Chapter 9
Teeth clattering, body trembling, goosebumps ripple across my flesh. I scream so loudly as Blaze leaves that my jaw cracks. This white-hot pain sort of pulses in my temple, shutting me up. I squeeze my legs together, my core burning, and feel it start slipping out of me, Blaze’s cum creeping its way down my inner thigh.
I bite my sore lip, flicking my eyes up to the ceiling and yank as hard as I can on the too tight handcuffs. I couldn’t attempt to slip out of these even if I broke both my thumbs. The thought is slightly jarring, thinking of hearing the snap and crack of bone, but it appeals to me at the same time.
Dragging my gaze to my wrists, I study the pale skin trapped in bright silver, catching a little of my reflection in the metal. Licking my lips, I yank at my hands again, my elbows jarring, pain blooming in my shoulders.
My heart pounds hard and heavy in my chest making me catch my breath, I feel dizzy for just a second. I passed out last night. Shock. I think, is what brought it on, maybe the overwhelming anxiety, but I usually take my medication in the evenings, before bed, otherwise it can make me lightheaded or dizzy in the day if I take it in the mornings. And I didn’t get to take it last night.
I know I”ll be fine for a couple days without it, a build-up of drugs doesn’t just bleed out of your system, but I’m already starting to feel ill. I don’t know if it’s stress or what. Tiredness.
Closing my eyes, I let my head drop forward, my hands strung up high. My legs feel like jelly. The remainder of Blaze’s cum trails down the inside of my thighs and I want to wipe it away. Gouge the feeling of it off of my skin.
Eradicate all traces of his hands on my body, his lips, his breath, his cock.
Blowing out a breath, I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. It doesn’t stop me thinking about him.
This enigma.
He is so hot and cold. Nothing he’s shown me is the real him. Many masks. Many faces.
He felt readable, I guess, when we were younger. He was my safe place. The first person I would run to. The only person I could run to.
Shelter.
Blaze was everything to me then. I used to fantasise about marrying him one day. In that innocent way that little girls so often do. Envision life with their idol.
That’s what he was to me.
He’s the only thing that’s kept me going all these years. Memories. They kept me alive when I had nothing else to live for.
And he doesn’t even know it.
He doesn’t understand how important he was -is- to me.
Did you ever think of me?
“Well, looky at this. What do we have here?”
The male voice snaps my attention back to the room, my body flinching at the smirking man in the now open doorway.
His light eyes trail down my body like he’s canvassing me, locating the exact places he’d like to touch.
His large body blocks the opening, broad shoulders almost brushing both sides of the frame as he lounges in the doorway. Dark hair buzzed so there’s not much more than skin attached to his scalp, he licks over his bottom lip, and I have the urge to vomit. Can feel it brewing in my stomach, acid tracking its way up the back of my throat.
I’m exposed. The entirety of me on display, and this man, I do not feel safe with this man.
That’s the difference.
Even though Blaze has changed. Is different. Darker somehow.
I don’t feel unsafe in his hands.
“No wonder they’ve got you on lockdown, pretty girl like you.” I shudder at the way he says it, pretty girl, so different to the way Blaze’s tongue twists the words. “It’s no wonder Boss don’t wanna share,” the unknown man purrs, his words feeling sticky like a web I’m supposed to find myself tangled in.
“Stay away from me,” I warn him, even though I’m tied up, essentially useless in defending myself from an attacker.
Immediately, he laughs, a bark of it bursting from his wide chest. I understand the reaction, the way my words trickled out, all low and quiet. I’m hardly a threat, am I? Handcuffed to a fucking rail.
“You know, shit like that,” he rolls his eyes upwards to the ceiling, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “Just makes me want to get closer.”
He’ll kill you.
I think, staring at the stretch of his throat, the way he’s baring it. Makes me want to sink my fingers into his thick neck and tear out his Adam’s apple.
I want to say it, to warn him, to let him know that if he touches me, Blaze will kill him. But then, I’m not so sure he would now. Would he?
But Blaze has killed for me before.
“Do not come any closer. Get out,” I snarl as I warn him again.
But, predictably, because it seems very few people in this world understand the definition of the word no, he advances on me. A snarl much more viscous than my own on his mouth. He fists my hair, yanking my head back. I stare down the length of my nose at him, long strands of my wet hair snapping off in the grip of his fingers. Dressed in all black, a large, long gun strapped to his back, he cocks his head at me with a sickly smirk.
“What ya gunna do, huh? Fight me off?”
He dips his disgusting face into the front of my throat, wet lips skimming across my clavicle, eliciting a shiver of revulsion in me. His big hand is clammy when he grips my arse, kneading at my flesh with fat fingers, and even though I feel every muscle and bone in my body locking down, freezing me, I scream.
It’s blood curdling the way I scream, the sound of it ringing, pounding like an alarm bell inside my head.
“Blaze!”
I shout his name so loudly that my throat cracks on the end of it. The man jerks my head back harder, my neck feeling like it’s snapping in two, silencing me as he lets go of my arse and slaps his palm over my mouth instead. Writhing in his hold, all of him suffocating me, touching me, my skin feels like it’s on fire. I want it to blister and peel off, incinerating the feel of his hands on my body.
My wrists rub within the confines of the cuffs, cutting into the delicate skin as I let the groaning rail take all of my weight, pulling my legs up and kicking the man in the stomach with the soles of my feet.
He grunts but he doesn’t release me. Craning my neck back so hard I worry my spine is going to spear out through the front of my throat. I keep my legs up kicking at him, but he’s laughing, a snarl still on his ugly mouth.
“You’re gunna regret that, you fucking bitch,” he laughs in my face, spittle hitting me in the eye.
He drops his hand from my hair, undoing his trousers, and I swing in place, the handcuffs cutting right into me now. Blood streaming down my arms, I lift a foot, and just as he gets his cock in his hand, I smash the heel of it downwards, straight into his dick.
He howls, releasing my face and stumbling back to cup his dick in both hands, and I don’t hesitate, drawing in a heave of breath, I scream again.
Over and over and over, at the top of my lungs, I scream for Blaze.
Sensibly tucking his cock away first, the man comes at me again, and I scream in his face, swinging relentlessly on the handcuffs, the new injuries painting me in red. Blood running down my arms, my sides, my outer thighs, but I feel none of it.
This time, when he comes at me, I kick out at him. He catches my legs, pinning my ankles together, squeezing them so tight, I know it’ll bruise. Everywhere he touches me is screaming fire.
He yanks me forward, my shoulders jarring, crimson painting me macabrely.
It’s all I can see.
Red, red, red.
The man gets back in my face, opening his mouth to say something, but I hardly hear him as I lurch forward, my forehead connecting with his nose. He’s the one shouting now, but he doesn’t let me go, even with blood, his own blood, pouring down his face, he still tears apart my legs. Wrapping them around him and locking them at the base of his spine with one meaty hand binding me at my ankles.
“I’m going to ruin you, you little bitch, you and your cunt,” he spits, emphasising the T on the end of his sentence with another splattering of spittle.
This time, this time when I scream Blaze’s name, it’s a ritualistic summoning. Dark magic, sacrificial blood, a siren’s call and blue hellfire.
Blaze appears in the doorway just as I lift my eyes, as though my subconscious sensed him. Knew.
I knew you would come for me.
The thought makes my entire body clench.
My devil’s dark eyes are black pits, consuming me entirely as I let my body go limp under the safety of his gaze. None the wiser, my attacker continues struggling with manoeuvring my legs around him. He doesn’t even seem to notice I’ve stopped screaming.
But what does get his attention is the way I breathe out the devil’s name, “Blaze.”
The man’s head snaps up, but I’m not looking at him. My gaze directed over his shoulder. Locked on Blaze.
My legs are dropped, smacking into the outside of the tub, leaving me hanging at an awkward angle as the man spins around. Backs of my knees against the lip of the tub, I draw up my legs, muscles aching, I lift them back inside the bath. That’s when I start to feel the searing pain in my wrists, my hands aching, my fingers feel numb, and hot blood coats me, running down my arms, over my sides, dribbling down my outer thighs.
Blaze says nothing, hands limp at his sides as the man between us drops to his knees. It snaps the cord of tension between us, his obsidian eyes lowering dangerously slowly to the snivelling man at his feet.
Breathing hard, I keep my gaze trained on Blaze. He’s in fresh clothes now, his loose brown curls semi-dry, his jaw locked, eyes hard. He licks over his lips, flicking his tongue over the black ring through the side of his bottom one.
“You touch her?” he asks, chest finally inflating with a long, drawn-out inhale, it makes all of his muscles tighten up, his shoulders square.
The man is snivelling, crying maybe, crawling closer towards Blaze’s feet, my attacker’s fingers clawing at his unlaced, scuffed, black combat boots.
Fluidly, Blaze drops down into a crouch, elbows to his knees, he cocks his head, looking down at the man, “You touch my property?”
A shiver darts down my spine at that.
Property.
I know he means me, and somewhere inside of me, deep inside, I’m frowning, but the rest of me. Well, it likes it. The possessive ownership that rumbles with his words, that word. Danger emitting from his every pore. I’m sucking it in as I pant. It permeates the room. His primal obsession. My desperate wanting.
Blaze hauls the man up from the floor, the gun strapped to the guy’s back thudding against his spine as he gets to his feet. Releasing my attacker, Blaze casually slides his hands into his pockets, seemingly unfazed by the weapon.
Chin dipped, dark eyes flicked up, “If you’re begging me,” he pauses, licking his lips, “must mean you fucked up, huh, Carl?”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean t-”
Blaze lifts a hand, slipping it from his pocket, holding it up, palm out, silencing Carl. Those obsidian orbs slowly lift to mine, capturing me in his dark gaze and burning me up in their hellfire.
“Did Carl touch you, Pretty Girl?” he rumbles the question, deep and lazy, leisurely, the way he’s dragging this out. My eyes automatically drop to the back of Carl’s head, “Nu-uh,” Blaze clucks his tongue, “eyes on me.”
Between my thighs, I’m wet with him, his cum slicking the carvings between my legs, but I’m getting wetter, the longer he looks at me, this man between us doesn’t matter because it’s like he doesn’t exist, the way my body reacts to Blaze.
Swallowing hard, I nod my head, licking my lips, I taste blood, and I know it could be mine, but it could also be Carl’s. And with Blaze’s eyes still on me, watching, it’s like he knows what I’m thinking because he’s thinking the same. And he’s more displeased with that, in this moment, my accidental consumption of someone else”s blood, than he is with my attacker. His eyes drop to my mouth, and I turn my head, spitting into the empty tub at my feet, spots of blood spattering as they drip from my toes, hitting the porcelain as blood rushes down my body from my wrists.
“What he touch you with, Pretty Girl?” he asks me, and Carl sways on his feet, dropping back to his knees. “Just his hands?” he questions, unblinking, all of his attention on me.
I nod again, and Blaze’s lips curl at one corner.
“What about his cock, he touch you with that?” I shudder as he asks it, my throat going dry. “Words,” Blaze snaps, and there it is, that temper of his, a boiling pot blowing off its lid, the glass of it shattering as it crashes to the floor.
“No, but he said, ‘I’m going to ruin you, you little bitch, you and your cunt.’” My cheeks heat as I say it, and even though I desperately want to drop my gaze, I don’t.
That’s when Blaze blinks, severing our connection for me. Those long curls of thick lashes shuttering over his black eyes, and then he moves like a striking viper.
Blaze’s hand snaps out, his fingers clenching around Carl’s neck, digging into the sides of his throat as he lifts him from the floor. His arm shakes as he lifts the man, the muscles in his forearm pulling and tightening, veins rippling beneath his olive tanned skin. Despite the strain, he seemingly hefts the man up with ease.
Carl’s hands go to Blaze’s tattooed forearm, trying to wrestle himself free, but it’s easy to see that’s not going to happen. And then all too quickly, as though it feels like it should take much longer, Blaze is lowering to the ground with the man. Carl’s back going flat to the floor, Blaze straddles his stomach. Both of his hands going to the man’s neck, he squeezes, rising up on his knees, he presses all of his weight forward, crushing the man’s throat.
He’s going to kill him.
It hits me then, in the moment, as Blaze’s eyes come to mine, holding me captive in his dark gaze, that he’s dragging this out like a performance. It’s not a lesson for the choking man beneath him. It’s a lesson for me. Something that says, I told you so, see what I can do.
Does he think this will scare me? I wonder, if not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, if we were always going to end up here.
Him killing for me, again, and me, wanting to worship him for it.
Did you ever think of me, the way I have always thought of you?
It takes far longer than I thought it would. Strangulation. Asphyxiation. I can’t help but stare down at my attacker, the large gun that was strapped to his back, crushed between his body and the bathroom floor. Rendering it useless. Blaze could have used it to end him quickly, but he didn’t, I’m not sure, really, if given the choice, he even would have. I’m not sure Blaze McCoy likes to take the easy way out of anything.
“Ember,” he purrs, shoulders straight, biceps bulging, the smoothness of his deep voice dragging my eyes back onto his.
“Blaze,” I whisper back in response.
Neither of us says anything more, but he’s looking at me, staring me down, singeing me with that hellfire gaze.
It says so many things.
Conflicting things.
I almost forget about being manipulated, fucked, chased, hooded, thrown in the boot of a car, and then dragged inside here to play prisoner. I want to forget. I wish I had just come back here years ago.
The night I turned eighteen, I almost did, but then, that’s when it happened.
Blinking, I shake my head, dropping my gaze to the blood sluicing down my body. Burning in my wrists finally makes me hiss, and the thud of a skull being knocked violently into the ground startles me like I’m waking from a blood drenched dream.
Blaze lifts the dead man’s head and slams it over and over into the floor, blood and bone, splattering and squelching and cracking. He does it again and again, but I don’t look at the mutilated corpse, keeping my eyes on Blaze’s instead, because they’re already on mine, and he’s smiling.
He holds my gaze like it can never be severed. We will never be severed. And as much as the thought of that, belonging to him forever, feels warm inside my chest cavity. I stare at him, teeth bright white against his olive complexion, face splattered with blood.
And I think it is the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.