by Susan Bliler
“Aww, did I hurt you, princess? Or are you just now realizing that Remy used you as a revenge fuck against your own brother, and all you had to do was get on your back, spread your legs wide, and let him slide right inside that snug little cunt.”
Harlow turned her eyes away, refusing to look at either man.
Remy’s gaze was locked on her face. “That’s not what happened, Harlow.”
David pointed at him. “Did her brother steal your Angel?”
“No,” Remy growled. “Not my Angel.”
David rolled his eyes. “Well, your bitch. Did Mason steal your woman?”
“Yes.” Remy confirmed.
“Did you kidnap Aries because you thought she was Harlow?”
When Remy didn’t answer, David fisted Harlow’s hair and pulled her head farther back, pressing the blade more firmly against her throat. “Answer me, Commander.”
“Yessss,” Remy hissed.
“Did you want to hurt Harlow, to get back at Mason?”
“I didn’t know Harlow then, I didn’t…”
“Answer the fucking question!”
“YES!” Remy shouted. “Yes, I wanted to use Mason’s sister to hurt him!”
Harlow slammed her eyes shut.
“But that was before.” Remy tried to explain.
Still holding Harlow, David dropped his eyes to her lap, licking his lips. “You should run now, Commander. Megalya are coming for her. They’ll be here soon, and there’ll be many.” Keeping the blade tucked against Harlow’s throat he slid a finger up her thigh, collecting a thick layer of red oil as he went. “They wanted a Skin Walker, and one of those Keepers you’ve all been hiding. They got ‘em. The human sister of a Walker was a bonus. See this?” He held up his red, dripping finger. “This means she’s meant for one of them. She’ll be a permanent food source.” He grinned. “And permanent fuckhole!”
“No one’s touching her!” Remy snarled.
“Is that so?” David looked up slowly, then tucked his red finger in as his hand balled into a fist. He punched Harlow in the side of the face, but her eyes still didn’t open. She didn’t see Remy lunge or David’s instant response of jabbing the blade into her chest, burying the tip just a fraction of an inch, but enough to make her gasp. He kept the knife there as he released Harlow’s hair. “If you’re not going to leave, Commander, maybe I’ll give you something to remember me by. Let’s finish what I started when I got her undressed while she was out.” He reached for the lacy edge of Harlow’s panties.
Her eyes snapped open. “DON’T!” Her tone was vicious as she came out of her daze.
David clucked his tongue. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
He began sliding his fingers into the front of her panties. The sound coming from Remy now was a rolling growl that rattled the damn room, but Harlow knew he wouldn’t make a move with the knife still poking in her chest.
Harlow let David’s fingers slide a little further before she slammed her head back, connecting with his jaw with a crunch. That was all it took. One second Remy was a mass of tense, furious rage before her, and then he was gone. They were both gone. David’s knife was no longer drawing forth a tiny river of blood, and there was a gaping hole in the side of the hut. Outside, she could hear the rattle of Remy’s fury and David’s hysterical screams. Other sounds joined the mix, and Harlow knew the Megalya had arrived.
Struggling in the chair, she pulled her arms with all her might trying to free herself from her bindings. More growls and roars sounded from outside and she desperately hoped that Remy had reinforcements. She knew nothing of the Megalya, not even what they were. For all she knew, the Megalya were winning!
Chapter 17
Harlow knew her eye was bad. She couldn’t get it to open wide enough to see out of. For the past half-hour or so she had sat frozen on the floor, the battle outside long since gone quiet. She knew the Megalya had been defeated, because she could hear Remy doing what he did best, barking orders. Recker had come in shortly after Remy had taken David out and cut her loose. He’d tried to take her from the hut, but she’d balked. She couldn’t go out right now, she couldn’t face anyone. She knew she should move, should get up, should do something. But, she didn’t. A hollowness had filled her very soul, and she couldn’t shake it. It felt like drowning without water.
Then Remy was there, speaking soft words. He lifted her off the floor, cradling her in his arms and striding out of the hut and into the sun. Thirty minutes later, they were back at StoneCrow without her ever having noticed they’d left the damp clearing where the hut was nestled.
She could hear him talking to her, and to others, but it sounded distant, disjointed. It felt like she was in a dream. No, not a dream. A nightmare. She was in a nightmare, and the black smoke and devastation of StoneCrow was proof of that.
Remy lifted her out of the Light Strike Vehicle that a Walker she didn’t recognize had driven while Remy held her tucked against his body in the passenger seat. Distantly, she realized she should be trying to cover up more, to hide her red-painted body from the Walker and Keeper teams—from her teams—as they milled outside the main Estate house, glancing at her with worry, fear, and anger. She knew they must be wondering how much of the red covering her was her blood.
She didn’t attempt to cover up, though. She didn’t care what they saw, or what they thought. This was her own, private nightmare.
Remy hurried up the front steps and down the corridor of the infirmary, but it was overfilled. Too many bodies packed too tightly, and still he jostled and snarled to get her to the front, to get her into a room.
He set her on a med bed and began snarling orders at Stoney when she came racing in. “I want her examined fully. Check for sexual assault, he might have…”
Harlow found her voice. “No,” she rolled onto her side away from Remy as he silenced. “He didn’t.” She remained on her side, facing the wall, refusing to look at either him or Stoney.
There was a slight shuffling noise and then Stoney was in front of her. Bending, she tentatively touched Harlow’s shoulder and, when she accepted it, Stoney eased her onto her back.
“Aside from your face,” Stoney began quietly, “are you hurt anywhere else?”
Harlow stared up at the ceiling. How in the hell would she know? She was numb, and this was a dream. Besides, when your heart gets ripped out in a dream, it’s not real when you wake up…right? “No.”
“Did he touch you anywhere else?” Stoney prodded, as she lifted gloved hands to probe around her eye, causing Harlow to jerk back and inhale at the pain the action brought. Beside her, Remy growled deep in his throat.
“No.” She answered.
“I need to know,” Stoney leaned in, speaking gently. “Did he force himself on you, or penetrate you in a sexual manner?”
She rolled her open eye. Why were they speaking to her like she was slow? She rolled back to her side again, away from Remy. “No.”
“I think she’s in shock,” Stoney whispered, as she pulled the stethoscope from around her neck and pressed it to Harlow’s chest.
“Is any of that her blood?” Remy asked, eyeing Harlow’s red-drenched body. “Too much smoke out there, I can’t scent anything.”
Stoney righted herself, shooting him a look as she lifted the now-red end of her stethoscope, eyeing it. “I can’t tell with all this paint on her. I don’t see any open wounds, but I smell her blood. That eye will heal, and I don’t think there are any broken bones.”
“Don’t think! Make sure,” Remy demanded, clearly not satisfied with Stoney’s visual inspection.
“There are more serious patients who….”
“MAKE SURE!” Remy bellowed.
Stoney nodded and left the room, returning seconds later with a handheld device. Again, she rolled Harlow to her back holding the square object that looked like an e-pad above Harlow’s face. “Sit still, please.”
She wasn’t moving. She never wanted to move again.
St
oney slowly inched the device down Harlow’s entire body then back up.
There was no noise, no light, nothing. Stoney pulled the pad back to inspect it, then held it up for Remy to see. “No fractures.”
As if it that was all he needed, Remy crossed to the med bed and lifted Harlow into his arms.
“Wait,” Stoney huffed. “Where are you taking her?”
“To get clean,” was his only response as he left the infirmary with a red-painted and barely-clothed Harlow in his arms.
She didn’t know where he was taking her, but she hoped it was to her suite. She just wanted to lie down and catch her breath before she regrouped and got back into the thick of it. She was tired and soul weary, and she desperately wanted to hide out and have a good cry.
“Commander!” A large, dark-skinned Walker approached. “Perimeter’s secure!”
“Good! I want every Walker Sentry out on patrol, now! Where in the hell is Monroe?”
“Don’t know,” the man shrugged, “but I’ll get all Sentries’ out.” He hurried away.
Remy didn’t speak again as he carried her through the hall then upstairs, and Harlow had to fight the urge to rest her head against his chest. No, she’d already shown too much weakness. The black eye was proof that she’d been unable to protect herself, and the fact that she was slathered in red oil showed that the Megalya had been able to do practically anything they’d wanted to her. Worse, her entire team had seen it. But nothing was worse than the fact that Remy had saved her. He knew she’d failed. He knew she wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t worthy of the title, and he’d no doubt find a way to use this against Mason as well.
Tears threatened, and she sucked them back.
“Almost there,” Remy whispered.
Then a door opened, and they entered a room she didn’t recognize. It was pristine, which led her to believe it was a vacant room at the Estate, but when Remy carried her to the washroom and set her on the counter, she saw personal hygiene items. Men’s items. He left her to cross to the large bath where he blasted on the water.
She tracked his movements with her good eye, but lost sight of him when he left the room. A uniform hung on the back of the partially closed door, and Harlow recognized the rank. It was Remy’s uniform. She was in Remy’s suite.
He returned with a pile of clothes, placing them on the counter beside a stack of fresh towels and washcloths that he slid off the counter and placed on the floor beside the tub. Slowly, he moved to stand in front of her. She didn’t look up.
“We need to get you clean. I’m going to help. I’ve seen you naked before, Harlow. I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”
She expected him to reach for her bra, but he didn’t. Instead, he began stripping. He toed off his boots and pulled off his shirt before shedding his pants and boxers. Then he reached out and moved her fisted hands from where they’d been clamped to her chest. Gently, he removed her bra, then was careful as he fisted her panties by one hip and ripped the side open before doing the same to the other side. Carefully lifting her off the counter, he stepped into the deep tub, holding her lightly against his body as he eased her forward into the warm shower spray. She watched as the water at her feet turned red, the oil covering her body swirling down the drain. Remy lifted a cloth, lathering it with soap before gently stroking it over her body, removing the worst of the oil, carefully inspecting for any injury. He was silent as he cleaned her, touch almost reverent.
Once he had most of the oil off, he shut off the shower and allowed the tub to begin filling, easing her down into the hot water then slipping down behind her.
***
“Easy,” Remy crooned and lowered her slowly until she was submerged in the deep tub up to her shoulders. He felt lower than shit for having let her be taken, but things hadn’t gone as he’d planned. He’d expected that idiot David to drive away with her, at which time he and Recker would immediately track, but it didn’t go down like that. He’d been afflicted.
He didn’t speak as he grabbed a fresh cloth from the floor beside the tub and wet it before rubbing first her shoulders and then her neck. Grabbing a bar of soap off the shelf, he lathered it into the cloth then reached down into the water to pull her hand up. He spread her delicate fingers and rubbed each digit, then in between them. My Angel! He was in awe of the fact that she was his, and he finally understood what Mason meant every time he’d declared that Amanda hadn’t been meant for Remy. In this moment, what Remy felt for Harlow made any feelings he’d ever had for Amanda feel like air. There had been no substance to his want of Amanda. With Harlow, it was all consuming.
“I-I don’t want to be here.” Her voice sounded funny to her own ears. Distant. “Where’s Mason?”
Her words gutted him. She didn’t feel safe here, she wanted her brother, and it was Remy’s fault. “He’s helping clean up that mess out there.” He jerked his chin toward the window. “He’ll be here soon enough.”
“Did you want to use me to hurt Mason?” she blurted out. He could tell by the way she shrank lower in the tub that she hadn’t meant to ask the way she had. His hands stilled. The truth of what he’d done in the past, how he’d gone after Mason, shamed him. Today was the day he had to face the music. He always knew it would come, but not like this. Never like this.
Harlow waited for his next words, and he knew they’d change everything. And they did.
His reply was quiet. “Yes.”
He’d expected her to jerk her head around to glare at him, or to pull her hand from his grasp. He was prepared for her anger. What he wasn’t ready for was the way her eyes fell closed, and the tremble of her bottom lip as she slid her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself as if to protect herself from his words. She was retreating; it was his doing, and he fucking hated himself for it.
“Harlow, you need to let me explain.”
“Please leave.”
“I will, but first I…”
“Please leave!” she said more firmly.
“Harlow, I’m not…”
“LEAAAAVE!” She screamed, jerking her head to the side so he couldn’t see her face as she hid behind the fall of her wet hair.
“Alright,” Remy ground out. He would do as she asked, even though his soul was screaming just as loudly for him to stay with her. He draped the soaped cloth over the side of the tub and pushed off the edge to stand. “But we’re not done here, Harlow. Know that.”
She didn’t look at him as she responded. “We’re done, Remy. My loyalties lie with my family, with Mason. I won’t let you use me to get to him.” She turned to frown up at him with tear-filled, angry eyes. “Know that.” Then she looked away.
Chapter 18
Harlow heard Remy leave the bathroom and then the suite. She knew he had better things to do than babysit her, and she knew she’d screamed at him to go, but it still stung that he had. He’d been brutally honest, and she knew she should be grateful for that, but she wasn’t. He’d admitted that he wanted to use her to hurt Mason, and she’d let that happen. Remembering how David had made Remy confess that he’d kidnapped another woman, Aries Drago, because he’d thought she was Harlow… She fought the urge to be sick. She yearned to hear him say that what had happened between them hadn’t been a ruse. She wanted, so badly, to hear that he hadn’t followed her to the masquerade ball and slept with her just to get back at Mason, but she couldn’t face the alternative. So far he’d admitted to everything, and she was terrified of him admitting that the ball had been a ruse, that he’d used her. She couldn’t handle that right now.
Staring down at the rapidly cooling water, she tried to tamp down her need for resolution. There were more pressing issues at hand. It was not only selfish, but stupid to be sitting in a tub pouting when the Estate had just been attacked.
Standing, Harlow snagged a towel and dried herself. The soap hadn’t washed all the oil off and there were red smears left on the towel when she was done. It’d take a few baths before she was free of the damn o
il, but that’d have to wait.
She dressed hurriedly in the clothes Remy had brought her. They were his, and she looked ridiculous. Even tied tightly around her waist, the crotch of the sweatpants hung to her knees and were so long in the legs that she couldn’t roll them enough to be able to walk. She snagged her red-oiled bra from where Remy’d left it on the counter, putting it on before pulling on the T-shirt he’d left her. It hung past her knees, which was good considering she couldn’t wear the pants.
Glancing up, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and halted. She looked…different. Sure, even after her shower there was red smeared on her collarbone and arms, and her hair was hanging plastered to her shirt where it was wet at the bottom, but that wasn’t it. Even her swollen and bruised lip wasn’t what looked different. It was her eye. Well, the one she could open anyway. Her pupil was so dilated that there was barely any green to be seen. She’d heard Stoney say she was in shock, and she wondered if that’s why she looked so strange. For a second, her thoughts flashed to Remy and his admission. You look like a fucking fool. A fool that’s been played. Her brows speared down at the self-recrimination, but she couldn’t chastise herself, because she deserved it. She should have been more careful, should have been smarter. She knew better.
Giving herself one last look of disgust, she left the suite. The estate house was in a frenzy, with people running this way and that. No one seemed to notice her attire, which was good. She hurried down the hallway to Mason and Amanda’s quarters. Unlike most couples, they chose to reside in a suite rather than one of the cabins in the back.
Harlow knocked and waited, but there was no answer. She knocked again more loudly, shouting, “HELLO?” When there was still no answer, she let herself in. The suite was empty, so she made quick work of snagging some of Amanda’s clothes and quickly dressing.
When she left Mason and Amanda’s suite she was dressed in borrowed underclothes, form-fitting jeans, a violet sweater, and a pair of hiking books with thick socks. Braiding her hair as she rushed down stairs to the lobby, her booted feet crunched on broken glass, and she silently thanked God that she and Amanda wore the same size shoe.