13. Kazia
13
KAZIA
T aking a shower helped clear my mind. Something about the hot rhythmic streams drumming softly against my skin scalded away the fear, soothing the tension in my muscles. The rapid drum of my pulse grows less violent, the weight of my memories easing each minute.
Everyone told me it was an accident. An unfortunate event. Something that wasn’t my fault. Counselors had me say the words aloud and swallow them like medicine until I almost believed them. Almost.
Learning that I wasn't to blame for his abuse, for wishing day and night that he would disappear from our lives. That I wasn't at fault for him falling down the stairs. It was a natural reaction.
Now that the truth my mind had hidden from me awakened, unpacking those memories, those feelings which shook me to my core. Running my fingers through my hair, I realized I was at fault for his death. He was no longer on this earth by my ten-year-old hands.
It opened old wounds; feelings I hadn't felt bubbled up and exploded in my face. My body and mind just couldn't take it, and I fell back into survival mode. Now that I had time to breathe and take it all in, something called me to examine it earlier.
That night, something old and foreign called to me and forced me into that mindset. It told me to get rid of the problem before it worsens. The overwhelming need to survive, which wasn't an option, filled my limbs and caused me to step soundlessly behind him. It gave me the courage and push to lift my hands and shove him with all my might.
He was a wall of muscle, solid as stone. This is also why it took so much alcohol to get him drunk. He should’ve been immovable. How did a scrawny ten-year-old girl have enough power to shove a man like that?
The words my mom always said to me popped into my head. The words she would recite whenever I asked her how she did everything by herself. Survival, Kazia. Some people can do amazing, impossible things while trying to survive.
I didn't have all the answers, nor did I have the time to figure it out. Letting go of the past momentarily, I focused on the present. A swift reminder of that was a set of men's clothes waiting for me on the bed. Cezar. He kept his word and got me clean clothes.
Not able to resist, I lifted his shirt and sniffed it. The citrus, woodsy smell permeated my nostrils, taking me in deep and making it a memory. I shouldn’t be memorizing this. I shouldn’t be taking in my captor's scent like a lifeline, but I do. It was so light and fresh, something so opposite of Cezar, yet it smelled so like him—like how his soul would have smelled before the bloodstains, before the voices.
He is a killer, Kazia. Just use him for now and let go later. Don’t get attached. Saying that to myself was my only lifeline when a dark, disturbed corner of my heart was wickedly whispering it was too late.
Shoving the black t-shirt and sweatpants, I tried not to think about anything but what these men had done to me. Kidnap and threaten to kill me. They would kill me. I needed to stay vigilant and smart. Don’t waiver.
Yanking the door open, I ran right into a lean, hard chest and looked up. A large, wide, grinning face looked down, eyes swirling with worry and pain with just a hint of rage behind them. Cezar’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me in tight as he rested his head on my shoulder.
“You scared me, my Roma. I was losing my fucking mind. Even Nan and Cal couldn’t shut up. M went silent. I needed to be there for you, but Nicu… said you were fine. I didn’t know if I could believe him!” Yanking me back to face me, his whole face contorted into a scary, stoic rage that was very unlike him. “Did he hurt you? You can tell me the truth. I will believe you.”
That corner in my heart that told me I was sinking in deeper with this man grew. His concerned eyes told me the truth. He would believe me if I told him Nicu hurt me. He would stomp off right now and start a whole shit fest if I said the word. I was in trouble.
Not having the energy to lie or fight what my mind and body needed, I leaned my forehead on his chest, soaking in his loyalty and obsession with me. I needed to feel that someone in this world had my back.
Hearing his audible inhale, I sighed, wrapping my hands around his waist like an anchor keeping me afloat. “No. He didn't hurt me. He barely touched me, just helped me up. That's all.”
I could feel his hands lifting, his body tensed as he hesitated. I almost chuckled at the thought that now I was giving in to him. He was hesitant and unsure. What happened to the crazy psycho who told me we were meant to be and should never be apart again?
“I-I will take you to your room.” Grasping my hand instead, he took off in the direction of the room I was in, making sure he kept his face forward. Seeing only the back of his head, his bright red neck peeking beneath his black shirt. I almost laughed at the adorable attitude shift from my psycho killer, making him all the more human, at least until I saw the black ink beneath the blush.
The all-seeing eye stared back at me, heat blooming from the spot on my arm that appeared in my dream. I kept telling myself that it was just a coincidence, something my mind conjured up to connect current events in my dreams, but something deep in my veins, my blood, told me I was wrong.
“He’s the white dove?”
He stopped at the door to the room, heaving like he’d run a mile. “M says doves symbolize love, freedom, and hope.” His head turned, looking back at me with a crooked smile, “I can be your white dove. That works for me. Let's be doves for each other.” Doves are meant to be symbols of love and freedom. He says it like he means it. It's like he can't see the blood staining his wings.
Taking in what he said, I just stared at him, not giving him an answer either way. He puffed out a chuckle, tugging my hand to follow as we entered the room.
He guided me to the bed. My eyes snagged on the nylon rope, and I tugged back on instinct. Raw emotions swirled around in my chest, pumping my heart so hard I thought it would break through my sternum to get out. “I don't want to put that on.”
Even though my voice was strong and demanding, my whole body trembled. Flashes of the past came, those feelings of being trapped surfaced, and I squeezed his hand to keep me grounded. Calm down, Kazia. It has been over fourteen years, and the man is dead. You have nothing to fear anymore.
Muscular ink-covered arms wrapped around me like a shield, his warm chest to my back, calling me to fall into him, to be taken care of by him. His light, carefree voice drifted around me, “I won't put the rope on, but when you're ready, can you drink that drugged water and sleep?” He pointed to the nightstand, where a glass was waiting for me.
While I wasn't opposed to the idea, wanting to get a good drug-induced sleep tonight, I was also wired. With my mind on the edge, memories on the surface, ready to take over again, I knew I needed something more. Something to take the edge off and clear my mind of the past.
Turning around, I faced him in his tight embrace. “Can you stay with me tonight instead?” My sane internal voice screamed at me, telling me this was wrong. This was not the plan; I was going too deep, but my mouth kept going. “You can keep watch and make sure I don't get into trouble.” Thinking about being alone in this room with my thoughts made my skin crawl. Being the strong, self-sufficient woman I was, I didn't want to ask him for help, didn't want to rely on the man who kidnapped me, but here I was, leaning on him. The more I did it, the less I began to care, which was the scariest thought.
His eyes turned into molten green orbs, staring down at me like he could devour me in a second. Strong, inky fingers brushed my hair. “If that's what you want.”
I nodded, and his face crafted into this self-assured smirk that gave off confidence in spades, but as I laid my hand on his chest, the pulse of his beating heart throbbed against my fingertips fast and hard.
Lifting me with just one arm, he went to the bed, pulled back the covers, and set my head on the pillow. Then he kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside me.
It was comical to see how much space he put between us when he had already made me come so hard I saw stars. My body craved comfort and warmth, and I scooted over, throwing my arm around his stomach, and laid my head on his chest. A hiss came from above my head like I had just put his hand on a burning stove, but he didn’t move. He just let me do what I wanted.
“Is this okay?” I asked, feeling weird now that he wasn't all over me like before. It made me feel like I was forcing him to comfort me when he would rather not be.
“I'm fine with whatever you need.”
It was the second time that he answered like that. It was half a statement and half a question. This was a whole different side of Cezar that I wasn’t used to; it was like a switch had been flipped. His voice was calm and thoughtful, his movements slow, his touching to a minimum. He seemed to be very careful with everything he did and said.
“Who…,” he paused, his hand at his side clenched the bed sheets. “Who hurt you? Who made you feel like that?”
My mouth opened before I had time to think about it. “Feel like what?” By the time he came into the room, I was under the desk. How could he know the turmoil that was going on inside of me?
“The room. The sour stench of fear was so thick in the room I wanted to tear you away from it.” I stayed silent, not knowing what to say to that. “It was a desperate kind of fear that caused people to make life or death choices.” This time, he paused, exhaling, “I know the smell very well.”
Silence followed. I drew small circles on his chest, trying to wrap my head around what I wanted to say. I already told Nicu some of it so he could find out from him. I bet he would be so happy to learn about something we have in common. We both have killed people. I guess I have that in common with all of them. Even if Nicu or Ion never pulled the trigger, which I doubt, they most definitely have ordered someone to do it.
His hand cupped my head, and I froze, trying to figure out what he would do when I felt his lips softly press against my head. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
All the thoughts, doubts, and hesitation inside of me crumbled into dust. That one act of truly sweet kindness was all it took for the words to spill from my mouth. “I was ten. My mom had a boyfriend who liked to drink when he got home. On the days that he didn't have enough to black out, he would get angry.”
His arms curled around me, not like he was holding me, but more like he wanted me to know he was here, listening. “It could be something like my mom's cooking isn't salty enough, she didn't clean the dishes, or she was spending all his money on me. He would find the littlest thing to be mad about and hurt her.”
Hearing her sobs in the back of my head, I clutched to his chest. He kissed my head again softly, and the cries receded. “If she passed out too early or was too hurt to continue, he would come find me. At first, he would just throw me around a bit. I would bang into walls or doors. When that wasn't enough, he would yank me around by the hair, backhand me until I bled, or hold me up by the throat just to see my feet kick around. His favorite game was throwing things at me and seeing how fast I could dodge it. I got good at that part quickly.”
I stopped talking when I felt a violent shaking underneath me and pushed myself up to see Cezar fisting the sheets, his whole body taut and vibrating violently. A crimson red line went down his mouth, and I panicked. “Oh my god, Cezar, what is going on? Are you having a seizure? Did you bite your tongue?”
Reaching out to his face to see if he did bite his tongue, his hand snatched at my wrists, looking up at me with a fiery rage that told me he would burn everything he touched if I let him out of this room. "Where is he?"
More blood spilled from his mouth, and I was starting to get worried that he hurt himself. "I killed him. I pushed him down the stairs, and his neck broke. He's gone."
Like his body was under a spell and my words were the key, his body stopped shaking, his hands let go of the bed, and he sat up, his hands clutching my face. "He got off too easily. I wish we could call him back from the dead so that I can exact the appropriate pound of flesh and offer it to you as payment for his deeds. Then keep him alive so that I could make sure he understood whose woman he was fucking with. I want to shatter all of his bones, force him to eat-"
I couldn't help it. I laughed. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
It was not the appropriate response to a psycho killer telling you exactly how he wanted to torture and kill another person; I know that, but all I could think about was my mom. After that incident, she turned into another person. She was strong and sure of herself. She mentioned that she had been using him for protection from the evil eye, but that all she needed was her ancestor’s spirit, and she began making protection spells every morning for the rest of my life.
If she heard what Cezar said, she would eye him up and down before nodding in agreement.
"Thank you." I wiped away the tear from the side of my face. "I needed that."
His eyes went to my lips and back to my eyes like he desperately wanted to kiss me but didn't think it was the right time, and then it clicked. He has been so hesitant because he was trying to be respectful and understanding. Knowing that I went through an ordeal, and didn't want to push anything.
This time, I grabbed his face and smashed my lips onto his. His whole body froze like he didn't know what to do, but I did. I wanted to thank him and tell him he was too beautiful for words. I wanted to erase what happened in Nicu's room and replace it with a memory of me feeling fantastic. I wanted my mind so blissed-out that when I lay down to sleep, I didn't need the drugged water because I was that spent. If I was going to die tomorrow or twenty years from now, I didn't want to wallow about the past. I wanted to feel strong and cherished right now.
Moving my legs so I was sitting on top of him, the copper taste on his lips oddly didn't bother me. It added to the forbiddingness of the situation. I was going to jump the bones of my psycho kidnapper. That should be the title of a book or something.
I knew it was wrong on many levels, but I can analyze it tomorrow or never. Who knew how long Nicu was going to keep me around? My mom was dead, and I was a killer. One is the only thing tying me to this world, and the other condemning me. At this point, it was like throwing a coin into the universe and being okay with however it shook out.
He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back. A small whine came from my lips before I pouted. His finger dug into my shoulders, the pain making the situation all the more real, intensifying the burning in my body.
"Kazia." Oh shit, he just used my name. I guess he's serious. "I don't…" he looked down at where our bodies met and gulped. Even with clothes on, you could see his growing length desperately poking out from his pants. "I can't stop again if we go any further."
Shoving his hands off my shoulders, he nodded, sighing in resignation. I tore his shirt off my body, grabbed his chin, and raised his head to look at me. "Who said I didn't want to go further?"
Desire and need flooded his emerald eyes, his hands shaking as they reverently touched my bare waist. "A-are you s-sure?"
Grabbing one of his hands, I shoved it in my borrowed sweets, pushing two of his fingers to my core, taking them out just to place them at my clit, rubbing them around slowly as I moaned. "Yes. I want to feel all of you this time." Throwing my head back so his face was right in my chest, I said, "I want to feel something other than fear, pain, or the need to survive." He licked at my nipple, and a shiver ran down my spine.
He kept up the pace with his fingers, switching from pushing them inside me to rubbing that wetness around my clit. His other hand snaked around and fisted my hair, both holding me back and keeping me in place as his mouth explored my breast.
As soon as his tongue flicked at my nipple, I let out a short, soft moan. I think he liked that because he went to the other one and gave it the same treatment until he took my breast in his hot mouth and bit down on my nipple. The pain stimulation shot straight to my pussy, and I clenched around his fingers, gasping for more.
"Is that what you like, my Roma? You like a little pain with your pleasure?"
"I guess so," I gasped. I never really experimented like that, but who the fuck cares when you might die because of some grouchy man with a gun.
This time, he pulled on my hair, yanking on the roots, and I cried out. My whole body felt like a live wire, and he was plucking at its string and testing out where the electricity gathered.
"I think you do," his tone was dark and sinful as his lips left a feather-like touch down my chest. He let go of my hair and pushed me back to sitting straight. "It's not time to explore that just yet. I want to see what you like. I want to know everything about how you like your pleasure. I want you in control." He removed his hands from my body, and he sat still, waiting for me to make a move.
Lifting an eyebrow at him, I didn't know if this was a power play or if this was going back to him wanting me only to do what I was comfortable with, but I wanted this, so I didn't mind.
Resting my hands on his chest, I let my fingers carve their way down his chest. "Harder," he panted, and I raked my nails down instead. His head fell back; breathlessly, he cried, "Yes. Fuck." I guess I wasn't the only one that liked a little pain.
Flicking my fingers along the button of his pants, unzipping him like a present, I was excited to see. His cock sprang out, already so hard that as soon as my hand circled that silky head, pre-cum came out. Taking my thumb, I spread his pre-cum along the head of his cock. "Don't worry, I have the implant. I can't get pregnant." I felt like I was doing my due diligence in letting him know.
His fingers gripped my chin forcefully, his face just an inch away from mine. "I wasn't worried. We are meant to be, and when it's time, I will fill you up and have a family." He bent his head forward, his lips brushing against mine as he breathed, "But I have no problem practicing until then…over and over and over again."
A harsh exhale escaped from me, reminding me that I most definitely didn't want to get pregnant, but man, did he make it sound hot.
The last barrier of fabric between us was getting soaked, and I knew I wouldn't last long. "Help me get them off," I commanded. His hand skated along the waistband, playing with the skin there until one hand disappeared for a second, and the next was the sound of fabric ripping.
I looked down to see a knife in his hand, the front of the sweatpants already had a long slit down the front, and his smiling face looking up at me like the psycho he was. "You said to get them off," he yanked the two sides apart, the sweatpants in tatters on each side but still hooked around my ankles like his own personal chains on me. "This was the fastest way." He winked at me, and I bit my lip to keep my smile at bay.
If he knew that I found it funny and cute, he would do that shit all the time, and I didn't want to promote that behavior.
Giving him a smirk of my own, I grabbed his cock and positioned it right at my soaking entrance. Hunger gleamed in his eyes like a restless flame. A yearning flickered in those gorgeous eyes, anticipating what was to come. I ran my hand through his golden streaked locks, keeping his attention on me, and hesitated, knowing that there was no going back once I did this.
For a split second, I saw something raw in him. A silent plea. A desperate demand. And I was the only one who could answer it.
Leaning down, I brushed my lips along his, licking at the seam before plunging right in, kissing him with all that I had just as I impaled myself with his cock.
His whole body shuttered, and a guttural moan broke from his mouth. I swallowed it down, claiming it as mine with fervor. I rocked my hips slowly at first, making sure he felt every inch of me before I picked up the pace, but he had other thoughts.
Like the hold he had on his iron restraint broke, he circled his arms around me and flipped us still connected. He was kneeling on the bed in a seated position, holding my back up until he shoved me backward, and I fell onto the soft pillow. "I can't take it anymore."
His hand drifted up my stomach, cupping my breast, all while his dick twitched inside of me. It was maddening not to have him move, but letting him explore was also part of the fun. Especially when he grabbed both my pebbled nipples and yanked on them when he thrust inside of me. The duel sensations drove me wild, and I began panting so hard it was hard to think of anything but him and what he was doing.
"Your body is like the sun. I want to devour it with all of my being, but I feel like getting too much will burn me to a cinder." One hand drifted down, rubbing my clit as his thrust grew harder, deeper. "But I don't mind crisping up. The best part of fried chicken is the crispy parts."
Closing my eyes, I bit my lip to keep from laughing. It was either the cutest thing to say or the craziest. I guess it depends on your mood, but right now, as his cock was working its way so deep into my body I had to bend my back, I was taking it as a positive.
Also, the crispy parts were the best.
"Fuck," he cried out, grabbing at my hips like they were his last lifeline.
"Yes. Fuck, yes, Cezar. Fuck me." His eyes shined down at me like a green-eyed devil about to consume a delicious soul. His fingers dug into my hips, gripping so hard I knew I would have bruises afterward. His thrusts grew frantic, watching my body bounce as he fucked me so hard I closed my eyes and let out a silent scream.
Then the door clicked.