by Rina Kent
That woman deserves to come out.
Instead of indulging in my fucked-up fantasies, I let her go and stride towards the door. “Meet me outside in five.”
She remains rooted in place. “W-why?”
I whip my head back. “You’ll find out.”
This time, she nods, her expression screaming uncertainty. Uncertainty is good. Uncertainty will keep her on the edge of her seat.
I cast one last look at her wet shirt and the creamy breasts teasing from beneath. The decision to walk away from that luscious body seems so fucking wrong right now. I shake my head and start down the hall.
As I put on a T-shirt, a small voice whispers that this is none of my business. No attachment, remember?
However, I can’t even begin to think about abandoning Eloise in this state. Not when I pushed her to bare herself to me.
With that resolution, I descend the stairs.
I expected Eloise to chicken out and to have to drag her kicking and screaming, but she’s pacing the porch in white flip-flops. Tiny jean shorts hug her hips along with a plain black T-shirt.
No wet transparent shirts. Bummer.
But those shorts are revealing sublime legs so the lack of the wet shirt is almost bearable.
Almost.
Upon noticing me, Eloise stops pacing and crosses her arms under her chest. Her foot taps on the floor. A habit she does whenever anxious. “So, what is it?”
There’s that tiny hope in her voice again. The unknown is making her antsy.
I fucking love how she looks on edge.
That in itself is life.
I stride to my bike, retrieve the helmet and toss it towards her. She yelps but still catches it. Her questioning gaze shifts between me and the helmet as I straddle my bike.
“No.”
“What?”
“No. I’m not getting on that... thing!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Nurse Betty. Of course you are.”
Her expression morphs to pure panic as she gives me back the helmet. When I don’t take it, she tosses it to the ground and makes a run to the house.
Her castle.
Her fucking safe place.
Well, not today.
Abandoning my bike, I clutch her arm and pull her back until her chest flushes against mine.
Eloise thrashes, her palms hitting in all directions. I imprison both her wrists behind her back, effortlessly subduing her.
“Forget what I said in the bathroom. It was a mistake.” She wiggles in my grasp. All her soft curves brush against my slowly growing erection.
Fuck me.
“You need to stop running.”
She relaxes a little, her chest rising and falling at a quick pace against mine. Before I know it, she leans close and bites my bicep. Hard. Like she’s planning to feast on my flesh.
“Fucking hell!” I release her wrists. She attempts to dart out of reach, but I pick her up by the waist and plant her in front of me on the bike. She’s facing me, chest inches from mine and her legs spread width apart on each side of my thigh.
Panic surges into her eyes as she frantically searches left and right. Probably trying to find an exit. When that doesn’t work, her expression becomes terrified, appearing more and more like a trapped animal.
Like any trapped animal, she leans forward, attempting to attack.
I stifle her mouth with my palm. “Are you a fucking dog?”
Even Cheerio doesn’t bite as much as her.
When Eloise tries to bite again, I remove my hand and push her down hard until she stops moving. “Bite me again and I’ll gag you.”
“Just let me go.” Desperation laces her words and the ardent green of her eyes. “I won’t ask anything of you again, please.”
My hold almost falters at hearing her beg. Just imagining her beg while she’s naked beneath me causes my trousers to strain. But no. There are more important things to take care of.
The engine revs to life. Eloise goes stiff.
We start moving, and I try to go slower to not alarm her. “Hold on—”
I don’t even finish the sentence before Eloise is glued to my front. Her arms encircle my neck and her head buries in the crook of my shoulder.
Well, the plan had been to show her the forest, not to have her hide, but fuck if this position isn’t messing with me.
To make things worse, her legs tighten around my waist, caging me in a steel hold. Add the lilac or apple or whatever her natural scent is and my concentration nearly evaporates.
I try to focus as we weave through the forest’s narrow dirt road. Rays begin to light the early morning sky, and I want to get Eloise to the top before the sun appears over the hill.
“Open your eyes and look around,” I say.
She shakes her head, still hiding her face in my neck. There’s this unfamiliar need, an urge to have her like this. Which is weird as fuck. I never coveted anything enough to want to keep it.
But again, I’m beginning to think that Eloise and weird are different names for the same bloody thing.
“You’ll never feel alive if you keep hiding,” I tell her to distract myself from that chain of thoughts.
There’s no response for a while as we pass a road on the side of the sea’s rocky shore. I increase the speed to propel us faster upwards. To the hill.
Eloise reluctantly pushes back, but her hold around my neck and waist doesn’t falter.
There’s still that innate fear of the unknown in her eyes, but there’s also curiosity. When she finally takes in our sparkling blue surroundings, the curiosity morphs into awe.
“Wow,” she says, gaze glued on the sea below.
“You lived here your entire life but never took this hike?”
“I did. My grandfather used to bring me here.” She faces me. The proximity makes me breathe her air, her addicting scent, and that little fear still locking her muscles.
I take it all. I want it all. I can’t imagine not having whatever she has to offer.
“I just haven’t been here in a long time,” she continues and goes back to admiring the view.
Good call. One more second staring into her eyes and I’ll get us both thrown off the cliff.
I stop at the top of the hill just in time for the orange hue to cover the horizon.
Eloise doesn’t move as she watches the sun rising from behind the sparkling blue sea.
I forget about the sunrise altogether and focus on something a lot brighter.
Eloise.
Her lips part and her eyes widen, the green reflecting the yellow and orange light in a mesmerising gleam. The steady rhythm of her chest against mine makes my erection hard to control.
“Merveilleux,” she murmurs, completely engrossed in the scenery.
“Marvellous indeed.” My breath brushes the side of her neck because I might have been unknowingly leaning forward and about to drool like a fucking dog.
Eloise’s attention flips my way, and as if just realising that she’s straddling my lap, she scrambles off the bike, cheeks tinted crimson.
That’s so fucking adorable.
“So, um...” She looks around, her back turned to the cliff and her front facing me. “What now?”
“Now,” I lean against my bike, “is secret time, love.”
“Huh?”
“You have to let it out to feel better. At least that’s what they say in therapy.”
A small smile tugs on her lips as she bites the inside of her cheek. “Have you even been to therapy?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
She shrugs. “I guess it doesn’t. But I won’t talk just because you told me to. You’re not my shrink.”
“That shrink of yours is doing a rubbish job. I’m a better alternative.”
“Still a no.” But she’s smiling which is a good sign. Time to bribe her.
“In return, you ask me anything.”
Her interest spikes and she steps forward. “Really?”
/>
“Go ahead. Shoot.” Not that I have anything to reveal in the first place.
“What’s your real name?” she asks so fast, I barely register the question.
“I don’t have one.”
“Of course you do. Everyone does.”
“I’m not everyone. Even if I do, I don’t remember it.”
“Why not?” She leans on the bike beside me, her gaze as inquisitive as a curious kitten.
“Because I was taken into an assassination organisation in my early teens. Everything prior to that is a blur.”
She swallows audibly. “Even your family?”
“Even my family.” Patches of foggy memories – memories destroyed by Omega – come to mind. “I only remember that we were so poor, I slept on the streets sometimes. I think my mum or step mum or whatever was Russian since she always cursed in said language. And I had an orange stray cat that I took under my wing and named him ‘Orange’ because apparently, I lacked imagination back then.”
“You never tried to find them?”
“No.” I did think about it a couple of times, but the answer has always been ‘Fuck no’. What would I say? Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad. Remember the son you didn’t take care of who ended up being kidnapped? Well, surprise, bitches, I’m not dead, I became a killer instead. And oh, happy to see you again, but we might have to cut this reunion short because I’m living on a borrowed time thanks to Omega.
All this talk about me causes my skin to fucking crawl. Not that it should. I’ve been at peace with my past for a long time because I accepted The Pit as the place where I belong. But after the withdrawal and talking to that fucking Ghost, I’m not so sure anymore.
Speaking about this with Eloise of all people is making me question where I belong even more.
“Enough about me.” I pivot, so she’s in my vision. “Tell me about yourself.”
She remains silent, nibbling on her cheek.
“A deal is a deal, Eloise.”
A sigh rips from the recesses of her soul as her gaze gets lost in the sea. “I lived in the house my entire life with Papa et Maman. It’s been my paradise since I’ve been little. Then, we lost my grandfather. Although that shattered me, I still had Maman.”
“How about your father?”
She glances my way. “He’s British like you.”
“You don’t say.” I recognise my mocking tone and quickly follow up with, “I assume he’s the reason your English accent isn’t as horrible as the rest of the French.”
She nudges me. “Well, your French accent is horrible, too.”
“About your father?”
“He...” she pauses, obviously weighing her words. “Mum had a rebellious phase when she was twenty, ran away to England and met Dad. A few months later, Mum returned with me in her belly. Dad followed after and we lived as a family. He travelled to England the entire time, but he never took us with him. Around the time my mother fell sick, he disappeared. I don’t think he plans to return.”
There’s a hesitation. A hope. Fuck me. Is she hoping he’d return? I have to fix that.
“For a long time, it was only me and Maman. Then, she had brain cancer. For four years, we fought.” Her voice breaks and she wipes her eyes – even when there aren’t tears.
“Despite the failed surgeries and recovery plans, we fought. I should’ve known she wanted to give up and spend whatever time she had left with me in our home, not strapped to hospital machines and in pain. I was selfish. I didn’t want only a few weeks with her. I wanted a lifetime, and so I pushed her for another operation. An operation which she didn’t survive.”
“There you have it.” She smiles at me as a tear slides down her cheek and into her mouth. “I killed my mother.”
“No, you didn’t. Cancer did.” I want to pull her in my arms, but the risk of her running away again makes me stop. “Is that why you wanted to die?”
“Why are you saying it in past tense?” Her shoulders stiffen. “I still want to die.”
“I thought you said you wanted to feel alive.”
She folds her arms, foot tapping on the dirt. “It’s impossible for someone like me. It’s better if I just die.”
“You mean easier. And cowardly.”
Her stance widens as she glares at me. “Who the hell do you think you are to judge me?”
“I’m judging your fucking lies. You don’t want to die, Nurse Betty.”
“I do!”
In a second, I clutch her nape with one hand. The other locks her wrists behind her back as I drag her to the edge of the cliff.
Eloise yelps. Pebbles roll from underneath her feet and fall several metres before meeting the water.
“Let me make your wish come true, then,” I whisper-yell against her ear. “I usually charge a lot for a kill, but I’ll do yours for free. Consider it bloody charity. One push is enough to shatter your skull against those rocks. One push and it will be game fucking over.”
A full body shiver goes through her. She’s quivering in my arms, her face flushed red. Wide green eyes stare at the water below, unblinking.
Fuck me.
Is she really contemplating this?
I can’t let her die. Not now when she’s finally digging into herself.
But instead of aborting this on my own, I need her to be the one who takes the step. The one who decides.
“What will it be?” I push her further until one of her legs dangles over the edge. Her flip-flop falls into the water. “How long do you think it will take them to find your decayed body in the middle of nowhere?”
“No!” She screams, turning so abruptly in my arms, I lose balance and fall backwards. The dirt hits my back as I pull her with me.
Eloise’s arms encircle my waist, face buried in my chest and legs trapped between my own. That’s when I feel them.
Tears.
I’m so fucking amazed and proud by her courage, something inside me snaps.
I know a few things about courage, but even hardened men cower like fucking pussies in their last moments.
But this woman?
This tiny, fierce woman clinging to me with all her might?
She’s not having it.
She makes me question things I thought were a given.
I pull her head from my chest and capture her lips in a ferocious kiss.
Eloise isn’t the only one who needs to feel alive. I’ve been searching for this exact sensation, the passion, the knowledge that I could be something more. And it’s all because of this woman in my arms.
She makes me crave things. Impossible things.
Like wanting to remain alive.
10
Eloise
Crow is kissing me.
His lips are hard and soft at the same time, pulling me under like the ocean in his eyes. I melt in his strong arms as he claims my mouth.
It’s rough and passionate and tender and needy all at once. It should be wrong. He’s a killer who just tried to push me off the cliff. And yet, it only feels right.
Absolutely right.
All the terror I felt a few seconds ago morphs into something foreign and... thrilling. My stomach tightens, and energy ripples through me.
Crow tugs on my hair. I gasp in his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to devour me.
He pushes into me, rough, unapologetic. His hardness rubs against the inside of my thighs. Our clothes are the only barrier. Excitement bubbles in my veins even when I try to stifle it.
It’s a mistake. I know it is. But mistakes shouldn’t feel this passionate and exhilarating.
For my entire life, I thought that being alive meant to work and to take care of Maman. After her death, being alive became all about breathing and existing in the world of the living.
Now, as Crow claims my mouth to the point of undoing me, something snaps in my head. There’s much more to life than breathing or existing. Life can be simply found in a raw kiss like this.
His hands roam under my T-shirt. The tips of hi
s fingers ignite my skin. Heat smothers me and pools between my legs. My arms tighten around the toned muscles of his abdomen. I can’t get enough of touching him or being near him. I know it’s wrong, but what did right bring me?
So against all logic, against everything that’s common sense, I drown in whatever this is. I couldn’t care less about the consequences, because for the first time in a long time, I feel alive.
Alive... what a strange word that is.
Crow pulls away to give us much-needed air. Before I can catch my breath, he flips me so I’m on my back and he’s on top of me. I gasp. The ground is hard, but all my attention is on the man hovering above me.
The hard lines on his face mirror the unexplainable sensations pulsing through my body. I can’t help admiring the tattoos on his neck and touching the ones on his thick biceps.
Crow pushes my legs wide with his knees and settles between them. The bottom of my stomach throbs and clenches into a wild void. A void that can only be filled by him. My head swims in a chaos of emotions. Lust. Confusion. Fear.
Nothing camouflages my feelings. No numbness. No cowardice. Although a part urges me to run away from whatever this is. However, the piercing look in Crow’s icy gaze keeps me in place.
I don’t want to run away from him. At least not now.
So I do a bold move I’ve never done in my life; I reach out, clutch him by the shirt, and seal my lips to his again. I want him to breathe life into me because ever since we met, he’s been doing it so well. His presence always destabilised my equilibrium.
In an exhilarating way.
A hot tongue licks my leg. Wait. Crow is kissing me, so who’s licking my leg?
I break the kiss – no matter how much I hate to – and look down. Charlotte is slapping wet licks on my calf, trying to get my attention.
“The fucking dog.” Crow sits back and narrows his eyes at her. “What the fuck are you doing here, Cheerio?”
I burst into laughter, sitting up to take Charlotte in my arms. She whines, and I swear that she’s glaring at him.
“Cheerio?” I ask.
“It’s less pussy than Charlotte.” He pauses. “More importantly, did she just cockblock me?”