Martyris: Cavalieri Della Morte

by Olson, Yolanda

  Martyris

  Cavalieri Della Morte

  Yolanda Olson

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  The Cavalieri Della Morte Series

  A Sneak Peek at His Salvation

  Kay

  About the Author

  Prologue

  My hands are heavy.

  The gloves that weigh them down are made of light, but sturdy iron metal and are caked with blood. I don't know how I'm supposed to go home and act like everything is okay when the adrenaline is still coursing through my veins.

  This was one of the easier marks; a bastard that Arthur branded a turncoat, and because of that, he wanted him to suffer. That's why he assigned me to this bastard. My methods are much different than those of my brothers in the Cavalieri Della Morte. I like to take my time and make these moments count because when Arthur asks for me specifically to take down someone that's wronged him, he expects them to suffer.

  I sit back against the old and dusty brick wall behind me, turning my eyes to the ceiling. This building has long since been abandoned and it was easy to get him to follow me. I told him that Arthur forgave his transgression, requested a private audience with him to make amends, and when he turned his back to me, I pulled my gloves out of the backpack I had strapped over my shoulder and ripped him to shreds.

  Talons are the best way to describe what these specially made weapons look like. And if I want to prolong the process, there are spikes affixed to the knuckles. Sometimes, I like to interrogate the condemned. It's more for my own sanity than to listen to them beg for mercy. While I'm never one to turn away from an assignment once it's given, I have to be sure that the person whose life I'm personally going to end deserves it.

  It only happened once.

  A man condemned by Arthur's word on bad information.

  I turned down his request to kill Tristan as did the rest of the Cavalieri Della Morte. He still gets pissy with us about it, but I don't see any point in killing a brother and because of that, we all do our best to protect him.

  His crime?

  Falling in love.

  We've all been there. Hell, I can't remember the last time it happened to me, but I have a favorite girl and I would probably run with her too if the situation called for it.

  With a sigh, I look back down at my hands, careful to keep the man just beyond my gaze a blur on the not so distant horizon as I begin to undo the straps on the gloves, then give them a good shake, before tossing them back into my bag.

  I don’t have to see the dead man’s face or body to know what I’ve rendered him to. He’s nothing more than pulp—the knuckles having crushed his face in, and I’m sure I managed to rip his eyes out with the talons. I close my eyes for a moment before I think about what happens after.

  Maybe if he’s lucky, someone, somewhere loves him enough to come and mourn him when the time comes.

  And that will be their crime.

  I won’t come for them because they’d simply be doing something anyone would do in the claiming of a loved one’s body, but I know that for at least the next few days, I’ll be safe.

  No one will discover what I’ve done. I like working in abandoned buildings because animals are the best co-conspirators.

  The vermin will get rid of him. They'll eat his corpse as best they can, destroying any evidence that I was here or how he really met his end. I clear my throat as I get to my feet and hoist the backpack over my shoulder again as I begin to make my way toward the back of the building.

  In through the front, out through the back. It's a simple little trick I learned early on as a way of not being seen more than once by any potential witness. Not that anyone would ever speak out against us because while we're a secretive organization, there are whispers of a crew of assassins roaming around the states and no one wants to be caught in our cross-hairs.

  Least of all mine.

  Chapter 1

  Two days.

  That’s how long Arthur has given us to complete this latest mission, and that’s how long I have left to decide what to do.

  I kiss the forehead of my favorite girl as she sleeps quietly beside me. Waking up shouldn’t come with the worry of not seeing another day, and thankfully for her, it never does. In a way, I feel bad for choosing her because she’s not who I was sworn to protect from harm, but she’s special and together, we have something that makes the rest of the guys jealous.

  I see it in their eyes—even if the words have never left their mouths.

  She stirs slightly beside me and I kiss her forehead again. I don’t ever want to forget the taste of her skin or how her body feels when it’s pressed against mine. It’s something I want to take with me into the next life, if such a thing exists, where I’ll wait for her to be in my arms again.

  If this doesn’t go as planned, I guess I’ll find out, I muse to myself with a soft chuckle.

  A gentle rapping at the door pulls me away from the moment and I gently ease myself off the bed. I don’t want to wake her up because watching her sleep brings me a sense of calm.

  I walk over to the door and crack it slightly, smiling when I see Tristan on the other side.

  “What’s up?” I ask him quietly.

  He holds a finger to his lips and signals for me to follow him into the hallway. He’s always been a great friend to me, and I know that if he’s disrupting one of the rare moments I get with Bentlee, it has to be important.

  I step into the hallway as I pull the door closed behind me and cross my arms loosely over my chest.

  “Sorry, man,” he says with a sheepish grin. I shrug in return. It’s not really a big deal even though it is, but I won’t make him feel guilty right now. Besides, I can always fuck with him later about it and we both know it.

  “I heard Arthur reached out to you today …” When his voice trails off, I shrug again and he sighs. “Did it have to do with me?”

  “No. I would tell you if it did,” I reply firmly.

  He nods, running a hand over his face. “We’ll head out tonight; go back to your girl maybe the next time I’m in town, we can hang out longer.”

  “Wait a minute,” I say, reaching out to grab his arm as he turns away. “I need you to do something for me.”

  Tristan arches an eyebrow and waits for my request, which is going to sound absolutely fucking insane, but it’s worth a shot.

  I let out a long-suffering sigh as I drop my arms to my sides, “Can you just swing by Lynette’s and check on her for me?”

  His face screws up in disapproval, “After the way she treated you—and still treats you—I don’t get why you’re still so worried about that snatch’s well-being.”

  I rub the back of my neck. It’s a coping mechanism when I find myself feeling uncomfortable and don’t really know how to explain a situation, but I do my best to anyway. “Because she needs looking after. With those band of bastards that keep messing with her instead of protecting her, someone needs to make sure she’s okay.”

  He shakes his head, and for a moment, I feel like he’s going to tell me no. I know how he feels about Lynette and I know how he feels about me trying to save the world, so to speak, however it’s just the kind of person I am and everyone here is still trying to find a way to expect it.

  We’re killers.

  We’ve been trained for de
ath and glory by the deadliest man in the world. I don’t shy away from taking life and I never will, but some people need to be saved. Lynette is one of them.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I mumble, feeling a bit embarrassed for even bring it up.

  “I’ll do my best,” Tristan reassures me, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving me a smile.

  “Go back to bed. I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

  I nod, giving him a small thanks as I watch him disappear down the hallway before I push the door open to the room and go back to Bentlee.

  Chapter 2

  No sooner that I slipped back into bed with Bentlee did she open her eyes and look up with me with sleep and seduction dancing together in perfect harmony. Because of the sliver of sunlight that’s peeking into the room and how it lands on her beautiful face, her eyes look like pools of amber honey and I do my best to make sure that I remember each detail. The small black specks that are hidden in the amber, the faint brown ring that holds it all together, and the way she blinks slowly and opens her eyes again as she keeps her gaze firmly on me.

  It’s almost like she knows that this could be the last time we ever spend in each other’s arms, but I won’t confirm it no matter how hard she tries to get it out of me. She knows that business is business and that’s not something we talk about with our gals.

  She reaches a hand up and gently trails the line of my jaw with the tip of her finger and I close my eyes to relish the sensation. The slightest touch from her, no matter how brief, is enough to make me ravenous for her and she knows it.

  “Good morning,” I tell her softly as I take her hand in mine and place it against my bare chest. She smiles, and without so much as a verbal response, moves her body on top of mine forcing me onto my back and grins.

  I put a hand on either hip and tilt my head slightly, grinning like a wolf ready to devour its lamb when she reaches down and pulls her cami off, tossing it over the side of the bed.

  Her tits are small and perky, but I’ve never needed more than a handful. Her nipples are hard, pink, and I want nothing more than to gently bite them so that I can hear the little squeal of pain and pleasure when I have them in my mouth, but I’ll let Bentlee direct us because she’s the one that’s made the move first.

  I bounce her on my lap once and wait to see what she decides. Bentlee has done this a number of times. Gets half naked, straddles me, and then nothing. It’s enough to give me a hard-on, but it’s nothing I can’t take care of on my own when she backs out.

  “What do you want, little girl?” I ask her in a thick voice. My cock is already getting hard and I know she feels it, but the decision is hers because I’ll never force her to do something she’s not willing to do.

  I want her to say she wants me. Hell, I’m expecting it, but when she shrugs and gently grinds her hips into me, I have to fight to take the decision away from her.

  “Off,” I command her with a laugh.

  She chews on her lower lip for a moment before she reaches down and pulls her panties off, tossing them in the same direction of her cami and then leans down, pressing her body against me, a hand on either side of my pillow.

  Bentlee’s face is hovering a few inches above mine and when she reaches down and gently licks my mouth, I know she’s not going to back out this time like she did last night.

  A low growl escapes me as I reach up and pull her face down to mine, filling the small gap between us. She opens her mouth instantly and allows me to explore with my tongue, until hers becomes entangled with mine in a symphony of lust and desire. I shouldn’t do this with her—ever, but it’s so hard to resist a girl so sweet, and none of my brothers look at me any differently for my choice.

  Because when it comes to me and Bentlee, there’s always a choice. She knows she can walk away from this anytime she wants to, even though it would break my heart. I guess it’s true that you never know who you’ll fall in love with, and of all of the women that I’ve bedded in my life, she’s always held the most special place deep inside of my soul.

  “Do you love me, Gareth?” she asks in a breathy tone when we finally pull away from each other.

  “I love you most of all,” I reply, reaching for her face again.

  To most women that wouldn’t be enough, but for Bentlee, it’s what keeps her in my arms. And this time, when she kisses me, I know she means it.

  I run a hand up her back as she reaches down and pulls the strings of my sweatpants and lift my ass so she can easily slide them off. She throws them in the same direction of her clothes, then she makes her way down my body with the tips of her fingernails grazing my flesh. It’s not painful—it’s her way of igniting all of my senses and it fucking works.

  My cock is harder now, aching for her undivided attention and when she places her hands on my thighs, I feel like I’m ready to explode already.

  Bentlee takes my erection in her hands, licking the head of my dick. She likes to tease me before the show and I don’t mind it in the least. I shift slightly underneath her as my body relaxes and Bentlee doesn’t make me wait any longer. She slides the tip of my cock into her mouth, sucking the bulbous head before she takes the rest into her mouth. Her tongue moves like a pro—the kind you would order from a high class escort service and her lips feel like fucking mana from Heaven as she takes more of me into her mouth. When I feel the back of her throat, my eyes close tightly and I grip her hair in my fist telling myself not to rush her or force her to take more than she can.

  It’s a fucking struggle, but it always is when she’s sucking my dick. She’s amazing with her mouth and I’ll reward her soon enough for thinking of me when I tell her that this is never about me. Being with her is about making sure that she knows she’s wanted—it has nothing to do with my pleasure.

  I let go of her hair and move to my elbows so I can watch her. I’ve always loved watching Bentlee regardless of what she’s doing and this is no exception. She bobs her head up and down, her hand trailing behind her soft lips as she takes all of me into her throat and gags herself. When she finally lets go, when she’s had her fill, she smiles up at me with watering eyes and a mouth to match.

  I reach down for her and pull her up toward me, but not on me. No, now is the time that I get to return the favor and it’s something I know she enjoys. I lay her gently on her back, kiss her gently on her lips, and move down, my face between her legs. I can see the shine of her want for me on her pussy lips, smell the absolute treasure that I know is waiting for me and rest my head on her inner thigh. I want to tease her like she did me, because if this is to be our last time together, I want her to remember everything about this moment.

  She lets out a soft moan as I reach up and run a finger down her slit, but I don’t push into her opening just yet. I want the memory of my fingers to be something she’ll crave long after I’m dead and I want to be sure that she’ll never feel this way again with any other man.

  I lick the tip of my finger and go back to teasing her. Her legs are trembling now and I know she wants this as much as I do, but I think we could stand a few more moments of my fingers working where my tongue will soon take over.

  “Fuck me, Gareth,” she whines softly, but I won’t.

  Not yet.

  I move my head from her thigh and look at the beautiful, hairless mound before me and do my best to commit it to memory. The small freckle that sits above her hood, the way her lips shine when she’s ready for me to pleasure her, and the color of her perfect, pink pussy.

  I finally make my move and use my tongue to part her lips, gently running it up and down her slit until her body relaxes and she allows me entry. I begin to lick the tip of her clit because I want one more teasing moment, before I slide a forefinger inside of her and begin to move it in and out. My tongue covers her clit now as I begin to suck and nibble, igniting every single sense she’s bared to me and then slide a second finger into her.

  As I continue to fuck her with my fingers, lick up every drop of her juices,
Bentlee starts to tremble even more than before. I don’t stop, though. I want her to come because the taste of her is like nothing I’ve ever had before, and it’s one of my favorite things in the world.

  She groans loudly as she begins to grind her pussy against my tongue and my fingers, and I pull away with a grin on my face. I like watching her as I’ve said, and nothing beats watching her fuck herself against my fingers. I’ve stopped moving them by now, and she won’t have any of that, she wants to feel them moving inside of her and because of that she keeps fucking against them.

  “Good girl,” I tell her softly when she finally comes and coats my fingers with her juices. I pull them out of her pussy and suck the taste clean before I settle above her, and reach down for my cock, placing it against her opening. “You still good to go?” I ask her softly. Even with as far as we’ve gone, I give her the opportunity to stop me every time because I know that there are moments where our relationship bothers her for obvious reasons.

  “I want you,” she breathes as she grips my forearms.

  And that is all the permission I really need. I push my cock into her and when her back arches slightly and her eyes widen, I know that we’re doing the right thing. No matter how many times this seems wrong, it feels so right.

  Chapter 3

  I’m waiting downstairs for Tristan to come back

  Even though I know that he and Queenie are probably in the wind, having long since split, I have hope that he’ll come back because he knows I’ll do everything I can to keep him off Arthur’s radar.