Sugar Coated (A Bitter Pill #2)

Chapter One 2

Once we’re on the road, Fang reached over the center console to grab my hand once again, and I let him. He acted like we always did this, like I’d spent countless days with him in his car and this was simply what we did, when in reality it was the opposite.

Fang didn’t really know me, and I didn’t really know him. We were strangers, basically, and yet that didn’t stop him from acting like I belonged to him—and it certainly didn’t stop me from agreeing I would be his princess the last time we saw each other.

The hand he held onto was my left, and he was careful enough to hold onto it gently. I wore a glove over it, so although it might look like I still had all of my fingers, those who knew me knew the truth.

Neither one of us said a thing as we drove to his place, the silence stretching on for miles. It was only when we were safe in the top floor of his building, only when he sat me down on his couch and got me some water, that he finally spoke.

“Princess, when Mike called me, I expected the worst.” Fang sat down beside me, close enough our thighs touched. He didn’t seem to mind the closeness, which was good, because neither did I. Not after everything.

I said nothing as I worked on pulling off the glove and exposing my left hand to the dim light of the wide-open room. Missing most of my pinky and ring fingers, it was a reminder of everything I went through, even if I did it to myself—something that Fang figured out on his own.

“I thought we would race in and find you dead. Most people don’t get lucky after one kidnapping, let alone two.” His chest let out a long, rough breath. “I’ve never been gladder to be wrong.” Fang’s arm slid around me, and the next thing I knew, he pulled me onto his lap, where he held onto me tightly.

My gaze unhurriedly lifted to Fang’s face, studying the spray of bright red on his skin, the blood smearing his mouth. Right then, he reminded me of an animal, a beast that didn’t mind getting its claws—or fangs—dirty in the blood of its enemies.

And, God help me, I really did think it was hot.

“How did Mike know where I was?” I asked quietly. When I’d called him, after my Devil had taken me and then raced out of that house like a bat out of hell, he hadn’t answered. I’d thought maybe he was sleeping.

How did he know where I was after I got taken?

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him. That’s something you’ll have to ask the big guy yourself, once he gets here.” Fang’s chest hummed at that, as if he suddenly turned thoughtful. “I assume he’ll come here, anyway. I would if I were him, to make sure you’re all right. Mike and I have never really sat down and had any conversations, but he doesn’t seem like the talkative type. You’d probably get more out of him.”

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “Sometimes no. He’s—he tried to say I’m just a job.” And, even though it’s ridiculous, hearing it out loud really did make me hurt inside.

“Oh, Princess, I doubt you’re just a job to either of them.” Either of them, meaning Mike and… Kieran? “From the moment I saw that cotton candy hair of yours, I knew there was no way in hell you could ever be just a job, let alone just anything.”

I gave him a sly smile. “You know, for someone who likes to use the silver fangs in his mouth to tear people apart, you’re actually kind of sweet.”

“I am a man of many layers, like—”

“An onion?”

Fang chuckled at that. “I was going to go with something like cake, to better match your sweetness.”

“I’m not so sweet.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But the sounds you make when you’re unravelling definitely are.” The blunt way he said it made my thighs clench a bit, something he surely felt since I was sitting on his lap.

I spoke softly, “When you said you like to bite, I didn’t think you meant it like that. You’re lucky you weren’t shot.”

“These teeth,” Fang paused as he smirked and flashed them at me, “have more than one use, Princess. They can mark your pretty skin just as easily as they can tear someone apart. I’ve found that men with guns get cocky—they think they hold all the cards, especially when they don’t see a weapon in my hands. The last thing they think you’ll do is charge at them.”

“You were fast. I didn’t know you could move like that.”

“A lifetime of learning to be faster than men with guns. Now—” His hold around my body tightened for a few seconds, then loosened. “—as much as I’d love to show you just how thankful I am that you’re safe, I’d hate to stain that hair with blood. Let me go wash this stuff off.”

I slid off Fang’s lap, and he got to his feet, waiting a moment before he added, “Unless you’d like to join me in the shower?” An offer to do more than clean myself off, I knew.

And, as much as I’d like to join him—if the situation were different, I wouldn’t hesitate—I couldn’t. Yes, I would love to wash off the stank of my kidnappers, but at the same time, before I’d been taken, I was with my Devil, and I wasn’t quite ready to wash the remnants of him off me yet.

I wanted him with me for as long as possible.

I stood up and met Fang’s silver stare. “I think maybe I just want to lay down. Do you have any clothes I could borrow?” The ones I currently wore weren’t the comfiest; you didn’t dress for a college party to be comfy. You dressed to look sexy. Most of the time the two did not coexist.

The warm grin Fang gave me after that told me enough. “Anything that is mine is yours. Let me find a few things for you.” He wandered over to the area of his loft that was his bedroom, pulling open a few drawers of his dresser as he searched for something to give me.

I moved through the open space, around the couch and the metal sculptures littered around the large room, slow in reaching his side. By the time I got to him, he’d pulled out a pair of black sweats and a plain black t-shirt.

The man liked black. Couldn’t even be mad about it; he looked damn fine in all black with that lone gray tuft of hair near his left temple and his almost metallic silver eyes and teeth.

He set the clothes on his bed, saying, “Here. And if you should change your mind about the shower, I’ll leave the door cracked for you.” Fang gave me a sly look before sauntering away, and I couldn’t resist his pull; I turned around and watched him go, wishing I could join him in there.

But the furious touch of my Devil was still too fresh in my mind. I didn’t want to let it go just yet. Wherever he was out there, a part of him was still with me, and I couldn’t let him go so soon.

I let out a long breath when Fang disappeared into the bathroom, and I was sluggish in taking off my clothes. First thing that came off was my shoes, then my pants. I slipped on the sweats—they were crazily baggy on me, to the point where I felt like I was drowning in them, but I wasn’t going to complain. The next thing that came off was my shirt. I even took off my bra before I pulled Fang’s shirt over my head.

It was strange; I didn’t even realize Fang had a certain smell until I put his clothes on. It was hard to describe. Ash. Cinders. The scent of a man who liked to get dirty when he worked. It was the opposite of a bad smell.

I crawled onto his bed and rested my head on his pillow, working to get myself under the covers. The only light on in the loft was a lamp near the couch; it wasn’t super bright, but it was enough light to illuminate the entire open-concept space in a dull, dim yellow. I lay on my side, giving my back to the lamp.

Honestly, tonight took multiple turns I didn’t expect, turns I couldn’t have prepared myself for. My Devil making an appearance after such a long period of silence was the biggest plot twist in my opinion, but the kidnapping followed as a close second.

Someone had it out for me. I stupidly hoped that Kieran getting shot was the end of it. Really, I should’ve known whoever was behind it wouldn’t give up.

My thoughts turned to Kieran after that. I would like to visit him in the hospital again. As much as I hated to think it, I did miss his sarcasm. I’d never tell him this—his ego was already supersized—but occasionally he was funny. Sometimes. Not all the time, but he had his moments.

Damn it. I missed those moments.

I must’ve lost myself in thoughts about Kieran longer than I thought, because suddenly Fang was walking out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his lean waist. The man was tall, over six feet, but just short of Mike’s impressive stature. He was also thinner; less bulging muscles but still quite nice to look at, with a faint shadow of abs on his upper stomach.

I really must have a thing for older men, because I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he walked to his dresser to pull out his own pair of sweats.

Less than five feet away, I could see the beads of water on his back, between his shoulder blades. His black hair was slicked back, like he ran a comb through it before coming out of the bathroom. With that towel around his waist, it was strangely one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.

Fang glanced at me over his shoulder, and I noted just the quickest of smirks before he tugged at his towel and let it fall to the floor, thereby giving me a nice view of his ass before he got into the sweats.

Okay, the man had a nice butt. A very nice butt. Possibly the best butt I’d ever seen in my life—never mind the fact it was also pretty much the only butt I’d ever checked out like this.

Fang, now blood-free and wearing nothing but sweats, flashed me a grin before he climbed into the bed beside me. That smile was minty-clean, telling me he’d brushed his teeth as well.

Good. As sexy as it was watching him tear into someone like an animal, I didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of kissing those lips with the taste of another person’s blood in the mix.

Fang rolled onto his side, his head inches away from mine. His chest was shirtless, and he pulled me into him as it rumbled. “I do love having you in my bed,” he whispered, his arm steel behind me, as if he thought I might try to scoot away.

As if.

After everything, I was done pretending I was a good girl. Right now, I really wanted to be bad. To chase after what I wanted, not what everyone else thought I should want.

His brows furrowed. “You’re getting bruised here.” His arm moved so his fingers could lightly touch my cheek where the jerk had hit me twice. “Does it hurt? I might have Tylenol somewhere, if you want it.”

“I cut my face, dislocated my own shoulder, and cut off two fingers without pills,” I whispered. “I think I can handle a little bruise.”

“That’s right. You are a soldier, aren’t you? A princess who can take care of business.” The hand lightly touching my face fell to my arm, then my side, where it curled around to my lower back once more. “I do hate the thought of you hurting yourself, though. May I ask, why did you do it?”

He was so calm about it compared to Mike, though maybe that was simply due to Fang putting it together from the beginning, while Mike had to be told the truth.

I swallowed hard. “I never told you about the two years I was kidnapped.”

“No, I suppose you never did. We always had other things to discuss. Tell me about your first kidnapping, Princess.”

So I did. I told Fang how it happened; how my dad and his new girlfriend at the time were out of the house, putting in the work for his political career. How someone was waiting for me in the closet in my room and how I woke up in a small room with nothing but a bed, a toilet, and a tub.

Oh, and a chain keeping me fixed to the bed and the small area around it.

I told Fang more than I told the police, more than I told my dad. I went into detail about how the bedsheets were pink, how it didn’t even occur to me at first that the kidnapper had been watching me, studying me. I mean, how else would he have known my favorite color was pink?

Fang didn’t say a word as he listened to me go on and on. Laying there beside me, with his arm around me, he was content with staring deep into my eyes while I rambled away.

I told him how he always wore a mask, what that mask looked like: an old-fashioned devil mask, where the bottom half was almost comically designed into a massive frown. How he gave me a TV when I complained about being alone with my thoughts. How he brought me food every single morning and night, never saying a word, the way he almost let himself get close to me a few times, like he was dying to touch me, but each time he resisted.

By the end of the story, Fang knew more about my time as a kidnapping victim than anyone else in the world besides me and my Devil.

“He never hurt me,” I whispered. “He… he left me a key. He just gave it to me one day, like he was gifting my escape. I thought it was some kind of trick, but then… the key worked and for the first time in two years I left that room. The house was empty. No one was living in it. He kept me in the basement. The only area that was used was the kitchen, where he’d cook my meals.”

My Devil, a chef. The image was almost funny.

“I could’ve just walked out, but what would that have looked like? Laina Hawkins, the daughter of the mayor, comes back after two years missing with not a scratch on her?”

Fang asked, “And why couldn’t it have been like that?”

An uncomfortable question, one that made me squirm a bit. “I watched my dad win the mayor’s seat. Before my kidnapping, I thought his political dreams were just that: dreams. I never thought he’d win. He was a nobody. But after I was taken, he was on the news all the time, campaigning while he demanded better of the police. He used my kidnapping to help him win.”

“Maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t mean you had to hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t… I thought…” Something I’d never said aloud before, something Fang must predict.

“You thought maybe your father had something to do with it? If that’s true, why didn’t you tell anyone that?”

I swallowed hard. This next admission was a knife in my throat, not wanting to come out. “Because, if it’s true, I wanted to get revenge myself. I’d play the broken daughter while looking for a way to destroy his career from the inside-out.”

“My cotton-candy daydream wanted vengeance,” Fang murmured. “Still, you could’ve gotten it without cutting off your poor fingers.”

“I don’t regret it. It makes me look like a victim to the world.”

“It’s hard for me to argue with you about it, because if you were never missing those fingers, Lola would never have sent you to me to begin with, and we wouldn’t be here.” Fang sighed out a slow breath as he cuddled closer to me. “And I wouldn’t know what it’s like to have you in my bed. It’s not something I’d trade for anything.”

I smiled to myself at hearing that, certain parts of me warming up in response. I honestly didn’t know how he could say things like that so effortlessly, so easily, as if he was stating a fact and not something most people would find utterly bizarre.

Fang then went on to say, “The way you talk about this devil… it sounds like you’re in love with him.”

Frankly, it was something I had thought a lot about, but hearing someone else say it aloud made it all too real for me. My heart skipped a beat in my chest, and my fingers got clammy. All I could say was, “I…”

“I don’t mind if you are, provided you’re still my princess. Love is infinite—I believe we have the capacity to love endlessly.” His gentle voice hardened when he added, “What I do take issue with is the fact that he kept you locked up for two years. Someone like that doesn’t deserve your love. Whether or not your father hired him is beside the point. That devil did you a disservice by keeping you locked away, and now that there have been more attempts on you, can you truly be sure it’s not the same devil behind the wheel?”

“He would never hurt me,” I stated, firmly believing it to be true.

“How can you trust a man who won’t even show you his face?”

Fang was only being logical—and taking the whole thing with a grain of salt, to my surprise—but still, I could never get behind not trusting my Devil. These next words were whispered so softly even I had a hard time hearing them: “He came for me tonight.”

“He what?”

“At the party, before the kidnapping. I…” God, this next part was difficult for me to admit. “I was going to hook up with someone. Just a guy. A stranger.” Laying in Fang’s bed, with his arm around me, I felt guilty admitting it. “I’m sorry. I just wanted—”

“You were locked up for two years. You don’t have to explain yourself to me… although it does make me a bit… jealous. For future reference, if you ever need to sow some oats, I am always here to help you sow them. In fact, I would be more than glad to help you sow oats whenever you want.”

The corners of my mouth quirked upward in a tiny smile. Sowing oats in this case definitely meant sex—something I could get behind, but right now I needed to finish telling the story.

I went on, “I didn’t get the chance to sow any oats. My Devil stopped me.”

“Somehow I doubt all he did was stop you.”

“He didn’t touch me for two years. He could’ve. He could’ve taken whatever he wanted from me when I was in that room, over and over again—but he didn’t. When he found me with that other guy, it was like he lost it.”

“Or maybe,” Fang interjected, “he decided he’d waited for you long enough.” As he let the possibility sink in, he asked, “And you’re sure there’s no way he was a part of the group that took you tonight?”

“No. I really don’t think he had any part of it. He practically ran out of the room the moment we were finished. By the time I fixed my clothes and went searching for him, he was gone. I couldn’t find him in the house or anywhere around it. It’s like he vanished.”

“As much as I don’t doubt his vanishing capabilities, there is another possibility. This devil of yours could be great at hiding in plain sight.”

Something in my stomach churned at the thought. What if he was there, somewhere at the party, with the mask off, and I walked right by him and didn’t even know it? As much as I’d like to say I’d know him anywhere, the fact of the matter was I didn’t know what he looked like beneath the mask. He could be anyone.

My thoughts ran a mile a minute now that I was thinking about my Devil, so I tried to change the subject by saying, “Mike got super pissed when I told him my Devil didn’t do this to me. I think he’s still mad at me about it.”

The hand resting on my lower back snaked underneath my shirt and began to trace circles on my skin. “The big guy is protective over you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

When I stared into Fang’s eyes, I was struck by how deep they were. I’d never been this close to him for this long before. He could lay there and listen to me bare my soul, bare my deepest, darkest secrets and desires, and in the end accept them. Accept me.

To think, all this began when Lola sent me his info, because she thought he might be able to help me, to make something for me and my missing fingers. I wondered if she knew she was basically playing cupid.

“Can I tell you something?” I asked in a whisper.

Fang smirked and said, “You can tell me anything, Princess. Talk my ears off, and I’ll still find a way to listen.”

“When I first met you, I thought you were really weird.”

I didn’t think that’s what he was expecting me to say, because he cracked a somewhat goofy grin after, his silver fangs flashing in the shadows. “Weird, huh? When I first met you, I thought you were walking, talking candy that I was dying to take a bite of.” He waited a moment before asking, “What do you think now?”

“I still think you’re weird… but I like it.” I brought a hand to his face, my index finger lightly running over his bottom lip. He must’ve sensed where I was going with it, because he parted his lips and bared his teeth to me, giving me a front-row seat to his silver fangs.

“And I like your teeth,” I murmured, slow in drawing a finger down along one of his sharpened fangs. Seriously, his mouth made him look like a vampire. As I pulled my finger away, it was my turn to ask, “What do you think of me now?”

Fang scooted his face closer to mine, and our noses touched. “I still think you’re a piece of candy… but you’re my candy, and I’ll wait as long as I have to until I can take my first real bite out of you. I’ll be patient.”

Whether or not he was going to say more, I didn’t know, but either way I didn’t let him. I pressed my lips on his and kissed him, the gesture soft and sweet, considering the topic of conversation. When you were discussing taking a bite out of someone else, a gentle kiss didn’t exactly go hand-in-hand with it.

But Fang accepted the soft kiss without a complaint. As his mouth returned the kiss, his hand on my lower back inched upward along my spine, stopping only when it neared the area where my bra strap should’ve been. It must’ve been an exceptionally sensitive spot on me, an area where no one really touched, because the moment his hand grazed the skin there, I shivered and moaned into the kiss.

One of his fangs grazed my lower lip, and though he didn’t take a bite, the anticipation was there. Those fangs heightened every sensation, every push and pull of our mouths together.

I wanted more.

Fang must’ve wanted the same, because soon enough he rolled himself on top of me and bunched up my shirt enough to expose my chest. The only reason I didn’t shiver was because we were both underneath his sheets, the blankets keeping us warm.

He left a trail of kisses along my jaw, careful to not kiss too hard where I was hit, and when he made it to the crook of my neck, his hands each found a breast to cup and paw at. His sharp fangs grazed a tender spot on my throat as his thumbs ran over my bare nipples, and I sucked in a hard breath in response. Just like that, I was elevated to cloud nine.

“Right now,” Fang whispered against my neck, “you’re all mine, Princess. Let me hear all the sounds you can make.” He really didn’t seem to care that I admitted to having sex with my Devil—and that I didn’t even know who my Devil was.

Honestly? It was the perfect response, exactly what I needed right now. No judgment. Just acceptance.

He sucked hard on a singular spot on my neck, to the point where I couldn’t hold back a moan from bubbling up out of my throat. I didn’t give him the okay to take a bite, so apparently he’d settle for the next big thing and give me a hickey instead.

Not a bite, but a mark to show the world that I belonged to someone.

First my Devil, and now Fang. I was on a roll tonight.

I held onto him as he continued to suck, my bottom half starting to grind on its own. Fang responded by sinking his midsection down on mine, pressing the growing hardness there upon me, a sign of how badly he wanted me. Feeling that hardness against me drove me crazy in the best of ways.

“Fang,” I breathed out his name, lost in ecstasy.

He only stopped sucking on my neck to tell me, “I love the way you say my name.” A sound that was a mix of a growl and a moan came from him, an appreciative sound that made my thighs squeeze together. Low, manly, sexy as hell. “I could eat you up, Princess—and unless you tell me not to, I plan on doing just that.”

I didn’t say a word, and Fang took that the only way he could: as an affirmative, as me telling him to take whatever he wanted from me, that I would gladly give it all to him.

And at this point, I would. It’d been one of those nights all around. Full-steam ahead. No backing down now. My eyes, though they were mostly closed, had never been more metaphorically open in my life—and I loved it.

Fang’s mouth dropped to my chest, where my pebbled nipples were waiting. He latched onto one, using his sharp fangs as a way to tease me before his tongue took center focus. He lavished an ungodly amount of attention to one, kissing and sucking while the warm metal of his fangs was a constant reminder that inside this man dwelled an animal, a beast who wanted to mark me in a way that the rest of the world would forever know I belonged to him.

When he was satisfied with the attention one got, he moved to the other and sent me spiraling all over again. I squirmed under him, my heart beating fast in my chest, every part of me heated thanks to this man.

With his mouth still latched onto my right tit, his fingers hooked around the elastic waistband of the sweats he’d lent me, and only when he finally pulled his mouth off me did he work on tugging them down. My lower half exposed to him beneath the sheets, he looked like a ravenous man who was about to have himself the feast of a lifetime. That smoldering, silver-eyed stare would’ve made me lose all common sense if I had any to begin with.

“Oh, you are always a sight for sore eyes, but I have to say,” Fang paused as his chest rumbled with delicious possession, “the space between your legs beckons me like nothing else could. If I could live between your thighs, feasting on only you, I would.”

I still couldn’t believe he could say those things with such a straight face and actually mean them—and that I enjoyed hearing him say them.

And then, without uttering a word more, Fang lowered himself to my apex and began his feast. It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself between my legs, but it was the first time he knew precisely what to do, how to get me revved up the fastest. He remembered what I liked, how to use that tongue and highlight his sharp teeth, to make me lose it in record time.

His hands curled around my outer thighs, rooting him in place, and my clit swelled with the attention he gave it. A low pressure built in my lower gut, ballooning until it became impossible to ignore. Fang was a master at his craft, and right now his craft was me.

Or giving me orgasms, more like.

The first time he pushed me off the edge, I moaned as the pleasure surged through me with an undeniable force. The second time I panted out his name like he was torturing me with orgasms. The third time I couldn’t say a single thing, the heated bliss in my body taking hold of every single part of me, even my brain.

And then, God, I lost track. Fang didn’t seem to mind spending an inordinate amount of time between my thighs. Like he said, he could spend his entire life there and be content, and with the way he went at me with unmatched hunger, I knew it as a fact.

And, what was even stranger, Fang knew that my Devil had taken me earlier, and he didn’t seem to mind one bit as his tongue dipped lower and pushed inside of me. He tasted not only me, but the remnants of my Devil.

“You taste fucking amazing,” Fang murmured in between fucking me with his tongue. My hips began to grind on their own, and I rode his face while he continued to eat me out in a way only he could.

Right when I thought there was no possible way I could come again, my body and Fang proved me wrong. Another orgasm swept through me, so strong I would’ve collapsed if I wasn’t already on my back, every muscle in my body spasming as I came.

Fang finally pulled his mouth off me, and as he gave me a devilish smirk, he whispered huskily, “You’re so wet for me, Princess. I love it.” Before I could say a word, he crawled up and over me and reached for something tucked away beneath his pillow, something I wasn’t aware was there.

What did he pull out? The panties I’d left here the last time.

Aware my voice might come out messy thanks to the generous heap of orgasms he’d given me, I still managed to speak, “You keep it under your pillow?”

“Of course. That way, should I miss you, I have a part of you close,” Fang whispered. “I can smell you whenever I want—I never realized how lonely my life was until you walked into it.” What he was saying was kind of sweet, in a slightly weird, kinky way.

That didn’t tell me why he brought the panties out to begin with… though I only had to wait a few more seconds for him to tell me. Or show me, rather.

Fang slid the panties around my ankles, gliding them up my legs and stopping only when they sat between my inner thighs and around my ass, curving against my body like they were meant to. Then he laid down behind me and, with his warm chest breathing hard against my back, snaked a hand between my thighs. His fingers pressed hard against the panties, pushing the fabric against my slick folds and the rim of my entrance.

Behind me, Fang murmured, “Let’s keep these on you for a while.”

“Refresh the scent?”

I asked it mainly as a joke, but Fang’s reply was a deadly sort of serious, “Exactly.”

If things were different, I might’ve been weirded out at Fang’s desires, but if there was one thing I’d come to understand since my first kidnapping, it’s that I wasn’t normal. I was into it. I was into the man with the sharp, vampire-like fangs and all of the kinks therein.

As I managed to drift off to sleep, my last thought was something along the lines of: I can’t wait for the day I let Fang take a real bite.