20. The Protector
“Get the fuck up now. We have to make arrangements to get out of here tonight!” A pillow lands on my head with a thump, and I open my bleary eyes and stare at the asshole who will not fucking leave me alone, or let me die.
Why are there two of them?Fuck, like a disgusting lizard or one of those aliens my naive ancestors believed in, he has mutated, and now the world will have to be subjected to two fucking cunts. I close my eyes again, hoping that when I open them, I won’t see him or his ugly twin scowling down at me in disapproval. Fuck, I am a mess right now. I think I might still be a little drunk.
Why does this cocksucker, I chuckle at that thought, because he really is a cocksucker… fuck I’ve lost my train of thought. Where was I going with that thought? Shit, I maybe shouldn’t have drunk that whole bottle of whiskey said cocksucker brought into the room last night, or was that the night before?
Fuck, who knows?All my days are starting to blend into one mashup of despair, where the only face I get to see is that of my Nightstar’s killer, and I don’t even get to stop him from breathing. How could life be this unfair? My hand tenses in the cast with the need to smash it into his face once again. He’s probably right, not that I would ever tell him he is, it’s never going to heal fully if I keep hitting him with it. It might still be worth it if I manage to break his pretty boy face.
He is pretty, isn’t he?Again, my thoughts seem to ramble away from me. I swipe at my bleary eyes, trying to force my brain to get its shit together and stop thinking about nonsense.
I try to sit up, and my head spins as if it were on one of those old-time roller coasters that Dinah and I watched in banned movies on the dark web. The web that the Brotherhood has tried to erase all remnants of without success. Dammit, I grasp my spinning head between both of my palms to try to make the world stop moving, and my stomach with it, as the cocksucker rips the sheets off of me and exposes my bare body to the cool air of the room.
“Well, damn, Sammy. Are you happy to see me despite your complaints to the contrary?” I roll my aching, sore eyes in the direction the blurry version of him is standing, and wrap my fist around my hard cock, giving it a stroke before trying to yank the covers back over me to hide my nakedness.
“You wish, cocksucker,” I mumble, my mouth dry and tasting like ass. It’s just morning wood, not because I am in any way attracted to the cunt. No matter how fucking sexy his emerald eyes are, and how lithe and strong that body is, not to mention all the tattoos. Nope, just male biology, it’s fucking science.
Shit, my brain needs to stop the fuck now. He’s a fucker, a murderer, a betrayer. There is nothing attractive about him. Sure, buddy, whatever you say, the snarky bitch in my head replies.
“I wouldn’t have to wish, if you would move your hand and stop being such a prickly son of a bitch. I’m always willing to assist you with your… em… massive, hard problem.”
My cock jumps against my abs at his provocative words, and my balls tighten, almost managing to force a groan to escape my lips, but I ignore them and his attempt to tempt me. There is no way I am allowing this fucker’s mouth, or any other body part, to give me a release, no matter how much my body tries to convince me I need one. I’ll just wank one off in the shower like any normal man who doesn’t have a hole to pound into. Ah, fuck, now my tip is leaking precum at the thought of pounding into a hole. Shit.
An image of a dark-haired beauty staring at me over her tattooed shoulder, her gray-blue eyes filled with naughty mischief, and a knowing smirk lifting the corners of her naturally red lips, has me returning to my reality and killing off any ardor I might have felt. She’s gone. She’s never coming back to me.
My mind knows the truth; he is the reason that Dinah is gone. He took her from me, and to allow him to give me any pleasure, to stop fighting him, would be to spit on her memory. On the memory of all the years I spent by her side, protecting and loving her. All for this cunt to take her away from me in an attempt to save his own lover. Fuck him and his pouty lips.
“Why have you come in here all fucking excited like a starving hyena at dinner time?” I mumble, finally managing to sit up on the bed and pressing my back to the wooden headboard. Once I get a good look at him and I’m no longer seeing double, I notice how tense he is, despite his teasing words.
Fuck, something has happened.Did they finally find where the rebels are keeping Abe? Is that it? Does he get his lover back while mine has crossed over to the afterlife where she is utterly inaccessible to me, or has he finally found his other lover’s child?
Pain and jealousy lash at my heart, causing my chest to tighten painfully with the thought that he will get to move on, to still have a possible life with the person he loves the most, while I will remain trapped in darkness, with every living breath pining for my beloved Nightstar.
“First of all, I am not a fucking hyena. Those fuckers are ugly as fuck. If I were anything, I would be a wolf, dick. They’re majestic and true predators.” He moves around the room, grabbing my pants and shirt from where I haphazardly threw them last night, throwing them at me, and managing to hit me in the face in the process.
“You wish…” I mumble, as I try pulling the tangled shirt over my head only to get it stuck around my neck, and to have him come over and assist me with a deep sigh, as if I was some wayward, helpless child he had to tend to. Okay, so right this moment, while I strangle myself with my own shirt, might not be the best time to demand my independence.
“I’m going to really have to insist that you stay off the booze now.” He raises his palms close to my face, and I want to immediately break his fingers at the placating action. “I know, I know being sober is hard with everything… that has happened… but you’re going to need to, if we have a chance to get out of here.”
“Yeah, sure, fucker. Getting out of here, whatever you say.” I try to throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand up, but the world immediately tilts sideways and knocks me right back on the mattress with a lurch of my stomach. Ah fuck, I’m about to embarrass myself in front of this cunt, who will for sure never let me live it down. That is, if we stay alive, which I have my doubts about, and the way my head is starting to pound, it doesn’t sound like the greatest idea anyway.
Did I drink one bottle or two last night?I wonder if there is anything left in one of those strewn around the room. I could use a little hair of the dog to help with the nauseating drums currently beating in my head. “I need to piss, asshole.”
One of his dark eyebrows rises dramatically at my statement, which I have no fucking clue why I uttered, other than I am obviously still more inebriated than I thought. “Did you need me to hold up that fucking python while you do it, so you don’t piss all over yourself or the floor?” He questions with a devilish smirk across his face.
I glare daggers at him as I force my body up off the bed with a groan, and take a stumbling step toward the ensuite bathroom. “You’re not a fucking snake charmer, Ezekiel. You’re a rat that the snake preys on.”
“Just leave the fucking door open so I can talk to you through it, and just in case you end up sprawled on your back or smashing your face,” he calls, and I don’t hear the rest of the words that he mumbles while I manage to hold myself up in front of the toilet with one arm braced against the wall, questioning most of my life choices, and how I ended up here in this moment.
Fate really is a twisted cunt, most likely high on coke and playing viciously with my life. A groan escapes me as I finally do my business, and clue into the fact that while I did put on a shirt, I’m still completely naked from the waist down, and that fucker just got a great look at my junk. Dammit.
Maybe he’s right, and I should stop drinking. It’s not really doing me any favors. I’m still dreaming of Dinah repeatedly, even while fall-down drunk. She is still living exclusively in my head, a specter that won’t leave, ripping my heart out over and over, as memories of us together over the years play sadistic ping-pong with my mind. I can’t go on like this. I can’t continue to breathe with the pain of every single sharp breath, longing for her to return to me, which I know is impossible.
I look around the bathroom and groan, my neck tilting backward and inducing the spinning to become worse. Of course, there isn’t a single fucking towel in here, so I can hide my junk. That would be too easy.
I force myself to splash some water on my weary face, my eyes refusing to meet my reflection—the image of the man who failed to save Dinah wanting to stare back at me. When I reach for the hand towel to dry myself, I realize that, too, is gone. What, did all the towels have a party and disappear while I was drunk? What the hell.
Someone up there in that fake heaven is really having a great laugh at my expense. I shrug my wide shoulders back, doing my best to keep my head held high. Fuck it, he wants to get a good look at my cock, maybe I will stab him in the fucking eye with it. He’d have to be on his knees in front of you for you to achieve that, my mind cackles.
I stroll out of the bathroom, refusing to meet his gaze as I move toward the bed to get my pants. “As… much as I’m enjoying the view, and I am, for the record, I need you to cover your junk so we can get down to business.”
A grunt is all the answer he gets as I start to slip my legs through the pants, and a chuckle escapes his lips. I turn over my shoulder and glare menacingly at him, or at least what I hope is menacingly, because one of my eyes is starting to twitch. “What now, asswipe?”
He drags his large tattooed hand over his mouth, trying his best to hide his lascivious grin. “You have dimples.” He motions with his hand towards my back. “At the top of your ass. They’re fucking adorable.”
“You’re a perv, you know that?” I continue to do up my pants, finally releasing some of my tension now that I’m covered up from his observing gaze. Dimples my ass, well, fuck, I guess they are on my ass. Yup, no, not going there. I need coffee, a whole bucket of it, so I can sober the fuck up before I embarrass myself further. Maybe if I dunk my head in it, rather than drink it, it will speed up the process.
“What did you rush in here to wake me for, Ezekiel? Let’s stop with the stupid games and this sexual tension that you think is affecting me. I don’t want you, fucker, and I never will.” I look around the room, hoping that he’s brought coffee with him like he has every morning when he comes to irritate my ass, and make sure I didn’t drink myself to death overnight. I spy it on the side table and release a relieved breath as I head toward it, only to have him reach it first and pour me a cup from the silver carafe.
He holds the steaming mug of black goodness out to me, his green eyes meeting my blue ones, and I see hesitation, and what I think might actually be fear, in their depths. “Just tell me.”
“Someone pretending to be the Unholy Ghost attacked nine different Brotherhood estates last night, killing each of the Order members, severing and stuffing their cocks inside of their mouths, and leaving messages written in blood. One of them being Abe’s dad, Peter Mercier.”
A bomb goes off in my aching head at his words, and sound seems to disappear momentarily, being replaced with nothing but static, as my muddled brain tries desperately to process and comprehend his words. Someone is pretending to be my Nightstar? What. The. Fuck. Why?
“What? Ah, who? Why?” It’s as if my still intoxicated brain can’t get any of my jumbled thoughts processed fast enough, and my sentences come out incomplete and incoherent. The shock of his words are a blast of cold water against my senses, waking me up and chasing away the effects of the alcohol. He passes me the mug of coffee, and my hands tremble as I take it from him, spilling some of the hot liquid over my fingers.
“I don’t have much more information than that. My psycho of a father is on a rampage. He thinks the rebels are taking advantage of the situation, and that Abe might be leading them. He’s going after them, and he’s once again threatening to end your life and Gabe’s son’s life. We have to get the fuck out of here while he’s distracted.”
“What about the child? Have you had any luck with your contacts?” I question, rubbing my casted hand down my face and then taking a deep gulp of the hot coffee, which I immediately fucking regret because it scorches my mouth. FUCK!
“None, but we can no longer afford to wait here while we search for him. We need to escape tonight, before my dad gets it in his psychotic head to use us as bait, to draw out whoever is playing serial killer with him.”
“Okay, fuck. You better go get more coffee. I need to sober up fast.” I knock back the rest of the coffee and pass him my mug, as my mind whirls rapidly on all the possibilities, and the reality of what he just said. I wouldn’t put it past Noah Rothesay to do just that. “I’m going to need a gun, Ezekiel.”
“Already way ahead of you, it’s hidden under the tray with your eggs.”