7. Conrad
F rom the minute the sun rose and I had to leave my room, that damned woman had practically clung to me.
It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t so damned desperate.
Every word she speaks seems calculated, deliberate, carefully considered to gain my attention. The way she moves, the way she bends, it’s like she’s trying to give away glimpses of herself, of her body beneath that tight little dress.
I finally get a reprieve when Quinn suggests we go hunting. And for those few precious hours I can breathe, I can think.
Our prey is good. Whoever their beaters are, they sure know what they’re doing. I’m riding a dapple grey, fifteen hands, nice and sturdy. Quinn’s on his ex-racer, but mine is easily able to keep up.
The forest is managed well enough that we can ride through the brambles with ease. We barely get a few furlongs up before I spot a chancer trying to loop behind us.
“On the right,” Quinn shouts, like I’m too stupid to notice.
My horse crashes through the undergrowth as I give it a good enough kick to ensure I’m ahead.
The girl spots us almost immediately and screams out, picking up her pace, but she doesn’t stand a chance.
Her bare feet flash on the path as she runs ahead of me. Her bare arse taunts me. I wonder what her tits look like, if they’re plump or saggy. It’s always hard to tell from behind. Sometimes these bitches can have the nicest arses, and yet the front does not match at all.
Her matted hair streams behind her. I reach forward, giving it a good yank and she screams more.
Quinn laughs out, calling her a name I don’t catch.
I let my hand loosen, let her get away as I pull up the reins. The fun is in the chase. If I run her down too quickly, what would be the point? I want her to think she stands a chance. I want her to believe that she might just reach the safe zone.
To our right, another girl pops up. She darts ahead then makes a full-face somersault into the brambles, screaming as she goes. I leave her for Quinn to deal with, and keep my attention on the ginger.
She’s got a good few metres ahead. Her arms are pumping fast as she runs for her life.
My lips curl as I watch her muscles work, as I watch her glutes flex.
Without taking my eyes off her, I hook an arrow into the crossbow and take aim.
She’s not stupid, I’ll give her that. She’s zigzagging enough to tell me she knows what’s coming. But she’s also too predictable with her movements. She darts to the left just as I release my arrow, and I hear the shriek as it embeds itself right into her shoulder blade.
She falls over, landing hard on the ground, and for a moment she’s clearly dazed.
I’m almost disappointed by how easy it is. I swing my leg over, jumping from the horse and as I approach her, she springs up, running once more.
You wanna play, bitch? Then I’ll play.
My riding boots make it hard to run, but the girl is no match for me.
I race after her, again, letting her believe that she stands a chance of winning.
I can hear her desperate, ragged breathing; I can practically hear the pounding of her chest as she tries to flee. She turns off, jumping into a ditch and I’m quick to follow her. The mud swirls around my boots, and the dirt pisses me off.
She falls to her knees, crawling through it, like her body is about to give out.
“You can’t outrun me.” I taunt.
She turns her head, staring in horror at how close I am.
“Fuck you,” She hisses.
I can’t help but laugh at that. If she’d been smarter, she would have kept her mouth shut, she would have remembered her place. It was her choices that got her here.
She crawls along further, desperation forcing her on. And then we both hear the sound of horses.
She shakes her head, coming to a stop as Quinn and the others ride right up to here. One of his stewards is thankfully bringing my horse, so that spares me a walk.
“I see you caught the bitch.” He remarks. Behind his own horse, the brunette is tied off with rope. There’s an arrow right through her right eye. It’s one hell of a shot.
“Not quite.” I reply.
The girl stumbles to her feet, her hands clasped together as she faces me. “Please,” She begs. “Please, grant me mercy. I have a child, I have…”
An arrow to her throat silences that annoying wail.
Her eyes widen, her knees give way, and she falls back down onto them before me.
“Should have thought about your child before you betrayed us,” I state. Stupid fool, running a railroad, trying to help people who want to escape the Brethren. She should have realised there was no escape. There is no life outside us.
Her child will go to an orphanage, they will be trained there until they’re old enough to go to Oblivion.
A tear streaks down her cheek.
I crouch down, admiring her body as she takes one heavy breath after another. Blood trails from her neck, looking like a winding snake down her centre.
“Pity,” I mutter, taking the full weight of her breast in my hand. She had a good figure after all.
Quinn tosses a rope to me. I wrap it around her wrists, ensuring it’s tight enough to keep her secure. Keeping the end in my hand, I get back in the saddle.
“Shall we?” Quinn says, gesturing forward. I know he’s got a nice spread for lunch at the lodge, and then there’s a fresh set of birds for the afternoon.
I nod back, giving my horse a good enough kick to get moving and behind me, the bird falls over, she kicks out, trying to fight with the last bit of life she has.
Lunch is a fine thing, as is the second hunt.
By the time we return for the evening, I’m more than desperate for a wash. My jodhpurs stick to my thighs, and I can feel the trail of sweat trickling under my jacket.
We leave the horses to the stableboys.
Quinn walks on ahead, murmuring about needing to see to some business. He technically operates one of the largest manufacturing plants in the country, but I know he’s not exactly ‘hands on’. No, he prefers to leave the day-to-day operations to more capable hands, not that I can blame him. The company brings in almost a billion pounds in revenue, so why tinker with the system when it’s working so well.
I let out a sigh, heading up to my room, realising that soon enough the old codger will be dead and if he and Magnus have their way, then that entire thing falls on my shoulders. As if I don’t have enough to manage with Oblivion.
As I round the corner, I come to an abrupt stop.
She’s here. Right in front of me.
Her eyes widen. She takes a step back and I’m quick to reach out, to grab her, to ensure she can’t escape.
She’s wearing a uniform, her school uniform. Christ, does she look so innocent in it. She’s got a plaid skirt that stops just above her knees, and the crisp white collar of her shirt sits on top of her dark woolly jumper. Her brown hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, and I can imagine exactly how it would feel to grab a hold and yank her head right down to where I want it.
“Yyyyyou…” She stammers.
“Did you miss me?” I murmur, catching her chin between my thumb and forefinger. Her skin is soft, delicate – everything about her is delicate, really. Like fine china that needs to be handled with care, but also needs to be moulded, shaped while it’s still malleable.
Her cheeks flame, and I’m curious; is it embarrassment or anger that makes her react like that?
“You, you, you can’t…” She trails off, glancing around. “You can’t beeee here.”
Her voice sounds off, her words sound almost slurred. Last night I put it down to fear, but now I’m not so sure.
I frown, wondering if she’s drunk or high, but as I grab her face and force her to look at me properly, I realise that’s not it. She’s not under the influence of anything. She’s stone cold sober.
“What the fuck is wrong with your voice?” I ask.
She winces, her face flushing more red.
“I, I…” Whatever words she’s trying to say get lost and I can’t tell if it’s her fear of me, or her fear of something else making her stammer.
“Conrad, darling.”
We both freeze as that awful, grating lilt rings out down the corridor.
Brynn seizes the moment to slip from my grasp, only she runs right into her aunt, who pins her in place with a look that says it all.
And just as I open my mouth to argue with her, one of the servants comes running.
“Lord Blake.” He says, bowing low. “Your brother is on the line.”
I narrow my eyes, taking a step, wondering why the fuck Magnus would be calling the house and not simply calling me directly. And then I realise of course he would call here, he’d want to make sure I’d actually arrived. That I wasn’t lying about my stay, that I hadn’t managed to come up with some miracle to get out of this.
Brynn looks at me, and our eyes meet for the briefest of seconds. Do I imagine the plea in them? Or is that my own desperation wanting her to feel it, wanting her to get on her knees and beg for my help?
My cock seems to throb at the memory of what she did, that last night she was more than willing to make her distaste for me known.
Maybe this will be a lesson to her. Maybe she’ll learn from this that if she wants something, then she has to play nice, to be nice. She can’t expect all the honey when she’s been acting like a little bitch.
I mutter something barely comprehensible to Giselle and then I turn on my heel, leaving them to it.
Let them fight it out between them. With any luck, Brynn will ring her aunt’s neck and solve all my problems for me.