by Amo Jones
“And our deal?” he asks, his eyes going from my mouth to my eyes.
“Until that. Which I’d prefer we get that part over with as soon as possible so I don’t have to think about it anymore.”
“Tomorrow?” he challenges with a smirk.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe, why?”
“Because I said so.” I pause. “Wait, you’re going to need to call a doctor or something. I’m not getting pregnant on my first time and that’d be my luck.”
He nods, smirking at Miles. “Call the doc.”
I turn, breaking eye contact with Raze and looking up into Miles’ eyes. Relaxing, I smile up at him and tap his chest. “I like those glasses on you.”
He laughs, hitching his thumb to himself. “Yeah?” With a chuckle, he pulls me under his arm. “Come on, puddin’. Let’s get you all ready to get sexed up.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
The rest of the night goes smoothly. Miles comes into my room after the doctor leaves. I complain about having to get a big needle injected into my butt for birth control. He brings in ice cream and we laugh while watching “Wrong Turn” one, two, and three, right up until headlights light up my room, showing Raze and his two Playboy bunnies getting home. Miles leaves quickly after that, going back to his room, and I fall asleep. At least there’s no dying chicken sounds coming out of Cassia’s room tonight; that is a bonus.
RAZE
“Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t decapitate you in this very spot and I’d speak fast if I were you because I’ve given out enough generous passes to last a life time.”
Miles throws his hands up in surrender. “Whoa! No, wait. It’s nothing, you know I bat for the other team.”
“No,” I begin, gripping the door handle. “You bat for both fucking teams, Miles. Don’t test me when it comes to her.”
He follows behind me as I walk down each step, the morning sun making its entrance. “I’m going through a guy phase right now so she’s safe.”
I pause, turning around to face him. “You so much as breathe in that girl’s direction in a seductive way, Miles, and I’ll cut your balls off and shove them so far up your ass you’ll be coming for weeks. Need your dick sucked? Go to Cassia. Stay the fuck away from Millie.”
I reach my Range Rover and pull the door open.
Miles pauses before recollecting himself. “Wait!” he yells. “Are you sharing Slut One?”
“To keep you away from Millie? Yes.”
He ponders on my suggestion before shrugging his shoulders. “She’s not my type though, Raze,” he complains like a toddler pissed that he didn’t get his favorite candy. “She’s nasty and fake and just… nasty.” His face scrunches in disgust as he shivers, creeped out by the mere thought of Cassia.
I chuckle. “Why the fuck do you think I don’t mind having to keep her, Miles? She’s nasty but she fucks dirty. Stay away from Millie, and you already know to stay the fuck away from Ella.” I slide into the backseat and slam the door. “Head to the base,” I order the driver.
The car moves forward and I fish out my phone.
We pull through the wired fence and toward my cabin. Jumping out, Kurr walks out of the main house and stalks towards me.
“Why are you in your mob suit? Get your fucking shit on. We have work to do.”
I turn, ignoring him, and walk towards my cabin. “Because I have a life outside this shit that I also have to run.”
“That might be right, Raze,” Kurr seethes and I know he’s about to lay the law down like he’s so fucking good at doing. “But in these gates, you’re the fucking Executioner. And you’ve been down on the executing lately, but that’s about to change, because I have a couple treats for you today.”
Walking into my cabin, I drop my gym bag to the floor. Cracking my knuckles, I begin unbuttoning my dress shirt. “Good, ‘cause I’m hungry.”
Kurr smirks. “That’s my boy.”
Removing my shirt, I pull open my closet door and take my mask that’s hanging behind it. Pointing toward the door, I raise my eyebrows. “You gonna get the fuck out so I can get changed?”
Kurr laughs, slipping out the front door. Unbuckling my belt, I step out of my slacks and pull on my jeans before shoving my combat boots on. Snatching my mask, I pull the door open again to see Kurr lighting up his cigar and watching me closely.
“Feeling theatrical today, are we?” He flicks his hands up and down my body. “The no-shirt thing you have going on.”
I look down at my bare chest and shrug before placing my mask on my face. “Sick of ruining all my shirts. Depending on how much blood you spill, it doesn’t always come out.”
Kurr smiles, a proud glint in his eye. “I raised you right, son.”
I tense behind my mask and begin walking towards the main house.
“You gonna keep sweet-talking me or we gonna get this shit started?” I walk into the house just as Royal is walking around the corner. Blood is stained all over the front of his shirt and I chuckle. “Busy boy?”
He lifts his mask, pulling out a cigarette and placing it into his mouth. “You could say that. He won’t budge. I’ve done it all, tried it all.”
I swing my arms back, releasing my tense muscles and cracking my neck. “What cell?”
Royal takes a long pull of his smoke. “Seven.” Kurr walks past me and into the kitchen. The house was built mainly for the dungeon underneath, but the ground floor looks like a normal old southern home.
I walk towards the heavy wooden door which leads to the stairs to the dungeon.
Royal laughs from behind me. “Any particular reason you’re not wearing a shirt, Tripp?”
I look over my shoulder at him. “Want me to warm up on you, Royal? Because let me tell you, I have a lot of energy that needs burning.”
Royal’s face stills. “I was joking.”
“Fuck off.” I slam the door shut and make my way down the brick stairs. The dim room is lit by the many candles which are hanging from the walls. Once I hit the bottom, I begin walking down the long room that has cells on each side.
The sobs from the cell behind me catch me just as I reach cell five. Turning around, I tilt my head at the woman curled on the floor, her shoulders jiggling from her pain. That was Millie not long ago. I reach under my boot and slip out one of the knives I keep hidden. It’s one of many. Throwing it into her cell, her body freezes. “Slit down your wrist, not across.” Then I turn back around and head to cell seven. A man in a pool of blood wheezing on his back is laying on the ground. Unlatching the cell lock, I walk in and slam it shut behind myself. I’m not in a real torturing kind of mood; I’m in a killing kind of mood.
MILLIE
I’m walking out of my bedroom when Miles lands on the top of the stairway with a cheesy grin on his face. “Morning, sister!”
“You confuse me, Miles.” I close the door and slowly walk towards him with my hands on my hips. “One minute you’re this serious brooding security—” I flick my hands around, “Whatever you are. Then the next, you’re this playful, not so serious… man.”
I pause a foot in front of him and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Hot man, though?”
“I have no idea what is going on here because Raze won’t tell me anything, but can you? What’s he planning, Miles?”
A door opens behind me and Miles flicks his eyes over my shoulder. His jaw sets to stone and his eyes harden. Suddenly I’m glad I’m not on the receiving end of that glare.
“Ew, get a room.” I turn to see Cassia walk out with her silk night gown tied around her waist.
“Get in your room, Cassia.”
Her eyes narrow. “Miles, I don’t take orders from you.”
Miles firmly but gently pushes me to the side and walks towards her slowly. His body tenses with each step his lean stature takes. “You do now. Get the fuck in your room and only leave to get food and then you go back to your room to eat it. For as long as Millie is here.”
Wait,
what?
Cassia pulls her arm out of his grip. “Oh, I see what’s going on here. You’re playing with Raze’s new fuck toy. You know Raze doesn’t like his toys touched by anyone else, Miles.”
“No,” Miles states, stepping towards her, causing her body to inch backward. “I’m not to touch her. You, on the other hand,” Miles says, his head dipping to her ear, “I can play with as I please.” His hands fly up to the wall behind her, caging her head in between them. “And you know how I tend to break all my toys, Cassia.” Cassia’s hands fly up to Miles’ chest.
A laugh escapes me and I quickly cover my mouth with my hand. “Sorry, it’s just I don’t really care, Miles. She can do what she wants.”
Cassia’s eyes find mine, anger seething from her blue pits. “I don’t need your fucking permission, bitch.”
I shrug and begin walking down the stairs, unfazed by her outburst. The numb feeling that has overwhelmed me since I left the dungeon is intensifying each day. The more I realize it’s so much better when you can’t feel, the more I find myself slipping deeper and deeper into the dark hole of empty feelings. It’s nice here. Dark, damp, and empty. Bypassing the kitchen, I walk out towards the floor-to-ceiling windows and slip through the sliding door. A deep growl thunders beside me and I pause, remembering Miles talking about the pack of Dobermans Raze keeps on the property. I wait for something, anything, to prickle my skin, but nothing comes. The fear that one would usually feel right before they realize they might just become dog food is lost and I turn slowly to face the growling animal.
“Hey, boy,” I coo at him, and his growl deepens, his long legs changing to fighting stance. I exhale out the pent up air and drop to one of the outdoor seats, defeated. “Well, get it over with, buddy. You would probably be doing a lot of people a favor.” I tilt my head to the side on the chair when I realize the growling has stopped. Peeking one of my eyes open, I look towards the dog to find him slowly dropping onto his belly to lie down. His head drops but his eyes remain on me. “Really?” I say, and his eyebrows raise a little. “I’m a little disappointed in you.” A slow moan comes out of his, or her, mouth and I laugh a little.
“Millie!” Miles comes out the door in hushed tones, keeping his eyes on the dog. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman! You got a fucking death wish?” The dog stands to his feet so quickly I almost miss it. “Millie, Chucky doesn’t like me very much. Can you get your ass inside before you get us both killed?”
I smirk at Miles’ horrified face. I’ve noticed a lot about Miles. He’s always wearing an immaculate suit, his hair is always delicately styled, and he never has a speck of dirt or anything that isn’t perfect on him. His eyes say deranged, but his demeanor screams frisky. It confuses me somewhat, but it works. It works for him and I’ve found myself slowly warming up to him.
“Calm down,” I begin, standing to my feet and walking towards the door. Miles sucks in a breath and I drop down to scratch the back of Chucky’s ear, the soft short hair slipping between my fingers. Chucky leans into my scratch. “Oh, don’t mind him, Chucky. He’s mad because he hasn’t been laid.” I smile up at Miles and his eyes narrow at me from behind his glasses.
“You wanna rectify that, sister?” he teases.
I snort. “Thanks but no thanks. Apparently I’m to save my virtue for Raze. It’s a part of my ticket out of his place.” I continue scratching Chucky before standing.
Miles smirks. “Good luck with him. He plays as dirty as I do.”
Oh, I’m sort of aware of how dirty Raze plays.
I walk into the house with Miles slowly retreating behind me, but keeping his eyes on Chucky. “I need to know what’s going on, Miles. I need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”
Miles takes a seat on the oversized L lounge sofa that faces the windows to look out onto the backyard. “Look, I can’t tell you anything, Millie. It’s too complicated and there’s a lot going on behind the scenes.”
I wrap my legs under myself. “Why is he keeping me here? Why did he damn well buy me? I was ready to be holed up with some Japanese man.”
Miles snorts. “I doubt that, little one. Had Hachiro got his hands on you, you’d have a lot worse of a life right now, that I can guarantee you.”
“This is crazy,” I whisper to myself. “I’m in limbo where I don’t know what is real and what isn’t. My brain slips in and out of consciousness and I don’t even know sometimes because there’s voices inside of my fucking head.” I laugh, dropping my face into my hands.
“What do you feel right now?” Miles asks me, leaning forward so his elbows relax on his knees.
I cup my chin in my hand and ponder over his question. What do I feel right now? I dig deep into my brain, asking myself the question and repeating the mantra in my head. An imaginary hand reaches into my brain, wanting to grasp onto something, anything, but missing it just as its fingertips brush over the surface and it retreats back into the nothingness it creaked out from. My eyes gloss over and I slowly shake my head. “Nothing.”
Miles watches me with careful eyes. “Mmm, I know that look…”
He stands from the sofa and walks to a cabinet. Pulling open the door, I hear clinks of glasses. He walks back to the sofa and places two glasses on the coffee table sitting in front of us before placing down the clear crystal bottle which holds an amber liquid. I tilt my head to study it.
Miles rolls his eyes dramatically. “You’ve never been drunk, I’m guessing, but this right here, this will make you feel something. Besides the fact that humans use it to mask their feelings, it actually raises them too. And in your case, dear one, we need you to feel something, and drunk is still a feeling.” He pours the liquid into each glass before picking them up and handing one to me. “Cheers,” he says, smirking around the rim of his glass.
“Cheers.” I take a sip of the alcohol only to push it away. “Oh, that’s disgusting. I’m feeling something alright. I’m feeling my lips which are on fire. What the hell is this stuff?”
I look down at the glass in disgust. Miles cups my hand, his warm palm casing mine gently and I smile up at him. “The trick is to open your throat and down it. Don’t let in linger in your mouth—or your lips, for that matter. Try again.” He tilts the glass to my mouth and I open my throat for the liquid, tipping my head back and allowing the burn to ignite my throat before resting in my belly.
“Woah!” I say, placing the glass back onto the table. “That burns, but it feels warm… and squishy.” I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, my teeth catching it in the action.
Miles chuckles, twisting the lid off the glass bottle and pouring more into both our glasses. “That instruction is actually what I tell chicks when they’re licking my dick, but hey, it works for alcohol too.”
I laugh, nudging him.
“You know, my sister drank a lot,” I say with a smile. “I actually thought I had the start of an alcoholic on my hands, like our dad was, only I understand now that it has a lot to do with men and the presence they bring.” I pick up my drink and bring the cool glass to my lips before throwing it back and reliving the same feeling. Only this time, it feels warmer and fuzzier. I laugh.
Miles leans back and loosens the tie that’s around his collar before unbuttoning his suit jacket and placing it tidily beside himself. “Your sister, what’s she like?” he asks.
I know what he’s doing, trying to bait my feelings by using my sister.
“Like every sister. Annoying.” Placing my glass on the table, he refills our glasses. This happens throughout our conversation. “Tell me, Miles. What goes on behind this perfect exterior?” I place my hand on his collar while my other hand holds my head, and my elbow rests on the rim of the sofa. My body is turned towards Miles, whose legs are stretched wide in front of him and his head is tilted back with his eyes locked on the ceiling. “We both have some inner monsters, Miles. Mine are newborn, so they’re running a little haywire right now. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” I run my finger over h
is sharp jawline. “Maybe you can teach me how to tame them.”
Miles sucks in a breath of air with a hiss and I pick up the glass bottle from the table, bringing it to my lips and watching his eyes darken before me as I tip the bottle back and take a long pull of the potent liquid. He sits forward and reaches into the drawer underneath the coffee table and pulls out a remote control. He pushes the power button and the deep sound of Ruelle’s “Monsters” starts playing.
My body begins to sway as a sadistic smile spreads over my lips. He grins slowly and I get to my feet after almost falling a couple of times. The fuzzy warm rush that’s blazing through my blood is addictive, and I understand the whole drinking concept now. Standing in the middle of the floor, my body begins to move with the beat. I close my eyes and remove my sweater, wishing I had opted for shorts now and not skinny jeans. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I twirl my body around, colliding into Miles’ chest with a small fit of laughter. He looks down at me, his eyes raking every inch of my skin which admittedly isn’t much because I’m in jeans and a casual tank. My skin still prickles to unknown temperatures, though. Running the tip of my index finger down the front of his throat, I flick off the first few buttons of his dress shirt.
“You’re going to get us both killed, puddin’.” His husky voice is mixed with lust and hunger.
“Who says I don’t have a death wish, Miles?” I arch my eyebrow and turn my back to his chest. My body drops to the ground in front of him as I slowly match the rhythm of the song, my butt pressing into his groin.
“You’re a little fucked-up now, aren’t you?” he asks, his head tilting. I spin around, bringing my hands up to the back of his neck and sway in his embrace. The song must be on repeat, because I swear it can’t go this long.
“Maybe,” I say with a smile. “Or maybe this is who I’ve been all along,” I begin, inching up on my tippy-toes so my mouth skims over his ear. “Maybe I just needed to be corrupted.”