Objective: (Bloodlines Book 2)

by Larsen, K.

  We resort to drinking in silence and watching the band. I can’t stop warring with myself. I want this time together to just be as effortless as it always was between us but I know what waits for us at the end. I still don’t have answers over why the hell she shot me, or Ezra, or whatever the fuck she was aiming for that night. There are too many variables and I’ve lived with the hate that I harbored for too long to just let it go. I can see it eat at her too but for whatever reason, she seems to deal with it better than I do. Watching her sway back and forth, the music blaring turns me on. Instinctively I lean to her and brush my lips just under her ear and watch as goose bumps pop up along her arm. I’m so sick and twisted. Is it possible to love someone so deeply that you can hate them as well?

  “I’ll be right back.” She twists her head to mine as she speaks. Unease bubbles in my stomach. Would she run? “Cane. I have to pee.” She rolls her eyes at me and starts towards the back of the bar. I can’t help but notice all the dudes staring at her ass as she walks away from me. I redirect my gaze to the stage. She’s just peeing. She won’t leave.

  “Hey, hawtie,” some young thing drawls, breaking me from my thoughts. I look over the young face next to me. She looks tanked. Her eyes are glazed over a bit and her curly blonde hair looks a little too bleached for my taste. But she’s got a screaming body that just last week I would have taken advantage of, but now, now I don't really have interest.

  “Hey,” I reply dully as she drinks me in. Her finger comes to my bicep and trails its way down the beer in my hand.

  “Need a refill, sugar, or are you ready to get outta here?” she says pointedly while moving closer. I feel like a deer in headlights. I want to move, but I can’t seem to. “Let’s go home.” She pulls the near empty bottle from my hand while moving in front of me and wrapping her arms around my neck. She’s molded herself firmly against my front pressing her pelvis to my crotch. My hands are hanging limply at my sides while she hangs off me. This isn’t good.

  Her head tips backward sharply and she lets out a howl before disengaging from me. Stunned I snap my gaze up to find Mags dragging her away by her hair. I advance on Mags as quickly as I can when I catch on to the situation. I’ve never seen her violent. I’ve never really seen her aggressive at all.

  “What the FUCK!” the blonde screams.

  “Keep your dirty paws off him!” Mags yells, throwing her by a clump of hair to the floor of the bar. Her muscles are taut and her eyes look wild. She’s hot as shit. The blonde looks up to her and glares before adjusting her too-short skirt and standing up to face Mags.

  “Maybe he likes what he sees!” she screeches. Magnolia’s shoulder slump a little and she shakes her head.

  “He sees an easy whore. Of course men see you, you’ve made yourself hard to ignore for all the wrong reasons. Get lost,” she clips, irritated but seemingly calmer. There is a strange moment of silence that blankets the bar. The band has stopped playing and there is a crowd circled around us.

  The blonde swallows hard and her body stiffens. Mags clearly hit a sore spot in her ego. Her hands clench into fists and I know what's going to happen next. I cringe and close my eyes momentarily just before the blonde launches herself at Magnolia. I’m about to step in to block the blonde from getting to her but Magnolia changes her stance. She almost looks peaceful, calm. She watches the blonde carefully and just when she is within arm’s length, Mags throws out the heel of one hand, keeping her elbow slightly bent to counter the force of the impact. The hit lands directly between the blonde's eyes, stopping her momentum entirely.

  The multiple gasps that ring out around us pretty much confirm my feelings. What the hell?

  The blonde drops to the floor like dead weight and Magnolia hasn't even moved. When the girl doesn't get up, Mags lets her arm drop back down to her side and looks over to me. Her features show calm but there is rage burning in her eyes. She smirks at me slightly and I feel...scared.

  “It’d be useful if you could at least try to keep your dick in your pants, asshole.” She turns towards the exit, the crowd opening up a path for her, and stalks outside. Fuck. What the hell was that?! Magnolia doesn’t cuss! She doesn’t hit and she definitely doesn't cause a scene in public. Women are clapping as they watch her exit. I shrug my shoulders at a couple of guys staring at me before taking off after her.

  She’s not on the sidewalk when I get outside the bar. I scan the street to the left and right looking for her black locks piled high on her head. Was this a ploy? Is she gone? A loud whistle rings out across the street that draws my attention. I look over and heave a sigh of relief as I watch Magnolia turn around and confront the man who whistled. He puts his arms up in retreat and stumbles back a step.

  “Mags!” I bellow while trying to get across the four lane drag. Her gaze snaps to mine and back to the guy in front of her. She pulls back and lays the guy out with a single hit to the crotch. I swear my eyes are about to explode from my head. Who is she? I chase her back to the hotel. She doesn’t stop and wait, and she doesn't hold the elevator door for me either. I catch up to her just as the hotel door is swinging shut. How’d she get in?

  “Dammit! STOP!” I scream. She stops mid-step and turns to me, seething.

  “Why?” she barks.

  “Mags, what the fuck was that?” I ask, feeling out of place. She was my voice of reason, always; this role reversal has me confused.

  “It was me,” she snips. Something deep inside me hardens at her statement.

  “That’s not you. You don’t swear, and you don’t hit,” I remind her. I feel like a nagging mother.

  “No, Cane. That’s who I was. Who I am now is an ugly, well trained ball of anger. If you want to... you know...go check on the girl, please, go right ahead,” she spits before collapsing onto the plush leather couch looking utterly lost and defeated. I stalk over to her, charged. I don’t understand this new Magnolia and I’m not sure I want to. I yank one hand off her thigh and tug hard, forcing her to stand. She might be able to hold her own with a chick but she’s got nothing on me. She squeaks in surprise and scowls at me. Rather harshly I drag her to the massive bathroom in front of the mirror.

  "What do you see?" I grind out, holding both her palms flat on the counter so she can't move.

  "A mess," she whispers.

  "I see beauty. Try again. What do you see?" Using both hands I hold her head towards the mirror, forcing her to take a look at herself.

  "A hurricane..." she whimpers after a few beats of silence.

  "I see the clear blue sky in the eye of it." Her eyes dart to mine in the mirror.

  “Again," I demand.

  "I...I see...what’s left." She cries. Tears start to stream down her face. "I see the broken remains of what's left of me. There isn't a whole. Just pieces. I'm not who I was, Cane, can't you see that? It was all stolen from me." Her chest shudders and jerks with fast, uneven breaths. I want to hate her. I want to be objective and harsh to finish this. I do, but my heart is so twisted up seeing her tears that I'm spending every moment trying to figure out what she's thinking and why. And right then it hits me. The past doesn't matter. It never will. I. Want. Magnolia. There is no loyalty that runs deeper to anyone; not my uncle, not the crew, no one owns me like she does. There is no way I will be able to complete my task. There is no way I will be able to hand her over. Fuck.

  "Steal it back then," I declare before dropping my hands and stalking away angrily. I need time to think. I need to figure out a plan. I get as far as the balcony door when she rushes me from behind, tackling me to the ground.

  “What the fuck?” I squawk in surprise as she seamlessly repositions herself on top of me. Her thighs straddle my waist and her hair is haphazardly hanging loosely from her elastic. I’ve never seen anything more attractive. I buck my hips to dislodge her but she adjusts her weight to stay where she is. She rears back and punches me in the face harder than I’ve ever been hit by any guy before. My hips buck wildly and my hands fly to my face to try to
avoid more pain. FUCK. My face hurts. Blood trickles in the back of my throat, no doubt from a broken nose.

  “There is no stealing it back, you animal! I loved you. I loved us! I died the day I thought you died!” she wails, beating my gut like a speed bag. She’s strong and determined and she’s pummeling me.

  “MAGS!” I boom. I startle her just long enough to roll one hip to the side while pushing her in the opposite direction. She loses her hold on me and scrambles to her feet. She’s not fast enough though. I grab her, wrapping my arms around her and pinning her elbows to her sides. I hoist her up and carry her to the bedroom.

  “Dammit, Cane, put me down!” she squeals, kicking wildly at me.

  “As you wish,” I grunt and throw her on to the bed roughly. She scurries onto her knees and stares wild-eyed at me.

  “What the shit!?”

  Are you done with your pity party now?” I bark back.

  “It’s not a pity party, you ass, it’s my life!” Her arms flail wildly as she squawks at me. I approach the bed with swift determination. She doesn’t see it. I have to make her see it. I put one knee on the end of the bed near where she sits and reach out to her. She leans away escaping my touch and it snaps something in me. Diving head first at her I tackle her to the bed with her legs pinned under her butt.

  “You are fucking beautiful,” I growl, inches from her mouth. She’s silent and unmoving as she stares up at me, mouth hanging open. “Your eyes are pure sex. Your lips are like silk.” I dip down and brush my mouth over hers lightly. Her breath is warm and light. “Your heart, Jesus, Mags, your fucking soul is what saved me.” Her neck cranes forward as she attacks my mouth. She bites my bottom lip, drawing it out and I lose it. She wrecks me. I unpin her arms and they immediately come up wrapping around me, pulling me to her. Her kisses are vicious and rough like she has something to prove. I kiss her back just as hard. When she runs her hands up under my shirt, dragging her nails, a deep groan escapes me. I yank her shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind me before rearing up and jerking her shorts down her smooth legs. She pulls her bra off and attacks me, lunging forward until she's squashed against me. Her hands are everywhere, moving too fast. My shirt is lifted over my head and tossed aside. There is so much time lost between us, so much pent up sexual tension, it seems to be flooding us both. Her movements show her need for me. She may have changed but so have I, we can still make this work.

  I can’t process all the different sensations as she mauls me. Her lips hit my earlobe, neck, and work their way to my chest. Jesus, she’s trying to kill me. I’m panting and need to gain my control back. I push her back roughly, stopping her exploration, and shuck my jeans off. “Lay back,” I demand. She does as I wish, reclining onto her back and watching me heatedly. I hook my fingers in the waistband of her panties and pull them off in one swift motion before crawling over her. “Don’t move,” I command. Her eyes bug out and she shudders slightly but stays still. I trail my finger lightly from her mouth to her collarbone, down over her breast, and flick her hard nipple. She squirms but doesn’t really move. I continue dragging my finger from her breast down her taut belly to that sweet spot where her hip meets her upper thigh. I shove my knee in between her legs, spreading her wide, and let my finger lightly run down her center. She’s so wet. Goddamn. She whines and wiggles her hips. “I said don't. Move,” I clip, moving my finger back up her belly. She’s panting hard and looks like she’s being tortured. I hover over her and lick her neck slowly from collar to ear. “Cane,” she whimpers. One hand goes between her legs and I slip a finger inside her while I lightly bite her neck and work my way south.

  Her hands come to my head, clutching my hair, and shove me lower. I stop everything and glare at her. She lets her hand fall to her sides and closes her eyes. “Cane?” she whines as I move away from her. I jump up and grab my shirt before returning to her. “Sit,” I state. She complies, curiosity taking over her features. I reach behind her head and tie the shirt over her eyes. “No...” she whispers.

  “Trust me.” I lay her back down and start my crusade to taste every last inch of her body again. Her body trembles the lower I explore. I swirl my tongue at the sensitive spot just at the top of her inner thigh and relish the way her body shakes. I spread her wide, using my fingers, to expose everything. Fuck. Her scent is sweet. Her thighs are quivering as if strained. I dive in, tongue first, tasting her. She cries out something inaudible but I don’t pause or stop. I can get enough of her taste, the way she's shaking and whimpering. I’m hard as a rock from just the way she's wiggling under my tongue. I nibble, suck and lick her clit repeatedly until her back arches up off the bed and she lets out a low groan of pleasure. Kissing my way back up I move the shirt from her eyes and kiss her. “Do you taste how good you are?” I ask. Her nails drag down my back painfully before she slips a hand between us and grabs my dick firmly. I look down between us and can’t help but suck in a sharp breath. Her small soft hand methodically moves up and down my shaft until my hips start pumping into her hand on their own. She angles her hips up, pushing her heels into the mattress and slips me inside of her.

  “Unnnnnnnnnhhhh,” I groan, unable to stifle myself.

  “Do you like that, Cane? Is my pussy wet enough, is it tight enough for you?” she murmurs low in my ear. I’ve never heard her speak like this. I never expected it, but it turns me on so much that I don’t bother to take my time. I’m going to take what I want, and I want her. I pump furiously into her. Her eyes glaze over and I know I’ve got the right spot.

  “Harder,” she demands in pleasure. The room is silent but for the sound of my balls slapping against her and heavy breathing. I’m close. God, I’m close. She shoves my chest hard, breaking my concentration. I look into her eyes – they're playful.

  “My turn,” she pants. Pushing me so I roll onto my back, she straddles me taking my cock into her hands and then plunging herself down on it. My body jerks at the sensation involuntarily. Her hands come to her breasts, massaging them, as she arches back, lifting herself up and down. I reach up and around her and pull the elastic from her hair, letting her black locks spill down her back. At this angle her hair barely brushes my thighs when she slams down on me. “Fuck,” I groan through gritted teeth. She is so beautiful, everything in motion, olive skin glistening with sweat. She lurches forward, at hand at either side of my head and stays closer, grinding her hips in circles and back and forth. I can’t tear my eyes from hers as her hair tumbles around our heads. She leans down and bites my lower lip as she pushes harder and faster. My fingers curl into the flesh at her hips and move her even harder against me. She feels so good. This is angry, harsh, passionate sex, a far cry from the lovemaking of our past.

  “Come,” I grind out and bite her neck. She speeds up for a moment before her entire body convulses and she falls slack against my chest, panting. It only takes me one more thrust before I find my own explosive release. She’s still shaking slightly and I can’t seem to catch my breath. “That was...”

  “Something...” she finishes, her fingers lightly trailing over my biceps. I stroke her back gently as we lay there in silence.

  “Did you know Misty went to your funeral?” she asks. “I hate Misty. I hate that she showed up and tried to claim to be the most affected by your death,” she grunts. Okay. Random. I sigh and roll her off me so I can see her face. Her eyes are soft and warm again. I can’t help but wonder where she hides her rage.

  “I didn’t know that, actually.”

  “You weren’t watching from a secret room or something?” She laughs but it’s a hard laugh, not easy and light like I’m used to from her.

  “I wasn’t even awake at that point.” I sigh. “Misty, huh?” I muse.

  “I wasn’t there. Aster told me,” she says weakly. I’m not surprised. What murderess attends the funeral of the person she killed? “Tell me what happened,” she whispers as I brush a stray hair from her face.

  “I died,” I tell her. I don’t want to think about
that night, or about waking up over a week later in some back room at a veterinarian's office. I don’t want to relive any of that shit right now.

  “Please. I need to understand.” Her voice wobbles a fraction and I realize I’m going to give in anyways, so what the hell?

  “Ezra moved me. Or rather, some of the guys moved me while he tried to find you. I woke up eight days after you...after I was shot.” She cringes at my words and I want to stop telling her this, but the hopeless look on her face makes me continue. “I woke up in a veterinarian’s office, in some back room. I had no idea what happened. Ezra, he told me...” She nods for me to carry on. “He told me he stopped by the apartment and overheard you on the phone saying you were leaving as soon as you had the money. He said you shot me, took the bag and ran.” She lets out a puff of air and blinks rapidly. Her swollen lips move just barely, almost as if she’s counting or reciting something. I pull her closer to me. “I didn’t really remember what happened. He wanted to send someone to hunt you down and kill you but something just, I don't know, Mags, something felt off. I hated you. Really. I believed him for so long, but I still volunteered to be the one to take care of you. He said that I couldn’t come home because everyone thought I was dead and it served us all if it stayed that way. If I was dead the whole thing was just pinned on the shooter. I could be used elsewhere where no one knew me. The longer it took to find you the more time I had to think. I still can’t figure out why Ezra was even at the apartment that night. Your phone records showed your last call was to me and mine was to you. And I wasn’t allowed to go home. I became the new liaison for Lynchburg, Virginia for Ezra. He kept me out of the loop. I had no idea what was happening at home in Baltimore. I had doubts but his story seemed to make sense, for a while anyways. I still can’t sort out why you did it, Mags...” I look at her, my head shaking back and forth, willing her to give me the answer, but she stays silent. Her eyes fill with tears that she won't let fall.