26. Who The Fuck Did That To You?
TWENTY-SIX
WHO THE FUCK DID THAT TO YOU?
Jack
C oward , the monster growled as I escaped around the back of the cabin, panting. Not from exertion … well, unless exertion was the effort not to launch myself at her, pin her down, and taste every inch of that beautiful brown skin.
Your needs are not mine!
The monster laughed darkly.
Mine , was all he would say. But I knew what he meant.
Thank fuck for the boiler. A reason to escape, to breathe air that wasn’t blooming with her smell.
With shaking hands, I tugged the rusty cover off. I turned the handle on the gas bottle. It made a quick hissing sound. Then, I fumbled with the packet of matches in my pocket.
Stop fucking shaking , I told myself firmly. We couldn’t afford to waste them. I’d get the light sorted, and then I’d warm the boiler and run her a bath.
I almost dropped the match as I attempted to strike it against the flint. Picturing her in the bath … naked and wet … I didn’t need to be thinking of that right now.
Forcing myself to be steady, I struck the match, holding it against the pilot light as I pressed the lever to release the gas. The pilot flickered, then flared. Slowly, I released the lever, then allowed myself a hissed breath of relief when the flame burned strong. I reached for the tap that connected the water tank to the boiler.
I wondered how long it would take to fill and to heat. I’d have to stay out here … to make sure it was hot before I went back inside.
You’re avoiding her , the monster accused.
I scowled. Do you fucking blame me? You want to push her down and fuck her every time you so much as look at her.
No … WE want to push her down and fuck her. Your feelings are my feelings, remember? Don’t try to be noble and pretend you don’t feel the same.
Fuck me … I kind of did.
But not at the expense of my freedom. Not if it meant that afterward I was tied to her, forever. No choice. And pain if we tried to go our separate ways.
We won’t want to leave her , the monster murmured.
And what if she wants to leave me? I asked petulantly. Or, what if she doesn’t want to be fucked by me in the first place? What if she doesn’t want anyone to touch her like that after what that asshole Baxter put her through? We don’t get to force that on her, either.
The monster didn’t respond, and I made myself think about other things.
An Echo. That’s what she’d called me. An anomaly among Shifters … because of course I had to be an extra special sort of freak, didn’t I?
We are more powerful than other Shifters. We can become anything we want. Even take on the form of other humans, should we need to.
I shuddered. Like that freak that had taken Blaire, wearing Roman’s skin. Fuck me. I didn’t want to be anything like him.
He was … disturbed.
I feel fucking disturbed thinking about walking around in someone else’s body!
The monster went silent. For once, I wished he’d argue with me. I didn’t want to be left alone with that thought rattling around my brain.
I rested my head against the timber siding of the cabin and tried to just think of nothing while I waited for the water to heat.
“ A nd this is supposed to be … relaxing?” Seven asked dubiously, staring into the tub as it slowly filled with steaming water.
“Yeah.” I scratched at the back of my head. “You know … fun.” My attempt at a joke fell insanely flat. She didn’t even crack a smile, just looked at the bath like it was the fucking gallows or something.
“You outsiders seem to do nothing but have fun,” she muttered. She scratched at her hair again. Her eyes darted to the rapidly filling tub. Something flashed in them, but she blinked, and it was gone.
“Well … you can get clean and warm, too.” I glanced at her filthy jumpsuit. Mine was slightly less filthy after my outdoor shower. “I could, uh, take your clothes and wash them outside for you, while you …” I gestured to the almost full bathtub. I couldn’t get words out. My brain filled with images of her naked, clean and wet and …
Let me take over , the monster begged. You’re doing a terrible job of flirting with her!
I’m not trying to flirt with her!
I cleared my throat, reached over and turned off the taps, then backed away. “I’ll just wait out here, if you wanna pass it through the door to me.”
I turned before she could answer, rushing out the door and closing it behind me. Leaning back against the timber and biting back a growl.
I didn’t want to be out here.
I wanted to be in there, undressing her.
I clawed my fingers into my scalp.
No. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want Seven. Couldn’t want her.
What I really wanted was to get out of this forest. I wanted to call Blaire. Wanted to find that she was safe, out here too, and with Roman.
Shit.
I wanted her to be with Roman.
I wanted her to be happy.
And me? Beyond knowing my best friend was safe from that fucker Baxter and happy in this new life that had been thrust on us.
What did I want?
A week ago, all I wanted was for Baxter to decide I’d earned his miracle permanent suppression drug. I wanted to go to LSU, and take up my scholarship, and pretend that none of this had ever happened.
But could I really go back now? Knowing what I knew?
The tiny knock on the door startled me enough that I almost tripped over my own feet as I turned. The door opened a crack, and her slender hand, gripping the filthy jumpsuit, snaked out.
“Thanks,” she mumbled as I took it. “I don’t … It will need to dry, so … Maybe just knock when it’s done, and I’ll come and get it and drape it over a chair by the fire.
Then she firmly closed the door in my face. Clearly, I was not welcome anywhere in the vicinity of the cabin before she was clothed again.
And you think she’s down to pound … I remarked dryly to the monster.
If you could manage to scrape up a smidgeon of that cheeky boy you were in high school, we’d already be between her legs.
If I wanted that, I could absolutely make it happen , I grouched. But I don’t, so I won’t.
Or you’ve lost your touch , he added slyly.
I stormed off the deck, muttering under my breath about the asshole inside my head. His chuckle echoed as I turned on the shower and scrubbed the blood and mud and sweat out of her jumpsuit as best I could, scraping at the stains with my nails. It was going to be the cleanest I could possibly make it, without the use of a washer and laundry detergent, before I’d return it to her.
I’d always been competitive. One-upping my mates at football, at Forest Lake keggers, hell, at how many O’s we’d given cheerleaders, had been one of my favorite hobbies.
I cursed myself for it now because the urge was rising … to prove him wrong. The fucking monster who I knew was pushing his own agenda by manipulating my sense of competition. Making me want to prove to him that I still had what it took to make a woman melt for me.
Shit. The thought of taking that serious little mouth of hers, of making the tightness in her lips thaw away under my tongue and teeth … the thought of kissing down that lithe body, hooking her legs over my shoulder and tasting her … giving her the O’s that I knew I’d be able to wring from her …
The thought of showing her what it could really be like when it wasn’t forced or unwanted … when it was about pleasure.
The thought of being inside her. Something I’d never done before. The thought of her being my first.
Yes … it’s so very tempting, isn’t it? the monster whispered.
But then she’d be my only , I countered, shutting the water off forcefully and shaking droplets from my hair as I wrung the dripping fabric. I was soaked again, but that was the least of my problems.
And we’d never regret it, not for a single second. Do you think Blaire regretted what she found with Roman?
But I want to have a choice , I countered, refusing to let my resolve weaken. I don’t want to be tied to someone because some fucked up mystical Shifter urge forces me into it.
You know that there are still things you can do … that won’t trigger the Join , the monster murmured. You could enjoy some of those things with her … and still walk away at the end of it.
I froze. I didn’t want to even think what I was thinking … because he was in my brain, and he heard every thought I had.
I clenched my jaw . Tempting, but I know exactly what you’re hoping for … that I’ll enjoy it too much, things will get out of hand, and BAM, Joined. I wasn’t born yesterday.
I headed back to the door, knocking loudly. Splashing from within told me she was still in the bath.
Wet. Naked. Droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes … to her nipples … lower …
Fuck.
I was getting hard.
And of course, that was when the door opened. Just a crack. She wouldn’t be able to see anything. I could barely see her, just a glow of the fire on one side of her face.
I held the sodden jumpsuit out.
“It’s as clean as I can get it,” I blurted, sharper than was necessary.
“Thank you,” she murmured, widening the gap just enough for her to reach out to take it.
Just enough for me to see the mark.
My vision went red.
“What the fuck is that?” I growled, gripping her wrist and holding her still.
“What are you …?” she gasped, but I couldn’t stop staring at the angry, raised mark on her chest, just above her left breast. The blackened number 7, surrounded by puckered flesh, a few shades lighter than her bronzed skin.
She slapped her other hand to her chest to cover it, but I barged through the door, feeling feral as I tugged that hand away to look again.
“Who the fuck did that to you?” I asked, my voice a low growl. The fact that she was naked and damp barely registered. My mind was awash with rage.
“One of the agents, I guess,” she said, and her voice was so casual my fury only unfurled in the face of it. “I don’t … they did it when I was small. I can barely remember …”
I sucked in air through flared nostrils. “How old were you?” I asked, my fingers tracing the scarred flesh. She shivered, but her skin was so very warm under my fingertips.
It wasn’t a tattoo. It was a brand. They must have rubbed something into the wound to blacken it. It hadn’t healed well. My scowl deepened.
“Maybe four or five,” she murmured, her fingers catching my wrist and tugging my hand away from the mark. “Please, I barely even remember it’s there most of the time.”
My eyes met hers, and I knew they were glowing gold. The monster’s rage was boiling over. But he wasn’t taking control.
No. We were in this together. Our rage had united us.
Our hand slid up her chest, over her collarbone, across her throat. She swallowed under our palm, her eyes wide. Bright. The ring of yellow around her iris flared.
We gripped her chin between finger and thumb, holding her gaze.
“We will go back, and we will kill them all,” I vowed.
Her eyebrows shot up, lips parting. “We—”
But she didn’t get a chance to finish because our mouth was on her.
Jesus fucking Christ. She tasted better than she smelled. We groaned against her lips. And when she gasped, we took the opportunity to lick into her mouth.
Her nails dug into the back of our scalp. Her fingers tugged at our hair, pulling us closer. Fusing our mouths together. Her tongue stroked ours enthusiastically. Hot and wet and unpracticed and perfectly messy.
And when she mewled hungrily, our teeth clacking as she deepened the kiss, her hands sliding down our back and pressing our bodies closer …
I could smell her pussy.
Fuck, it smelled so good that every ounce of blood in us rushed to our cock. We gripped her slippery, naked ass and rocked against her.
She shoved me back and leaped away. Eyes crazed, and pupils blown, and tits heaving as she panted. She was so beautiful, all lean curves and lithe muscles. High, perky tits, a taut belly. Dark curls between her toned legs.
And her teeth were sharp.
Fuck. So were mine.
I slammed my eyes shut, forcing the monster back.
“Shit,” I muttered, feeling my way back towards the door. “I’m fucking sorry, Seven. I’ll … just let you get … I’ll just go.”
I didn’t open my eyes again until I was on the porch, and the door was closed behind me.
If her mouth tastes that delicious, just imagine what her cunt will taste like , the monster growled.
Don’t , was all I could manage.
I felt wrung out, shaky.
Longing.
Shit.
I couldn’t think about her body … and especially not her pussy. The musk of her arousal still clung to the insides of my nostrils.
I forced myself to picture that brand on her chest. The mark that reduced her entire existence to a number. A statistic in a fucked-up experiment.
I was such a spoilt fucker, for feeling so resentful when the charmed life I’d known had been blown to pieces … but the shit Seven had been through …
I’d seen only a fraction of it first-hand, and what I’d seen was bad enough. What else had been done to her?
And she wasn’t the only one raised in that place. What else was Baxter up to in there? How was he damaging them in pursuit of … whatever he was trying to achieve?
I’d thought Fortis was the bad guy after what I’d overheard from Farida. After what Baxter had told me.
But now …
We can’t leave all those hybrids locked up in that fucked up place, I told the monster. They don’t deserve what’s being done to them. They deserve a life, out here. Or at least a choice.
Now this is an idea we can get behind , the monster agreed. And our Blossom will be so grateful to us when we liberate that place from the assholes torturing them all.
It always comes back to her, doesn’t it? I sighed.
MINE.