by Erin O'Kane
This man has stuck by me, protected me, saved me, and taught me to fight. He is family now. He will never be alone again, it’s about time he realised that. So I hold him closer, stroking through his hair and start to sing. The song is a rough one that I used to hear the slaves belt out when no one was watching. I start off soft, my voice growing louder, and before I know it, another voice joins mine.
My head jerks up as I look around, spotting the slaves at their bars, watching us. Another voice joins in, then another, all of them adding their strength to mine, the song binding us together, showing us that no matter how hard it gets, we have each other.
Us freaks will never be alone again.
We fall into a weird sort of routine, all of us ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice and fight our way out. We don’t know how it will come, what the signal will be, but we know we need to be ready. We stick together. Xavier has been accepted among my group, there were no spoken words, but they know he is one of us now. They have seen how he looks at me, at us, and they’ve noticed something in him that I’m not sure he even knew about—a need to be more, to be better than what they make him.
There is a strange unity in the underground room ever since the fight where we refused to kill them, and then took a punishment that should have killed us, but we never backed down. It’s as if the rest of the slaves know something is coming too. The evening where they joined in my song is still fresh in my mind, and I can’t help but wonder if there is more to it. If—no —when we escape, can I really leave with a clear conscience if the rest of the slaves aren’t freed too? What if the others are like Xavier? Becoming killing machines because of the cruel treatment of the Masters. What if they could be more? When they joined in my song, they showed solidarity. I can’t leave them behind. When we leave, they leave with us. Jessie is always on my mind, the horror of his death branding my insides. My heart feels fragile and oh so cold without him, the downtime we have giving me nothing but time to think about life together...the life we should have had.
Xavier and I haven’t fought in a couple of days, but we’ve been given time to train together, which makes me think something big is going to happen. The Masters are planning something, something to get us back for our stand. A whipping isn’t enough, they are going to want to humiliate us the way we humiliated them. I throw myself into it though, anything to keep me busy, keep me distracted.
It’s the end of a long day of training, and I’ve just washed the sand, sweat, and dirt from my skin before retreating back to my cell. I lean against the bars in my cage that separate me from Nixon as he braids my hair for me, while I hum a circus tune Jessie taught me.
My chest constricts painfully at the thought of him, of my happy-go-lucky Jessie, but I won’t let the pain of losing him take away the happy memories. Nixon tries to hum along behind me, but he is so out of tune that he keeps making me laugh and lose my place in the song. My gentle giant is not a singer, but this is so badly out of tune that I am guessing he is doing it on purpose to make me smile.
When I was walked past, I could see Blain watching me with a small smile on his face, but when I looked over at him, his smile disappeared and he glanced away, scowling. My typical, grumpy Blain. I know he hates that his cell is so far away from us, and I suspect he feels jealous of the time I get to spend with Nix. I know Rex is struggling with being away from his animals, especially during the fights, since that’s where he draws his powers, but thankfully he hasn’t had to fight much. I worry more about his mood. He seems to be sinking within himself, my gentle Rex isn’t a fighter, and all of this is starting to take its toll.
Glancing around the room, I sigh, wishing I could see into Alcide’s cell to see if he’s here. He’s so distant now, it feels like he has taken a step away from us. When I told him about the rebellion, he looked frustrated. I had expected many expressions, but not frustration.
The sound of booted feet on the steps has me raising my head, and as I see a guard walking towards my cell, I can’t stop the sense of trepidation running through me. Will it be the guy from the rebellion, or Chester? Usually, I wouldn’t be worried about going to see Chester, but after the last few days, I’m not so sure. Chester sold me out to be used as a whore, and then we stood up to the Masters in the arena. I’ve not seen him since then, so I had assumed I was in his bad books and I wouldn’t be seeing him for a while. As the guard stops outside my cell, I push to my feet with Nixon and Xavier doing the same in their cells on either side, watching me carefully as I am led towards the meeting room.
Trying to calm my rapid heartbeat, I focus on taking steady breaths. I will deal with whatever waits for me behind this door just like all the other times. The guard is one I don’t recognise, and he doesn’t talk to me, his face set in a rigid mask. As the doors open, I am shoved over the threshold, and the heavy doors slams shut behind me loudly. The room is dark, and I blink as my eyes try to adjust to the lack of light when the sound of a match being struck tells me I’m not alone in the room. Light fills the room as a lamp is lit and shock fills me when I see who’s waiting for me.
“Alcide?” Surprise tinges my tone and I take a tentative step towards him, but his hard expression stops me. His usually neat hair is mussed, and his face is lined with tension as he raises his eyes to meet mine.
“I had to use a lot of favours to arrange this.”
Frowning, I take a small step towards him again as dread lines my stomach. “What do you mean?” His eyes track me like that of a predator, like he’s hunting me and I’m his next meal. I’ve always felt reverence towards Alcide, he is our ringmaster, our leader, but I’ve never been fearful of him, and right now, fear is pulsing through my veins. Not necessarily fear of him, but of what he’s become, who the Masters have made him. Is he still the man who I love…or something else?
“What were you playing at, Rhea?” His words are sharp like a whip and I recoil in shock. “You should have just killed the slaves like the Masters wanted you to.” Gaping at Alcide, my mouth drops open in shock, did he really just tell me I should have killed innocents?
“Those slaves are just like us, Alcide. I’m done killing for the Masters,” I reply bluntly.
He hurries towards me, his eyes flicking around the room like he is fearful someone is watching us, listening to everything we say. “You can’t say that,” he chides me, his hand landing on my shoulder. My heart flutters at his touch and I remind myself that this is the Alcide I love, not a stranger. His face changes at the touch, softening, and a hint of a smile appears on his handsome face, but it soon drops and his expression becomes serious again. “They aren’t happy with you.”
Frustration bubbles up within me and I take a step back, breaking our contact as I throw my hands out to the side. “Why do you care what they think of us?”
“Because I’m trying to keep us all alive!” he shouts back, his face contorting into someone I don’t recognise.
Taking a hurried step away, my heart hammers in my chest. What have they done to him to turn him into this person? His expression quickly falls and grief lines his face as he sees my fearful look.
“Rhea…” His voice breaks and my heart aches to go to him, but I stay where I am, watching him warily as he grabs a couple of chairs and gestures for me to take one. “Sit, please. I’ll explain everything, I promise.” I watch as he sits and waits for me to join him. “Please?” he asks again, and I can hear the panic in his voice, fear that he has pushed us away, that he has gone too far and lost us in the process. The real Alcide is reaching out to me, this is the Alcide that I know and trust. Nodding once, I take the few short steps towards him, sitting opposite him as he pours us both cups of water from a small table laid with a jug and two glasses that I hadn’t seen before. Taking a sip, he clears his throat and begins.
“Since we’ve been here, I’ve been trying to charm the Masters, to make sure we are given the easier fights, to stop them from selling you or the others. At first, I thought it was working,
then they decided that they wanted something from me.”
“Did they make you...” I can’t say the words, I can’t ask if he slept with another woman because the Masters sold him. I feel physically sick, but he quickly shakes his head.
“No, never. There is no one but you,” he quickly interjects, a hard edge to his voice. “They would take me away, outside of the arena, and have me use my powers of persuasion to make things go their way. Political parties, meetings with other Masters, things like that,” he explains then sighs, rubbing a hand over his tired face. “But then things changed.”
“What changed?”
“They figured out that all they had to do was threaten you and I would do anything.” His humourless laugh is self-mocking, and I realise he is blaming himself for everything that has happened to us. “After Jessie died…” He trails off, and I know my pain at the loss is mirrored in him, except he feels responsible. “After he died, I was furious and tried to use my powers to make them fight themselves. I knew they would kill me if I so much as raised a spoon against them, but at these parties they let me have full rein of my powers, they underestimated me.” Anger laces his words and his hands are clenched into fists.
“What happened?”
“They realised it was me. I snapped, tried to fight them, and they threw me back in the cells.” I remember when he was with us in the cells for a few nights, he had looked haggard, completely unlike my usually put together ringmaster. “I’ve been having to work to rebuild their faith in me.” Shaking his head, a wry smile greets me as he raises his eyes to meet mine. “They don’t trust me, but they’ve realised how much they need me. I can work with that.” My heart starts to sink as I see the calculating glimmer in his eyes, and I realise he’s retreating from me again. Grabbing his hands, I clutch them tightly in mine, refusing to let go as he frowns at me.
“Alcide, I just want you back with us, the others do too. Do you know how worried we’ve been?” His expression starts to soften, but I can tell he’s going to brush me off, to tell me that he’s fine and not to worry. That’s not going to cut it with me, not when we’ve already lost Jessie and I watched Xavier die in my arms. I’m not going to let him push me away again.
“We thought we had lost you,” I press, needing him to understand what he was doing to us while he was working his schemes. “You were physically there, but the Alcide we knew had gone. I can’t lose you too.” My eyes are dry as I speak, I’ve shed too many tears because of the Masters, but I put all of my feelings into my words. He needs to understand. “We need our ringmaster. Please.” My voice breaks as I push up from my chair, circling around until I stand in front of him, placing my hand on his shoulder as I sit in his lap. His arms wrap around me, his eyes solemn as I speak.
“I need my ringmaster.”
Something snaps within him as he surges forward and presses his lips to mine, his tongue skirting across my lips, seeking entrance as he continues with his demanding kisses. Gasping into his mouth, I return his kiss, our tongues dancing together as he pulls me closer, his hands tugging at my clothing. Need courses through me, the need to be close to him, to connect with him, the need to feel his skin against mine.
“Take your clothes off,” he orders between kisses, and the ringmaster tone that I know and love is back. Pulling away, I climb off his lap, and after a brief glance around to check there is no one else in the room, I pull my shirt off over my head. This is new, this animalistic need. He always held himself back from me. I once doubted that he even wanted me. Where my love with the others turned physical, his was slowly growing and consuming. Different yet the same as the others, but this here? This is what I have been waiting for.
Alcide makes a noise that brings my attention back to him, a primal sound that heats my blood as he watches my every move. Bringing my hands to my waist, I shimmy out of my trousers, making sure to slowly draw them down my legs, the heat of his gaze hot against my skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake like he is actually touching me. As he stands up, I drop the fabric to the ground, completely bare before him. His hands go to the waistband of his trousers, his fingers flicking open the button holding them closed.
My eyes follow those movements, and my mouth goes dry as he reaches up and pulls off his top, his defined chest greeting me before his hands go back to his open slacks. I can see his erection pressing against the fabric, begging to be freed. With the others, I know where we stand, I know what to do...but I feel so lost...so out of control with him. His eyes shutter for a moment like he sees my doubts and his hand freezes, and I know he feels the same, unsure how to bridge this gap and give us what we both want so desperately. If he can’t, I will.
Closing the distance between us, I slide my hand past his waistband only to find he’s not wearing underwear beneath. My hand encircles his hard length, like steel wrapped in velvet. Fucking hell, that’s hot. Glancing up, I meet his heated stare, his eyes trailing over me as a knock sounds on the door. Clutching me close to his body, Alcide lets out a feral growl, his hands moving to grab my butt, lifting me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist.
“We don’t have much time,” he tells me, and I know he is offering me an out. If I don’t want to do this, all I have to do is say so. We would go back to the way we were before, but I don’t want that. I don’t know if I am going to live through the next day, or if he will. I need this, I need him. I want this more than anything, so when my voice comes out, it is strong and sure.
“I need you.”
My words have the desired effect and he presses fierce kisses against my lips, walking through the room with me clinging on to him. The breath is forced out of me as he pushes me against a wall, the cold, rough stone a huge contrast to his hot, soft skin. Shifting his weight, he moves one of his hands and presses it against my center. He groans into my mouth as he feels how wet I am, how ready I am for him. Throwing my head back, I lean into the wall as he slides a finger into me, quickly followed by another, curling them up so they hit that sweet spot inside me. I’m fiercely aware that there are people outside this room, probably listening to us, but I don’t care. I’ve been waiting so long for this, so long to have him. He groans against my lips, fucking me with his fingers as he drops his head and sucks my nipple into his mouth, making me gasp and push closer, wiggling with need.
“Please,” I beg, lifting my hips to meet the thrust of his hand, I need more, so much more. I need his cock inside me, filling me, offering me the pleasure only he can. “Please, Ringmaster, fuck me,” I whisper, and his eyes flare as he kisses me hard, his fingers speeding up, building my release until suddenly, they are gone. I cry out and he swallows it, so I let my frustration out on his lips, sucking and biting him in punishment as he smirks against me.
He shifts me and I feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, followed by the glorious sensation of being stretched, being filled to my limit as he presses inside me. I moan, my walls clenching around him as he pushes into the hilt. We pause for a moment as he lets me adjust to the feeling of him filling me, bringing one of his hands up to my breast, and guiding my nipple into his mouth again. Desire floods my veins as his tongue flicks the buds, moving from one to the other as I lean against the wall, my legs clinging on to him. He bites down gently on my nipple and I get impatient, rocking my hips to get some friction, some relief from the feeling building up inside me. I’m sick of his teasing, of all this pent-up need. I need him to fuck me, hard.
A moan escapes his lips as he pulls away from my breast, giving me a stern look, and I know he is dying to punish me for being so impatient, but we don’t have time. Rocking my hips again, I break his control and he pulls back, almost completely, before plunging completely inside. Biting my lip, I can only hold on as he pounds into me, our sounds of pleasure echoing around the room. It’s rough and primal, but it’s what we need.
I can feel the orgasm building, I’m close, and as I look at Alcide, I know he is too. We stare into each other’s eyes, my hands grippi
ng his shoulders, my nails digging in...probably leaving a mark. I like that, I want my marks on his body. For everyone to know he is mine just as much as I am his. He grunts, the sound so raw that I cry out, arching into him, my nails scoring my pleasure down his back as he forces me higher and higher, my eyes still unable to leave his. To leave the dominance I see there.
“Come for me, Rhea,” he orders, and it’s all I need to push me over the edge. The orgasm is blinding, and I feel the moment Alcide joins me, his cry of pleasure loud in the empty room, his cock pulsing as he spills his come inside me, fills me with it until it starts to drip down my thighs. Panting, I open my eyes, which I hadn’t realised I’d closed, and press my forehead against his. He leans into me, breathing heavily as he holds us both up. His eyes search mine as a soft smile curls his lips and I know he’s back.
My ringmaster is home.
I know we don’t have long until we will be dragged back into our cells, but I soak in this moment, unsure when, or if, we might get the chance to be with each other again. It was our first time, and so fucking perfect like the man himself.
He shakes his head, letting out a laugh as his hand comes up, shaking as he strokes my cheek. “I don’t know how you do it,” he whispers.
“Do what?” I ask, my voice still breathless.
“Tame me,” he offers, his words making me clench around his already hardening cock, but I know we don’t have time for anything else. I wish we did, I wish I could explore his body and he mine, that we could spent all night in each other’s arms.
“I love you.” His words are quiet and breathy as he clings to me. The sound of the door opening behind us makes him stiffen, but he doesn’t drop me. Instead, he covers me so that the person behind him can’t see any of my body—my protective, jealous male. Lifting my hands, I cup his face, making sure his attention is on me as I speak.
“I love you, too.”