by Avery Duncan
His outraged shout hurt Jamie’s ears. It must have hurt her mother’s too, because she whimpered. Jamie refused to look up as pain started to lick along her heart, flirting like hot fire in her soul.
“Let me go,” her mother pleaded, her voice watery. Jamie could only imagine the tears that were trailing down her cheeks. “I will take her, I won’t demand anything from —”
“As if you would have the gall to even ask anything of me! Bitch,” he hissed. The sound of angry stomps coming across the room made Jamie flinch. The flinch turned into a full blown draw back as a fist tangled in her hair.
“Why should I keep her in my house?” he demanded, yanking her to her feet by her hair. Jamie cried out, feeling fear pulse through her with renewed strength. Her father had always been a bit rough, but right now... Her nails dug into his wrist, trying to get him to let go. Right now, it felt as if he really would kill her.
“She’s a curse,” her father spat, ignoring Jamie’s cries of pain.
“She’s just a child! Let her go,” her mother screamed, lunging forward. A large hand wrapped around her neck, almost strangling the breath from her. The door of the house slammed shut, almost on its own accord. Her mother reached for her, despair etched on her already aging face.
“You are not leaving,” he snarled, tightening his grip around her neck, robbing her of precious oxygen. She felt herself start to pale, hands turning numb at how tight they were around her father’s wrists. The floor was no longer under her feet.
It took all of her willpower not to cry out. “Father, what--”
His breath, reeking of whiskey and smoke, feathered over her face. “Don’t call me that, brat.”
Only a couple of hours before, he had called her darling and honey, had been nice and smiling. What had happened to make him this way? Her nails dug in so much that his blood started to trickle down her wrist. What had he found out?
Her mind reeled, her mother’s outraged cries and his angry curses alerting her to something that she hadn’t known, something that had never crossed her mind before.
His furious shout echoed through her mind. She is not mine...
Jamie stared at her mother, realization slamming into her with the force of a semi-truck. “Mother?” she pleaded thinly, her struggles against his hold on her ceasing. “Please...” Jamie had no idea what she was asking for, what she was silently praying for. His hold had tightened so incredibly that her scalp was now turning numb. The delicately painful plucks of her hair, the strands being torn from the root, helped with the numbing — as did the pain in her heart that now settled like a heavy ache.
“James, let her go!” her mother shouted, clawing at him now. The plea in Jamie’s voice must have spurred her on, because she took the hit he gave her with gusto and kept coming at him. The angry cries and shouts echoed in the large reception room. Servants were thankfully absent, their dog in the kennel in the back still. It felt much like a bad movie, Jamie thought.
Her feet finally touched the ground. Her father’s hand left her hair, her body dropping to the floor with a dull thud.
Silence. Stony, intense, horrifying silence. Her mother’s high-pitched scream echoed through the room, the last sound that was heard for what seemed like forever. Jamie curled into a ball, her legs to her chest. Her hand, bloody with her father’s crimson liquid, held her tender head as tears started to roll down her face.
Then the soft hand of her mother touched her. Her father’s polished shoes retreated, silent like a phantom. The door to the manor, the horror house was still closed, the limousine outside long gone.
Jamie had always wondered. Wondered why no one in her family had such dark hair, why no one was as short as she was, why she had always seemed to be...different. But she had wrote it off. There were large portraits made of precious oils, charcole, and anything else that a painter could think of. Scattered around the house, they spoke of a family that came from wealth...and a completely blonde family.
Even her mother’s family had been blonde. And brown eyed. And tall, elegant.
Jamie was none of those, and although her mother promised her that she would be one day, she knew that she was always going to be short, dark haired, and blue eyed. Her skin never tanned, and she could barely walk in heels.
Now she understood why.
A choke came from her closing throat, a sob bubbling its way to her trembling lips. Pain whispered along her heart, her head, her very soul.
The door slammed open, the large mahogany wood seeming to shatter against the wall. Her father’s pounding feet could be heard even from across the room. Her mother tried to drag her to her feet, to the door.
And then the shouting began again — Jamie could do nothing but sob helplessly.
Jamie woke slowly. Painfully. Aching. At first, she thought she was home, or at least in the hotel. But as her surroundings became clear to her, the tears that had already been streaming down her cheeks quickened.
Jamie was shocked, reaching up to touch her cheeks with shaking fingers. The wetness that came away was horrifying, and even more so when she realized that a dark form was sitting beside her.
Her heart stopped.
She met the heated gaze of Talon.
And burst into tears.
The hot rush of them streamed down her cheeks, the tears like cold fire on her skin. The blatant weakness she was showing him frightened her, made her vulnerable, but she could not contain the pain as she recalled the past.
Life had never been the same after that. Soon after, she had moved into an apartment and had visited her mother frequently, but with secrecy. Chris had come along later, and had known her father. For whatever reason, she had not cared. Instead, she had shoved the knowledge out of her mind, and hadn’t realized until he cut her out of her mother’s life completely that their acquaintance had not been a pleasant one.
He had found out about her mother’s visits, their shared trips with adventure and motherly affection to her daughter. The fact that his wife had gone behind his back with such knowledge had enraged him, and he hadn’t minded expressing it.
To both of them.
Chris had only helped with her father’s complete separation of Jamie’s and her mother’s relationship. The betrayal she felt towards her mother afterward had dissipated, but not without reserves. She had demanded that her mother tell her the name of her real father, but had known Jamie’s intentions from the beginning and refused.
It had frightened her beyond her comprehension.
Now, though, as she lay in the large bed with a canopy that was as domineering as her surroundings and the man sitting next to her, she realized how depraved she was of everything. Of family, of love, of safety...She had finally had another chance with her mother, and in an act of complete carelessness, her luck had been ruined and she was no stuck in a situation that seemed unreal and very horrific.
A sob ripped from her throat, hard and loud and devastating. She lost her train of thought, turning from the condemning eyes of Talon. The pillow that cushioned her face was soft, soaking up her tears like her mother’s hand would, tender and caring.
Once upon a time, Jamie had had a small relationship with a friend of hers. It hadn’t had time to grow into anything more than a fling before he had cheated on her with her best friend at the time, the ultimate betrayal to Jamie’s tender, fifteen year old heart. Her mother had come into the room, a tissue in her hand, ready to console her daughter.
At the time, everything had seemed to be crashing down around her. But now, as she sobbed and cried and got snot everywhere she touched, she finally understood the term “complete ruination”.
What was Talon thinking of her now? The thought, and the fact that she cared, caused another sob to break free. It didn’t help when the bed shifted, his weight moving closer to hers causing her heart to stop.
A soft, feathery touch lingered on her shoulder, the feeling that coursed through her like a gentle breeze, a small comparison to how much th
e act actually meant...and felt.
Jamie’s body convulsed. With pain, with shock, with lingering sobs. She hadn’t known that she had curled into a ball, her trembling arms wrapped weakly around her knees. She hadn’t realized that Talon got so much closer, nor did she realize that he was now leaning over her.
She started to flinch, the pain of her nightmare drawing forth images of Chris and his sadistic moves. She could just picture him, looming over her, one fist raised in the air, the other undoing his jeans. Jamie squelched the scream that built in her throat, trying to remember that it wasn’t her father or Chris, but the man that she was going to rely on for escape.
“Jamie.”
His voice was dark, entrancing, almost...comforting. Talon’s voice was nothing like Chris’s. He had almost had a nasal tone of voice, but when angry... Jamie shuddered. When he had been angry, it had almost been like thunder, rumbling and deep and fear inducing.
“Jamie, stop crying,” he said, a large hand placed on her shoulders. The rough command almost turned her self-pity into anger, but when his thumb began to caress her shoulder in soft-as-light touches, she began to cry again. Chris had never touched her like that, not even in the early stages of their relationship.
The only one to even get close to comforting her had been her mother, and still it had lacked the need to care for her. It had only been to sooth her, to calm her down, and then she would be off. For politics, her job, a hair appointment, an elegant part with her friends — it had never been just to care for her. Just for hushing her.
“I’m not crying,” she hissed, the fake venom that she tried to give off ruined by a hiccup.
His thumb pressed into her shoulder, turning her over so that she could see him — and he her. Feeling her face flame, she started to press her hands over her face, aware that she had snot and God knows what all over herself.
“You are. I want you to stop.” This time his voice was nothing but demand, an order. Her temper flared, and she dropped her hands.
“I probably just saved your life — and you want to order me around?” she asked, incredulous. Her voice was scratchy. She could only guess what sort of sounds she had been making while she slept. Once before she had had the same nightmare, and Chris had shoved her awake, pissed that she had woken him from his sleep. Apparently, she had been screaming like a banshee.
“It wasn’t so hard to listen, was it.” The abrupt statement confused her at first. Then a smile curled her lips.
“Shut up.” Her chagrin statement was met with silence as she sat up, arranging the heavy duvet around her body. Yes, her Columbia was still on, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t freezing her ass off. The chill in the air was abnormal.
It came from him. A burst of frigged air came from his body, the shock of it making it feel like a frost against her skin. Jamie backed away, pressing against the headboard. The look in his eyes was dangerous enough to make a tiger cower.
“You plan on making an escape.” Once again, he said it not as a question but as a statement. Jamie nodded, rubbing her arms.
“I can’t just stay here,” she said, gazing around her. She should have been angry, scared, but the way he had stared down at her flushed away any thoughts of that origin. Her cheeks were still damp with tears, lashes heavy and eyes watery. As she stared at him, she realized she had no reason to be embarrassed.
He must have had his fair share of tears.He might not show it, but she knew that he sure as hell felt it.
“I am to go with you,” he said, nodding. His large, now clean arms, wrapped around his chest. The straining muscle bulged, the fact that he must have lost a large amount of body weight nonexistent.
Jamie answered his question with a nod. “I would really appreciate it if you did,” she said in a murmur.
Talon’s arms loosened around his chest. He stared at her, trying to understand. Something about her screamed determination — but the scream that he had heard from her earlier belied that. She was as weak and broken as he was. He recalled his deal with Auro in distaste. He didn’t want to do this, to betray her. Talon tried telling himself that he didn’t care about her, but... Hell, that was a lie.
The way her eyes looked at him affected him as none other had. There was no fear in their pale blue depths, nothing that said she was repulsed by him. A normal woman would have run screaming, but she stayed — if only because there was no way out. Yet he thought of her plans to help him escape. Adrenline rushed through him as he thought about finally taking in fresh air, of finally feeling the sun on his skin in all its glory. The window in that cage had been a small reminder that he was not meant for freedom.
To feel a full ray of light on his skin would be spiteful to Auro — and he was more than okay with that.
Talon was torn. Her hands were small, delicate, nails clean and dainty. What would he feel as he watched her plead for her life, reaching for him with those very hands? Auro believed that he would not care — but the more Talon thought about it, the stronger the territorial rage in his chest expanded.
Her voice was soft, compliant, undemanding and caring. Would she scream for him, cry for him? Would she rage her betrayal to him after he took her — and Auro held her in his hands? Should he even take her —
“Talon, we need to leave tonight.” Her voice broke him out of his dangerous mindset. Her face was pale, and she had not moved from her spot.
His head shook. The woman was crazy, he would give her that. The strength that she possessed would get her killed in the long run. Only one time had he tried to escape, and his punishment had been traumatic. His eyes turned haunted as he stared at her.
Jamie reached out a hand, hesitating as he started to pull away. “We need to,” she said, conviction in her feminine voice. Tears welled in her pale blue eyes, making his heart turn. He kept a straight face, though, staring at her with dead eyes.
When he spoke, all emotion drained of her face — except one.
Fear.
Chapter 8
“Ah, sir, I think there might be a problem...” The tech rubbed his forehead, brows drawn low. Lucian looked at him for all of a second before storming over and jerking the monitor to his face.
He stared. Bit out a curse. Listened as the tech’s chair rolled back. “Very few things piss me off,” he started, his voice a deep baritone. The room, with all of it’s clicking and scrapes of paper, stilled.
“Sir, if I could just —”
“This,” he said, jabbing a finger at the monitor, “pisses me off. That right there is bullshit.”
The shout rang around the room. At that moment, it seemed as if the world had stopped. Time was still, people were still — hell, even the fax machines were silent. Lucian took a breath, clenching his hands at his sides. Carefully, oh-so-very gently, he set the monitor back on the cluttered desk and let out a breath.
“Who let this happen?” he demanded, ignoring the tech who tried to talk to him. The man had ruined his day more than once, and he swore if he heard one more thing from him, Lucian was going to rip him a new one.
No one answered. “Who let this happen?”
His bark had a young woman, short with blonde hair curled into a tight bob, jumped to her feet. Everyones’ eyes turned to her.
“Mr. Xanthis, I emailed you about it only an hour ago. I had hoped that you would...”
“You would email me about something like this?” he shouted, storming over. One of the men sitting near her stood to his feet, ready to defend her. Lucian snarled at him and jerked a thumb at his office. “In.”
She moved like a hare, practically running to his office.
The tech tried to intervene, face beaded with sweat. Lucian just looked at him and he fell back, eyes helpless.
He slammed the door shut behind him. “What were you thinking? Email? Seriously? We both know that’s bullshit.”
“Mr. Pontros, I’m so sorry!” she rushed out, eyes wide in her pale face. “I didn’t know that it was so important, or I would have
came to you directly.”
He pinched his nose between his fingers, fighting for patience. “Everyone was told to come straight to me if anything like this happened — “
“I know, but —”
“Do not,” he barked, eyes flashing, “interrupt me. You’re lucky you’re a damn fast typer or you would be out of here. Fuck, you’re lucky you’re still alive.”
He strode to behind his desk, pushing a button on the stationary phone. “Harper, send in Levi and Devlin with their second in commands.” He let go of the button, turning back to the nervous woman.
“When I say ‘straight to me’ I mean it. Get out.”
The door slammed with her departure.
Lucian shoved himself into his chair, eyes staring at the wall as if he could make it explode — which he could. Long fingers curled into a tight fist. Fuck, everything was messed up now. Just fucking everything.
That man had been the one purpose for the whole mission. Now that he was gone... Lucian banged on the desk, the hard oak wood shuddering. How had they not found out sooner? Everything had been carefully placed, carefully monitored, carefully everything. No one had been allowed a break, least of all Lucian himself. The long nights at the office, monitoring, searching, filling out papers and search warrants and controlling the quickly depleting time — it had all been for nothing.
He barked out a curse, stomping to the door. It opened in time for Devlin and Levi to walk in. Devlin was tall, elegant, long haired and thin. Her hair was a fiery red, the colors mixing mysteriously in the light. Levi was dark, dull, and almost lifeless. The only reason the dead man was even on his team was because he had skills that Lucian suspected matched his own.
And Lucian was always right.
“Did anyone come to you about this? It’s been fucking months and we are just now noticing this,” he snapped, slamming the door closed behind them.
“I’ve never seen you so angry before,” Devlin purred, saddling up to his side. Her lithe body slid against his. Levi looked at her with unreadable eyes, then turned to the wall, looking out of the window that reflected the room before them, behind him..