Brutal King (The Seven Deadly Sinacores #7)

Chapter 18

18

SOFIA

T o my surprise, the estate doesn’t just have a cemetery. In fact, it holds many secrets I wish I’d discovered sooner.

On our walkabout, we come across a garden, three streams, a cave, and two guardhouses. We don’t approach those, but from a distance, Gideon waves to the men. I purse my lips, wondering if perhaps he brought me this way to show me that in fact, the grounds are secured.

The most surprising place, however, isn’t hidden in the trees at all, but in plain sight.

“How did I never see this before? I’ve looked out every window.” I run toward the building that houses the stables and a large pen. “It’s huge!”

“Sometimes we look so far ahead, we miss what’s right under our noses.”

I roll my eyes. “What, are you a poet now?”

“When inspired.” He arches a brow at me, his mouth quirked to one side.

“No horses?” I ask disappointedly, peering into the empty stalls.

“Not now. They require a lot of upkeep. But years ago, I did.” He sets his forearms against the wooden fence that surrounds the empty paddock. His eyes roam the dirt in a circular manner, as if in his mind he’s seeing something and trailing it. “A mare. Her name was Shiloh.”

I lift my camera and take several photographs of the enclosure. “What was she like?”

He glances down. “Stubborn and willful. Brutal, even. But so beautiful. My father got her so that I could learn to manage difficult people. How to make them bend to my will. She was a lesson.”

“Did you break her?” I say, using the first term that comes to mind given my similar situation. I can’t help but compare myself to the mare. He has called me stubborn and willful. He has called me beautiful. “Did she give into you?”

“If you mean, did I earn her love, then yes.”

“How do you know it was love? She might have just been faking it. Or maybe she was waiting for the chance to break free.”

Gideon’s gaze glitters knowingly as he turns to me. “Are we still talking about the horse?”

“Never mind.” I shake my head and snap a photo of him because I know he doesn’t like it.

He chuckles. “You aren’t like Shiloh.”

“Oh yeah,” I say disbelievingly. “How so?”

“For one, I never wanted to fuck her.”

“You’re terrible.”

“So you keep saying.”

“What happened to Shiloh?”

It takes him a long while to reply to that. “She taught me just how much I could lose because of a single mistake.”

Just like at the cemetery, I want to ask him more, but something in his eyes has me biting my tongue. It’s sadness. Complete and utter sadness. And it threatens to break my heart in spite of everything he’s done.

Clearing my throat, I move to check the inside. I can’t allow myself to feel anything but disdain for Gideon. I must not.

He follows me in, remaining several feet behind as I capture a few images of the empty stalls. Though there are no horses, there are a few with straw bedding. I bend down to touch it, when a cat bolts out from beneath it and hisses at me.

“Jesus Christ!” I jump into Gideon’s arms.

Laughing, he holds me against him tightly. “Careful, she has kittens.”

“Okay, I’ve let this go long enough.” I push away. “What’s up with the cats? When I first got here, you told me not to let them in. But they are in! They’re coming out of the woodwork. I trip on them at least once a day. Did you know that I named two of them? Yeah, Winter and Autumn. Guess what? I have no idea who they are, there are so many and they all look alike.”

“I like cats.” He shrugs. “There are only ten of them indoors. It’s a big house and they keep it pest free. But they’re territorial. There are problems when the outdoor cats come in. I try to avoid unsupervised introductions.” Stepping past me, he bends down to the gray female with the engorged teats. He rubs her beneath her chin, and the little minx lets him. “This is Sabina. I’ll take one of her kittens inside when they’re weaned.”

I approach too. Sabina eyes me wearily, but refrains from hissing now that her master is here. “What about the rest of the kittens?”

“They’ll be adopted out by the vet.”

“You have a vet?”

“Though I’m adept at many things, animal medicine isn’t one of them. He comes out regularly, spays and neuters most of them. He brings new blood in for breeding.”

“Wow.” I reach toward her, and she finally lets me rub her ears. But the feral gleam is still there. “Can I see the kittens?”

“She likes me, but even I can’t get near them. When they get older and begin to wander, we can.”

“That will be weeks.”

He nods. “Two or three, at least.”

That means, he intends to keep me here that much longer. I swallow the sudden lump in my throat and it falls to my stomach like coal.

“I’m ready to go back,” I whisper.

Being outside has felt like a reprieve from my prison. But it was an illusion. I’m still in my cage, it’s just that the walls extend so far out I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever be free.

Cameras see more than the naked eye. They capture the soul of a place, a person, a moment. That’s why people were afraid of them long ago. The superstition that photographs can encapsulate the subject’s spirit is true.

With the lights on in my dark room, now that the film has been developed, I study the hanging black and white stills. There is the stable and Sabina, the men staring out the windows of the guardhouses, and the manor captured in its entirety from a distance.

Then, there’s the cemetery and the tiny floating motes and the moss. Wendy and Stephen’s graves and the empty ones.

And there’s Gideon.

When I first met him, he reminded me of a GQ model. Now that I’ve photographed him, I realize it’s not even close. True, the camera loves him. More than that, it worships him. Every detail, every emotion that crossed his handsome face, is enhanced. The aching and longing I observed in person is so much more poignant. His eyes… They call out to something lost and beyond his reach, his fingers slightly outstretched toward his mother’s grave.

Then, there’s the gentleness he displayed with Sabina, and the familiarity in which she gazes up at him, as if he’s been there many times before. Petting her. Caring for her.

Is it possible that a monster could have these qualities? In spite of myself, I’m curious about him. He’s an enigma. Is he a villain with a broken heart? Or is this another form of manipulation? What does seeing all this to do me?

“You’re good.”

“Jeez!” I scream at the sound of his voice right behind me. “Can you knock? What if the room had been dark?”

“I did knock. Several times.” He approaches the photos and scans them, pausing at the ones of himself. “You’re an amazing photographer, Sofia. I’ve never seen myself like this.”

Though it was a compliment, it’s difficult to tell if he’s actually pleased.

“What are you doing in here?” I grab a roll of film and proceed to load my Leica for the next round of shots. “I thought this was my private space.”

“I don’t recall saying that,” Gideon whispers right next to me. “What are you doing?”

I turn to look at him over my shoulder, to find him so near, his lips nearly brush mine. “I’d like you to take me out to explore again. I have a feeling there are many more spots like the ones you already showed me.”

“Mmm. There are.” He watches me work, which makes me nervous. When his arm snakes around my waist and he presses his hard shaft against my ass, I stop. “Finish what you’re doing,” he says.

My hands tremble as I set the film in place and it takes the task longer than usual. When I’m done, he snatches the camera from me.

“Hey!” I twist to face him and try to take the camera back, but he holds it out of reach. “Give it back.”

He grins down at me. “I let you capture me at a pretty vulnerable moment. Now it’s my turn.”

I don’t like the sound of that. “If there were strings attached, I wouldn’t have taken your picture at any moment, vulnerable or not.”

“You’re a smart girl, Sofia. You know that when it comes to me, there are always strings.”

“All right.” I give him my brightest smile. “Snap away.”

Amused laughter erupts from him. “I want you vulnerable. Bared to me.”

All the moisture in my mouth evaporates as heat fills my veins. I look to the door.

“Don’t run, Little Bird,” he says. “I’ll give chase if you do.”

The thought does nothing to dissipate the sudden warmth spreading through me. If anything, it fans the flames. I want to run just for the fun of it. I want to see how quickly he can catch me and what he’ll do when he does.

I also don’t want him to accidently break my camera in the process.

That’s what I tell myself when I stay. It has nothing to do with the seductive smile on his face as he says, “Take off your clothes,” or the way his gaze goes hungry when I begin to unbutton my blouse.

My clothes fall into a puddle at my feet. He lifts the lens to his eye and takes my picture. “Get on the counter.”

I do as he says, lifting myself so that my ass is on the cold steel surface. A shiver passes over me. “You do realize I’ll destroy the film before I let you see it.”

He chuckles. “It’s a good thing I’m committing it all to memory.” Another picture. “Spread your legs. I want to see your pussy.”

I’ve shown him this part of me many times, but this is different somehow. It’s sexy as hell and dirty and so erotic, I can hardly breathe. I open my legs slowly, and he sucks in a breath. It must be more for him too.

Reaching for it, he touches my slit and captures the moment. Then, he undoes his zipper and releases his cock. Standing between my legs, he takes a photograph of himself at my entrance.

“So fucking sexy,” he murmurs as he pushes in.

I throw my head back, reveling in the sensation of having him inside me. Through hooded eyes, I watch him fuck me as he takes photo after photo— of my body, his cock sliding into me, and my gasps of pleasure.

But as the tension inside me builds, it becomes harder to focus on what he’s doing. All I can do is feel. Feel how he stretches me and fills me and rubs against that inner part that pushes me to the edge.

He’s there with me. A roar rips from him as he comes. I pulse around his dick and fall apart and he captures it all. Then, when we’re both spent, he pulls out of me and takes one last photo as his essence spills from me.

“You are perfection, Little Bird.”