12. Ezekiel
12
EZEKIEL
W hat if will kill you. She should try to remember that herself.
We sleep, Blue drifting off before I ve even said what I said, exhausted. I hold her close, so close, and I close my eyes and breathe her in. I meant what I said. She should walk away. Hell, she should run. I can t give her what she wants. But I m not sure I can let her go either.
When I wake, it s to the feather light touch of fingers on my back.
It s morning. Sunlight streams in through the windows. I remain as still as I can, her touch sending shudders through me as she traces the lines of my tattoo, the intertwining bodies of the beasts.
Twin dragons, she says quietly. I saw it on Isabelle too. And your brother, I think he has something similar. I ve seen the ink peeking out from beneath his sleeves. I roll onto my other side to look at her. She smiles. Did I wake you?
I kiss her mouth. She kisses me back.
She traces the tails circling my arms. What does it mean?
The emblem of the St. James house. Draca St. James created it. They represent power, kinship. Chaos and wickedness. Mostly the last two, I d say, given our family history. I smile and she does too.
I think they re sexy. She slides her hand down my front, under the covers and I let out a low groan when she wraps it around my cock.
Do you? I ask, letting her touch me. I can feel her inexperience in the way she moves. I climb on top of her, set my elbows on either side of her face and kiss her deeply before drawing back. Tighten your grip. Like that, good.
She swallows as I cover her hand with mine and show her how. Our eyes are locked, and I lean closer to kiss her again before nudging her knees apart with my own, taking both of her wrists over her head and sliding into her.
You feel so fucking good, Blue. Like you were made just for me.
I fuck her slow and deep and listen to her quiet moans, pulling out to turn her over onto her stomach. I set her hands on the rungs of the headboard. She looks back at me as I push the covers off and kneel between her legs, hauling her hips up and splaying her open so I can see all of her.
You re fucking beautiful. I will never get enough of you. I bend my head, lick her pussy, her ass, before laying myself over her, sliding into her again. I close my hands over her wrists. I like knowing my come is inside you, I tell her, shifting one hand down to draw her cheek out, to fuck her deeper, before sliding that hand around to play with her clit.
I m going to come.
I grin. Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my dick. Like the good girl she is, she does, and it takes all I have to hold on as her pussy throbs around my cock. Only when she s gone limp beneath me to do I pull out and roll her onto her back once more. I kneel between her legs and grip my cock which is wet with her and thrust into my hand. I m going to paint you in my come, I tell her, and she bites her lip, lifting herself up on her elbows greedy to watch me jerk myself off.
I ve never seen anything like this, she says and looks up at me with those big, beautiful eyes. She slides one hand between her legs, pulling her knees up so I can watch her masturbate too and fuck, it s so fucking hot. I grip the headboard and lean over her as my orgasm takes me, my dick throbbing in my hand as Blue watches, mouth agape and I come on her stomach, her chest, her breasts. I paint her, just as I said I would and when I m nearly empty, I dip my cock against her lips and she opens her mouth to swallow the last of it, licking me clean as I empty down her throat.
When I m finished, I take her hand and rub my come all over her, ending at her pussy to bring her to orgasm once more. She arches her back and I see how that line forms between her brows as she squeezes out every drop of pleasure from me. My little convict is greedy too.
We eventually move to the bathroom where I run the shower, and we step into the large stall.
This is getting to be a habit, she comments as I shampoo her hair.
One I like. We ll have to color your hair.
Her smile fades. Why?
I look down at her, eyebrows raised. It s a little recognizable, don t you think?
They re dead. The Hoxton brothers are dead.
We don t know how much Girard or Augustus know. I m not taking any chances.
She considers, then nods.
I ll arrange everything. We ll move Wren, which, by the way, you shouldn t have told her you d be there, and you know that.
She ll be more comfortable if I am. She s my priority, Zeke. I won t fail her again.
Do you remember what you told me last night? I ask her, turning her so I can wash her back. About how what ifs can kill you? I lean close to her ear. Take your own advice. What your father did is not your fault.
She turns, puts her hands on my shoulders. No more than what yours did to Zo? is yours.
Her saying Zo? s name takes me a minute.
Turn around, she says.
She picks up the body wash and I turn my back to her. In a way, hearing Blue say Zo? s name puts some distance between me and this dark secret, this history I never talk about. My sister whom I never mention. It makes her human again. Not just the victim of a monster. I don t want her memory to be associated with his but it's what I ve been doing ever since I found out the truth. Zo? deserves better. She deserves to be remembered for who she was, not for the victim he made of her.
Who was Draca St. James? What s his story? Blue asks.
That s very old and not very pretty. It dates back to the 1600s. I turn to face her. I ll tell you sometime. I switch off the water and grab a towel to dry her off gently, wrapping it around her before draping one low around my hips. I follow Blue out.
Is Isabelle s tattoo from the marking ceremony? she asks.
I nod.
So, your brother did that to her?
I nod again.
Did she want it? I don t comment. She snorts.
They re very much in love, I tell her.
Were they always very much in love?
Love takes time, I say, wanting to defend my brother.
She rolls her eyes, shifts her gaze to her reflection and finger combs her hair. I m going to miss the blue.
You can dye it again once this is over. We both pause when I say this because it s the first time either of us has mentioned a future. Something beyond Girard and her father, a life after the danger, once she s safe and free.
Free.
Tell me about the marking ceremony, she says before I can go too far down that rabbit hole.
I nod and we walk into the other room where I pull on clothes, jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt today. It s a warm day. We then head to her bedroom where I choose a dress for her, but she ignores me, grabs her jeans.
They need to be washed. Pick something else. I take the jeans away and, although reluctant, Blue puts on a simple pale blue A-line dress.
I make a mental note to arrange for more clothes, jeans, and things she s more used to wearing than Isabelle s dresses. I follow her into the bathroom where I stand at the door and watch her put on her makeup. It s weirdly intimate and I like it. She mostly uses coverup around the scar and now the bruises, along with a little mascara. Her makeup was heavier when she worked at The Cat House. Part of the uniform. She doesn t need it, though. She s beautiful.
It s a Society custom. Wives are marked by their husbands on their wedding day, I say, answering her earlier question.
One of her eyebrows arches as we make our way downstairs to breakfast. The kitchen is quiet, Cynthia didn t come today. I m surprised when Blue opens the refrigerator, studies the contents. She takes out bacon, eggs, bread and milk, then begins to rummage through the cabinets until she finds cinnamon.
What are you doing? I ask.
Making breakfast. French toast, bacon and eggs.
You can cook?
She is crouched at a lower cabinet and looks up at me like I m from another planet before straightening and setting two bowls on the counter.
Don t get too excited. It s breakfast. Also, we didn t all grow up with servants at our beck and call.
I smile. I ll make coffee. She begins to work on breakfast, cracking eggs and mixing cinnamon and milk in one bowl while setting the bacon to sizzle in a pan. A few minutes later, the kitchen smells make my stomach growl. Once the coffee is ready, I pour her a mug and stand back to watch.
Continue with your story. I m riveted by this insanity, she says.
After the wedding ceremony, it is customary for the new bride to kneel at her husband s feet and present her back and neck to him to place his mark.
She gives me side eye. That s very modern of you. She turns her attention back to cooking. I would never do that. Ever. If any man ever expected me to, well, he d be in for a shock.
Would he? I ask, a realization dawning on me as I watch her, listen to her.
You bet.
Does she realize no one outside of The Society knows this about us? Do I realize what I m doing in telling her? What it means? In a way, I do. Telling her what I did about Zo?, well, that set the stage. And whether or not I like it, things have changed between us, and I can t ignore what happens in my gut at the thought of Blue kneeling at my feet and offering herself to me to be marked.
Go on, she prods when I m silent too long. I weirdly want to hear. Like a car crash you can t look away from.
It s a ceremony and a rite in and of itself. The other Sovereign Sons witness the marking of the new bride.
Sovereign Sons?
There are tiers, I suppose you could say. Founding family members and their descendants.
So, like a caste system.
I sip from my mug. She s not wrong. But she s not quite right either. There are different kinds of people, Blue. And believe it or not, most marriages within The Society are just like any in the outside world. Women choose this.
Not in Isabelle s case.
Correct. But that s another story and one for her to tell. Suffice it to say the Bishop and St. James families have centuries of history between them dating back to Draca. Isabelle and Jericho have healed the past. Together, they will create a new future for both families.
That s actually kind of nice. She plates bacon, eggs and French toast on two dishes, and we move to the counter to eat. So, these men watch the bride kneel and get marked. She waggles her eyebrows. Sounds porny. Go on.
I chuckle, enjoying watching her eat. She seems always ravenous. I suppose it kind of does although I m sure no one within IVI would put it that way.
I suppose it s good for Cat House business.
Or good for the men to go back home and fuck their wives. Here. I put my bacon on her plate because she s gone through hers.
Don t you want it?
I ve had enough, I say, getting up to set my dish in the sink. Some women are branded, as you saw. The men choose between ink and fire.
I m guessing those women aren t the ones who do this willingly.
I don t answer that. I turn to face her instead. My father chose fire, too.
It takes her a beat. She blinks, her mouth falls open.
It s not the worst of his crimes, as you know, but he paid. Not enough, not nearly. I turn back to wash my dish. He paid. Blue joins me at the sink, and I wash her dish too. When I m finished, she slips into my arms and wraps hers around me.
I find myself holding her. Just holding her. And I have this feeling, this thing rising up inside me. A premonition? No. I don t believe in those. But I hug her tighter because I feel like this is all going to go away too soon. Like she will go away, and I ll be here holding air where she once stood.
We should go, I say hoarsely before the feeling can overwhelm me.
She nods and I see her swipe her hands over her eyes as she turns away. Did she feel it too?
Let me just grab my purse.
I take my phone out to scroll through messages while I wait. When Blue comes back into the kitchen, she s holding her purse on her arm and her phone in her hand. She looks white as a ghost.
What? I ask, going to her.
I had a voicemail from the landlord. She hits a button and we both listen: What did you do ransack the place? You can kiss that security deposit goodbye and you can bet your ass I ll be sending you the bill for the repairs. I should never have let you rent the place.