“Dorian, please, let the case go. Lily… I can’t risk losing you too.”
The ache resurfaced in his caramel eyes. Until I brought Lily home, he would feel her loss. All I could have compared that pain to was if I were to lose Belle. Until Cain came bombarding into my life, I hadn’t given a shit about anyone for a long time.
But what made him so different from the others? I feared that one question’s answer, as I feared my father’s wrath.
Chapter
Four
Cain
I relaxed my face against his bearded cheek. Fire danced behind the glass, enclosing my secondary source of warmth; he was my first. Dorian’s errant thoughts of me never ceased. His questions, his assumptions, all had merit. But my past didn’t matter; why open old wounds? I wouldn’t rest or allow myself to depart the world until fulfilling the dying wishes of my mother. Not that Dorian knew my plans. Even though Hallowed had spoken of change, I shrugged her words away, accepting my desire for death. Hell, I had prayed for it.
“Why are you so adamant about me not taking this case?” he asked over the crackling fire.
Embarrassment heated my cheeks, at least Dorian hadn’t said anything about the sex, or my continuous penchant for telling lies. My failure to perform embarrassed me enough without having the demon, or whatever Dorian was, rake a fine-toothed comb over the details of my life, least of all my past. Through the allure of seduction, it shadowed the harmless tales I’d told to protect my shattered heart and soul from further torment.
“I don’t want you hurt.” Truth. “What if you’re shot? I’d never forgive it.”
He scoffed.
Would he understand me? Few people met the real Cain, the one who’d survived for three hundred years as a Garland sex slave. No. Another lie. I’d been more than a slave, a teenaged boy so deeply in love with a monster that I hadn’t seen the truth until the beast had tossed me to the wolves. Nobody comes back from that and trusts, let alone loves another. Would Dorian be the one to change me? I stifled my laugh and swallowed it. To save me from myself? Doubtful; but if being with him helped to rescue my sisters, I would try anything. “I should go.”
“Just a little longer,” he murmured. Strong shoulders rounded beneath the fabric of his T-shirt. Dorian slid from my lap, hunched to the left, and laid his head against my shoulder.
My hand raised to his hair, stroking through the tresses. “Okay.”
My mouth dried, and the pounding of my heart increased. I found myself unable to say no. Flames danced with seduction as I quelled the thunderous beat, hoping to regain my senses. But my muscles refused every internal command to rise, to leave his presence. The power he held over me was god-like, and so were his Roman features, like a centurion out of the history books.
This wouldn’t end well. It never did. Every relationship I’d had since Boric had blown up in my face. What made Dorian any different from the pigs who’d used me and tossed me aside, or the cheaters? I shuddered.
“Babe?” He pulled back and lifted his head.
“I’m okay.” I offered no guarantees, except that my lover’s needs would be satisfied. Would that be enough for Dorian?
“You don’t sound okay.” Dorian’s vibrant-green eyes peered at me.
My hand smoothed up his back, over the ABDA emblem. I scooted closer, climbed into his lap, and angled my chin to rest in the cove of his hardened, fury chest. “It’s me, Dorian.” His thoughts fluttered, hovering on how I said his name with my southern drawl. But I scrunched my face and tried not to read the thoughts running a marathon through his head. “It’s who I am, now...”
“Babe, you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
No, I didn’t want to speak a word of my ordeals. Why did everyone think talking would change me? I sighed. Hellish nightmares and flashbacks sent others packing. My friends and distant relatives didn’t know the terrors I had survived, or relived in my mind.
His rough lips brushed against mine, sweet at first. Seven long months and countless lifetimes spent without Dorian; I curled my fists into his shirt at the mere thought of losing him again and drew him closer. My teeth nipped his mouth open, the coarseness of his face caressing my cheek. I loved his new beard. Loved what he did for a living, saving the wretched slaves, like a death-defying hero.
His hot, wet tongue swayed with mine, and my stomached tugged and swirled. Precious seconds ticked by in his presence, but it wasn’t love—a game for fools and stupid boys to pass the time until someone better came along.
No one better would ever cross my path; I pulled away and caught my breath. Ache speared my chest and throbbed at the thought of him. “Dorian, please you have let the case go. You, this…”
His tender hands cupped my face. “How many times do I have to say it? I’m not going anywhere, babe.”
How can he be so sure? No one was invincible. Dorian kissed me and I hummed, vibrating my affection.
“That tickles.”
My hands slid down his sides, each ridge of his abs like cotton-covered steel.
“Be right back.” Dorian unfolded from my lap and ducked into another room.
All good things in life ended, but I promised myself to enjoy whatever time God allowed me to have. But I would be a fool to think Dorian would ever fall in love with me. That what sparks ignited between us were more than lust. Shivers rolled over my skin as I sat by the fireplace and tucked my knees into my chest. I lied to him and held pieces of myself back; no doubt, the process would continue. Men saw it as mystery and intrigue. To me, it was shame over the life I’d led, my choices, which weren’t truly choices. My chin rested on my knees, eyes burning with unshed tears.
Why had I lied about Angelica? Right. Because eighteen years ago I’d watched as Boric slit her throat. Eighteen years ago, a cloaked man handed me a baby and swore the bundle was Angelica. I had promised Mother, as she lay on her deathbed, to save my sisters from Garland’s sweaty grasp. My savior tucked the baby away in Delphia, but he’d turned on us by selling her to another man. I didn’t know if the baby was my Angelica, but I had to save her. A tear slid free, and I sniffled; I had to free all the slaves.
Floorboards thudded and creaked; Dorian returned. He responded, “I thought about what you said.”
Would he want me if he learned the truth? My brow rose, and I tossed the throught aside. “And?”
Dorian knelt, balancing on the balls of his bare feet, and ran a hand through his dark tresses. “I’m the best, and you know it, babe.”
Pride led to arrogance and hubris, and I closed my eyes. The Dorian who ran away from the sight of me in the bar was gone. The man before me held no fear, and I wondered what that felt like. Most of the time my shadow sent me ducking beneath my covers.
Dorian tilted my chin, but I refused to move and buried my face against my thighs. Cool fingers stroked through my hair, and the tingle spread throughout my body. I wanted him. But Dorian needed to understand me.
“Cain?” The fire crackled. “Babe, c’mon. It’s my job. This is what I do best.” He nudged me. “Seriously. My team is the best at researching, locating, and extracting from brothels.”
Turning toward his voice, my eyes opened, and I gasped. Firelight engulfed his golden skin with an orange radiance. Combined with his jeweled-jade eyes, Dorian appeared almost angelic in a dark and dangerous way. Full lips curved into an equally daring smile that burned my skin. Blood bubbled and coursed, shooting its magic straight into my groin. The look on his face sped my pulse, and I struggled to breathe as we gazed into each other’s eyes.
Mother had said I would know. Angelica had said I would know. One glimpse, even though I had never put faith into love at first sight. I loved the idea of Dorian. The arrow he’d struck and lodged into my throat seven months ago, releasing its slow poison into my bloodstream and infiltrating my heart. It sounded corny and lame, even to me.
Like the last man I’d loved, Dorian would hurt me and toss me aside, leaving me to the others,
allowing the buzzards to pick at my shattered bones. No, I couldn’t go back there. So I concealed my reluctance beside my pain and shadowed them in lust.
Black hair framed his molded face, and deep dimples formed in his cheeks, as if carved by an artisan’s hand. Lust worked on Dorian. His stare alone, heavy lidded and purposeful, sparked hunger inside of me as his gaze brushed over me from head to toe, leaving a burning blush in its wake. His calloused fingertips tilted my chin again, and Dorian’s other palm unfolded my stiff body.
As he kissed me, my muscles responded to his gentle touch. I parted my mouth for him, letting him in the only way I knew how. The way my master had taught me. He wiggled against my tongue, exploring me. No trick, no magic, and no force was required. But my mind and heart still struggled between forced slave and lover.
Again, he slid into my lap, driving my legs to the floor. Pulling away, he blinked. Crimson dotted the apples of his scruffy cheeks. Dorian held beauty that only God could have created, and he thought he wanted me. My hand lingered on his thigh. Arguing appeared futile without revealing all my cards, and the more I pressed, the more questions Dorian asked, at least within his mind.
As he rested in my lap, I could not look away. Dorian’s hands clamped on my shoulders, and I swallowed hard, ignoring the ache his touch seared into my belly. Despite my age, the sensation was new; it wasn’t pure sexual lust as I’d originally thought. My palms roamed, rubbed, and explored his broad, muscled chest. His nipples stiffened, and he groaned, growling slightly as I pinched them.
He brushed against my ribcage and stroked the path of the serpent trailing down my torso. “Stay with me a while, babe. I’ll make dinner.”
Babe... I needed to get used to him calling me that, but I couldn’t deny liking it. The tattoo reminded me where I came from, but not who I was. Most of Lucifer’s relatives were worth more than his awful deeds painted them to be. Deeper, etched beneath my skin a longing blossomed and eased the darkness of my past. “I have to work in the morning.”
“Call out,” he said. His warm lips grazed my temple, and I twisted, leaning into his affection. Dorian clutched my hands and laced our fingers together. For a man against relationships, the signs he gave contradicted his warring thoughts. All of this was new to him, and the sweet sentiment touched my heart.
I hadn’t lied about enjoying his caress and our shared embraces. With a handful of boyfriends since my servitude to Boric and his cronies, I wasn’t equipped for the storm he weathered. The demons he kept hidden away rattled, and not even I could pull the secrets free from his head.
I closed my eyes for a moment. A moment was all it required. Raw ache built within, but my mind flashed away, and I forgot my surroundings. His house filtered out and my master’s home filtered into my mind, as if it were real. An inferno heated my skin and my heart crept up my throat. Cinderblock walls and dark steel bars surrounded me. They’d broken me there. Chains hung on wall and their shackles mocked me. The scent of their bodily fluids infiltrated my nose and I gagged, but I didn’t cry. Crying had only made it worse. By the grace of my brother-in-law, he had saved me from their clutches, but not before Boric’s inflicted damage had rooted into my soul so deeply it had scarred my bones.
My hands still on Dorian’s chest froze, wanting to shove the image away.
It’s not Boric kissing you. Like a Virginia reel dance from my youth, the world do-si-doed, and once again, my senses and mind swam in Dorian’s presence. His earthy scent replaced the filth. His gentle, caring warmth interchanged with the inferno of Hell. Wallpaper swapped places with the bricks, chains, and shackles.
No longer pushing him away, I tugged him toward me, curling my fingers into his T-shirt. My lips opened and parted as Dorian’s tongue massaged against mine. Dorian twisted his fingers into my hair, holding me tighter.
After what they had done to me, intimacy became damned near impossible. Still I had tried. Flashes and nightmares of those days returned, while the ones I’d wanted to love ran away before allowing me to explain. Ned had sprinted to Dorian; or rather, he had shoved Dorian’s cock down his throat. Envy had hazed over my eyes; I’d craved the earth-shattering connection and release, but observed as twisted relief spread over Dorian’s face instead. Something within me snapped that day, but he never fought back. Anger had overtaken me, and the result had been less than appealing. Misdirected rage at the problem inside of me. Boric and the masters had created the man I had become, yet somehow, after meeting Dorian during that fateful situation, I hadn’t known my life would never be the same again.
My hips rocked against his strained cock. We moaned in unison as I imagined myself sliding inside of him, his insides enveloping my cock and milking me. My hands gripped his ass and ground him against me, hard and fast. A rumble resonated from his chest; his thoughts undressed me as Dorian’s mouth sucked my bottom lip. My pulse quaked and my body shuddered beneath the angelic man swallowing the moans releasing from me. Liquid seeped, jetting from my imprisoned cock. Desire remounted and tingled in my balls, but the control wasn’t mine.
I had prided myself in complete power since those days. At least I told myself as much, but they were lies. Somehow, I tore myself away. My chest heaved, breath stolen.
Dorian pecked my cheek and peeled himself from my arms before sauntering into the kitchen. I stared back into the flames, catching myself in its afterglow, my body settling, and glanced at my still hard, denim-covered cock. Heat flooded my face. Sure enough, my seed had soaked through the fabric. My palm ran over my mouth, and I covered the evidence with my other hand, searching for a pillow to hide the accident.
No one wanted a man who shot early, or not at all.
A sigh tickled my throat, but I swallowed the emotion, along with extinguishing my burning eyes. Before today, I hadn’t allowed anyone to touch me either, not there, not in my lap, and certainly not eating my ass in an alleyway. Dorian seemed to tear through my defenses as long as I gave up my control to him. My head shook, and I masked a chuckle, capturing the noise in my hand.
The dancing flames swayed and flickered in the hearth, fire died as well as passions. Boric taught me as much. Would Dorian teach me the same lessons? What would remain when the fervor between us cooled? Too many secrets compounded any hope for Dorian and me. No relationship lasted forever.
I didn’t know what type of demon he was, aside from powerful. Cousin Tomas guarded his friends, and I held no doubts he knew the enigma of Dorian; after all, he had sent me to Cousin Belletrist.
Pots and pans clattered from the kitchen and footsteps followed. His beautiful ass bobbed before me. Dorian knelt; the fabric of his jeans drooped and revealed the tops of his rounded mounds. My cock ached, and I squeezed the hard-on hidden by my hand. Dorian shifted the fire and brought the coals to one side, where he placed the pot.
“All I have is canned soup or vintage MRE’s.” He opened the can and dumped the contents into the container.
A man that cooked; my lips perked at the thought, but I kept my stare glued to his curved behind. “Soup sounds good.”
“Trust me when I say this tastes better.”
I shrugged. When the Sundering hit, many had lost everything. Those not prepared starved within the first few months. Canada—Arcadia—survived the apocalypse and adapted, but the damage to the remaining world had been drastically different. In the blink of an eye, time seemed to reverse itself as the oil, gas, and fuel sank, or burned. The demons realized they must sink or swim. Arcadia swam in its wealth and bounty of food and technology. Garland dabbled in slaves and debauchery, while Delphia played the fence and wore a façade of neutrality and balance.
Dorian eased beside me on the floor. The soup was warming over the coals. How could he have no notion of starting a fire, yet he cooked fine over one? Did it matter? Dorian placed his hand over mine and pressed against my cock. I bit my lip and leaned my head back, arching my spine against the sofa.
“You should let me take care of you,” he said, and his
tender tone left me speechless.
I blinked at his grinning face and shook my head. How do I make it clear? Only his pleasure matters.
Dorian added, “It’s an open offer, babe. Anything, you name it, and I’ll take care of you.”
I didn’t think he meant sex. Dorian shifted toward the fire and swirled the pot. Chicken soup wafted through the cozy space, causing my mouth to water. His words rattled in my head, and I sought a reason. Why did Dorian care about me at all? I stared at the crown molding. Maybe he didn’t give a shit about me, but only thought he did. His mind didn’t help matters and confused me, prattling about his past. Why would anyone try to kill him? Or maybe he is just as broken as I am, and he is trying to figure us out.
Dorian crawled forward, ladled the heated soup into two bowls, turned around, and handed one to me. “Sorry, no spoons.”
Again, I shrugged, lifting the bowl to my lips, and sipped the hot, salty broth. “Thanks.” If I closed my eyes, I could have pictured my family long before the slavery. Angelica and Lily dressed in pastels, twirling their lace-covered umbrellas, Mama in her Sunday finest, sitting on the front porch sipping her limeade with Papa beside her. I would’ve leaned against a pecan tree, watching the men laying the railroad ties, in secret. How different my life would have been if my father hadn’t gambled away everything, including his children and wife. I would have fought in the Civil War; I’d already enlisted. But Papa had said he would rather have lived penniless and alone, and he’d promised us the Garland family cared after their property. True, they’d treated Angelica well enough, and they would take care of us too. Papa had lied on both accounts.
Dorian asked, “You okay, babe?”
I nodded, and I fought to keep the nightmares at bay. Blood rushed from my face, and my insides twisted. Faster and harder, the images pounded and flashed in my mind, reminding me of trust’s capabilities, reminding me of what and how I had survived over three hundred years of service. It didn’t matter that, for the first one hundred years, I was Boric’s lover, his pet. Papa had forced me into it.
Altered: A Beyond the Brothel Walls Novel Page 6