4. Sagan
4
SAGAN
B eatrix is perfect.
Snuggled close, with her back against my brother’s chest and deep asleep, her face is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen. I’m jealous of Thatcher—I’m man enough to admit that as I study how tightly he’s curled up against her.
I wish I was gentle enough to do the same.
But if I had been the one to climb into bed with my Little Viper last night, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to let her sleep and recover. I’d have buried myself in her and kept my cock warm in her wet, tight pussy, where I could feel her heartbeat as she shuddered around me all night long.
She gave us a scare yesterday. That fear stuck with me all night. Around midnight, my desperation to check to make sure she was still alive drove me to slip into my brother’s room and watch her chest rise and fall. It’s been a few minutes since the morning light started spilling into the room and yet I still won’t move from my spot. I can’t stop watching. Coveting. Craving my pet.
Beatrix’s lips are slightly parted; her lashes rest against her cheeks. It doesn’t seem to bother her how Thatcher lightly grips the front of her neck possessively, or the way his leg is swung over her hips to keep her body trapped against him. Could it be that it’s his hold on her that keeps her sleeping so soundly? Does she feel safe with him? I’d like to think so. Though it could just be sheer exhaustion after a harrowing experience.
My gaze drops to her fingers. I’d managed to bandage them without waking her, but I can see red bleeding through. I’ll have to change them before she heads down to Bright Starr for the day. The sight of her blood causes my temper to creep forward. My teeth snapping together is audible, though soft enough not to bother either of the sleeping bodies. I’ve seen marks on her body before. Bruises, a split lip, welts… I’ve seen them all. It never pleased me, but they inspired hope that it would drive my viper to evolve. To rise above the abuse as she has. Now, with Patrick gone, I thought it would be different if one of us were the ones to leave them. Given that the three of us play rough, marks are bound to happen. But my stomach twists, knotting uncomfortably. A prickle of unease raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
My Little Viper has gone through a great deal since I’ve known her. She has worn enough marks for a lifetime.
Beatrix stirs. I glance at the time on my locked phone screen. Right on time. It’s like she has an internal alarm. Every morning at five she begins to wake. Today seems to be no different. Slowly, her eyelids start to flutter. A moment later, they open.
There’s no moment of confusion or disorientation in those liquid amber eyes. The moment Beatrix’s eyes open, she’s awake, aware, and—judging by the sudden tightness bracketing her mouth—remembers exactly what happened yesterday.
I’m hit with a wave of hot anger, scorching and growing more intense as her gaze lands on me. It’s chased by a well of suspicion and trepidation. These feelings aren’t my own. They belong to the woman lying there on my bed.
My pet feels cornered. That much is clear. Beatrix’s gaze is piercing, with narrow pupils and a vibrant flash of warning in her eyes… Her feelings are coming in loud and clear. My dick responds as it always does to the threat of danger and to Beatrix: it hardens.
But even as desire floods my body, a small part of my brain warns me that I need to tread carefully. We’ve lost a killer’s trust. She might not have struck yet on her own but yesterday could’ve been the catalyst to reaching her full potential. In fact, as I stare into her steely gaze, I’m positive of it.
Blinking rapidly, my Little Viper manages to tamp down the murderous rage running through her. When her vision clears, the sweet, quiet Beatrix Starr is staring back at me. She’s so good at hiding her intentions. No wonder Patrick and Lauren, the two people in her life that should’ve known her better than anyone else, never saw their deaths coming. She’s the perfect killer. I want to pull her close so she can whisper in my ear how she'd kill us.
My cock grows even harder.
Her body slowly stiffens as she awakens further. Thatcher’s hand slides up and down the column of her neck, the gesture lazy and soothing. He sighs loudly.
“Must you stare so intensely, Sagan? It’s fucking weird,” Thatcher drawls without lifting his head, his voice thick with sleep.
I snort. “Sorry, I’ll work on that.”
Thatcher chuckles at the bald-faced lie. I hold Beatrix’s stare as I direct my next words to her. “How do you feel this morning?”
She keeps her expression guarded as she whispers, “I’m fine.”
With a heavy sigh, Thatcher’s leg releases Beatrix. He sits up slowly before letting go of her neck and running his fingers through his tousled hair.
“You lie terribly, Little Sister,” he says coolly. “We’ll let this slide this one time. Just know, when we ask you how you’re feeling, we expect the truth. We want to know how you feel even if we don’t ask you directly. Scared? Angry? Happy? Horny? Tell us . Do you understand, Beatrix?”
Little does my pet know, this is the closest to a clue that she will ever get when it comes to our rules. If she actually takes the time to listen, she might avoid another punishment. Judging by the way she turns her head into the shared pillow to hide the distrust and annoyance that flickers across her face, she’s not catching on.
A smile pulls at my lips. Her defiance is charming. Whether she learns through another punishment or not, my Little Viper will bend to our rules.
I slide off the edge of the dresser and amble over to her. Beatrix hears my footsteps and sits up swiftly, watching me closely. She brings the sheet with her, as if that can protect her from me. I grab her chin and force her to look up at me.
“Mistakes happened yesterday. They’ll be righted, Little Viper. Until then, behave.”
A flash of the murderer beneath her demure demeanor comes and goes, keeping me hard and breathing heavy as I stand. Thatcher glances at me over her head, his mouth pressing into a tight line, his curiosity flickers in my chest through our bond.
We’ll have to talk later.
As I turn and leave the room, I make a mental note to check Beatrix’s spot in the conservatory to make sure she doesn’t have an extra stash of poison at her disposal.