck, the thought of punishing her turns me on. I inhale deeply, willing my cock to calm the fuck down.

  There are two escorts I use regularly and I need to call one of them. I’ve held myself in check long enough. The combination of Melina’s escape attempt and the final session have my dick throbbing painfully against my jeans. I won’t make it another night without fucking a woman.