Chapter 17 #2
The car rumbles underneath me in the cold. It’s not my usual car, no it’s an older more vintage one that I got at auction a few years ago. They won’t see me coming quite as quickly in this. Still, they’ll definitely hear me coming.
I don’t care.
The second I get to the small house in a conspicuous little neighborhood, I get out, leaving the keys inside and the car running. I don’t care what happens to it, or me. I need to get Soren.
There are no cars outside the house. There’s not even a light on, but I know he’s in there. He has to be.
If he’s not here, then I’ve wasted my time following a false lead. Who knows where he could be, what might be happening to him.
As I’m making my way around the house to the back door instead of the front, I see a dim glow come from the basement window at the base of the house.
“Got them,” I whisper and pull my gun out. I make my way to the cellar entrance of the basement. Not caring who I’m about to face.
I try the door, but it’s locked. That’s of no consequence to me.
With all of the force I can gather, I slam my foot into the lock and door and it goes flying open. I nearly fall down the short flight of stairs but manage to catch myself.
At the same time, I hear him scream.
Soren.
“Don’t come any further!” a voice yells out.
I don’t listen. I make my way down the stairs, pointing my gun in the direction of the voice. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I’m face to face with a bloody scene.
Soren is tied to a chair. Naked. Bare with every single part of him out in the open. Slashes, red and dripping, cover his body from head to toe. There’s not a single part of him that is unmarred.
“Come any closer and he’s fucking dead,” the man shouts at me.
He’s the only one there.
Just one man.
One man with broad shoulders to rival even the strongest men I’ve seen.
Fear crawls up my spine, but then I glance at Soren again.
I see red, and nothing else.
Anger floods me.
I shoot without thinking. The man grunts and groans as he’s hit in the left shoulder, dead on. He doesn’t drop. Instead, he growls and takes the knife in his hand and slams it down into the same shoulder. Except that shoulder belongs to Soren.
Soren cries out in pain, his body twitching and contorting.
“Motherfucker!” I shout. I shoot him again, once, twice, three times.
Until finally he’s on his knees laughing.
Laughing at me.
“What are you laughing at, bitch?!” I scream at him. I pull the trigger again, but nothing happens. Click. Click. Click.
Nothing.
I didn’t check my ammo before I came here. Before I left the house. Why would I? I had been so focused on finding Soren that I hadn’t thought to make sure I was properly protected. I’d went out into the frigid winter without a coat, and I hadn’t made sure that my gun was fully loaded.
Fuck.
The hulking giant slowly pushes up off the floor in front of me. Blood is dripping from all of his bullet wounds. Just seeing them makes my own leg ache. It hasn’t been more than a few days since I was shot in the leg myself.
How he’s managing to stay standing with several gunshot wounds to the shoulders and legs is beyond me.
I should have made one of those shots a headshot, but it was too late now. I’d been too focused on making him feel as much pain as possible.
“You think you can fight me without your puny weapon?” the man asks me. He rolls his shoulders back and grunts, causing blood to spurt out of the holes momentarily.
I bare my teeth at him. “Bring it on.”
I toss my gun to the side and use any surprise on his part to my advantage. I tackle him head on. He’s significantly taller than me, and bigger than me, but I’m stronger than I look. Especially when I’m angry.
The guy starts to hit at me trying to get me to let go of him, but I wrap my arms around his neck and use the force of pulling on his body to walk my feet up his large body until I can push him backwards and roll his head under my arms. It’s a move I’ve never done before, but it comes so instinctively to me.
I swing my body to the side of his and shove my knee into his ribs.
He goes tumbling to the ground, and I go down with him.
My head hits the cement floor of the basement and cracks against it. I groan as everything goes fuzzy for a moment. It’s just long enough that he’s able to roll over and get on top of me.
Every inch of me is filled with rage as I look to the side and see Soren sitting there bloody and practically disfigured. How much more blood can he lose?
“You stupid fucking oaf,” I growl out as the man on top of me tries to get his hands around my neck. I push at him with my knees and hands, struggling with how strong he is.
I feel blood drip from the back of my head, and I know I probably need stitches, but I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything but getting Soren out of that fucking chair. Out of this fucking house.
I think about everything he’s done for me. Saving my life. Saving me from Jackson raping me. Risking his own life to spare mine.
“Not today, motherfucker.” The words hiss out of me as the big fucker’s hands squeeze at my throat. I claw at his eyes so hard that he lets go and blood drips down my hands and wrists. Then, I sent my palm into his nose so hard that I hear the crack and squish as it’s shoved inward.
“Fuck!” he yells and tries to get at me again through the pain, but I slip out from underneath him by sliding and rolling. I push myself up from the floor, blood on my hands and down the back of my head and neck.
I feel him still trying to come after me, but I head directly to Soren.
Nothing else matters. No one else.
“Soren,” I choke out. I look at the knife in his shoulder. If I pull it out, he’ll bleed out even more…but I need a weapon. I don’t have anything else on me. If I’d prepared more…if only I’d prepared a little more.
Too late.
I grab the handle and yank the blade out of his shoulder. Soren rouses from unconsciousness and screams.
“Die, you piece of fucking shit!” I whirl around and slash at the first body part I can. An arm. Then a leg. Then his stomach. Then he’s on the floor. He tries to grab at my legs but I grab him by the top of his hair, and send the blade straight through the side of his neck.
The man gasps, and it turns into a visceral fleshy gurgling as he reaches for his throat but can’t seem to figure out what’s happening.
I know just what to do, though.
As he struggles on his knees, I grab the blade and pull it out, sending blood from his corotid artery gushing all over the damn place.
He’s choking and sputtering. I don’t stop there. No.
“You want to cut, I’ll cut you,” I growl out at him. My body feels as hot as fire.
I proceed to cut at his face and every part of his chest that I can reach through his shirt. Slicing at his skin in quick succession. Over and over. Until his face is nothing but a bloody mess. His nose caved in and his skin covered in crimson.
Crimson red. Just like Soren.
Soren.
I need to focus on him. I need to make sure he’s okay. He’s not. I know it, but maybe there’s a chance too much damage wasn’t done yet.
The man finally falls completely to the floor face first, and I shove him until he’s flat. His gurgling breath comes to a halt, and I know he’s dead.
With a ragged breath, I turn around and rush over to Soren.
“Soren,” I say as I use the knife to cut the ropes that bind him.
He doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his head tilted down. He usually looks so big and strong, but right now he looks small and vulnerable. He’s not bleeding anymore, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a good thing.
Everything is sticky and wet.
I toss the ropes to the floor and then take his face in my hands.
“Soren, wake up. Oh, God. Please.” My voice is desperate. I’ve never felt so much pain in my chest before. Not even with my father’s death. Not my mother’s death. Not even the idea of my own death causes me such distress.
The thought of this man dying in my arms, however, makes tears burn so hot in my eyes that I can’t do anything but let them drip down my face.
“Soren,” I say louder. I pat him on the face a few times.
Reality starts to sink in. I check his pulse, fear overwhelming me, but it’s there. It’s still strong. Despite everything, his heart is still beating.
Suddenly, Soren coughs himself to life and his eyelids flutter.
“Oh, fuck. Thank fucking hell,” I gasp. I sink to my knees on the floor. “You’re alive.”
“You’re…here,” Soren whispers. His voice his hoarse and low.
“I’m here,” I whisper in return.
Now that adrenalin isn’t coursing through my slender body, everything hurts. Aches. I don’t care.
I wrap an arm around Soren’s back and start to lift him from the chair.
“No, don’t,” he mumbles. “Save yourself.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” I growl. “Never.”
Soren’s eyes meet mine, they’re foggy and red. His face isn’t just covered in blood but tears also.
“Carmine,” he groans. “Why? Why are you here?”
“I had to,” I reply. “I couldn’t let you die.”
I can’t carry him; my knees are too weak and my own head starting to get dizzier.
We both sink to our knees on the blood-dampened floor.
“I couldn’t kill you,” Soren admits. “I can’t kill you.”
“I know,” I tell him. I tilt my forehead against his. “I know.”
Suddenly Soren kisses me. It’s not soft or sweet. It’s raw and primal. It’s like he’s using all the strength he possesses to kiss me. His mouth claims mine, tasting hot and bitter, like iron and salt.
I kiss him back without hesitation. Despite what just happened, the feeling of his naked body pressed to my own clothed one lights me up. A tingling heat rushes down to my stomach and into my groin.
I pull away from the kiss, knowing that we need to focus on getting out of here, but Soren grabs me by the back of my hair and pulls me back in.
“We need to—” I start, but his mouth is on mine. His tongue slips into my mouth, and I melt into him. I dance my tongue around his, swirling and pushing. So needy for this man that I can’t do anything but follow along.
Where we are doesn’t exist. The basement? The blood? It’s all inconsequential.
No, more than that. It only turns me on more.
The blood and cuts on his body. The fact that he survived because of me.
I saved him.
Soren pushes up against me and wraps his arms around my neck. He breaks the kiss and pants for breath against my cheek. “Please…I need you. I need you, Carm.”
He begs in a way I’ve never heard him beg before.
“I need to feel you now.”
That low breathless growl.
My cock is aching in my trousers, but it’s not me I’m thinking of. It’s him.
He’s the one naked and exposed.
I want to make him feel good. Safe.
“Let me touch you,” I croon out to him.
It doesn’t matter that my head is dizzy and bleeding, nor that we both need countless stitches.
The second I reach down and touch Soren’s semi-hard dick, he whimpers and rocks his hips into me.
It’s all a frenzy from this moment onward. I stroke his hardening length as he pants and moans against my neck. His mouth licks and nips at my skin, and I groan in response.
Everything grows spotty in my vision.
I know that there isn’t much time, but maybe that’s why I keep doing it.
If this is going to be the last moment, I want to at least make Soren feel good. Wanted. Needed. Loved.
I love him.
Fuck, I love him so much.
I don’t know how it happened, but it has.
Soren’s cock pulses in my hand and he comes quickly over his own stomach and the floor. Cum and blood mix together in perfect harmony, and I kiss down the side of his jawline heatedly.
“Good boy…such a good boy,” he mumbles. He’s fading.
I’m fading.
One of us has to stay awake.
It’s going to have to be me.
“You saved me,” Soren says. “…saved me…” His eyelids flutter. His body is still twitching with orgasm, but I can tell he’s not much longer for consciousness.
“I did,” I whisper against his ear. “I always will.”
My erection is painful in my jeans, but I do nothing about it. It may as well be a third leg for all I care. Soren’s pleasure brings me a joy that I can’t begin to describe.
Renewed with energy, I pick him up from the floor halfway. Just enough to partially drag him. I need to get him out of here.
I don’t know how.
But I know one thing.
I won’t let anyone touch him ever again.