Wild War

by Laurelin Paige

  Getting the hint, he broke away to pull the dang thing off. He threw it to the floor, and before he could once again take the reins of our speed, I pulled up my nightie and climbed onto his lap, a knee on either side of his hips so I could rub the ache between my thighs against the bulge in his jeans.

  I bit my lip as my clit hit just the right spot, wishing I’d thought to take my panties off before straddling him. Wondering if I could shove them to the side and still get his cock inside me.

  I was pretty sure he was thinking the same sort of thing, his hands moving up to cup my breasts through my nightgown, then letting out a grunt of satisfaction as he leaned back, taking me with him.

  As soon as his back hit the window frame, he jerked.

  Immediately, the bubble around us burst, and I remembered our reality and the latest beating he’d endured.

  “Is it still really bad? Does it need more ointment?” I’d slipped him some Neosporin before dinner, but the tube had been practically empty. “I’m pretty sure I could get an antibiotic if I faked a sore throat.”

  He shook his head and moved himself over so his back met the flat wall instead of the window frame, taking me with him. “Carla had something from her last toothache that she never finished. I stole those. It’s healing pretty well, I think.” He’d told me it was only a single stripe, but he’d still been recovering from the whipping before that.

  “Turn around. Let me see it.”

  He shook his head, and as I stared him down, I could feel myself turning protective. He was trying to be strong, and I admired that, but if he didn’t want me to see it, it meant it was worse than he was letting on, which made me even more determined to see it so that I could be sure he was being taken care of.

  But what was I going to do right now? He was already taking an antibiotic, and I wouldn’t be able to try to get my hands on more ointment until tomorrow. Seeing it would only stir up more anger toward my father, and he already owned too much of our time. Too much of our lives. I hated giving him even a single minute more.

  Would we ever belong completely to ourselves?

  With a sigh, I climbed off his lap and stretched out half on top of him, half at his side. “How long do we have to hold on?”

  I knew the answer, of course. I was counting down the hours. One thousand one hundred and seventy-six to go.

  But the closer it got, the less it seemed real. It didn’t seem possible that my life could be any different than what it was, and I needed Cade to reassure me, to say it out loud so that I knew it wasn’t just a fairy tale in my head.

  “It’s only two months. Less, actually. Seven weeks.” He brushed his lips against my forehead. “We just have to get through seven weeks, and then we’re gone.”

  “Tell me again how we’re going to do it.”

  As he had so many nights before, he spoke the details of our plan, falling into an easy rhythm born of repetition. “We’ll walk the stage. We’ll get our diplomas. Then after the ceremony, we’ll leave. We won’t even go to the after-party. We’ll just be gone.”

  “And we won’t take his car.”

  “No. We won’t take my mother’s either.”

  We went through the rest of the routine, and I played each step in my head, envisioning us behind the wheel of Janice’s old truck, worrying if it would start, imagining what we’d say if we got caught.

  I felt pretty sure she wouldn’t turn us in. I would be eighteen by then, an adult. I’d known the gardener long enough to believe she’d support us there. She might even let us take the truck if we asked.

  Of course, we couldn’t take the risk of her saying no, but the fact that she would probably be on our side if we gave her the chance made me feel worse about stealing her truck. “We’ll send her money when we can,” I said, reassuring myself.

  “We will. We’ll be fine.”

  “And where will we go?”

  He tipped my chin up toward him. My eyes locked on his, and I swept my tongue over my lip as I waited for his answer. He always said someplace new, and honestly, I didn’t care. The truth was, we had no idea where we’d go. We had no money, no family. No jobs waiting for us. No place to stay. We were running off to be homeless and at the whim of fate, but we would be together, and I couldn’t imagine anything better.

  Instead of answering, he pressed his mouth to mine, his tongue tracing the path mine had taken across my bottom lip. Pulling my leg up around his hip, he turned so that his cock was once again pressing against the space between my thighs.

  “I need to be inside of you,” he whispered against my lips before kissing me long and deep. “That’s the only place I want to go.”

  In sync, we began undressing, fast and furiously, a desperate eagerness growing between us. If it had been a race, I would have won, but I had less to take off, and he had the condom to retrieve from his pocket.

  I sat on the bed to watch him as he rolled the latex down his cock, my pulse speeding up at the sight. For so long, I’d thought the male genitalia was ugly, and objectively it still was, but looking at Cade excited me. It was part of the gift he’d given me, that ability to find joy in sex, and the thrill went deeper than just feeling turned on. Was more profound. Seeing him naked and hard, his cock in his hand, moved me, and when he pushed me down to the bed, my legs wrapped around him like they belonged there.

  He slipped a hand down between my legs, his fingers having learned their way around well enough that I was pretty sure he was now an expert. “Are you ready for me?”

  God, yes. I’d been wet since he slid through the window.

  He dragged the proof up my folds and teased the pad of his finger against my clit.

  “Are you ready for me?” I arched into him, praying his answer was yes, yes, yes, because I wasn’t just ready, I felt empty without him. I felt unwhole.

  Hadn’t that been exactly what I’d been before him? Half a person. Incomplete.

  It was overly romantic to think in such platitudes. Love didn’t fix all. It didn’t win in the end. There was no such thing as soulmates.

  But I believed it all the same.

  He and I as one entity was the only sort of religion that made sense to me. I’d never seen proof of God. Prayer after prayer after prayer had gone unanswered. But Cade Warren gave me meaning. Without him, I was simply skin and bones. With him, my soul came alive.

  At no time was I more alive than when he was inside me.

  And since he was taking too long to get there, as soon as I felt his tip at my entrance, I lifted my hips and invited him all the way in.

  I gasped at the feel of him, my pussy clenching and clinging to his cock as though afraid he’d leave too soon, though there was pleasure in his momentary absences when he dragged himself all the way out only because he immediately pushed back in. Electricity danced down my limbs and up my spine, and as deep as he was, I wanted him deeper, needed him planted. Needed him to touch me in every way he could, inside and out, so that the memory of him would linger in my body and get me through the long hours when we had to keep our distance and watch our gaze.

  Some days that memory was the only thing that got me through.

  When my thighs ached the next day, it would be proof that he hadn’t been a dream. When I was scared and alone and trying to think of a reason to hang on, my body would remind me that Cade Warren loved me.

  I brought my palms to his cheeks and kissed him. “I love you. I love you so much.”

  Sometimes, I thought he got off more on the words than the rest, and with my declaration, he released, grinding into me as his orgasm took over his body.

  He so rarely came before me, and he was so beautiful doing so—his face scrunched up, his muscles tense—and I wanted to linger in that moment, wanted to savor the proof that I’d done that to him. I’d wrecked him so thoroughly with pleasure and unraveled him the same way he unraveled me, and wasn’t that fantastic?

  But that satisfaction was interrupted with an unexpected sound—a rattling at th
e door followed by a fist pounding against the wood. “What the hell is this, Julianna?”

  My father.

  Outside my room.

  The dresser was already moving with the weight of his shoulder pushing the door.

  Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

  We jumped apart. I flung the window open while Cade threw on his jeans. He had his shoes in hand, but his shirt… “Where is it? Where is it?” His whisper felt like a yell.

  “Open the door right this instant!” My father’s voice boomed like he had a megaphone, and slowly the dresser was moving as he pushed harder to get in. “Goddammit, Julianna! When I get in there—”

  I tuned out his threat. Whatever he dished out to me, I could handle. I’d handled him for almost eighteen years. I was a pro.

  But what he’d do to Cade was a whole other story.

  He had to get out of my room now.

  He understood that as well as I did. Shirtless, he climbed up on the windowsill. “If you find it, stuff it under the bed.”

  I knelt on the bed, my hands laced together in front of me so that I wouldn’t instinctively grab onto him and make him take me with. “Be careful.” I glanced back at the door, the crack wide enough that I could see the side of my father’s head as he gave another shove. “Be careful, but go!”

  It was already too late.

  Even if Cade hadn’t hesitated to give me a reassuring nod, there wouldn’t have been enough time for him to get in the position to climb out. He’d have to jump to the ground, and my heart was already in my throat, my chest splitting itself in two as I quickly reasoned which was worse: broken limbs or facing my father.

  Light suddenly broke into the room as the door opened completely, and though my back was turned, I knew my father was towering behind me. The horror in Cade’s expression reflected the terrifying sight. It wasn’t one I had to see to understand.

  “You’re dead, Cade Warren.” His tone turned my veins to ice, and now I had my answer—broken limbs were the better odds.

  Even knowing it was the right choice, I couldn’t help the scream that escaped my throat as he swung his legs out the window and fell to the ground.

  I stuck my head out after him, too concerned with whether Cade was okay or not to worry about the fact that I was naked and about to be in trouble. Somehow he’d managed to land on his side. He rolled twice, then got to his feet, and while I could tell he was favoring one leg over the other, he disappeared into the dark before I could evaluate just how hurt he was.

  But worry for Cade was suddenly superseded by pain as I was dragged back into the room by my hair.

  “You dirty whore! You fucking whore. I knew you would spread your legs for anyone, but you had to go and prove it, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t have time to respond before the back of his hand smacked across my face. He struck again before I’d finished staggering from the first blow.

  “Trash is attracted to trash. I should have realized you’d invite him into your bed.” With a roar, he used his fist this time, hitting me so hard I fell to my knees, nearly blacking out.

  When I could see again, I saw him at the window, looking out at the yard. “He has no place to go. He’ll show up tomorrow, and I’ll take care of him then.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was telling me or himself, but the message was clear—Cade would wait. In the meantime, he had me to deal with.

  My face already felt swollen, tears were already streaming down my face. Usually, that’s all he needed to be satisfied, but that was when my transgressions were small. He’d want a larger payment for this.

  I was already bracing myself for it when he shut the window and prowled toward me. “Get the fuck up.”

  Cade’s safe, I told myself. Safe for tonight, anyway.

  Holding on to that thought, I found the strength to stand, trying my best to cover myself.

  “You know the drill. Hands on the desk. Ass toward me.”

  I walked over to my desk and placed my palms down. My body tensed at the familiar sound of his belt unbuckling. It would have been worse for Cade if he were standing here. I knew that in my bones.

  But it was still going to be bad for me.

  Twenty-One

  Cade

  I woke up suddenly, not sure what had woken me. I’d shivered for most of the night and only fell asleep when the sun came out. Even with the jacket I’d found hanging on the hook with the garden aprons, the temperature had been miserable. Only forty degrees, according to the thermometer hanging on the glass wall. It was definitely warmer now.

  I stretched my neck from side to side. I had a kink from how I’d had to sleep, curled up inside the cabinet where the extra bags of soil were usually kept, and my ankle was throbbing so badly, I was beginning to wonder if it was broken. I tried to move it now, but it was too swollen. It needed to be wrapped. It probably needed an X-ray.

  Uncomfortable as I was, I didn’t think it was pain that woke me up.

  I sat quietly, straining my ears.

  “Cade?”

  It was soft, but I heard it. Jolie’s voice, quiet enough to still be called a whisper, but loud enough that I heard it in my hiding spot. It was too early for her to be done with school, and I hadn’t expected her until then. Was it a trap? Cautiously, I opened the door and peeked out.

  She’d passed by me, so I only saw her back, but it was definitely her. Fuck, I was so happy to see her, my eyes stung. “Jol!”

  I climbed out of the cramped space and made it to a standing position just in time for her to rush into my arms.

  “You’re here!”

  Thank God we’d chosen the spot the day before as an emergency meeting place. Even without the arrangement, I would have ended up there. I had nowhere else to go. “I hoped you’d find me. I didn’t know if you’d think of it.”

  “I was so worried. I didn’t know if…” Her voice was muffled in my jacket, but I could tell she was crying from the way her body quivered.

  I wrapped my arms tighter around her. “I’m okay. Swollen ankle, but I’m okay.”

  At the mention of my injury, she pulled away and knelt down to examine my bare foot. I’d managed to take my shoes with me on my fall, but I didn’t think I could fit into it if I wanted to.

  “Shit, Cade. It’s purple. Is it broken?”

  “Just sprained.” Maybe. Probably. “But what about you? What happened—?” Just then she stood up, and I got a good look at her face, and I didn’t have to finish the question. The answer was black and blue across one side of her face.

  I sucked in a breath. “Oh, fuck. Jolie.”

  I drew her closer, cupping her face on the side that wasn’t bruised as I examined her marks. It looked like his fist had slammed across her cheekbone. She couldn’t even keep her one eye open all the way.

  I was going to kill him. I was going to fucking slip in the house tonight while he was asleep and slit his fucking throat with a knife.

  “It looks worse than it is.” She was as good at minimizing as I was. Better. “Doesn’t hurt nearly as much as my ass.”

  Guilt sank through me like a stone in mud. I’d left her there to face Stark’s wrath alone. He usually left her unmarked, but I knew what he was capable of. I knew how mad he would have been. I knew better. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Stop.” She put a finger up to shush me. “If you’d stayed, it would have been worse.”

  “Not for you.”

  “For both of us. I hurt when you hurt.”

  “Well, we’re both in a fuck ton of pain right now then because I feel the same.” I was suddenly very aware of the weight of it all, perched on my shoulders, and I slumped forward underneath it, resting my forehead against hers.

  We stood like that, not talking, just breathing each other in and holding each other up for who knows how long. Hours, it felt like. Seconds. Time lost meaning with her. We forgot the world existed.

  Right now, we didn’t have the luxury of escaping like that.

 
I forced myself to take a step back, still holding her, just not so tight. “How did you get away? How long do you have?” I’d been hidden in the cabinet when Janice did her morning circuit through the greenhouse, and she usually didn’t come out again until afternoon, so I wasn’t worried so much about her.

  Stark, on the other hand. I couldn’t imagine that he’d have let her go to school with her face looking like it did. I also couldn’t imagine that he would have let her stay home without keeping her locked up tight in her room.

  “He’s preoccupied,” Jolie explained. “Bernard’s parents got here today. He’s meeting with them right now and the police. He doesn’t know that I left class, and if we’re lucky, he won’t realize it until the school day is over.”

  I must have looked puzzled because she amended. “I told Ms. Stacey that my face was hurting too much. She sent me to the nurse’s office, and the nurse sent me home. I ran there and got some of your stuff and then came here.”

  I only now noticed the duffel bag at her feet, but I was still hung up on something else. “He let you go to class with your face all bruised up? How did—?” My heartbeat felt heavy when I realized the answer halfway through the question. “He said it was me, didn’t he? He made you say it was me.”

  The guy wasn’t stupid. It was a brilliant tactic, actually. Tell the school that his wild and out-of-control stepson had attacked his daughter, then ran away, and suddenly he had everyone looking for me.

  Now she was the one who felt guilty, if her tears had anything to say about it. “I didn’t have a choice. He said I had to blame you or...or…”

  If he’d been there right then, I would have punched him in the face, shown him how wild I could be.

  But he wasn’t there. Jolie was, and she wasn’t who I was angry at.

  I tugged her back into me. “You had to do what he said. You didn’t have a choice.”

  Or maybe she did. With her face as evidence, if she and I both said something. “What would happen if you tell the truth? If you blamed him?”