11. Blue
11
BLUE
I don t know why I try to sleep. I won t be able to. All I can see when I close my eyes is that poor woman s neck.
I wait about an hour after both cars drive off and when Zeke still doesn t come up, I assume he left with his brother. I throw the covers off to head to the kitchen. I plan to make myself another sandwich but as I get downstairs, I hear music. I stop to listen. It s a song I recognize but can t quite name.
Barefoot, I creep toward the sound and see a door standing open at the end of the corridor. The light is on and when I reach it, I realize it leads to a basement. I can smell the musty scent of it and feel the damp, cooler temperature.
The song begins anew. It s Sympathy for the Devil . I used to love that song. I creep down the stairs and reach the bottom. The cement is cold on my bare feet. A light is on in one of the two rooms down here and I walk toward it.
Zeke? I ask, seeing the back of his head on the armchair.
He must not hear me, though. I walk inside, take in the sparse, strange room. When my gaze falls on the leather cuffs dangling from the beam in the middle of the room, I gasp and my heart hammers against my chest.
Zeke stands, places himself between me and the beam. All basements hide secrets, don t they?
I shift my gaze to his. He s holding a bottle of whiskey. If it s the same one from the study, he s drank about half of it. I study his face, see how his eyes are shadowed.
The song ends then starts to play again, clearly on repeat.
What are you doing down here? I ask because he looks a wreck.
I could ask you the same thing. He takes a drink from his bottle. I glance up at those cuffs again. He waits until I look at him again to ask his next question. Are you scared?
I blink, the mood having shifted. I lick my lips and shake my head. I m not sure it s true though.
What is this room?
He shrugs a shoulder. Carlton Bishop s sex room? I don t know.
Who is Carlton Bishop?
He owned this house.
Owned?
He s dead. Surprised at his casual response, I have no words. Don t worry, that one is not on me, he says with a smirk before he swallows about three gulps of whiskey.
That s not funny. The whiskey looks like it s too good quality to chug, but I don t comment.
No? he steps toward me, lets his gaze move over me. He only stops when he s a few inches away. I can t make love to you, Blue.
That s not what I expect him to say. Not at all. I don t know where to go with it because honestly, when he says that word, that one word, my heart races and hope flares in my stomach. You already told me that, remember? I gesture to the bottle. How much have you had to drink?
He grins. Takes another swig then holds it out to me.
I decline, my gaze moving once more to those cuffs hanging from the post.
That s exactly why, he says.
I look up at him, confused. He sips once more from the bottle before setting it down on the small table by the chair. He takes my face in his hands and pushes my hair back. He holds onto me, his big hands on either side of my face. I hold onto his forearms, looking at the bodies of the twin dragons that I know circle his arms and wrap around to his back.
Pain, he says.
You re drunk, Zeke, and not making any sense, I say, not moving. He tilts his head, brings his mouth to mine to kiss me. It s unexpected and I find myself yielding. It s a brief kiss but when he pulls back, his pupils are dilated.
Pain and brutality and destruction. Those are the things I bring. That s my damage.
Is that what you think?
That s what I know. He kisses me again. My brother is right. I should cut you loose.
What?
Walk away and don t let me into your bed again before it s too late and I can t let you go anymore. He turns away, resumes his seat on the chair and drinks more of the whiskey.
That s not only up to you, Zeke. I go to him, place my hands on his thighs and kneel between his legs. You came for me. That s what I know.
He snorts. Don t read too much into that. I m selfish. I have my reasons for doing what I do. I already told you that.
You came for me. No one has ever come for me before. I lay my head on his lap and close my eyes. It s strange how safe I feel here, with him to guard me.
The act seems to take him by surprise and a moment later, he s petting my hair, his touch gentle.
Zeke? I ask after a long minute.
Hm.
You didn t tell me all of it. I look up at him. What happened to you?
Nothing you want to hear. Go back upstairs, Blue.
Tell me and maybe you ll succeed in chasing me away. He just gives me a look and drinks more whiskey. Who died, Zeke? I know I m pushing, and this may be too far, but I have to ask it. And he needs to tell his story. Because he s right that he brings those things he mentioned but that s not all he brings. He s gentle too. And kind. There is so much about this man that is buried deep, and I know, God, I know in my bones, that he can love. He is capable of so much emotion. I see it in his eyes. And I take a risk. Because I don t believe you can t make love. I believe the opposite. I believe you have so much feeling inside you that it s drowning you.
His hand, which was petting me gently, freezes on the back of my head and when I look into his eyes, what I see is pain. Unending pain. It s so raw and depthless that it makes me catch my breath.
It s hard to look at him like this. It feels wrong when he s so exposed.
But I need to. And I think he needs me to. I think he needs me to see. Needs someone to come for him.
I want to know what happened to you because I don t believe you when you say you re incapable of love. I just don t. I think you blame yourself and maybe you hate yourself a little. I get it. I know that feeling. That guilt. That what if .
He snorts. Are you a shrink now? he asks, trying to make light of it but failing.
What if will kill you, Zeke. I know. Tears well in my eyes and I shift my gaze away because in my seeing him, he will see me, too. And that is a terrifying thing.
You should walk away. You should walk away now. His voice is hoarse, raw, not like it was a moment ago.
No.
No? His face twists. His hand so gentle just a moment ago turns into a fist in my hair and a flash of panic overtakes me.
What if this is a mistake? What if I should do as he says and walk away? I haven t forgotten the beast inside this man, have I? He has warned me repeatedly. He has shown me so brutally.
Am I making a mistake?
I can t give you what you want, he says, as if reading my mind.
I shift my gaze back to his face, look into his eyes. I could lose myself in them. Drown, right along with him, if I m not careful. But I can t be careful. He came for me. And walking away? Doesn t he know it s no longer an option for me?
I m not walking away, I say, swallowing, ready for the consequences that come with loving Ezekiel St. James. Because this is it. I love him.
He rises to his feet and drags me up with him. We walk, me backward, until my back hits that wooden post and I gasp as he shifts his grip to my wrists and drags them up over my head, locking them in the leather restraints. He takes hold of my shirt, and, with a quick tug, he rips the oversized top in two. I scream with the sound of fabric tearing, more from surprise than fear, as the song begins to play again from the beginning.
Sympathy for the Devil.
Zeke is my devil.
He s dangerous. He told me so. He showed me so.
And I love him.
My panties are next to go. All it takes is a quick sweep of one hand and they re on the floor on top of my tattered shirt and I m naked, stretched out on this post, my devil staring me down.
Zeke steps back, keeps his eyes locked on me as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, strips it off and tosses it aside. I take in his lean, strong body, inked skin taut over hard muscle, but it s the melting look in his eyes that can obliterate me.
And some part of me wants him to because it s him, and I want him.
I lick my lips as he steps closer, biceps rippling as he wraps his hands around my wrists, thumbs rubbing the sensitive inside of my arm. He leans down so his face is an inch from mine.
Are you afraid now, Little Convict?
I m not scared of you. You won t hurt me.
You don t know me.
All I need to know is that you came for me.
Why do you have to make this so fucking hard?
Do your worst, Zeke.
His eyes gleam a stormy preternatural gray. He weaves his fingers into the hair at the back of my head and forces my head backward. He holds me still as he closes his mouth over mine in an all-consuming kiss that steals my breath and leaves me gasping when he draws back.
He straightens and I watch him strip off the rest of his clothes. God, he s so beautiful, his body as if chiseled from marble and his cock—I look at it, my mouth watering as he moves his hand along his length.
There s something wrong with you, Blue, to want me. You know that don t you? After what you ve seen me do.
I nod.
All you should want to do is run the other way. His gaze slides over me as he steps closer. Remember that I tried to do the right thing, but you wouldn t listen and now it s too late for you, Little Convict.
He smashes his mouth over mine again and grips my hips to lift me. He forces one knee up and I hook it around his middle and then he s inside me, his hard cock unyielding and impatient as my body stretches to take him. Zeke bends his knees and drives into me from below, his mouth on mine, our breaths ragged, our kissing all lips and teeth like we re each claiming the other. Wanting a piece of the other.
When he pulls his mouth from mine, I pant for him, missing him. Don t come yet, he says against my ear. I m just getting started.
He thrusts again, forcing a grunt from me, before pulling out and, with that wicked grin on his lips, he spins me around, cupping my jaw with one hand and my hip with the other. He keeps my face turned so I can see him. He s protecting my cheek from the post. He s no devil, this man. No monster. Not to me.
How about now? he asks, shifting the grip of his hand from my hip to my ass cheek. He looks down as he draws me open, and I realize what he wants. Where he s going to fuck me when I feel his cock, wet with my arousal, at my tight entrance. Are you afraid now?
You won t hurt me, I repeat even as my heart thuds against my chest and my brain does the calculation and there s no way he s going to fit inside me. Not there.
He takes the shell of my ear between his teeth, shifting the hand that s gripping my ass around to rub my clit. I moan as he presses for entry against my tight opening. When he pushes in, I cry out because it fucking burns.
Fuck. Blue. Fuck.
He lays his forehead against the post, mouth at my neck. I can feel his heart s frantic beating at my back. He pushes deeper and I grit my teeth.
With me, he whispers, his breath sending a shiver down my spine. There will always be pain. He groans and I think it s taking all he has to hold back, to go slowly. He rubs my clit. Pain always alongside the pleasure.
My breathing is ragged as I swallow. His fingers work my clit and tension begins to build. I relax enough for him to push in deeper. He s still holding back. I feel it when he closes his teeth over the curve of my neck and mutters a curse.
I am the devil. My brother knows it. You should know it. Hell, you ve seen what I m capable of with your own eyes.
You re my avenger. I saw you slay a monster. That s what I know.
You don t know what I want to do to you right now, he warns.
You re not going to chase me away.
All I can do is hurt you. Don t you know that? He pushes deeper as if to make his point, but it has the opposite effect.
I shake my head, close my eyes. This feels… you make me feel… so good, I tell him just as an orgasm sweeps me under and Zeke takes advantage and thrusts all the way inside me, calling a cry from me, pleasure edged with pain, confused with it. I throw my head back, lean it against his chest as he fucks me hard, taking me, making me his, his without a doubt. Does he realize it? Does he know what he s doing to me? He moans, breath hot against my neck as my second orgasm comes before I can catch my breath after the first. He throbs inside me, and his teeth break the skin of my neck as he muffles his cry of pained pleasure.
I collapse against Zeke s powerful body, his arms encircling me. He shudders behind me, filling me up, his breathing ragged, orgasm stealing his breath. When it s over, minutes pass as we remain panting, still connected, my weight fully against him. Finally, he slides out of me, reaches up to unbind me. I fall limp in his arms. He holds me easily and I turn my face up to look at his.
My monster. My avenging angel.
Without a word, he carries me up out of the basement and through the house to his bedroom where he lays me on the bed and climbs in beside me. He holds me to him, my back to his front, his arm an anchor keeping me safe. I hold onto him and I m exhausted. I think he is too.
I think how I still have him inside me, his essence is part of me.
A long time passes and he s so quiet that I think he may have fallen asleep when he finally speaks.
She was my sister. Zo?. My twin.
An icy shudder runs through me and I turn to look at him in the dim light coming in from the window.
He meets my eyes but only briefly. There is so much pain inside them and I reach out to touch his face.
Oh, Zeke.
He doesn t quite look at me as he speaks. Our father raped her repeatedly for years. I never saw it even when she tried to tell me, to ask me for help.
Tears stream down my face.
She hanged herself in the basement of our house.
My hand flies to my mouth.
I found her.
I have no words.
She was sixteen, he says, and it just gets worse and worse.
Oh, my God. My God. It s all I can seem to say. My throat is too tight for more. He should cry, shouldn t he? I m crying and I didn t know Zo?. He should cry.
It s why I killed the bastard, he says, eyes finally focusing on me.
It s why I want to kill mine, I say, the words coming before I can stop them.
Zeke s eyes zero in on me, narrowing. His forehead furrows.
My sister. My father raped my sister. I saw the blood on her thighs. On his. She must have fought him, and he hurt her so badly, tried to drown her. If I d gotten there just a little sooner?—
My voice breaks. Zeke pulls me into himself, and I bury my face in his chest and let the tears come. I ve never cried over this. Never cried for all we lost. I never had time to. I needed to get us away. To keep us safe. And now, it s all coming in a flood of tears.
Zeke holds me tight, and only when the tears finally stop and I m too exhausted to even keep my eyes open does he speak.
He will never hurt you or Wren again. He will never come near you. I swear it, Blue. I swear it on my life.