by K. Webster
“Do you feel better?” I question with a hoarse voice.
Her eyes meet mine for a brief second before she drops them to the floor. Taking her cue, I walk over to the window to stare out while she dresses.
“You brought my favorite hoodie,” she murmurs softly, ignoring my question. “Thank you.”
She shuffles around behind me dressing, and it takes everything in me not to turn around and watch her. But she’s been through too much. I won’t victimize her too.
“If I remember correctly, it’s my hoodie,” I tease, a smile hinting at my lips. “You stole it.”
A small chuckle escapes her and it’s bliss—fucking bliss to hear it again. Her perfect, throaty laugh. “It looks better on me anyway.”
I can’t help but peek over my shoulder at her. She’s already slid on her yoga pants over her panties and is tugging the hoodie over her head. Her small breasts—bare because I didn’t think to grab any bras—jiggle as she pulls it on. Before her head pokes through, I turn away and adjust my erection. “That it does, babe.”
The bed squeaks behind me as she sits. I turn to see her slipping on her socks and tennis shoes. It bothers me that she’s sitting on that bed—a bed they shared last night—but I refrain from saying so. Instead, I stride over to her and sit beside her. My arm snakes around her waist and I hug her to me. She winces and freezes in my arms which only serves to anger me. It makes me want to jerk away from her and go back to the kitchen so I can beat the fuck out of Gabe.
“I’m going to take care of you,” I vow. “I swear to it.”
She lifts her chin and turns to look at me. “How’s Mom? And where’s Dad? Why weren’t they looking for me?”
I can’t help but sigh at her words. I knew this conversation was inevitable. I’d hoped for more time to hold her. To kiss her. To hug her. To love her. More time before having to crush her. To break what’s left of her spirit.
“Babe, maybe now’s not the time—”
“Don’t.”
I frown and scrub my palm over my face. My tongue is thick and sticky in my mouth, unable to find the right words.
“Tell me,” she urges, the plea in her voice desperate. “Please, Brandon.”
“Baylee…”
Our eyes meet, my lips just inches from her quivering bottom one. A single tear rolls down her cheek and drips from her jaw. “N-N-No.”
“She passed away,” I choke out, emotion threatening to suffocate me. “I’m so sorry.”
“God, no.” Another tear chases the last one and her nose darkens to a deep shade of red. “My poor dad.” She stifles a sob but the tears run down her cheeks as she silently cries.
Rage bubbles in my chest, eradicating the sadness I felt for her and her mother, at the mention of Tony.
“When?”
I slide a hand along her cheek and swipe away some of the wetness with my thumb. “A few days after you were taken.”
Her eyes dilate and her sadness quickly morphs into anger. “A few days? You mean, t—this was all for nothing!” Her statement is shrill and she stands abruptly. Matching her stance, I rise to my feet and grab onto her shoulders.
“That bastard didn’t even tell me!” she shrieks and attempts to jerk out of my grasp but my grip is too strong. “And my dad! He never mentioned it once while I emailed with him, Brandon! Not once! Where the hell is he? Why wasn’t he looking for me?”
A wash of dread trickles through me and I make a decision. She’s had enough for one day. I won’t be the bearer of any more bad news.
“I don’t know where he is. But when I went by your house to get your clothes, a neighbor said he’d gone to San Francisco.” The words easily roll off my tongue. “Maybe he was sparing your feelings. Maybe he wanted to tell you in person. And maybe he really is looking for you there.”
Her entire body wracks with sobs and I hug her to me. Me, comforting her, it feels like where I belong. I’ve held her crying body on numerous occasions as she struggled with coming to terms with her mother’s illness.
“San Francisco? What the hell’s in San Francisco? Something’s not right, Brandon. Do you think Gabe hurt him?”
I freeze. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He hurt you.”
She nods and tilts her tearstained face to regard me. “I’ve lost everyone.”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “You haven’t lost me. I’m still here.”
As if my words enrage her, she jerks away from me. Guilt flashes over her features, leaving me puzzled for a moment. Then, she storms from the room on a mission. I chase after her to find her standing in front of Gabe with her hands on her hips, staring at him.
“Wake up!” she snaps and grabs a handful of his hair, pulling his head back.
Gabe doesn’t even flinch. He’s breathing but he’s out cold.
“We can interrogate him later. You should eat something and rest a little.”
She jerks her gaze to mine, disgust written all over her face. “We’re not staying here long. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll get him to tell me where my dad’s at, and then we’ll go find him.”
I cringe, knowing this conversation with Gabe won’t end well. “Fine,” I say, placating her, “but you will eat. You’re pale as hell.”
She relaxes a bit as I walk over to the refrigerator. I open the freezer, hoping to find something easy to make her. Instead, I only find foil-wrapped vegetables.
“What a fucking weirdo,” I murmur in disgust as I widen the freezer to show her.
Her face blazes crimson as she charges for me. I gape at her as she starts grabbing them from inside and begins chunking them at Gabe. They may as well be rocks because each one that manages to hit him makes a thud. I stand there in stunned silence as she throws every last one of them at him.
My Baylee. My sweet, sweet girl. She’s lost.
All that’s left is this angry, distraught little animal. I’m afraid she’ll never be the girl I once knew and loved.
Doesn’t mean I could ever stop loving her. If anything, I love her even more. We’ve both changed. Not just her. She and I are different. We’ve seen things—done things that have altered who we are and forced us to grow wise beyond our years.
When she has nothing left to throw at him, she slaps his unconscious face over and over again. I let her release some of her inner rage and emotion before scooping her into my arms. Her hand clutches onto my neck as I stride with her into the living room. I sit down and bring her with me into my lap.
She smells clean and her skin is soft. My arms grip her tight against me as she curses God, sobs, and screams. We stay like that until she’s nothing but a quivering, sniffling, hiccuping shell of herself.
“Rest now, Baylee,” I murmur against her damp hair. “You’re safe now.”
“WHEN WE MAKE love, I forget to count your breaths,” War murmurs in the dark, his fingertip tickling over my ribcage as he drags it up and down along my skin. “But they’re quicker and more frequent. I like the way they sound, sharp intakes followed by whimpering exhales. And the ragged, uneven way about them is perfection.”
I smile and snuggle against his warm body. “Maybe we should do it again. You know,” I tease as I kiss his neck, “so you can count them.”
A deep, rumbling chuckle reverberates from him, and I fall deeper for him. His laughter has the ability to work itself under my skin and imbed warmth there for eternity. With each laugh or smile, he fills me. I’m whole with this complicated, beautiful man.
“Bay, I’ll make love to you any day,” he says with a growl, “but I can assure you I’ll always forget to count.”
He rolls on top of me and nudges my thighs apart with his knee. When he rests his hardened cock against my belly, I let out a gasp.
“When we fuck,” he murmurs, making sure to enunciate the word as he thrusts against my body, “I only think about you. The black abyss inside my head is obliterated by your light. I’m too absorbed in your tight body and swollen lips. You chase away my demons.
I’m nothing more than your servant—put on this earth to worship you until the end of time.”
His words cause a heat to burn through me, all the way from my heart to my core. I squirm against him and thread my fingers into his dark hair. “Fuck me then, servant,” I taunt, pulling his head down to mine.
He must be turned on by my dirty talking because he lets out an animalistic grunt and forcefully enters me. My body is wet and ready, as it always is with him, and I moan against his lips.
“One,” he mutters aloud as he bucks against me. The delicious tightening in my lower body intensifies with each powerful thrust into me. He’s counting my breaths and I’m counting stars.
“Two.”
All of them.
“Three.”
Glittering behind my closed eyelids as I greedily grab for the orgasm his body will no doubt give me. His lips steal over mine and he kisses me hard enough to steal the breath right from my lungs.
I love all the parts of War.
But when he makes love to me, he owns not only my body but my mind as well. We become one and I relish in the way we connect in blissful harmony. His hand slides to my breast and he squeezes reverently. Our lips don’t disconnect as he fucks me right over the edge.
“Oh, God!”
My words seem to have a ripple effect because his cock feels as if it grows inside me before he bursts his release into me, marking me as his.
And it’s true.
I’ll never belong to another.
War owns me and I own him.
Together we are peace.
“My sweet Baylee,” he croons, his lips now peppering kisses all over my face. “You’re so goddamned perfect.”
I smile and tenderly stroke his cheek with my thumb. “And so are you.”
His body crushes me and I revel in the way he consumes me. Despite his afflictions, he’s strong and powerful in his own unique way. Warren McPherson is a force to be reckoned with. He’s a dark storm, raging from his inner demons. I have an appetite for his destruction. My soul craves to be completely overtaken by him.
Lucky for me, though, War would never hurt me. He may be chaos, brewing and festering on the inside, but with me, he handles me with surety and gentleness. My War protects what belongs to him as if it is precious.
I am precious to him.
“How many breaths?” I question as he pulls out of my body, his hot cum running from me and warming a trail between my butt cheeks as it leaves.
He grunts as he climbs off the bed in search of a towel. “I was at three breaths before time stopped.”
The bathroom light flicks on and soon I can hear the water running in the shower. He returns with the towel, the light silhouetting his muscular frame. His hands make quick efficient work with the towel as he cleans me before guiding me out of the bed.
“Time stopped for you too?”
He stops before opening the shower curtain and regards me with a crooked smile. Dear God, this man has the most handsome face. The silver scar along one side from his accident only serves to intensify his rugged appearance.
“Time stopped for me the moment you sat down inside my car that night. With you, I could finally take a break from the maddening chaos ticking by, second by second. With you, I could breathe. With you, I could be happy.”
I stand on my toes and press a kiss to his cheek. “Our own little world.”
“Don’t ever leave our world, Bay. Stay with me forever.”
Tears well in my eyes, but for once, they aren’t from worrying over my parents or Gabe or anything else for that matter. They’re happy tears. “I wouldn’t ever dream of leaving.”
He drags me into the shower and I let out a moan as the scalding spray washes away the evidence of our lovemaking.
“Baylee…”
The voice is wrong.
It doesn’t belong to my War.
I look around but he’s no longer in the shower with me, the steam from the water growing thicker and thicker, obstructing my view.
Our world has dissipated and darkness cloaks around me, blinding me.
“War…” I call out with a sob. “War!”
“Baylee!”
I blink open my eyes and stare into two dark green orbs. They’re not my War’s icy navy blue ones. The warmth that had only moments ago surrounded me is replaced by a chill I can feel all the way to my bones.
The voice again. Raspy and ragged. Choked and angry. And still not belonging to the man from my dreams or the person I’m wrapped around.
“Brandon?”
I close my eyes to rid myself of the confusing dream and reopen them, hoping it will be War instead. But, my gaze fixates on Brandon’s intense glare.
“Who is War?”
The blood turns to ice in my veins and I shiver. Brandon hugs me tighter to him. We’re sprawled out on the couch with my back to the cushions and him facing me as we lay on our sides. One of his big hands is resting on my ribcage, his thumb running back and forth along the underside of my swollen breast. His knee is between my thighs, resting against my pussy. The hardness of his erection presses against me alerting me to the fact he’s enjoying our contact.
It all feels like a betrayal to War.
“Brandon,” I murmur, dragging my gaze away from his, “he was…”
His knee moves and I let out a whimper. My dream was so vivid and my nerve endings are still alive. The simple touch of his nudge sends my heart racing.
“He must’ve been something to you, babe,” he says in a hushed tone, a hint of revulsion in his voice. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have been riding my leg and moaning his name.”
To reiterate his point, he drags his thumb over my nipple and I gasp, my hips involuntarily bucking against him.
“Brandon, stop,” I whimper.
He groans but his hand leaves my breast and underneath my shirt to rest on my hip. “I thought you were dreaming about me.” His voice is husky and I can sense the feeling of betrayal in it.
“I…” I trail off, not sure of how to explain this to him. “He…”
“Did you fuck him?”
I flinch at the harsh way he spits out the crude words.
“It wasn’t like that. I loved him,” I choke out with a sob.
“Like you loved me?”
A tear rolls down my temple and our eyes meet again. “I loved him differently.”
He swallows and breaks our stare. His face is a storm of emotions. Eyebrows pinching together in anger, followed by sorrow as if he might cry. Nose flaring with each upset breath. Lips pressed into a line to keep from spewing words of hate at me.
“I searched for you.” His voice is a mere whisper. “This whole time, I searched for you when nobody else would.” When his watery green eyes meet mine, I ache to soothe the boy I once loved. Our love was simple and easy. Our love was nothing like the otherworldly, all-consuming love I had with War.
Had.
Because he’s dead now.
“And you found me,” I tell him, the emotion in my throat making it ache.
His palm finds my cheek and he strokes it with the pad of his thumb. “Will you love me like you loved him?”
Before I can answer him, the voice—the one that stole me from my sweet dream and turned it to a nightmare—beckons me.
“B-Baylee.”
My heart thumps in my chest. Brandon scrambles off the couch and is already stalking into the kitchen before I even roll myself off.
“This is all your fault, you bastard!”
I round the corner in time to see Brandon backhand Gabe across the cheek. Gabe makes a grunting sound from the force of Brandon’s hit. When he rears back to hit him again, I push him away.
“Stop it! I need answers and if you knock him out, I won’t get those answers,” I shout and give him another shove.
He grumbles under his breath but doesn’t go at Gabe again. Gabe, who doesn’t look much like himself because of his swollen face, bloody nose, and bright red cheek, lifts
his head to look at me. His dark eyes lock with mine.
I expect to see anger or fury.
What I don’t expect is to see a flicker of regret.
“Why didn’t you tell me she died?!” My voice is shrill and I hug my arms to my chest to keep from hitting him myself. “I was here, getting violated by you, all the while unknowing of the fact that my mother had died.”
Brandon growls behind me, but I ignore him and keep Gabe in the sights of my rage.
“I didn’t know she died, sweet girl. It wasn’t until after I sold you that I learned the truth,” he says, voice dropping low as his gaze flits over to Brandon briefly. “When I came back, I’d learned she’d passed. I was planning on telling you today but you ran away…”
I search his eyes for deception but find none. If anything, I sense what appears to be despondency. An emotion I didn’t think Gabe was capable of. He’s sad she’s gone. Before he’d gone psycho by abducting me, he’d been close to my parents.
“Why wasn’t my dad looking for me?” I blurt out, the thought of my father causing my heart to ache. “War and I searched for anything related to my kidnapping and there was nothing. Is my daddy hurt? Did you hurt him?” Tears well in my eyes and I shudder. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to hear the answer.
Gabe turns his head to glare at Brandon and spits out his words. “Why don’t you ask Brandon that question?”
I jerk my head to see Brandon’s chest heaving with rage. Before I can stop him, he darts forward and slams his knuckles across Gabe’s temple, rendering him unconscious.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I screech and throw my hands up in the air.
He lets out a fierce growl that chills me. “He was getting loose,” he says, motioning to the rope holding Gabe to the chair. “He’d managed to loosen the rope around his wrist. I’ll string him up tighter. Why don’t you go lie down and rest? You’re awfully pale, babe.”
Ignoring the wooziness from not having eating today, I hold my palm out to him. “Fine. But I want to try and reach my dad. Give me your phone.”