Cruel Crown: A Dark Romance (Sekten Book 2)

by C. Lymari

  “Where do you want her?” he asked me.

  “In the basement,” I replied. “Down those stairs. I’ll be there in a second.”

  I started to move away to get what I needed when Gideon reached out and pulled me back by my hip.

  “Give me your mouth, Petal.”

  And because time was of the essence, I did. I turned my head and kissed him. It was soft, unlike anything I had ever felt before. A low growl emitted from his throat and tingles shot down my spine.

  “Hurry the fuck up because I need to be inside of you,” he growled.

  While he went to the basement, I went to my room and grabbed an extra pair of blankets, then went to the bag in my closet and mixed some stuff that would let the girl sleep through the whole night. She needed her rest, and for one night, I wanted peace.

  With a syringe in one hand, the blankets, water, and a warm rag in the other, I made my way to the basement where Gideon already had the girl on a cot.

  “You do this often, love?” he asked, referring to the chains around the bed.

  “It’s one of my safe houses,” I admitted as I grabbed the syringe and injected it behind the girl’s neck. While it took effect, I grabbed the blanket and put it over her body.

  “I like to be prepared for anything,” I told him before I left the room. I went to my kitchen, where I had various vials of different vitamins ready to be injected. In this line of work, you were always on the go, and more often than not, sleep was a privilege and not a right. For your body to be in the best shape possible, you had to feed it accordingly, but that wasn’t always possible. I liked to inject vitamins frequently. They gave me a boost and made it possible for me to keep spreading myself thin.

  When I came back down, he had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, showing me the tattoos that now adorned his arm. One of his hands had skeletal shading from the wrist going up to his knuckles. On his other hand was a broken crown, with the word “mad” on his middle fingers—the a an anarchy symbol.

  It didn’t take a genius that it was an ode to his old life in MI6. He renounced his loyalties and was now revolting against said government.

  “You like what you see?” His husky voice snapped me out of my momentary lapse of sanity.

  Shrugging, I replied, “Just wondering why all the tattoos? We both know they’re a liability.”

  He grinned at me, and we both knew I was admiring his body, but like hell if I’d admit it aloud.

  “I’m not scared. I’m not hiding. If they want me, they can come fucking find me.”

  Nothing held him back anymore. Weirdly it made my lower stomach quiver, and the ache that I had between my legs since the moment I saw him outside of Yates’s house intensified.

  Keeping myself busy seemed like the way to go. Grabbing the warm cloth, I cleaned the girl’s face, sighing in relief when she didn’t stir. I wouldn’t have to deal with her asking me to kill her again.

  She was young, a little taller than me, with brown hair. Her skin was pale with a gray hue from lack of sun. She was basically skin and bones, and this was only what I could assess from the outside.

  “The chains were used for training,” I found myself explaining.

  His voice was low, and the energy in the room changed. “Was it for the tycoon bastard?”

  “Yes,” I replied as my eyes met his.

  “Did you fuck him?”

  “Have you stayed celibate since the last time I saw you?”

  His jaw went taut, and I could see he was grinding his molars, but he couldn’t deny it, and I was glad he didn’t try to lie to me.

  “Come on, I’ll inject you,” I said as I started to walk away.

  “What, are you going to put me to sleep too?” he bit out.

  “Vitamins. You’re going to need stamina to keep up with me.”

  And just like that, a playful glint came to his eyes, and it gave me a thrill.

  The basement was bare, and there was a bathroom attached, no windows, and it locked from the outside. My cabin was remote, so no one would be able to hear the girl if she decided to start screaming. Once Gideon stepped foot into the kitchen, I locked the door.

  “Up the stairs, the last door on the right,” I said as I grabbed a cup of water and more supplies. Once I finished my water, I left the cup in the sink and asked myself what was I doing?

  Picking up my phone, I called Bastian again.

  “Don’t come to my place,” I said.

  “Yeah, I figured, so I got myself some company.” I brought my phone down about to hang up when he continued. “The inside cameras were never on; just on the outside. I think he was too paranoid that one day they’ll leak on him, so you’re safe from prying eyes.”

  There was no thank-you; I just hung up.

  Taking a deep breath, I made my way upstairs. With every creak of the old wooden stairs, my heart pounded and skipped a beat. He was here because I wanted him. There was no use in hiding behind false pretenses.

  Something about seeing him in my room terrified yet thrilled me. Fear had always turned me on. It was the only way I knew how to survive. I learned to love the thrill of the hunt, learned to get excited and not scared when I felt fear because, in a way, it kept me calm and gave me the strength to kill. No one could do me any more harm. It was one vicious cycle I could never get off. Even if I could, I didn’t think I’d want to—this life was all I’d ever known.

  When I stepped foot in my room, Gideon was seated on the bed with just his jeans on. He was shirtless, all the tattoos on his chest on full display. He had taken his shoes off, and his feet were bare. There was something so alluring about him at the moment. Maybe it was because he was in my space, and for one night, he could be mine.

  “You got comfortable,” I mumbled as I put the tray with the syringe and vitamins next to him. He watched me as I walked across the room from him with the esclave necklace and moved a portrait aside, revealing a hidden safe behind it.

  When it opened, I put the Russian artifact inside. It was time for it to go back home. Gideon didn’t say anything; he just watched me, and I asked myself, why did I trust him?

  “What are you hunting, Petal?” He reached out for me, grabbing me by my hips and putting me between his open legs.

  “A little mystery won’t kill you, handsome,” I said as I grabbed the syringe and a vial of vitamins and injected it to his forearm.

  “You do this a lot?” he asked me.

  “Yes, we are required to take care of our bodies.”

  He looked at me, waiting to see if I would divulge more. After I left Chicago, I exposed myself to him. I wasn’t just a slave; I was something more.

  “When did you join?” He started to move his thumbs in a circular motion, making it hard to concentrate.

  “Officially, when I was sixteen.”

  His movements stopped. He stilled, and I felt the waves from his body coming at me. I didn’t know how much he had heard about the Sekt. Most governments had it very wrong; they knew what we allowed them to know. It was only the surface. It wasn’t just hackers and mercenaries; there were scholars too. It was one big organization that, if we really wanted, could take over the world.

  “That’s a bit young, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead, I cleaned the vials and put the cap on the syringe, then put it in my trash can. When I turned, he was watching my every move.

  “What do you want to know?” I lolled my head a little to the side and waited for him to let his questions fire out.

  “You weren’t a slave,” he bit out.

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  “You chose this life. Unfortunately, I never had a choice. This life…this world, it’s all I’ve never known. I might have more freedom than a slave, but that doesn’t mean my life is my own.”

  With that, I picked up his shirt from where he had thrown it on the floor and walked to the bathroom.

  What was I even doing with him in my place? This was only going to lea
d to more questions on his part and silence on mine.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was too pale, my eyes wide and bright. My black hair was striking. It was all just another weapon to disarm men—and right now, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to disarm him.

  I pulled the rubber band out of my braid and undid it. Then I removed my clothes, looking through the mirror at all of my imperfections. Of one thing, I was sure…I couldn’t have another repeat of Chicago.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, untangling it a bit and adding volume, then put on his shirt. It smelled like him: nicotine and Chanel’s Allure. I couldn’t stand the smell since Chicago, but right now, I didn’t mind it.

  Taking one last look in the mirror, I turned off the light before I walked out. The room was dark except for the few candles Gideon had lit. The black custom-made Zippo my grandfather had gifted me was in his hand. It was obsidian with gold carvings of a black swan ballerina.

  “Setting the mood?” I leaned against the wall.

  Gideon turned to face me when he heard the sound of my voice. His mouth was parted, his eyes blazing as they traced every inch of me. He cocked his head to the side and bit his lip. The action had heat spreading down my belly and in between my legs.

  “I never got it,” he said in a husky tone.

  “Got what?” I said as I pulled away and made my way to him.

  “How with the right woman wearing your clothes, it’s designed to bring a man to his knees.”

  “You know how this works, handsome,” I said as I put a knee to the bed. “Lay down and let me fuck you.”

  Gideon’s eyes danced with amusement. He played with the Zippo, opening it and playing with the flame.

  He then looked up at me and said, “That won’t work for me, Petal.”

  My heart thumped loudly the moment he started to slowly stalk around the bed, coming at me like the predator he was. I tried to move at the last second, a thrill going through my body, my spine tingling and a small smile at my lips. Before I could take a step, Gideon was there. He grabbed my hips and shoved me down on the bed roughly. His hand was on my nape, stopping me from moving my neck, and he had his other arm on top of my torso.

  “I let you have your turn, Petal, but now, I want to fuck you. I want you to know how it feels to have a real man fucking that tight little cunt. So, when you’re somewhere else, with someone else—” He spat those words like they were venom in his mouth. “—you’ll know who owned this pretty pussy.”

  His hand snaked down to my bare ass. He gripped my ass cheek roughly, making sure it would leave a mark. He then inserted his middle finger inside me, his nail slightly tearing into my pussy walls.

  “You’re fucking soaked,” he gloated.

  “You’re hurting me,” I lied.

  The hand on my nape squeezed harder, making it hard to breathe. “Just for that, I am going to hurt you.”

  My belly dipped for a second, wondering if I had pushed him too far. Gideon pulled away and flipped me. He jumped on the bed and roughly spread my legs—and I just let him.

  We both knew that at any given moment, I could pull away if I wanted. That right there gave him power. I thought he knew this because he didn’t mention it; he didn’t tease me about it.

  “Don’t move, Petal,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  I didn’t get a chance to ask why when I felt the lick of flame on my inner thigh. My chest rose and fell rapidly as he moved the Zippo up and down my legs. I wasn’t the only one being affected; he was too. He bit his lip, and perspiration coated his forehead like it cost him to hold back.

  Gideon pulled the lighter away and licked my inner thighs, leaving a trail of moisture. He then pulled away and threw a devilish smirk. I felt his saliva get hot, trailing up my inner thigh to the apex of my thighs. I threw my head back, and my legs trembled—yet I didn’t pull away.

  My clit throbbed. My knees were bent with Gideon between them. Every time his mouth got close to my pussy lips, he pulled away. My whole body started to shake with anticipation, images of Chicago coming back to me vividly. His fingers, his tongue, the knife—I was close to the point of insanity.

  “Gideon,” I said, hating how weak I sounded.

  “Say you’re mine,” he said as he licked his lips.

  I bit my own lips because I wouldn’t—I couldn’t.

  He smiled at me. “I’ll prove it to you.”

  He brought the Zippo up, lit the flame, and then put the tip of his tongue to the orange glow. I let myself fall back on the bed before I came from the visual alone.

  Gideon spread my legs more to the point they ached a bit. His shirt was rolled to my waist, leaving me bare and exposed to him. I didn’t let myself think about that. He blew on my pussy gently.

  “Gideon,” I mewled when I felt the heat coming from the lighter so close to my sex.

  “Trust me.” He said it like it was nothing. Like what he asked of me was one of the things I swore not to do. I promised myself I would never trust a man like that, not after watching my mother succumb to my father. Hearing about how my great-grandmother lost it all because of men who seek power.

  “Fuck,” I screamed the moment the tip of his scalding hot tongue touched my clit. Gideon inserted two fingers inside of me, and I came.

  My back arched, my hand coming to his head and gripping his hair as I rode his face.

  The impact of my orgasm hit me with a dose of ecstasy and impending doom.

  If I continued to see Gideon, if I allowed him to keep getting close, I could get lost in this feeling—in him. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that. The weight of an old crown rested on my shoulders.

  So, I let Gideon fuck me. I kept his shirt on as a shield. I couldn’t be any more vulnerable around him. We fucked for dominance until the sun came out, and when a piercing scream broke through the house, I kicked him out.

  I had a mission, I had a plan, and there was no room for him in it.

  Some plans were carefully executed; others had to be played by ear. I was on the latter one at the moment. I knew I would need to see Franco, and I knew that I couldn’t precisely stroll to the gates of his vineyard with his daughter, or he might just execute me on sight.

  Since Bas stayed behind and I needed someone to help me, I had no other option but to call one of my markers. I could count my allies on one hand, but enemies, those I had in spades.

  The plane arrived at night, thanks to us leaving so early in the morning. The person I’d called was already here and waiting in the airstrip, since for him, it was only an eight-hour flight, but for me, it was fourteen.

  Rebeca Estacado was knocked out for part of the flight, and when she woke, she tried to commit suicide. The shame was always too much for them that they thought in death, it would be peaceful. Maybe it was selfish of me for letting her live, but we shouldn’t be scared or afraid of something we had no control over, and I needed her alive too much to let her just die.

  The Italian girl was bound and gagged when I opened the door to the room. She glared at me with sad, angry eyes.

  “You’ll thank me for this one day,” I said before I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her up. She tried to resist and begged me with her eyes not to take her back to her father.

  “Don’t make me do this the hard way… You won’t like it.” And neither would I, but compared to him, she meant nothing.

  She walked slowly, and I sighed a bit in relief. Subconsciously, she wanted to live—she wasn’t ready to admit it, but she wanted to live.

  Per my instructions, the pilots were out of sight when the door opened. Standing at the bottom of the stairs was the man whose life I spared on my last trip to New York. He was tall, light skinned, and light haired with piercing blue eyes that would turn icy when he was enraged. He was well built, and boy could he put on a hell of a fight.

  “The polite thing to do is to help a woman out,” I said through gritted teeth when I managed to get to the last step.

  “I see no w
oman, just a bitch.” Ren Falcon bit out.

  My eyes flared, but I held back. I guess if I wanted to win his loyalty, I was going to have to cut him some slack. There were very few people who got away with making empty promises to the Sekt, and he would have died like all others. Still, I owned his ass, and it was better that he didn’t forget it. My back still felt the sting of the punishment for sparing his life.

  “How’s that pretty little girlfriend of yours?” I taunted, and his eyes went cold and his body stiff.

  He didn’t say a word when he grabbed Maria’s arm and pulled her toward the car—the one I instructed him to get.

  It was a blacked-out Dacia Duster. When the girl started to move erratically, I was about to pull out the syringe and sedate her when Ren hit the back of her head with the side of his hand, knocking her out instantly.

  “I see domestic life hasn’t made you a pussy,” I said dryly as I put the syringe back in my pocket and walked to the driver’s seat.

  “Sure, why don’t you drive,” he added in the same tone as me.

  “You’re not used to driving on this side of the road, and no offense, a woman driving is less conspicuous.”

  He snickered.

  “Why would we get pulled over? “Anybody would think you are another rich bitch flying private.” Ren Falcon was a mercenary, one who could be loyal and he had a code. It was the reason why I didn’t kill him. He was an assignment I had to do, and I always liked to know my assignments; one could never be too careful.

  Killing wasn’t an issue for Falcon. He was cold, efficient, but he was in love, and through that, I was able to make sure he was going to jump when I asked for it. I told myself I wasn’t like Damian. If he bothered to do our dirty work, then he would have killed the thing Falcon held most dear, and that was his girlfriend.

  But that would have brought us problems as well, because of who the girl’s maternal grandparents were, and Damian would have been too arrogant to care. So I kept my mouth shut and saved that information for a rainy day.

  “This whole city is currently on alert,” I said as I navigated the dark streets toward the closest hotel to the Estacados’ vineyards. “The girl in the back seat is Rebeca Maria Estacado.”