Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“STOCKHOLM SYNDROME” BY SOFIA KARLBERG
LARK
Hours fucking pass, their hands and tongues bringing me to the brink of sweet release, only to stop and leave me sweating, fucking aching, and on the edge of madness.
It's a new sensation for me, being desperate for a man's touch.
I'm so used to it being forced upon me, that desire on my part was never a requirement, which was lucky as it was never there.
Shit, this is worse than the whipping, the branding, and fingernail pulling, and that shit was bad. Blue ovaries is not a state I want to be in, but still, I don't sing for them. I don't tell them anything of use. My brother's safety is worth more than a few orgasms.
Aeron sighs, and I can hear the frustration that is no doubt all over his face. His brow is probably furrowed and his jaw clenched tight. Good. Boy needs to learn disappointment.
“Knox, Tarl,” he snaps out, and it's my turn to sigh as cool air kisses my heated skin when they step away.
I'm still blindfolded, which only made the torture worse as I couldn't see what they were about to do, only feel it.
Every swipe of their tongues, every press of their lips, and nip of their teeth.
“Let's see if a night spent on the cross will loosen her tongue.”
“I need a piss,” I croak out, voice strained and raspy. The cold air in the basement does little to ease my discomfort.
Fingers pull the silk away from my eyes, and I blink in the sudden brightness of the room. When I can finally focus, ocean eyes fill my vision, a hand cupping my cheek. The look in his eyes is soft, almost proud, as a small smile tickles his lips.
“I've got you, Nightingale,” Jude whispers, and removing his palm from my face he finally takes off the clamps on my nipples and clit.
A deep moan leaves my lips as he removes them, the blood rushing back into my buds with an almost orgasmic pleasure.
A small sound lets me know that he drops the jewelry to the concrete floor, his beautiful, hypnotic eyes hold my focus making it impossible to look away.
Swooping down, he picks up a metal jug and places it between my legs underneath my pussy.
My cheeks burn as the realization of what he expects washes over me, and my eyes widen as I look back up to him.
He steps closer, the heat of his bare, scarred and inked-up chest pressing against my naked torso.
“You did so well today, beautiful Nightingale,” he coos, his free hand coming back up to my cheek, his thumb stroking my hot flesh. “Not spilling your secrets.”
“W–what?” I ask, the urge to pee fading under a blanket of confusion.
“Jude,” I hear Aeron admonish in a growl, but Jude ignores him.
“Such a beautiful bird,” he compliments.
Tears sting my eyes, and I have to swallow past the lump in my throat.
“It's time to let go, love. I won't let you make a mess.” The tinkling sound of my piss hitting metal is loud in the quiet room, and my shoulders try to cave as I do as he says and let go, unable to hold on any longer.
My cheeks burn with shame. “Such a good girl,” he tells me in a soothing voice, leaning in and flicking his tongue over the wetness on my cheek. “That's it, just let go.”
I take it back. This humiliation is far worse than anything that's happened to me so far. Having him hold a literal pot for me to piss in, all while his soft words and touch make me preen at the praise he’s giving, it’s the most embarrassing thing I’ve had to endure in a long time.
It’s almost too much, and I can feel my posture trying to sag in my binds, a painful lump in my throat.
Finally, the stream ends, and I would hang my head if Jude wasn't holding it up. I can't look at him, or the others, my gaze dropping to a point on the floor across the room.
“You finished, Nightingale?” Jude questions gently.
“Yes,” I answer, my voice small.
He doesn't move away, but I see in my peripheral vision that he hands the jug to Tarl, who passes him a white flannel. Sweat glistens on my brow as Jude swipes the warm cloth over my pussy, cleaning me up.
I feel movement on my other side, and turn to see Knox standing there holding a plate of chopped fruit and what smells and looks like French toast, cut into small, bite-sized pieces.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Aeron exclaims, and I glance at him, his usually neat hair disheveled.
“Fuck off, Aeron,” Knox snarls back, stepping closer until the heat of his naked chest warms my side.
I take a moment to study it, the way his muscles ripple and his six-pack clearly defined, all helping me to forget my previous embarrassment.
The ink on his arms spreads across his chest in a stunning mix of images that flow into each other.
Religious iconography surrounded by script and moths with skulls on their bodies.
Flowers are mixed in, and I'm sure there's a tree of life in the melee. “Like what you see, Little Bird?”
I snap my head back up to look into his teasing, hazel eyes, his dirty-blond hair flopping into one eye. He's so close that I can smell myself on him, my scent clinging to his dark brown stubble. My core pulses again, naughty pussy.
He holds up his hand, a square of the soft toast in his fingers. “I thought you might be hungry.”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, and he gives a sexy, masculine chuckle, bringing the morsel to my lips.
I hold his stare as I open them, letting him place the bite on my tongue and giving his fingers a small lick as he withdraws them.
A deep moan leaves my closed lips as the buttery flavor explodes in my mouth, and his eyes darken, his pupils widening and threatening to swallow the hazel whole.
“Shit, this wasn't just torture for you, Little Bird,” he groans, his hand raking through his messy locks. I dart a look down at his jeans to see the fabric straining at the crotch. A smirk tugs at my lips. Good. I'm glad it fucking affected him too.
“More,” I demand, opening my lips once more, and he quirks a brow, holding the next piece just out of reach. “Please, Daddy.”
“Good girl,” he praises, and it's a gargantuan effort not to let my toes curl. Fuck, I did not see that kink coming.
We spend the next few minutes with Knox feeding me, Jude still pushed up against my other side, like he can't bear to be parted from my skin. I'm not going to lie, the warmth both men exude pressed so closely to me is delicious, and I soon find my eyes growing heavy with a wave of exhaustion.
“Our beautiful bird is sleepy,” Jude comments, taking away the straw from my lips that I was using to drink the juice they gave me. “Time for sleep, little one.”
“I don't enjoy sleeping alone,” I say without thought, and like, what the fuck was that?! I’ve always slept alone and loved it. I could never sleep if one of my father’s goons tried to snuggle after using me.
“I know, precious one,” Jude whispers, nuzzling the spot just behind my ear. “I'm sure Aeron will come and keep you company later,” he whispers so quietly that I'm sure no one else hears him.
My eyes find the man in question, noticing that his hair looks back to its normal neatness, his suit pristine.
His eyes, however, are a messy mix of emotions as he watches me back.
I just wish I knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling, and they call me fucking broken.
One look in his eyes right now shows me just how shattered his soul is.
“Time to go,” Aeron announces, and Jude heaves a heavy sigh against me, his breath feathering my hair.
“See you tomorrow, Nightingale,” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss against my lips.
My vision fills with Knox as he takes Jude's place in front of me.
“See you in my dreams, beautiful,” he tells me with a grin that must make angels come undone. Leaning in, he, too, kisses my lips softly, swiping his tongue over the seam before withdrawing and walking his admittedly fine ass away.
Tarl stands before me next, his mismatched eyes taking me in, assessing. If the heat in his eyes is anything to go by, he doesn't find me wanting.
“Such a pretty, pretty bird,” he states, stepping closer and trailing his long fingers down the side of my neck, over my collarbone, and down the side of my breast. He leans in, his soft, full lips brushing mine in a ghost of a kiss and I taste my musk on him for the briefest of moments.
Fucking cunt tease. “Sweet dreams, my bird of paradise.”
He steps away then, walking towards the door, and suddenly I'm all alone with Aeron staring at me from across the room. It's not so far that I can't feel his dark energy seep into my skin though, clawing its way to my bones.
“You gonna give me a goodnight kiss too, Devil Man?” I sass, a spike of satisfaction flaring in my belly when his jaw grinds.
“Goodnight, Dove,” he says, his tone hard.
Then I'm plunged into darkness again as he shuts off the lights.
Dick.
“FUCKED UP” BY BAHARI
AERON
A couple of hours later, once the others have gone to bed, I give in to the pull that's drawing me back down to that fucking basement, and the bird trapped down there. Although, perhaps a siren would be a better creature for her. My sudden obsession to be near her is inexplicable.
The room is cool, the frigid air wafting over me as I step inside the room and shut the door silently behind me. No light filters in, but I know where she is. Her damaged soul calls to me in the darkness, guiding my bare feet in the right direction.
“I know you're there, Devil Man,” she says, her voice a whisper against my naked chest. I don't answer, just step closer until I can feel her chilled skin pressed to my body and the shiver as she basks in my body heat. “I can't sleep,” she confesses, a sigh brushing my clavicle.