Marked. Part II: Becoming Noah Baxter

by J. M. Sevilla

  His lips are lightly touching the top of my spine, each puff of air he lets out adding to the thrill and heat of the moment. His hands dig further into my hips, forcefully bringing them back into him.

  Every nerve in my body comes alive, all ready to explode, my release shuddering my entire body.

  “Oh, fuck. Lily, yes,” he bites into my shoulder, holding in his urge to loudly vocalize what I'm doing to him as I come, clenching tightly around him as I do. “Keep coming, baby. That feels so fucking good.” One hand moves between my legs, coercing it into another one, “Milk my cock, let him know who owns it.”

  Those few simple words are all I need, sending me spiraling into another orgasm that rips through my body. When Jay places a hand over my mouth to silence the scream I come harder, not understanding how such a simple act could be so thrilling.

  Jay erupts from my submission, giving me one last hard plunge that smacks us against the car, assuring that every drop he has is buried deep, unable to escape.

  “I love you,” he softly confides, falling over me, trying to dig himself further in, lost in the moment where we have escaped into our own secluded bubble. “I love you so fucking much.”

  Tears well at my eyes but Jay doesn't allow me time to succumb to them. He flips me around, forcing my bottom to lay on the hood. He squats down, his massive hands overtaking the insides of my thighs, massaging their way up, his mouth and tongue devouring me, eagerly catching any drop that escapes.

  Jay growls, his front teeth nipping, making me buck against his mouth, pushing his head in more with my hands. He has me relinquishing one more time, vowing my love for him through it all.

  When he's satisfied not a drop is left, he closes my legs and pulls me up by the bend of my back with his forearms.

  Instead of wrapping my arms around his neck like he's anticipating, I slide down to his still opened pants and take him into my mouth, wanting to taste us together and clean him as he did me.

  Jay lets out a whimper, knotting his fingers with my hair, trying not to force my face into him, not realizing that I never want him to hold back on me. I crave the moment he unleashes himself and lets himself feel, no matter what the emotion or desire is.

  I pull him in deeper to find out what kind of reaction I can get out of him, hoping to unlock what ever he keeps trying to hold back from me.

  The more he grows in my mouth the firmer he takes hold of my hair, resisting the urge to force himself further back.

  I vibrate my throat, encouraging him. He loses control, pushing my face to meet his flesh, taking himself to the back of my throat, thrusting in and out with his hips, head thrown back in ecstasy. The cry he tries to stifle as he spurts into my mouth is the most erotic, sensuous noise I've ever heard.

  He pulls me up, trying to wrap himself around me, pushing back my matted hair to bury his face in my neck, “Please tell me you believe that I'll never give up on us. I swear it. I'm forever yours, Lily.”

  “I believe you, Jay.” And I do, more than I've ever believed in anything.

  Chapter 22

  3:33pm

  Jay gives me a swift kiss before the elevator door starts to close to take him to Vault's level. He wants to make sure everything has been taken care of, insuring my safety.

  I slap my hand over the door to prevent it from sliding closed, “Hey now, I want a real kiss.”

  Jay shakes his head, “Can't Lily, 'cause then I'm going to want to do other stuff.”

  I pout, “But I like the other stuff.”

  He gives me a wink while removing my hand, “Me too, and there lies the problem.”

  The door slides shut and I walk back to his place in a dreamlike daze. There is not a part of me that is not insanely in love with that man.

  I scan myself in and continue my happy walk to my pillow to pull out my nightshirt.

  Asswipe actually did me a favor. Jay won't be sending me home until tomorrow, needing to confirm that nobody will follow me or know that I exist.

  As I'm about to lift up my dress a cold chill creeps down my spine and along my skin. I have this strange overpowering sense that I'm not alone, that there is someone else in the apartment.

  I clutch Jay's shirt tighter to my chest as my body stiffens with every passing microsecond, afraid to turn around. The evil that seems to be lurking all around me is getting closer, my nerves tingling in a way that tells me I have become prey and my hunter is circling in on me.

  I squeeze my lids shut and try to listen for other sounds: a footstep, breathing, but I don't hear anything. Goosebumps are covering my exposed skin. I'm frozen in my spot, afraid to move in case I'm right.

  I can do this. I just have to turn around. I'll find the place empty and feel silly for acting so ridiculous. A black form catches my peripheral mid-turn.

  Oh shit.

  I'm terrified right now, I mean really terrified. I've somehow become that girl in horror movies that you are yelling at to turn around, the killer's right behind her while she's naked in her room getting in her hot nightie.

  That's me right now.

  Except for the naked and hot nightie parts.

  I force myself to turn the rest of the way around at the same time a figure takes a step forward. A scream catches in my throat, my fear turning to horror at the cherry red lips that catch my sight first. I swallow another blood curdling scream that is clawing and digging it's way up, hanging on to my uvula like it's a tire swing.

  My eyes travel up the pale skin, past a crooked nose that appears to have been broken once or twice, and meet black spectacles embedded into two eye sockets.

  My body has the good sense to stumble back and scramble over the bed, but now I'm flat against the wall with nowhere to go.

  “Hello, Miss Evans.” His voice is deeper than I expected on his long, thin, lanky body. It even has somewhat of a rasp to it, like someone punched his windpipes one too many times. “I've been watching you,” his voice doesn't quite have his sister's drawl. It's there, but faint.

  Why am I focusing on all this?

  I think it's because I'm trying not to freak out. I'm trying to distract myself from the fact that The Marker himself is standing only feet away from me.

  He steps closer, his legs knocking into the bed.

  I press further against the wall, not having a clue where to go or what to do.

  I'm still clutching the shirt, wanting to put it on for comfort but unable to do so.

  His head tilts slightly to the side, a villainous curve appearing on his lips. He knows he's in complete control over me and this situation; he's feeding off of it.

  Jay is now the center of my thoughts. He doesn't even know he's here; that Kolme Dragoni is here, and he's here with me.

  Is this it? Was that tiny peck we shared our last kiss? The last time we would see each other?

  No. It can't be. This can't be how it ends.

  I try and remember where a gun is as I distractedly watch The Marker wandering around the bed, inspecting the long dresser, running his index finger along the edges, pausing to touch different objects.

  A gun is on my nightstand, only a few feet away. It's just sitting there, antagonizing me, daring me.

  Am I fast enough to grab it and shoot? Do I really have a choice?

  No, unfortunately I don't.

  I leap for it at the same time The Marker flies towards me. His bony fingers latch around my ankles, bringing me down, but not before I successfully seize the gun. I twist my body enough to aim it right between his brows and pull the trigger.

  It only clicks. I try again, a whimper scraping my throat when it fails.

  “Did you really think I hadn't inspected this place while you were gone?” I'm on my back, legs bent, his bony, disfigured fingers firmly wrapped around my calves. It's enough contact to make me feel like I'm being buried alive, that insects, spiders, and other creepy crawlers are welcoming me into the dirt. “Did you think I wouldn't be watching...learning...waiting?”

  “How l
ong have you been here?” The words are barely forming out of my mouth.

  His mischievous expression lets me know he'll never tell. This gives me an all new set of creeps scurrying all over my skin at the idea of him watching us this whole time, fluttering around the building.

  He raises his left hand, the one with three gold claws at the end, and places it around my neck, taking away air but allowing me enough to still breathe, “Let's go find Mister Lincoln. I want him to see my first kill.”

  This really can't be it; this can't be how it ends.

  “He won't care,” I try, knowing it won't work but desperate to try something. “I'm another Arianna to him, it's just fucking and good times.” I'm not sure if he even knows who Arianna is, but I figure he probably knows everything about Jay.

  He gives me another all-knowing smile that calls bullshit on my failed attempt to be let go. Something tells me he knows exactly what I mean to Jay.

  “Please don't do this,” I desperately plea. “Please just let us be. Let Jay live. Why can't you just let him have a chance at a life?” Tears have now formed, but I don't allow them to take over.

  “I can't do that, Miss Evans. I like the game too much,” his hand tightens around my neck.

  I drop the gun to try and pry his fingers away, needing more oxygen. He pulls me up by the neck while I get red-faced and am hysterically kicking, trying to remove his hold. Once I'm at a standing position, he loosens his hold and I cough in the air my lungs are begging me for.

  He whips his body around me so my back's against his front, his clawed hand still wrapped around my throat, “Let's go.”

  I plant my feet to the floor, trying to prolong the inevitable for as long as I can. The Marker tips the ends of the claws, pricking my skin, his lips resting on my ear, “Play along, Miss Evans.”

  Play along to the arrival of my death and the man that I love?

  I don't think so.

  “I'm not really giving you much of a choice,” his accent thicker than before as he responds to words I meant to keep to myself.

  I continue trying to prolong the inevitable, still hoping the most brilliant idea ever will pop into my head.

  “I was planning on making this as painless as possible for you, but don't tempt me to draw it out and make you beg for death.”

  Well okay. I quickly follow in step.

  I let my legs move along with his while my brain searches far and wide for an idea, any idea at all, even a crappy one. Anything is better than being led to my death and Jay's.

  We're halfway to the door when it flings open and Jay carelessly strides in, unaware.

  “Changed my mind!” He declares with a big, happy smirk on his face. He freezes, along with his smile, horror evident in his eyes as they take us in. It distorts his mouth into a misshapen grimace.

  A “no” expels from his lips as a puff of air that disappears as soon as it's made.

  His eyes travel to the three gold claws that are slightly indented into my throat, causing blood to pool to the surface.

  His eyes lock on mine and his pain becomes palpable as it permeates the air, changing the atmosphere so that there's not a sense left that does not feel his agony, his pain, his undeniable suffering.

  “So sweet, like a lily,” the mad man who has me drawls out, his lips brushing my hair while his noses pushes into the strands, deeply inhaling through them. “Did I ever tell you how that's my favorite flower?”

  I try holding back a shudder, but his hot breaths are pouring down me like tar, it's blackness suffocating my pores, filling them with fear.

  I pray my face doesn't resemble how I'm feeling; it would only destroy Jay more. What makes it worse is this evil man's purposely toying with him, provoking his anger and hatred knowing he can't make a move or my life will be over.

  The Marker's head dips down to lick a fresh drop of blood. His claws start to dig deeper as he hums his satisfaction from the taste of my blood. Or maybe it's from causing more to pour out, I'm not really sure which. It's most likely both.

  “Mm,” he has the nerve to moan out loud, lifting his head, my blood coated on his lips. He licks them slowly and hums some more. “Beautiful. I see why you have such a fondness for her.”

  Nothing these gold claws could do to me would ever compare to how I feel watching Jay dying inside, helpless with what to do.

  “You're next,” the mad man's excited voice breathes out in pure satisfaction as his claws begin dragging deeper and further across my flesh.

  I mouth to the man across the room that I love him before squeezing my eyes shut from the pain and wanting to remember Jay happy and not the look on his present face right before I cease to exist.

  Jay

  Chapter 23

  3:49pm

  I know what I have to do. I can't physically beat him, I've tried that already.

  I take one last look at Lily, at the face that owns my soul, at the woman I will forever love. She is the only thing that matters to me. If she dies, I might as well too. That is what determines my decision. This is the moment it becomes clear what I have to do, a plan that if I can pull it off will finally end all this.

  I pull out my nine and bring it to my temple, “So this is how it ends.”

  The Marker remains still, his claws coming to a halt before they have caused further damage, trying to gauge if I'm bluffing.

  I stand strong and sure. It's fucked up, but I would do it. I just hope he sees that and doesn't want it to end this way.

  “So I guess it is,” his claws threaten to dig deeper.

  I ignore Lily, not able to look at her right now, needing to remain focused.

  I pull the radio out of my pocket and bring it to my lips, “I can either get Vault's men down here right now, or I can tell them to get the hell out of here so you and I can end this the proper way.”

  His claws lighten up and I try to not let my relief show. I only want the monster inside me to be seen right now, the side of me that The Marker feeds off of and craves.

  “As long as I let the girl go, I presume?”

  I don't answer; he doesn't need one.

  “Hm, this certainly adds a new element to things,” he licks another drop of Lily's blood as it continues to trickle down. I've never wanted him dead more than I do right now. “I was rather looking forward to slicing her. The pretty ones are always the funnest to watch. Like your mother; she was one of my favorites. So beautiful.”

  He's provoking me, but I won't let myself be fazed by his words. I can't let anger take away my focus. Not this time.

  “Finding two more after her won't be a problem,” he continues.

  “No, it won't.” My lack of emotion feels like reconnecting with an old familiar friend, the cold bleakness of it inviting. I've missed it in ways I can never fully explain. The machine I've trained myself to be is so uncomplicated and simple, only needing one thing out of life.

  “I could kill you and come back for her,” he's stalling. I think he's trying to figure out my angle, what plan I have in store for him.

  “Then I better make sure you die.”

  A slow, gnarled smirk takes form on his face, deformed and satanic.

  “It would be a shame to have your life end so easily, and by your own trigger. I've been looking forward to this day for a long time. I fear after you I won't meet another who gives me the same pleasurable encounters.” He stops to play with her hair, sniffing it, contemplating in that warped brain of his. “I knew you'd make me suffer. I knew you'd put everything you had into killing me, and that I would get to do the same to you. Only worse, of course.”

  “Of course,” my vengeful foreboding agrees, “nobody wants to see you suffer a slow, agonizing death the way I do.”

  I don't like the aura emanating from him. It makes me aware that I'm not facing a human with a soul, just a man with his own demented desires far darker than I could imagine.

  He lets out a sigh while he combs her hair, “Very true. I will come back for her, jus
t so you know. She might not die today, but she will die. I'm going to enjoy this one.”

  “You're just as dramatic as your fucked up sister. I loved getting to put a bullet through her fucking head, the crazy bitch,” I say with almost enjoyment to it, because truthfully I did.

  This snaps his head up from savoring the woman trapped under his claws. I finally sense an emotion from him, one I'd know anywhere: revenge.

  If you don't think that can be an emotion then good for you; it means your life isn't a complete fucking mess.

  “Where's my dagger?” He snarls with rage, knowing I'd killed her, but hearing it from my lips finally ruptured him.

  “Vault's office,” I disclose.

  “If you're lying, I'll make her death slow and painful.”

  I press a button on the radio, “Mark's on level seven-twelve. Headed to level seven-thirteen. Clear everyone out. I expect to find the dagger there and no one else, including Vault. Nobody is to be on that level. Over.”

  The Marker doesn't protest.

  Charlie comes on, “Copy.”

  “Nobody is to remain on that level,” I repeat, needing to make sure he understands the importance of this. I need Vault off that floor if I'm going to pull this off.

  “Copy,” he growls through his teeth, letting me know he doesn't appreciate me not trusting he'll follow orders.

  I know he will. Even if he has to drag Vault away, he'll listen.

  The Marker nods to my gun, “Slide it towards me and anything else you might have.”

  I comply.

  “Your turn,” I say once I've slid over my last weapon.

  He drops the girl to the ground and nothing else, daring me to object, but I don't. My focus is now on my current plan.

  I open the door and give him a look to let him know I'm ready to play.

  When he reaches the door a shot rings out, grazing his ear, nicking the top off.

  I hear it whiz by mine.