Lielit
My tea was the perfect temperature. Not hot enough to burn and warm enough to enjoy the taste. I smiled with satisfaction when he dragged Anthony Hanson out of the boot by his neck. I don't know why Blaidd wasn't wearing a shirt but I was enjoying the show.
There was some cursing and swearing. Even through the double glazing, I heard the dull thuds each time Blaidd’s fist connected with Anthony’s face.
I counted four before I sipped my tea again.
My demand was simple. I wanted Blaidd to find out where he’d planned on sending me and who these men were. If there were other women and children who could be rescued in time then all this would be worth it.
I just hadn't realised how hot it would make me seeing Blaidd in action. He was usually so cold and precise. I nibbled on my bottom lip as he scraped his face along the gravel.
He didn't stop. I took another sip of my tea, moving along the window to watch him pound his head on the footpath.
“…touch what's mine,” he roared.
My heart began to pound and my fingers curled around my mug.
The muscles around his neck bulged while his face turned dark red.
He could be a red-tailed devil and I would still bounce up and down his dick right now.
Bouda sighed.
We are supposed to have some decorum and you're leaking all over the place.
Don't give me that. I was with you in the woods when you were swishing your tail at Fenrir, I said with a chuckle.
He untied Anthony’s hands, tossing the tie aside, and grabbed him by the shirt. Anthony must have had little circulation left in his limbs because his arms shoogled like limp noodles.
His face was a bloody mess.
Blaidd suddenly looked up, and my hands froze mid-sip.
His eyes were deep blue one second—then they flashed to Fenrir’s bronze. The colour shift was instant, electric. The faint sparkle in them was mesmerising.
Bouda nearly made me smack my face against the glass.
Decorum, my arse.
Blaidd’s lips curled to one side as he released Anthony’s shirt. He straightened—but when I glanced down, I saw he still had a fistful of Anthony’s hair. I watched as he turned and walked away, dragging him across the ground behind him, kicking and screaming.
I stroked my belly.
The world had better watch out for our unique brood.
Our legacy.
?
?
?
The screams blossomed between each strike of the hammer hitting the nail. The sound of metal against metal made me glance towards the garage. That did not sound like ordinary nails that he was hammering.
He wouldn't let me go in, so I spent most of my day in the kitchen eavesdropping on the interrogation.
The utility room door opened, and he paused to look at me. There was blood spatter on his hands and arms, with a lighter spotting on his chest and face. He sniffed.
“Dinner smells nice,” he murmured.
“Food is ready. I was waiting for you.”
“Let me get washed up,” he said, striding across the kitchen.
I nodded and waited until I heard him sprint up the stairs. I tossed the tea towel on the counter and headed to the garage.
Anthony was strung up to the metal frame for the garage door. Beneath his feet were two thick slabs of tree trunks with trails of blood running down them. Blaidd had hammered thick nails into his feet, binding each foot to the wood.
“Please,” Anthony whimpered.
His fancy shirt and suit were gone.
“I doubt you’d have had any mercy for an innocent child,” I said, my voice cold and harsh. “At least now you know what it feels like to be violated as an adult.”
His tears meant nothing to me.
With my curiosity satisfied, I turned to leave, ignoring his cries for help.
?
?
?
He kept staring at me while we ate. His hair was still damp, a royal-blue T-shirt clinging to his shoulders. Every so often, Anthony’s sobs or broken pleas drifted through the house—but neither of us flinched.
“I’m arranging a raid at the location he gave me,” Blaidd said, lifting his glass.
I nodded. “And his client?”
“He won’t be prime minister for much longer,” he replied casually, popping a chunk of baby sweetcorn into his mouth.
My eyes widened.
Our prime minister?
He stood before I could say a word.
“Are you finished?” he asked.
I nodded again, and he helped me out of my chair, steady and deliberate.
“All day,” he murmured, brushing his lips over mine, “your scent has been driving me wild.”
My fingers curled into his T-shirt.
“It’s time to plug that leak,” he whispered against my ear.
Bouda snorted with laughter. He has a way with words.
I can’t believe he’s leaving dirty dishes behind, I said as he took my hand and led me down the hallway.
Even as he kicked the bedroom door open, all I could think about was how he hadn’t hesitated when I asked him to rescue the victims lined up to be shipped away. It was rare for me to ask him for anything, because he would usually use it as a bargaining chip.
Something had shifted between us, and we were standing on a new playing field.
It was a thought I’d have to explore another time.
When his mouth wasn’t plastered to my pussy.