14. Ion
14
ION
W hat the fuck was all that about? Adjusting myself as I left Nicu’s room, I clenched my jaw. That woman was a fucking menace. Already she had turned this place into a madhouse, and she was the fucking prisoner!
Like a struck match, my anger flared. Heat spread throughout my body, filling me with this deafening roar. Clenching my hands, I stomped to the kitchen, cursing this woman and the curse she had put upon this house.
“I need some blow.” That would make me not give a fuck about her, maybe even come up with some good ideas to do with her once Nicu got his answers. Yeah. It could be useful if I got some coke. But no—he wants to keep me on a leash, acting like some saint. What’s next? Preaching to me about virtue?
Opening the refrigerator, I grabbed a Coca-Cola, and that familiar explosive rage fell over me again. Slamming the door closed and smacking the can into the table with a bang; I kept thinking about all the things I could do if he had just let me have cocaine.
“Here,” a plate with a sandwich was placed right before me. I looked up to see Nicu. “Eat this; you look like shit.” Where the fuck did he come from? Looking down at the plate, I realized I had to have been standing there complaining in my head for a while.
Watching him grab his plate and sit down, I noticed how rough he looked after dealing with that hellion Cezar picked up.
My perfect older brother’s hair was a mess, as if he had run his hand through it a million times. His clothes looked crossed in all the wrong places, which, for a control freak like him, had to drive him nuts. I was about to tell him just that when I noticed him sitting at the table with a plate of food, staring at it for the longest time. What the fuck was going on?
Taking the seat across from him, my stomach clenching up in pain, and I remembered I slept through breakfast. Devouring the plate in front of me, I talked between bites. “I didn't hurt her, no matter what Cezar tells you. I found her looking under your bed, and I captured her; not knowing why she was out of the room, we agreed to keep her in any way.”
Nicu sighed before taking a bite of his meal. “I'm sure he wanted to let her shower and go to the restroom. Since he likes her so much, he wanted to impress her or something along those lines. It's not hard to figure out.” Clenching my jaw, I let that subtle dig go, even though it made me want to punch something.
"Well, the next thing I knew, she was throwing kicks like she was in the UFC and nailed me right in the dick."
Phantom pain ran up my cock; my hand rubbed it just on instinct. It really fucking hurt.
“She was having a flashback.”
His easy tone had me doing a double take, gobbling up a few chips on my plate. “What the fuck does that mean? Flashback of what?”
Nicu picked up a crumb that fell from the sandwich and stuffed it back in, his plate cleaner than when it came out of the dishwasher. I guess that's what happens when you're hypersensitive to that shit.
I waited for him to chew his food before he answered with ease. “She had been abused as a child. The man, Mike,” what was that emotion I heard in his voice? Was that even fucking possible for Nicu? “Used to grab her by the neck and say something like whatever you said. That caused her brain to pull up the traumatic event, and she went into survival mode.” The tick in his jaw just now was foreign to the emotionless, controlling brother I have always known.
Well, now I feel like shit. It must have been rough if even Nicu felt bad for her. Rubbing the back of my head, I stared down at my plate. I didn't mean to make the woman have a breakdown. I just meant to catch her, stop her from doing shit she wasn't supposed to. She wasn’t even supposed to be in that room. She was the one who was trespassing, and I was trying to make sure the prisoner didn’t get free. Sure. I might’ve also wanted to scare her a bit, but not like that. I was doing the right fucking thing.
I couldn't help but think about all of our mothers; each woman was different from the other, and their only connection was the man they birthed a child for. Each of them was always different in how they handled things and how they each treated us, but the one constant was our father being an absolute horror to all of them. That’s probably why all of us despise men who lay hands on women and kids.
"I wasn't the most upstanding man. Hell, I wasn't even good most of the time. I was never allowed to be." Killing a woman, using her emotions or body for my gain, I had no problem with doing, but beating up on her or her children was scumbag-level shit. I’ll lie to, steal from, or pull the trigger on a bitch, but I won't give her a black eye. That shit is beneath me. Even I, a piece of shit human, have standards.
Glancing back at Nicu, his hand opening and closing in a fist at a rhythmic pace, I knew he was pissed. While all three of us hated men like that, Nicu took it to another level. Just months ago, he heard that one of his men beat his wife to an inch of her life, and he hung him by his feet on a meat hook, sliced him open from dick to the chest, so the man's internals hit his face as he screamed in pain. He died with his face frozen in fear, and Nicu watched the whole thing without even a twitch of his cheek. That’s who Nicu was—the heartless golden boy, untouched by the shit the rest of us felt.
“Where is she now?”
Nicu looked down instead of his normal eyes-to-eye domination. “She is with Cezar.” His hand picked at his suit, smoothing the creases and picking off lint as his tone went lower, “She seems the most comfortable with him.”
I ran my tongue along my teeth, my whole body stiffening as his words settled wrong inside me. I was the one that was supposed to get her to soften, to open up. That was my fucking job. Cezar was the off-kilter executioner. He was born, bred, and trained for that role. How the fuck did he edge me out?!
“Calm. Down. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Nicu’s voice snapped me out of my head. Looking down at my hand, crushing the soda can, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Fuck! I needed to keep myself level. My position in this family was under attack, and I needed to get it back.
Keeping all of that shit to myself, I faced my brother, crafting the normal face of easy cockiness. “Sorry. Thinking about shit I left unfinished at home.” Needing to change the subject, I turned it back onto him. “Did you get a hold of our father? When are we going back?”
His lifeless, dark eyes turned towards me. Feeling their assistive gaze, I slouched in my chair, putting on the show that I didn't have a care in the world. That I wasn’t affected by withdrawals like he thought I was.
“He hasn't gotten back to me yet.”
Raising an eyebrow at him, I knew what it meant when our father went dark like this. Shit was going down, and he was keeping us out of it on purpose. Not because he was trying to keep us safe or anything sentimental like that. He did this when he thought he couldn't trust us when he wanted to put the three of us in our place. This reminds us that he was the head of this organization, and we were just kids to him.
It was the epitome of disrespect to all of us, but especially to Nicu, who was the one who had been groomed to take his place someday. “He’s such a fucking asshole.”
Nicu didn’t respond, which was normal for him, but when he tipped his head to the side, I saw the minuscule shift of his mouth lifting. A flash of my brother from when we were little kids hit me, and my scowl shifted upward. Instead of the styling, the depressing vibe I was used to when we talked about our father, a sense of levity lifted the space around us, reminding me that we were brothers at the end of the day. We only had each other in this life.
The screech of his chair echoed in the room, his face returning to its ruthless mobster mask. “I can't count on Cezar to remember. Can you get her something to eat? I will give her a day to calm down since my source won't have all the information until tonight.” His eyes narrowed on me, turning into hard coal-like rocks. “Tomorrow, I will get all the information I need from her. So, I need her to be in top condition before that.”
He didn’t even wait for my answer before walking away. That simmering anger underneath my skin bubbled to the surface again, and I bit my tongue to keep myself from causing another fight.
His steps paused, and I looked up, ready for him to bark out more orders at me, ones I was ready to refuse when I saw his face. His brows slightly furrowed under his downcast eyes, and his mouth opened and closed like he was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry,” he said before he twisted abruptly, stalking off to his room.
What the fuck was that about? Something about the weight of his gaze penetrated my soul, and I knew his sorry wasn't for anything that had happened that day. What the fuck was he sorry about?
Waiting for the door to his room to shut, I launched out of my seat; confusion and anger battled inside me. Why was he looking at me with such pity? Who was he to look at me like that?!
Anger began to edge out the confusion, and I jerked forward, throwing my plate into the sink. My fingers curled around the edge of the sink, clutching so hard they turned white. Why did he always treat me like this? Like some lost little kid? A sinking feeling filled my gut, and I screwed my eyes shut. Old insecurities rose from the graves in my soul.
Was I just useless to them? Was I just some ornament, the pretty boy, the second son of Arek Azadian? All my childhood, I heard the whispers in the shadows. He's just in case something happens to Nicu. He's not as smart as his older brother, not as savage as his younger brother. What was he going to do? Charm the enemy?
Memories flooded of my Father’s disapproving glances when the three of us were lined up together. His voice floated through my brain. Do you think you're something special? There are a million others that look just like you! What I need is for you to be useful! I need information, and if that means you fuck some old bitch to get it, then you will snort up some of this and do it because I say so. You’re a man, right? It should be easy enough…unless your dick doesn’t work.
Shoving my palms into my eyes, I tried to get those thoughts away.
He's just like his mother, the goddess of whores. What does that make him, then? The God of whores? I gritted my teeth, and their deep chuckles bounced around my skull.
My nostrils tingled, craving an escape. Normally, I’d drown this shit out with a few lines and a warm body pressed against me. Reaching into my empty pocket, I growled out in frustration. What the fuck was I going to do?
Looking around, my gaze caught on the loaf of bread still out. With a shaky hand, I reached for the bread.
I was pissed earlier when he told me to feed her. I wanted to remind him that I wasn't her maid and that she was our damn prisoner, but now, I was thankful to have something to do. Something to distract my mind from myself. Wasn't that quite pathetic of me?
Taking a breath, I got to work at crafting the sandwich, talking myself through each mundane step to keep myself from thinking about anything else. I was determined to make this the best damn sandwich in the world.
After I finished cutting it into perfect triangles and adding some chips between the slices, I was pretty damn proud of myself. It was a picture-quality plate, and I knew neither Nicu nor Cezar could make one look so good. Feeling just a blip of positivity, the voices from earlier not to be found, I picked up the plate and took it to her room.
She better fucking love this damn sandwich.
Just as my hand connected with the handle, her muffled cry rang out, and my mind went to the worst possible place. Cezar was hurting her. Nicu specifically said he wanted her in good shape for tomorrow. Cezar was going to fuck it all up, and I needed to stop him.
Busting into the room, I got ready to yell at him to stop whatever he was doing when my eyes instantly caught onto the mesmerized woman in front of me.
Stuck silent, my eyes trailed, her body curved backward with a fluidity that seemed to defy the laws of nature. The arc of her back spoke to her sensual, wild beauty fully on display, my eyes feasting upon her with fever. Her head tilted back, hair splayed out on the pillow like dark waves weaving against it. My fingers twitched, wanting to touch that gentle swell of her chest that seemed to reach for the sky.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream as her body trembled at a vision that I don't think I could ever erase from my mind. I couldn't help but take a step forward, drawn to this carnal display of pleasure.
“Not yours yet, brother.”
Cezar’s smug, choked-out words reminded me that he was in here, and I watched as he pumped himself into her until they both let out a strangled moan, coming together in unison like a perfect melody.
She slumped in exhaustion, eyes still closed, when he smiled at me. Running his hands along the side of her body as he bent over, he kissed a trail down her stomach as he continued languishingly pushing himself inside her, enjoying the aftershocks of her body.
That should be me. A nasty, desperate voice called in my head. My jaw clenched, and a silent ache of jealousy curled deep inside my gut. Thoughts of my inadequacy gnawed inside my head - What does he have that I don’t? Why would she open up like that for him and not for me? It didn’t make any fucking sense. I was the one that was bred for the looks, the body, the charisma. Me! Fucking me!
The memory of my mother's face swam to the forefront. Black-stained tears ran down her face, and a burning hatred filled her gaze as she dug her nails into my arms because I didn’t deserve it. You never have. You're not worthy.
“Oh my god, Ion.”
Shaking my head, I looked at her, the wild Roma that was our prisoner, clutching to the thin white sheet that didn't hide those pebbled nipples or the curve of her thighs coming together at her center. My mouth was watering just thinking of replicating that material picture of pure ecstasy her face had, but I took a step back.
Remembering the plate in my hand, I rushed to put it on the nightstand, mumbling out as I went out the door, “Make sure she eats.”
With laughter, Cezar replied to my back, “Of course, brother. I’ll always take care of our woman.” Our woman?
Closing the door, my hand squeezed on the handle at that little word. Was he trying to mess with me? Of course, he was; he was Cezar, after all. All of his screws were tightened; he was just missing the whole piece the screws were meant to go in.
I stood outside her door for a full minute, unable to think of anything else but what I saw. Going back over every detail, every curve and highlight of her skin. My dick tented in my pants just thinking about it. When I closed my eyes, I could see that face she gave me the day before, that sassy vengeful mouth that liked to talk down to me, and what it would look like as I made her cum every last drop that she had, making my dick dripping with her pleasure.
The vivid picture I envisioned almost had me moaning out loud until I bit the inside of my lip to keep quiet. Stalking off towards my room, my veins felt on fire, this overwhelming passion taking over my mind and body better than any drug had. I wanted to feel this feeling again; I wanted to feel this way inside of her.
Also, who knew that Cezar even had that in him? I didn't even think he liked women, let alone could fuck one like that. While I was pissed that he got to her before I did, I had to recognize that my little brother had more game than I thought he was capable of.
Going into my room and turning on the shower, I wanted to take the edge off before I crafted my plan of attack. I will make that woman mine, and I need to do it before Nicu interrogates her tomorrow. I could prove to him that I was useful, that the master of secrets could crack anyone. Even the beauty that gave him the death stare.
Wanting to set the mood for my pre-game jackoff, I opened my phone and saw the date glaring at me. March thirteenth.
The room around me slid away as I clutched the phone.
Nicu’s pitiful gaze returned to mind, his sad, mournful tone making more sense. He knew. He knew what today was.
An achy emptiness spread throughout my body. A cold, hollow weight pressed down on my chest, making it so hard to breathe that I clawed at my lungs. My skin seemed to crawl with each whisper of air around me, every touch sending sharp waves of discomfort.
A bead of sweat ran down my forehead, the sting in my eyes. Crashing to the floor, I wiped at them, trying to get the sting to go away. Finally, when I looked up, the room around me spun, and the voices of my past whipped around me like a tornado.
I looked down at my hands, which melted away like sand running through my fingers until they looked like children. My heart turned frantic as the space around me began to settle, and a familiar set of double doors with golden inlay were right before me.
“No.” No one heard my broken words as the doors began to open on their own. The pounding in my ears grew as my chest tightened too hard. Taking desperate shallow gulps of air just to keep myself upright.
That familiar creaking sound froze my body in an all-encompassing fear. Don't look up. Don't look up; I kept screaming to my younger self. Don't fucking look up!
My eyes traveled up like I had no control over my body. The first thing I saw was one foot with a red bottom shoe and the other foot bare. The red nail polish on the barefoot was the same color as the red bottom shoe, so they looked like they matched. Traveling further, I noticed her swaying in her normal peach silk nightgown.
A childlike sob broke from my lips, and my eyes immediately searched for the face I always knew, the one I was desperate for. With her head pulled to the side, her face had this pale, blueish tint instead of the flesh-pink vibrance I was used to.
With her eyes still open, they held a lifeless stillness that made me more fearful than anything else. Taking a step towards her body, I asked her to look at me with that familiar hate, with her anger. That I deserved it. I craved that mean look on her face that she had always given me; if that meant she was alive, then she could give it to me for the rest of her life.
I went to touch her feet when her raspy, cruel voice spoke from above. Her blue-tinted face snarled at me with those lifeless eyes. “Don't touch me, you vile thing!”
Shrieking back, I slammed onto the ground, clawing to get away when I felt the carpet underneath my fingers. Frantic, I jumped up, turning around the room like a madman as I saw I was in a house in America.
Looking down at my hands, they were back into my normal twenty-five-year-old hands. I almost let out a sigh of relief when that familiar creaking sound came from behind me, and I ran out of my room.
No. I don't want to think about that. I can't think about that. Water blurred my vision, and the only thing I could think of to drown out the sound, to drown out the pain, was drugs. This was Nicu’s old house when he attended college here in America. I’m sure he had some idiot friends come over with something.
Going into a wild frenzy, I went into every room and searched every nook and cranny, trying to find something I could consume, something I could drown myself in to forget it all.
With each empty room, desperation clawed at my throat, the voice from the past getting louder and louder. The last room was the pool table room, one I almost skipped when I noticed a long credenza against the back wall.
Opening all of the drawers, there was nothing, not even a crumb of anything. I was beginning to think my brother was too much of a saint in his college days when I shoved my hand deep inside the lower left cabinet, and my fingers touched the neck of a bottle.
Tugging it out, I saw it was a bottle of Spirytus vodka. Looking at the label, I could not read Polish, but I could still make out ninety-six percent, and I knew I hit the jackpot.
Unscrewing the top quickly, I gulped down that sharp, liquid fire. With the cold terror of my past slowly melting away, I staggered my way back to my room.