Hellfire (Stonewood Saga Book 2)

by Ally Vance

  After everything that’s happened to me since moving here and meeting Quinlan and Frollo, it horrifies me to even consider a serious relationship with either of them. They degraded me, humiliated me, and tore away my dignity so they could use and violate me as they saw fit. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive them for what they did, even though a small, dark part of me found pleasure in their torment.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Quinlan

  Frollo’s been gone for some time now, and all I’ve been doing since he left is pacing and wondering why the hell he involved the police in the first place. Doesn’t he realise that if they catch up to her and ask questions, she's going to drop us both in the pot and roast us alive? Regardless of whether they believe her or not, they’ll investigate. They’ll discover evidence that she was in the room beneath the clock tower. Our fingerprints are all over the place, and whilst we could argue we’ve performed maintenance on the bell and clock, he won’t be able to find an excuse for having had sex in there with her. Fresh anger courses through me, slowly reaching a boiling point. My uncle’s interference and blatant disregard for me has me seething. This time, my rage is only directed at him, though, and not Esme.

  We may be at odds with each other, but I don’t particularly want him arrested. However, I refuse to take the fall for this mess if it comes to it. The best thing would be for us to find her before the cops do. Then we could just inform them she’d been staying with a friend and has returned home now. I need to locate my uncle. No doubt, he’s at Kellen’s having a good catch-up with him when we need to be doing something about Esme.

  I grab my coat and head out the door. It’s starting to drizzle, and I resign myself to the fact I'm going to get wet once again. But that’s March in England: miserable and bloody damp, with the occasional warm day if we’re lucky. I can’t recall exactly where Kellen lives, but if Lillian saw me with Esme, then it must be fairly close to her house. Destination in mind, I prepare to take the route through town. I've had enough of those woods for now, and they’ll be worse after all the rain we’ve been having.

  It takes me about twenty minutes to get to Kellen and Lillian’s house, and Frollo’s car is parked out front. I knew he’d be here. It occurs to me that I should make some sort of excuse to get him to leave. I lean against a tree at the edge of the wood, just out of the rain, and ponder this for a few moments while watching the house for any signs of his departure.

  I've been standing outside the house for no more than two minutes when something catches my eye. I blink in surprise and straighten, staring intently at the upstairs window. What the hell? I narrow my eyes, cursing my poor eyesight as I squint, trying to work out if I saw correctly. I could’ve sworn Esme just walked past the window. The thought of being so close and unable to touch her fills me with an ache I know I’ll never be able to satisfy, even if I were to gorge on her every damn day for the rest of my life.

  My heart pounds in my chest, and my hands ball so tightly into fists that the knuckles are threatening to crack.

  “Walk past again. Come on. Is it you, Esme? Show your face. Come on!” I mutter to myself, anxiously tapping my foot as I wait.

  The sound of voices reaches my ears, momentarily breaking my concentration as I search out the source. I curse under my breath when I see my uncle on the doorstep saying his goodbyes to Kellen, but when I glance back up at the window, my heart jolts with delight; Esme is now staring out through the glass.

  I take a step forward, out of the shelter of the tree, and when her eyes lock with mine, I can see her face pale even from here. It takes every ounce of my will not to rush over, run up the stairs, and pull her into my arms. She didn’t leave. She's right here and probably has been all along. I need to talk to her without my uncle finding out. I notice her looking nervously at my uncle, who’s now walking down the path, and then back to me.

  I shake my head, and pressing a finger to my lips, I wink at her and mouth the words, “I’ll be back.”

  Her face is still twisted with worry, and when I take a step towards Frollo, she disappears from the window. The tables have turned. I know where Esme is now, and Frollo won’t be able to stop me.

  Later that evening, when my uncle is holed up in his office at home, I prepare to slip out. The rain is coming down in sheets, so I grab an umbrella from a coat hook near the door. I look once behind me to make sure he hasn’t heard, and satisfied I've gone undiscovered, I quietly leave the house.

  Throughout the long walk to Lillian’s, I contemplate how I’m going to play this. Esme doesn’t trust me, and I’m sure she's worrying herself silly about whether I've told my uncle where she's hiding. There’s no way Kellen doesn’t know she's in his house, so I’m not sure why he hasn’t mentioned her presence to Frollo. But, I’m certain my uncle wouldn’t have been able to hide it if he knew where she was staying. Uncle Frollo is as subtle as a brick when it comes to Esme, and while I can’t blame him for the strength of his reaction towards her, it will be his downfall.

  Frollo’s complete and utter weakness to her natural charm and beauty leads him to act without thinking or taking note of the consequences. Esme may have succumbed to his touch and physical affection, but he doesn’t truly care about her. He’s driven by his need to possess her, to lay claim to her body and make her his. I’m not going to fall victim to carnal desire, no matter how tempting. Not this time. I care too much to let such weakness control me.

  Plan in mind, I jog up the pathway to Kellen’s house. I need to play it cool. If I can just get Esme to talk to me, to listen, I may be able to repair some of the damage I've caused to her already fragile trust. I close the umbrella, shaking off the excess water droplets, and knock on the door.

  I wait with my heart in my damn throat, and to my relief, Lillian answers.

  “Oh. Hi, Quinlan.”

  “Is Esme still here? I need to see her,” I enquire, glancing over her shoulder into the hallway behind.

  “Lillian, baby girl. Who is it?” I hear Kellen’s rough voice shout out from the living room.

  Lillian shudders and closes her eyes before answering, “It’s Quinlan, Pastor Frollo’s nephew. He’s come to see me. I bumped into him in town and asked him to come by sometime for a catch-up.”

  “Hello, Kellen,” I call out to him, making sure my voice is warm and friendly.

  “Don’t you be getting any funny ideas about my Lillian,” he replies jokingly, but I can hear the warning and possessiveness in his tone.

  “No need to worry about that. I've only got eyes for one woman, and it’s not your daughter,” I laugh, winking at Lillian, who lets out a little giggle, despite the pained expression on her face.

  “Good boy,” he answers, and I frown.

  “Can I talk with you for a minute?” I ask her, and she bites her lip before nodding and beckoning me to enter.

  I follow behind her as she leads me up the stairs. I can tell she's feeling the strain of the pregnancy and the exertion of climbing them. She leads me into her room and sits on the bed.

  “Please, sit down,” she invites, gesturing towards a chair beside her small desk.

  “It’s probably none of my business, but what the fuck was that with your dad just then?” I blurt out, trying to keep my voice low so no one else hears.

  Lillian’s face turns as white as a sheet, and she shakes her head.

  “I can’t talk about it,” she whispers, her voice cracking as a few tears slide down her pale cheeks.

  I tilt my head and give her a serious look. “Well, something isn’t right. You can always come to me if you ever need to talk. I’m aware you don’t really know me, but sometimes that’s not a bad thing. I’m not tied to this town like everyone is,” I tell her, and her lips twist up with a ghost of a smile.

  Lillian exhales heavily and stares at me. She’s no longer crying, and her eyes are now sharp and clear again while the tears are slowly drying on her cheeks.

  “Thank you, Quinlan. Esme is in the room
at the other end of the landing. You’ve got your work cut out for you, so good luck.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Esme

  Oh God, Quinlan knows I’m here. That’s bad enough, but what if he tells Frollo, and they both come for me? I got the distinct impression he wouldn’t say anything to his uncle. How do I know for sure, though? I can’t trust him. I want to run, but I've got nowhere else to go. I can only hope the presence of Lillian and her dad provide enough of a safety net to keep him in check.

  A part of me, the insane part, wants to see him, to confront him and demand an explanation. The sensible part wants me to simply kick him in the balls and tell him to get fucked. My foolishness has no bounds, which is why I’m still here, waiting for him to fulfil his promise and come back.

  Over the last few days, I've been spending most of my time with Lillian, talking about the baby along with more inane stuff. She told me she’s having a boy, but she hasn’t named him yet. She's getting very excited, though. Her boyfriend, Landon, will be released from prison soon. She told me he was arrested for breaking and entering along with attempted kidnapping, but according to her all the accusations are false. I’ve got a funny feeling there's more to it than she's saying, but so far every time I've hinted at being willing to listen, she's pinned me with a piercing stare and changed the subject.

  I’m in her room when I catch sight of Quinlan walking down the path to the house. This time his uncle isn’t here to prevent him from coming in to get me.

  “He’s coming,” I whisper to Lillian, and she slowly gets up and leaves the room to intercept him before her dad or the round-the-clock care nurse can get to the door.

  My brain is whirring at supersonic speed, my blood is racing through my veins, and my chest is tight, aching with the breath I've been holding since Lillian left the room. What will he do to me? What’s he going to say? What am I going to say? It’s too late to refuse to see him, and it’s too late to run and avoid this confrontation altogether. I shouldn’t even allow him to engage with me. However, I can’t shake the burning need to know…why?

  I leave the safety of Lillian’s room and make my way across the landing to the bedroom I've been staying in. I can hear them slowly heading upstairs, and I dart silently into my room, closing the door firmly behind me. A shut door won’t keep Quinlan from finding me, but a sense of safety and control is what I need right now, and the familiar surroundings of my little sanctuary are reassuring.

  Their voices and footsteps fade as they go into Lillian’s room. The whole time my heart is thudding a staccato against my ribcage. He’s so close, and I’m scared. I’m afraid of what he’ll do, knowing already what he’s capable of, and more importantly, I’m frightened by my irrational incapability of resisting the Matthews men. It’s even harder with Quinlan because I considered him to be my friend before things fell apart and he became an accomplice in my abduction.

  A soft knock on the door makes me jump, and I let out a surprised yelp. I’d become so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t heard anyone approaching. Without having to look, I already know who it is, and suddenly, I’m not so sure I’m ready to face the stalker from my nightmares.

  “Come in,” I call out, my words strangled by the sudden dryness in my throat.

  I take a sip of the tea I brought up earlier as I watch the handle slowly turn and the door begin to open. Every instinct is telling me to flee, but my body is frozen in place. I can do nothing except stare as Quinlan walks into the room.

  “Hello, Esme,” he says, and the low timbre of his voice washes over me like a warm wave at the edge of the seashore.

  I stare hard at him, silently waiting for him to say something more. My tongue feels as though it’s been glued to the roof of my mouth, and I can’t seem to unstick it to speak.

  He appraises me, taking in my appearance, and his eyes feel as though they’re peeling off every layer of clothing I’m wearing. He stops on my face, locking our gazes. I feel like I’m being stripped completely naked for him, right down to my soul. I suck in a breath. In all the times I've been around Quinlan and his uncle, I've never felt quite so exposed as I do now. It’s as if something has shifted within me. I don’t know what it is or why, but it terrifies me down to the very core of my being.

  “Get out,” I tell him, but my voice is weak, even to my own ears, and lacks the conviction I know I should be expressing.

  Quinlan shakes his head. “No, Esme. I need to see you. I need to talk to you. I need to fucking know you’re okay! I've been going out of my damned mind, wondering where the hell you’ve been and whether you’re safe.”

  “I’m safer here than I ever was with you,” I hiss.

  “That’s not true,” he scoffs. “You were always safer with me than with my uncle.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I snap, my voice becoming shrill. “That’s not how I felt when you pinned me to the floor of the clock tower and tried to fuck me against my will!”

  “I never said I was innocent, but you seem to think me more capable of committing evil than my uncle. I would never have taken it as far as he did, no matter how it might seem to you. I wanted you; I still do. But unlike my uncle, I would’ve stopped if you told me ‘no’. Think back, Esme. Who was it that fucked you? Who was it that held you down so you were helpless and couldn’t prevent what was happening to you? It sure as hell wasn’t me,” he retorts, countering my argument.

  I gasp as the memory of Frollo taking my body and filling me up with his cock, over and over, flashes into my mind. I look away from Quinlan, not wanting to see his face, or to have him know how his words have affected me. His expression is one of grim satisfaction when I finally glance up at him, and I want to smack the look off his face.

  “You didn’t stop him. You did things to me too,” I fire back at him, thinking about how he drove his cock down my throat. He could at least have the grace to look ashamed of his actions.

  Quinlan takes a step towards me, and I stand my ground. But my whole body is shaking with suppressed rage at him, at his uncle, and at my own folly for getting involved with these two men in the first place. He continues to slowly close the distance between us until he’s standing directly in front of me. I lift my hand and slap him across his face, the sound reverberating around the room. My palm stings from the force of it connecting with his cheek, and his head jerks to the side.

  He straightens, and his eyes are dark, but his expression is softer than I would’ve expected it to be. His skin is reddening in the shape of my handprint, and even though he deserved it, a bubble of guilt blossoms and bursts in my chest just before his mouth crashes down onto mine.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Quinlan

  Esme’s mouth moves hesitantly beneath mine, and I can tell she's still unsure of me. At this point, I’m grateful she hasn’t kneed me in the balls again. It’s a small fucking victory, but I’ll take it. Having her here, not fighting me, not screaming, and actually letting me kiss her, it’s a goddamn dream, and I’m living it. Part of me relishes her fight and fire, but I can’t deny how much I’m enjoying the feel of her willing lips right now.

  I run my tongue along the seam of her mouth, and her lips part on a sigh, granting me access. I plunder inside, tasting her, teasing her, tangling my tongue with hers as I dominate her with a fucking kiss. My blood is like fire in my veins, and the heat floods downward to my eager cock, already aching and straining for this woman. Esme has a body and soul screaming to be owned, and even though she's far too good for a man like me, I can’t resist her. Every villain is driven by something, and Esme is mine. She draws out the darkness flowing inside me, and I have to learn to harness it.

  I twine my fingers through her long hair, wrapping it in my fist as I use it to hold her to me. A soft whimper escapes her parted lips, and the vibration on my tongue makes my need for her grow even stronger, and my desire more pronounced. Without breaking the kiss, I move us towards the bed with one hand at her waist and the other still
firmly twisted in her hair. Her knees buckle as they hit the edge of the mattress, and I guide her down, aligning my body with hers.

  Esme breaks away, pushing me off and scrambling up the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t be with you. I don’t trust you.”

  I blow out a breath and pin her with a stare. “Yet you’d trust him? What more can I do to convince you of how little you actually mean to him, Esme? My uncle sees you as an object to satisfy his needs. He desires you, nothing more. He called the police when he thought you were missing, but he couldn’t even tell them your last name, or what you were to him. It was me who stepped up and told them you were Esme Byrne…and that you were my girlfriend.”

  “You did what?” she looks at me in disbelief as I move up to sit next to her on the bed.

  I take her warm hand in mine, but she pulls away, putting some distance between us.

  “When I said it, my uncle thought it was a power play. He believed it was another ploy to rattle and upset him, but while it did have that effect, it was never my intention. I can’t deny it felt good, though,” I reply, gazing deeply into her eyes and willing her to recognise my sincerity.

  “You helped him lock me away. You took advantage of me, just like he did!” Esme blurts out, her voice tinged with pain and humiliation.

  “I never took it as far as him. I’ll admit I got carried away. I did do some fucked up shit, and I can’t deny that. Something about you called to me like a siren, awakening all my hidden, repressed urges, and I snapped. I apologise I let it get so out of hand, but I’m not sorry for wanting you,” I finish, sucking in a breath as I level a hard stare at the woman gaping speechlessly in front of me.

  I can see the emotions fluttering across her face and in her eyes. Neither of us says anything, but gradually our harsh, uneven breaths become less so, and we start breathing in time with each other.