Promises Keep (The Promise Series)

by Sarah McCarty

  She didn’t immediately take his meaning. Holding her in place, he eased his torso back and forth, teasing himself with the promise of her lips and teeth. When he pushed his cock deeper into her pussy, she delivered on the promise, scraping her teeth against his nipple as his cock stretched her wider. His hips bucked helplessly under the sensation, the strength of his entry bringing her off the bed as her eyes flew wide. Her cry was muffled against his chest as he paused, one third of his cock held tight in her grip.

  Her eyes flashed at him as he rocked against her, panic in their depths. No doubt she could feel how he got thicker toward the base. Balancing on his elbow, he smoothed the hair back from her brow. “It’s ok. I know I’m big, but I won’t hurt you. Just relax and let me do everything.”

  He lowered her head to the bed. As much as he loved her mouth on his skin, he was strung too tightly to risk hurting her with another uncontrolled response.

  He pushed back away from her, pulling his knees beneath him so her legs draped over his. They were only touching thigh to thigh and pussy to cock, and still it was almost too much stimulation. He gritted his teeth and reined in his baser desires. He couldn’t hold back forever. Her pussy was too sweet, too tight, but he’d be damned if he’d come before she took all of him. Leaning back, shaking his hair off his face, he worked a little deeper, stopping when she tensed and grimly acknowledged this could be a very long night, but by the end of it, she would take him and his hell would be over.

  Chapter Three

  I am Mara Kincaid and I will survive this. I am Mara Kincaid and I will—

  She bit her lip as pain came again. Differently, adding to the confusion hazing her brain. The pressure became unbearable. She twisted and squeezed muscles she’d never known she had, trying to make it stop. Or him stop. She couldn’t remember.

  “Oh God, Angel, not yet,” a voice mumbled. “It’s been too long for me. I want to savor this…”

  Him. It was definitely a man causing her this pain and she wanted him dead, not savoring anything, least of all the violation of her body. She worked one of her hands free of his, and aimed a blow at his head. She put everything she had behind the blow and watched in disbelief as her hand landed gently against his cheek. A sob of frustration caught in her throat. Why was everything out of control? Why couldn’t she get her mouth and limbs to move as she willed?

  She pushed with her hand against his cheek. At least, she thought she was pushing, but when his response was to turn his face and kiss her palm while mumbling another apology, she almost set free the tears she swore would never fall. Dammit! She wanted to fight. She wanted to curse. She did not want to just lie here and endure.

  The man pulled away. A wave of relief went through her. It was over. It was over. But then he was back. Somehow larger and stronger, ripping the resistance from her soul as the scream ripped from her throat. She sank her teeth deep into her lip to prevent the escape of another. She wouldn’t give this animal the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. But she did, and the shame of that was more powerful than any other.

  “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “Maybe I’d just better get this first time behind us.”

  The pressure increased, as did his breathing. His fingers dug into her thighs, spreading them wide, as if through that action he could force her acceptance. Well, she wouldn’t give him that. Through sheer force of will, she’d lock him out.

  But he got his way in even that, lifting her hips as he drove forward into her body, tearing through the fog, tearing through her defenses until he reached the heart of her, the place she’d kept untouched. And filled it with darkness.

  * * * * *

  She came back to herself very shortly. She could feel wetness on her thighs and wondered in a disconnected way whether it was her blood or his seed. He turned her to her side, and she let him, limbs flopping about wherever they would. What did it matter now? What did anything matter? She felt him slide back up her body. With icy calm, she groped for the oil lamp beside the bed. By touch, she turned down the wick until with a hiss, the lamp went out.

  “I’m sorry,” he gasped in the sudden darkness, his breath soughing in and out as his chest pressed against hers, his sweat dampening her breasts. “It’s been so long and then I couldn’t stop. You’re sweeter than honey, Angel. Did I hurt—”

  She brought the lamp crashing against his skull. He collapsed on top of her. The air whooshed out of her as she took his full weight. “I hope I killed you, you son of a bitch!”

  It was a vain wish. The man’s chest still rose and fell with his breath. But he was going to have a heck of a headache. She pushed and wiggled, but he was built like a mountain, and moving mountains was not something she did daily. Finally, she got her shoulder free and from there it was just a matter of twisting. She caught her breath at the edge of the bed. Her muscles shook as if she’d just run thirty miles. Going one more foot seemed impossible, but she didn’t have much choice. She swung her legs to the floor. The room spun crazily. Her stomach churned.

  “I don’t have time for this,” she told her body as she forced herself vertical. She immediately dropped to her knees, unable to detect up from down, reality from nightmare. The drugs they had given her were too strong.

  After a minute or two, her eyes adjusted to the gloom. She struggled to her feet and made her way to where the man’s shirt lay draped over the chair. She dragged it on, needing to cover her vulnerability as she swayed with the effort to remain standing. She closed her eyes tight. The odors of sweat and sex mingled in the air, clinging to her skin. She took a deep breath to clear her mind but that insidious cloud was back, hazing her brain. A million escape plans swirled like feathers tossed into the wind. There, but just out of reach. Her teeth sank deep into her lip. She could taste the blood but she couldn’t feel the pain and that, she realized, was not good.

  The outline of something large and rectangular against the opposite wall caught her eye. She concentrated with everything she had before finally figuring out what it was. The door. It was right before her. She focused on that. Getting to the door was the first step on her journey back to her mountain. All she had to do was get to it, and she would be free.

  She took one step, and then another. The third got her to her destination. She cast a furtive look at the huge man collapsed on the bed. His face was turned away from her. His fingers twitched, and she dove for the handle like one possessed.

  It came alive beneath her touch, turning under her fingers. She stared at it, not understanding. She was still staring when it hurtled inward. It caught her high on the shoulder, and the violence behind its opening sent her sailing across the room. The only thing that kept her from crashing into the wall was the upholstered chair she stumbled into. When she landed in its depths, she stayed there, dragging in deep breaths of air, trying to clear the nausea from her stomach and the fuzz from her brain.

  When her head cleared enough to push herself up on her elbows, she saw Cecile and Aleric in the doorway. Aleric retrieved the lamp and calmly lit it, ignoring the shards of broken glass that remained of the globe. The smirk on his lips let her know that they’d planned this night right down to this humiliating moment. The malevolent promise shining in their eyes told her that her rape wasn’t the end of their revenge for the trouble she’d given them.

  Well, she wasn’t done yet either. She sprang off the chair. Sheer determination kept her from swaying as the room spun crazily. She clenched her fists at her side to suppress the urge to vomit. She had no doubt they were aware of her trouble in staying upright, just as she had no doubt they were deriving no end of amusement from it. Damn them to hell! If it was the last thing she did, she’d see them pay for this. They’d pay with their blood just as she had, but first, she had to think. She shifted so the chair was between them.

  “Well, Mara,” Cecile purred, “I see the preceding events have failed to tame your arrogance.” Her glance focused mainly on Mara’s thighs. Her smile spread until her small white teeth were ex
posed. “Maybe a repeat performance?” One carefully plucked brow lifted.

  Aleric stepped forward and kicked the chair out of the way. Mara ducked to the side, but he caught her by snagging a hand deep in her hair, holding her in place. She saw him pull back his fist. She saw it connect with her stomach, but for a blessed moment, she felt nothing. She was just thanking God for the drugs they’d given her when her whole being erupted in agony.

  Her knees buckled and her gorge rose. Aleric held her to the side like a puppet as she retched and wheezed for air. When she was through, he used his grip on her hair to swivel her back in front of him. She took a swing at him. Lord only knew where the blow went, because it didn’t connect with his face.

  The amusement in his eyes burned all the way to her soul. Never before had she been so helpless. Never had her life been so out of her hands. And never, ever had she felt so dirty. She closed her eyes, and picked up the litany she’d abandoned before.

  I am Mara Kincaid and I will survive this. She chanted it twice more before anger began replacing despair. I am a Kincaid, and Kincaids never give up. Never give in.

  She opened her eyes and met Aleric’s amused gaze dead on. She saw surprise flicker across his face. This time, she was the one to laugh. It was a small expulsion of sound, but it was hers, and she wasn’t defeated.

  And thank God, because if she hadn’t found her feet in that preceding moment, she might have given up when he unfastened his pants, drawing her attention to his penis with a nod of his head and a superior smile. She wished there was something left in her stomach. She would have loved to vomit all over him as he leered down at her breasts while pumping leisurely into his fist. She tore her gaze from his display and concentrated on his face.

  She didn’t know what she expected to find there, maybe some sign of humanity, but the cold, hard smile he treated her to, killed any hope of reprieve. He forced her head back by pulling on her hair. When she looked into his eyes again, the victory she could see there spread to the smile on his lips.

  With an upward yank of his hand in her hair, he forced her eyes to his groin. “Nice, huh?”

  She didn’t close her eyes fast enough to avoid viewing his obscene display. She pulled against his hold on her hair, willing to be bald if it meant she’d be free, but the ease with which he contained her struggles had her sobbing in frustration. It was so unfair that her strength amounted to nothing against his.

  He dragged his thumb across the head of his penis and then roughly across her lips. She snapped at it, but instead of encountering bone, her teeth closed on air. He prodded her belly repeatedly with his organ. Just as repeatedly, she twisted away, the room spinning with each jerk, his chuckles turning into guffaws that blended with the endless spiral reality had dissolved into.

  It seemed hours before he tired of his little game. When he lifted her with both hands until her face was level with his, she spat. It would have been a direct hit if there had been any spit in her mouth to spray him. Instead, there was only another useless effort on her part for him to enjoy. She gritted her teeth and matched him stare for stare. She would not be cowed.

  “You should never have punched me, my dear,” Cecile broke in, her voice conveying her enjoyment of the tense drama. “We might have broken you in more gently otherwise. You cost me a pretty penny, you know. Virgin whores come dear.”

  “I’m not a whore.”

  “Yes, you are. That man paid cold hard cash for your services, and from the looks of him, he more than got his money’s worth.”

  “I am not a whore.”

  Cecile’s laugh sent shivers down Mara’s spine.

  “Oh, yes you are, dear. You may not have come here willingly, but you are here, and you did have sex with a man for money.” She shrugged philosophically though a slight bitterness tinged her tone. “As you will soon find out, nothing else matters to the outside world. They don’t care how you got here. They aren’t even interested in whether you fought. That man,” she nodded her head toward Cougar’s prostrate form, “spilled his seed in your body. It’s as good as a brand.”

  Never, Mara vowed. She would never allow that to become the truth. She ignored Aleric who bounced her over his groin, trying to get her to flinch. If the man was too dumb to recognize the uselessness of his ploy, who was she to educate him? At least it kept him busy while she came up with a plan.

  She closed her eyes. There. That was better. At least the room stopped spinning with her eyes closed. And she was spared Aleric’s gloating. Her thoughts slowly began to collect. She paid close attention to her speech, deliberately spacing her syllables. She had to make this clear. “You can’t make me a whore.”

  “I already have,” Cecile laughed. “It’ll almost be worth the financial loss just to see that arrogance of yours get ground into the dust when every man in this territory gathers round for their chance to drive that point home.”

  “I won’t let them.” The words came out slow and inconsequential when she wanted them to be angry and determined.

  “My dear, you won’t be able to stop them. If I have to, I’ll keep you drugged so that your struggles will be as ineffective as today. And if you keep resisting me, if you refuse to learn, I’ll stake you out in the back room, and let any man who can get it up have at you. After that, I guarantee you, you won’t need the drugs, because there will be nothing left inside to protect.”

  Aleric shifted his grip on her arms. Mara opened her eyes. The jostling caused Cecile’s face to fade out of focus. Mara shaped her lips around a “no” she couldn’t get out. She fought for the coordination to shake her head from side to side. She must have succeeded, because Cecile kept arguing.

  “Yes, I will.” Her face swam back into focus. She’d adopted an expression of benevolence. Mara thought it looked as out of place on her face as a smile on a rattler.

  “But, as madam of this house,” Cecile continued, “it’s my job to try to salvage my investments. You could help me with that by accepting your lot, but I can see you have too much arrogance left in you for that.” She bestowed a regal nod on her henchman.

  “Maybe Aleric can convince you of the futility of rebelling.”

  Mara fought, but Aleric anticipated her move and easily evaded her knee.

  Cecile laughed deep in her throat. “Really dear, you’ll have to be more imaginative than that! Aleric is long accustomed to women and all their little tricks. Why don’t you relax? While not as well endowed as your first lover, he is quite adequately equipped to service you.” Mara ignored Aleric, staring over his shoulder at Cecile, projecting all of her hate and fury at the woman.

  Despite her resolve, Mara winced when Aleric prodded her bruised flesh. Cecile watched the proceedings with fanatical intensity, her voice coarsening as she met Mara’s gaze. “Isn’t it the most exquisite pain?”

  Mara closed her eyes. She eased her hands up between her body and Aleric’s chest. She’d only have the one chance. At the most, they’d kill her. And right now, death didn’t seem so bad. If she were very, very lucky, she’d take one of them with her. They would not make her into a whore. Clutching that conviction as her lifeline, Mara willed the remnants of her energy into her limbs.

  Smiling coldly into Aleric’s lust-contorted face, she drove her thumbs into his beady eyes, gouging fiercely. Aleric squealed like a stuck pig and dropped her. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. He doubled over and dropped to his knees. It felt damned good seeing him like that.

  She didn’t waste time admiring her work. She rounded on an open-mouthed Cecile, the knife she’d whipped from Aleric’s belt firmly clenched in her palm. She stumbled forward, the blade flashed in the faint moonlight, and Mara had the satisfaction of witnessing the woman who’d destroyed her life crumple to the floor, the knife buried in her throat, her expression frozen for all eternity into one of incredulous horror.

  Her heart pounded madly in her throat as she drunkenly spun back toward Aleric. The sud
den movement brought back the dizziness, and she wanted to scream her frustration as the image of his approach wavered in and out of focus. She couldn’t tell anymore where reality began and illusion left off. She pressed the heels of her hands to her temples. She squeezed until she thought her head would explode. She would not succumb to the haze. She would think. She would fight.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she sensed movement, but she couldn’t force her head around to investigate. Oh damn, why couldn’t she act? Her gaze landed on Cecile and the blood seeping from her body. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the grotesque sight. She’d done that, she thought. And with every repetition of the thought, she felt her grasp on reality weaken. It was as if each drop of Cecile’s blood pooling on the carpet sapped her own energy until there was nothing left.

  Oh God, she thought as Aleric reached for her, his fingers curled like claws. She didn’t want to die like this. She wanted a home. She wanted children. She wanted…dignity. It was the last thought she mustered before she tumbled to the floor.

  With a roar of rage, Cougar stepped between Mara and certain death. Deflecting Aleric’s blow with his forearm, he held the other man’s gaze with his. He smiled as fear replaced the victory in his enemy’s eyes. With a grim precision, he wielded his knife. First down and then up. He exacted justice in two quick slashes. Too quick. Months with which to punish his victim wouldn’t begin to satisfy the anger he felt inside.

  A rapist. He glared at Cecile’s still warm body, the conversation he’d overheard echoing in his mind. She’d made him into a goddamned rapist with her lies and manipulations. Chest heaving with the depth of his emotions, fists clenched at his sides, Cougar observed Aleric’s death throes dispassionately. As the last bloody gurgle bubbled through the castrated man’s lips, he wiped his knife on Aleric’s shirt and replaced it in its sheath. He turned to face the woman called Mara.