Chapter 20 Skylar #2
His praise and show of adoration continue until I start sucking instead of licking. Until I moan and ache for more of him.
“Enough.” The fire in his eyes must be matching mine.
I groan, my need making me suck harder. That’s when he yanks me off him. He’s stronger than me, emotionally and physically, scooping me off the floor.
“No time for that now. Later, if you’re good…”
“If I’m good, then?” Desperation clings to my lungs. “Tell me.”
“Trouble.” Heat sets his hazel eyes on fire.
“I take that back. You will suck me off later either way.” Knox’s steps eat the distance until I’m back on the table, his body slotting between my open thighs.
“Then you’ll take me in every hole. Later, and every day after we get through these next two weeks. ”
“What happens in two weeks?”
While he gets the washcloth and soap ready, I can’t help but raise my fingertips to Knox’s stubbled cheek again.
He doesn’t bat my hand away, giving me his silent permission to caress his sharp jawline as he cleans me reverently.
“I’ll have the sleeping pills I ordered.” He runs the washcloth over my waist, only looking up to tell me, “That’s when our life can begin.”
“Sleeping pills?”
“Yes.” Creases of concentration appear between his eyebrows.
“We…” I smooth them with my thumb while doing my best to quiet the dread coiling in my gut. “We’ll have to stay here for that long?”
My bandage is off. Knox cleans the wound in silence before wrapping it back up. I wait for him to answer, trembling when his cold glare cuts to me.
“Yes, we have to. I want to keep them alive, but as long as they’re breathing…” His expression tightens. “There’s no way out of this place.”
“Knox.” Lead lines my stomach, my heart heavy. “I’m sorry.”
“They are who they are. Like what they like. And me, I don’t hate it here.
I’m just bored.” He shrugs and slides a new shirt over my body, cupping my cheeks in his warm hands.
So warm. “There’s more to life than this.
Like you. Our future kids. Cities, buildings.
Schools, libraries, parks. I saw them all online, on Jett’s computer.
And I’m going to have that. With you. That’s why I waited so long, I guess.
For you to get here. So you see, there’s nothing to be sorry for. ”
For a few long moments, guilt pounds at my ribs. I’m incredibly fortunate to have freedom. I’ve always taken for granted what Knox has to fight for.
He doesn’t seem to mind my heavy mood, filling the silence with care. Easing my hair out from where it’s been trapped in my shirt, he smooths it down like touching me is second nature to him.
“The pills?” I ask when I manage to talk. “Where did you order them from? Maybe we can get them faster?”
“No, I already asked.” Within seconds, he’s given himself another washcloth shower and put on a clean shirt and jeans from the pile he has on the table.
“Does that man—the one who’s going to give you the sleeping pills—know what your family is doing for a living?”
Last thing I need is someone, or worse, the cops, hunting us down after we leave Colbert.
I haven’t been waiting for this man my entire life to have the cops rip him away from me.
“No.”
He throws a towel over his shoulder, and then I’m up in his arms, being carried deeper into the basement. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He thinks we’re using endangered species as leather, that they’re what makes our leather products stand out.
” The towel he’s brought with us goes on the chair first, my ass second.
Knox’s fingers wind in my hair, tugging it so I look at him.
“And I paid him enough to buy his silence and the pills. That way, I can knock my family out without hurting them.”
My chest twists. I wrap my fingers around Knox’s wrist, squeezing his hand. “You tried to leave before.”
“Didn’t make it.” A shrug. “They’re light sleepers.”
Assholes, that’s what they are.
Not for wanting him to stay here. I get that; they’re his family.
I hate them for treating him like he’s less than when they should be grateful that he doesn’t slaughter them.
The urge to tell him that, or better yet, to kill them myself, is strong.
Except Knox doesn’t need to hear it. He already knows.
“Okay.” I offer him a smile, lending him my warmth.
Knox kisses the top of my head as if closing the discussion.
He turns around and stalks off. I spin to watch him clear the table of the bowls, the first aid kit, and the towels, putting them all in his picnic basket.
My scowl is immediate. These are my things. “What are you doing?”
“The man’s hide, it’ll be here soon.” New items are being placed on the table.
Knox is efficient with the large knives.
The oil bottles. The paper towels. “Need to flesh him. After that,”—he picks up one of the knives and runs his finger along the blade, testing its edge—“depends on how thin his skin is, I’ll either hang him on the hook or salt him. Then…”
He looks over his shoulder at me, jerking his chin toward the barrels.
“Liming.” I finish his sentence, less jealous now that I’m so eager to please him. “To remove hair, fat, and protein, right?”
“Clever.” He’s studying the table, his head bowed.
I think he’s reveling in our conversation. I keep at it, then, rattling off more information that I’ve learned online. “You have to rinse them later.”
His one firm nod is a sign that I’m doing well. My heart expands, practically swimming in his approval.
“But the tanning pools?” I ask. “The part that seals the deal and turns the hide into leather? They aren’t here.”
“Oh, they’re here.” He turns around and leans against the table. His attention is fixed on me, encouraging and dangerous. Hot. “Where, Skylar? My smart, beautiful woman, you know the answer. Go ahead.”
He isn’t touching me, but these words, they’re fingertips caressing my collarbone. Lips trailing paths along my jaw.
It takes a minute or so to realize it’s— “The livestock. Where you said the livestock is, anyway. Under the tarp. The restricted area. That’s where the tanning pools are. The livestock sounds are fake.”
A tidal wave of pride and accomplishment slams into me when he says, “That’s my girl.”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach when Knox walks over to me and plants a kiss on my forehead.
Then he starts examining the hooks. Where he hung me.
This, too, is mine.
And he might put Easton on one of them.
Jealousy strikes harder than before. A whip lashing at me.
He’ll treat Easton’s skin like he’s treating me. Take care of him. Flesh him on my table. Hang him on my hooks.
In our basement.
A sense of betrayal sets in, clinging to my pores.
“No.” I bolt out of the chair, rushing to Knox. Pulling on his shirt. Demanding his attention. Dammit, what has he turned me into? “No. Absolutely not. Stop.”
He cocks his head to the side. His predator eyes study me anew. “Stop?”
“You can’t touch him.” A scowl tugs at my lips.
“Why not?” Knox isn’t amused or laughing.
He covers my hand with his, pressing mine closer to his chest. Pretending to be confused.
Lies.
He’s not really asking, Why not. He wants me to return his possessiveness.
I would’ve called him out on being a greedy bastard, except…
Impossible. He’s fucking hot.
“Knox Colbert.” I rise on my tiptoes, barely reaching his chin as I force myself to meet his gaze. “You can’t touch anyone else, dead or alive. You. Are. Mine.”