Seven Sleepless Nights

by Chloe Walsh

  "You'll die if you try!" Snarling, I shoved at his chest and he backhanded me, knocking me against the wall again. "Fuck you," I sobbed, lip wobbling, as I cradled my stinging cheek. "You'll pay for this."

  "Oh, I will fuck you, baby whore," he promised darkly. "And then I'll share you with my brothers."

  Shuddering, my lip curled up in disgust and I shoved at his chest again. "You are Crellid scum!"

  "And you are Northwood pussy."

  My stomach heaved. "I'm ten."

  "I don’t care."

  "I don’t want to."

  "I don’t care," he repeated, smiling down at me.

  "Please," I begged now. "Don’t."

  "Don’t you see yet?" He laughed cruelly when my attempt to push him away failed miserably. "You have no control here. You do what you're told, when you're told, like the good little whore you're being trained to be."

  I whimpered, feeling my bravery slip. "I'm not a whore."

  "You are a whore, and I am a prince," he correctly. "Living in my castle."

  "You're all criminals," I spat, shaking. "And the only thing that you and your brothers are princes of is wickedness."

  "You say that like it's a bad thing," he chuckled. "Like you're not cut from the same cloth of corruption." Narrowing his eyes, he hissed, "Your father was as bad as mine, if not worse."

  I didn’t deny it – couldn’t if I wanted.

  "I'm royalty around here, baby whore," he continued. "I'm the apex predator and you are whatever the fuck I say you are. If you were born a boy, your father's name would make you my equal, but you're completely worthless. An heiress whore. All of your father's inheritance; the property, the land, the business, it will go to whichever one of my brothers that claim you, and you can't do shit to stop –" His words twisted into a snarl when I ducked under his arm and bolted for the door. "You can't run from us," he snarled, fisting my hair and dragging me back to him. "And there's nowhere to hide." Wrapping an unyielding arm around my small body, he carted me back to the bed. "We own you, Ashton Northwood. Your father gave you to us," he sneered, tossing me down on my bed and reaching for my jeans. "One of us. All of us." He grinned darkly. "At the same time."

  "Don't touch me," I cried out, scratching and pushing on his chest as he roughly dragged my jeans down my legs. "Please!"

  "I love it when the whores beg," he growled hungrily. "Beg, baby whore." He hooked his long fingers into the waistband of my cotton panties and dragged them down, too. "Cry for me –" Choking and spluttering, Vasily's words faded on his tongue, his hungered expression morphed into one of panic, the whites of his eyes turning bloodshot, as he released his hold on my panties and frantically clawed at his neck.

  Trembling from head to toe, I watched as his big body started to slump. Only when Vasily was on his knees on my bedroom floor did I notice the huge, dark-haired, foreign boy looming behind him, holding a piece of chord to his throat.

  My breath escaped me in a sudden rush as I watched Fabio's bastard son strangle his half-brother into a state of semi-conscious submission.

  "Te gusta follar bebés?" he asked in a deathly cold tone of voice, not relenting his tightly fisted grip on the chord wrapped around his brother's neck. "Eres un bastardo enfermo!"

  "Trigger," Jethro began to say in a nervous tone, taking a step into the room. "I – uh… maybe you shouldn't –" He swallowed deeply, hands fluttering at his sides. "I think you're killing him…"

  "Silencio, bebé príncipe," Trigger commanded, and even though I didn’t know what he was saying, I could hear the warning in his voice.

  Jethro did, too, because he swiftly snapped his mouth shut.

  "Voy a enseñarle una lección a tu hermano," the black-haired boy growled, releasing his grip on the chord before reaching a hand behind his back. "Corre a lo largo si tienes miedo."

  Withdrawing a jagged edged dagger, the bastard prince tilted his head to one side and stared down at his brother gasping for air on his hands and knees.

  At fourteen, the bastard was younger than his pure-blood brother but no one would have guessed it from the way he physically overpowered Vasily with ease.

  "Si no te gusta la vista de la sangre, debes irte ahora," he said with a glint of madness shining in his dark eyes and my heart roared to life at the sight, heat flushing to my cheeks.

  Ripping at his jeans, he managed to strip his older brother down to his boxer shorts.

  "Don't, don’t, don’t," Vasily cried out, curling up on the floor when Trigger fisted his penis and lowered the blade. "Please…God…Jesus, don’t do this to me!"

  "Orar a Dios no te salvará," Trigger replied, voice deathly calm. "Mi madre también oró a Dios." Taking a knee, he pulled on Vasily's private parts so hard that he screamed out loudly. "Qué le dijiste a ella?" He tightened his grip. "Qué le dijiste a mi madre cuando pedía misericordia?"

  "I don’t understand what you're saying…Oh god, I can't…Jethro, get help!" Crying out, Vasily pressed his palms together and started to cry. "Don’t hurt me, brother."

  "Father!" Jethro screamed, running from the room. "Father, help!"

  "Le dijiste a mi madre que gritara. Le dijiste a mi madre que disfrutaste sus gritos," the bastard continued, unfazed. "Esa fue tu misericordia." He released a pained snarl. "Y esto es mio."

  His eyes, dark as night, flicked to mine, and I felt something shoot straight through me. Tilting his head to one-side, he watched carefully, waiting for something.

  Fear?

  Resistance?

  Permission?

  Heart racing hard in my chest, I blew out a shaky breath, eyes still locked on his, and nodded my head.

  His eyes blazed with heat, nostrils flaring, and with one swift flick of his wrist, the bastard prince brought the knife down on his brother.

  Vasily's screams were drowned out by the thunderous noise of my heart as it pounded violently against my chest bone. Blood was pouring from the older boy as he screamed and writhed on the floor, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his.

  His dark eyes searched mine for something once again.

  I nodded; offering him my approval.

  Silent as a ghost, he climbed to his feet, kicked his brother out his way, and came to stand in front of me. "Para ti," he said, speaking to me for the first time since arriving at the estate, as he held the dagger out for me like it was some sort of offering.

  Trembling, I leaned forward and took the dagger from his blood-soaked hands. "Th-thank you."

  Nodding stiffly, he held a hand out for me to take.

  Without a second thought, I placed the dagger on my bed and placed my hand in his.

  Setting me on my feet, he said, "No me temas," before reaching for my panties around my ankles and pulling them back up into place, covering me. "No te violaré, corderito."

  A whole load of commotion occurred right after that, with dozens of men charging into my room, shouting and roaring. Two men hurried from the room with a ravaged Vasily limp in their arms, and then many more surrounded the bastard prince. He didn’t cower or flinch. He didn’t even fight when they grabbed him. Instead, he kept his dark eyes on locked on mine as they manhandled him from my room.

  Shaking my head, I dragged my thoughts back to the present and switched off the water.

  Numb, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my body, unable to stop my limbs from shaking. I couldn't seem to shake the cold off. It was in my heart and tainting the rest of me.

  "Aplastaré tu coño, corderito."

  "Puta traidora."

  "Puta reina."

  Heaving, I lunged for the toilet bowl, barely making it in time as my body rejected both my thoughts and the contents of my stomach.

  His words.

  How he made me feel.

  His hatred.

  How he took me in front of those men.

  I couldn’t get it out of my head.

  Gasping for air, I wiped the back of my mouth and climbed unsteadily to my feet. Breathing hard, I leane
d against the sink and forced myself to look in the mirror, hardly recognizing myself when I plucked up the courage.

  My greenish/gray eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them puffy and red. My full lips were cracked and also swollen.

  Purple bite marks littered my neck, chest, and arms, and I knew if I removed the towel, I would find plenty more. Arousal smacked me straight in the face and my pussy clenched. "Stop it," I hissed, furious with myself for pulsing. "This is not good." Clit throbbing, I clenched my thighs together and forced my mind to block out the feel of him as I reached for his toothbrush and cleaned my teeth.

  Finishing washing up, I made my way back to the bedroom, ready to tell Patrice and any of his cronies lurking nearby to fuck off, only to find Trig sitting on the edge of the bed. The bed had been stripped, replaced with fresh sheets, while the old ones lay in a pile at his feet.

  Stunned at the sight of him, I felt my feet falter in the doorway of the bathroom. He was shirtless, with a white bandaged strapped to his shoulder and his head bent as he concentrated on rolling a joint. My heart raced violently in my chest as I reluctantly soaked him in.

  "Corderito," he acknowledged gruffly, not looking up from his task in hand.

  "Where were you?" I asked, voice breathy and weak, forcing my legs to move me forward.

  "Working," Trig replied, setting the weed tin on his nightstand and reaching for an ashtray and matches. Sparking up, he shook out the match, tossed it into the ashtray, took a deep hit, holding his breath for several beats before finally exhaling a cloud of smoke.

  Stepping around him, I moved for my side of the bed and then mentally checked myself for referring to it as my side. "Where's Patrice?"

  "Around," he replied, rolling the joint between his fingers absentmindedly.

  "I don’t have any clothes here," I told him, watching him warily. "Everything I own is back in my room." Shrugging, I added, "I don't have anything to change into."

  "I will have your stuff brought here," he replied flatly before taking another deep drag, keeping his back to me. "Until then, you can –" Exhaling slowly, he rasped, "Have whatever you want of mine."

  "Okay." I swallowed deeply, pulse fluttering. "Thank you."

  He nodded once in response.

  "So…" I shifted in discomfort, unsure of what to do or say. "How is your shoulder?"

  "How is your pussy?" was his immediate response.

  "Tender," I whispered, cheeks flaming in heat.

  "Sí," he agreed with a sigh. "It is the same for me."

  "Are you mad at me?" I asked then, unsure of what to make of his calmness when he was anything but calm with my body last night.

  "Are you mad at me?" he threw my question back at me.

  "Yes." I narrowed my eyes, irritated by his avoidance of answering a damn question. "I'm furious."

  "Sí," he repeated his earlier words. "Then it is the same for me."

  "Are you going to say anything?" I demanded then, huffing out a frustrated breath from his lack of…well, emotion.

  "What would you like me to say, Corderito?" he replied in a flat, void tone.

  "Something," I hissed, overwhelmed with emotion. "Anything." Swallowing a pained groan, I squeezed out, "Just talk… about us? What happened? Your day? I don't know?" Tucking my damp hair behind my ear, I stared at the visible burn marks on his back – the ones the tattoos couldn’t cover. "Just say something, Trig."

  "I had a very productive day at work, darling," he reeled off dryly. "I took the lives of no less than four men and delivered a substantial shipment of chiva – Alemanni cartel. No doubt, it will be reaching the streets any day now. More lives to ruin. More whores on the corners to work. More mother's sons to put in the ground. Just another day in the office." Shaking his head, he exhaled a weary sigh. "Does that suffice as enough talking?" Taking another hit, he let his shoulders sag, elbows resting on his thighs. "Or should I continue?"

  "That's not funny, Trig," I whispered, unable to suppress the shiver that rolled through me.

  "I am not laughing, Corderito," he replied, exhaling slowly.

  Feeling at a complete loss, I glanced around the room and said, "It wasn't supposed to be like this." Wrapping my arms around my knees, I dropped my head and whispered, "We weren't supposed to end up like this."

  "No," he agreed quietly. "It wasn't."

  "Are you always going to stay with him?" I forced myself to ask, risking a peek. "Your father." I swallowed deeply. "Do you still plan –"

  "You do not get to ask me questions," he quickly cut me off. "I do not trust you." His shoulders slumped. "I won't make the same mistake twice."

  I withered inside. "Trig –"

  "Did you know that I can still smell it?" he continued, ignoring me. "In my nose. Every night. That fucking horrific smell is what I wake up to – if I am lucky enough to fall asleep in the first place. And the sounds? I can still hear the screams –"

  "Please don’t," I begged, forcing the memory from my mind.

  "I close my eyes and I see it, Ashton," he hissed, forcing me to hear his truth. "As if it was happening all over again." He shook his head. "Because of you." He tipped his head up to the ceiling and released a pained growl. "Because I trusted you."

  "I'm so sorry, Trig," I choked out.

  "I know," he confirmed gruffly. "I believe you."

  "I wish I could take it back," I wheezed out, feeling faint.

  "We cannot change what has come to pass," he replied. "But you do not ask me about my business again," he added. "I do not wish to treat you cruelly, Corderito, it gives me no pleasure to see you in pain, but you are not my equal anymore. You are no longer my comrade."

  "Then what am I?" I strangled out, barely breathing from the agonizing pressure in my chest.

  "You know," he replied gruffly. "Do not make me say it."

  His whore.

  "Am I the only one?" I asked then, body trembling.

  Silence.

  "Trigger!"

  "What do you want me to say to you?"

  "I want you to tell me that I'm the only one," I hissed, mind on emotional overdrive. "Tell me that, Trig. Fucking tell me!"

  He didn’t respond.

  "If you touch another girl, I will cut your cock off while you sleep," I warned him, enraged at the thought of him fucking other women. "I mean it," I added, consumed in a white-hot flood of jealously. "You don’t fuck other whores."

  Trig glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes finding mine. "Come here."

  Shifting onto my knees, I crawled over to where he was sitting and settled down facing him. "Promise me," I said, breathing hard and fast. "Say you won't touch other whores."

  "Hmm." His eyes took a long, drugging appraisal of my body and I grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me.

  "Say it," I hissed through clenched teeth. "Tell me you won't touch another woman."

  His dark eyes speared holes through me as he watched me watch him. "Are you my wife, Corderito?" he finally asked, tone soft. "Do you love me?"

  "Absolutely not," I spat, furious with him for toying with my frazzled emotions. "No way."

  "I see." Nodding slowly, Trig pulled his face from my grasp and took another drag. "Are you my whore?" he asked on a heavy exhale.

  "Never," I snarled, reaching up to snatch the smoke from his fingers.

  "Then what are you to me?" he asked, too quick for me. Holding the joint in front of my face, he snagged my chin between his fingers and guided my lips closer. "Hmm?" he coaxed, smoothing my hair behind my ear when I placed my lips around the joint and took a hit. "Bad little lamb."

  Closing my eyes, I held my breath, reveling in the burn in my lungs as a tingling, dizzy feeling slowly crept through me.

  "Well, Corderito?" Trailing his cracked knuckles over my cheek, Trig leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Why would I make such a promise to you?"

  Flicking my eyes open, I cupped the back of his neck and dragged his face to mine, lips parted and touching. Looking deep into h
is dangerous eyes, I slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke from my lungs into his and whispered, "I'm your queen."

  "Sí." His eyes blazed with heat and his arms came around me, pulling me onto his lap "Mi reina."

  For more information on Ashton and Trig from The Bastard Prince, check out chloewalshauthor.com

  Other Books by Chloe Walsh

  Seven Sleepless Nights

  The Pocket Series:

  Pocketful of Blame

  Pocketful of Shame

  Pocketful of You

  Pocketful of Us

  Ocean Bay:

  Endgame

  Waiting Game

  The Faking it Series:

  Off Limits – Faking it #1

  Off the Cards – Faking it #2

  Off the Hook – Faking it #3

  The Broken Series:

  Break my Fall – Broken #1

  Fall to Pieces – Broken #2

  Fall on Me – Broken #3

  Forever we Fall – Broken #4

  Breaking Point – Broken #4.5 (TBR)

  The Carter Kids Series:

  Treacherous – Carter Kids #1

  Always – Carter Kids #1.5

  Thorn – Carter Kids #2

  Tame – Carter Kids #3

  Avenged – Carter Kids #3.5 (TBR)

  Torment – Carter Kids #4

  Cameron – Carter Kids #4.5 (TBR)

  Inevitable – Carter Kids #5

  Trust – Carter Kids #5.5 (TBR)

  Altered – Carter Kids #6

  Addicted – Carter Kids #6.5 (TBR)

  The DiMarco Dynasty:

  DiMarco’s Secret Love Child: Part One

  DiMarco’s Secret Love Child: Part Two

  The Blurred Lines Duet:

  Blurring Lines – Book #1

  Never Let me Go – Book #2

  Boys of Tommen:

  Binding 13 – Book #1

  Keeping 13 – Book #2

  Saving 6 – Book #3 (TBR)