Chapter 28
Piper
The next few weeks pass in a haze of happiness.
Everything horrible that had happened to me lately seems to have grown distant.
The only thing that’s real right now is Quill, and though it feels impossible, it really does seem like he’s cast aside his to-do list and decided to remain with me.
At first, I kept getting nervous about the idea that this was temporary.
But with every passing day, I forget that our time in Oregon must come to an end sometime.
I find myself wondering if this will be our life for good from now on. I wish it could be.
Occasionally, my mind does turn inward, my heart heavy with memories of my parents.
I never even did any of the things you’re supposed to do when a parent dies.
Plan the funeral, invite relatives and friends, get closure.
I’m secretly glad that the suspicious nature of their deaths delayed all that.
When Jones died, it only delayed things further.
Their bodies have been stuck at the county morgue this whole time.
Logan told me after bringing me here that he was going to take care of it.
I’m grateful for that, and realizing it makes me feel guilty.
What kind of a daughter doesn’t want to attend her own parents’ funeral?
I guess a part of me is still in denial. I don’t want closure. I want them.
I’m very aware that everything that has happened since their deaths has prevented me from actually getting closure. I never even had time to sit with my own feelings.
And now that we’re in Oregon, I want to imagine that I’m healing, and part of me is. But part of me is also just happily in denial, because right now, Astley feels very far away. It’s like I’m stuck in a tiny, perfect bubble of happiness, and the minute it bursts, everything will come rushing back.
“These mushrooms are poisonous. You can tell by the white gills. Also when there’s any red on them. That’s another surefire sign. But you really shouldn’t eat them regardless, if you’re not sure.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
I tune back into Josh’s long explanations and Quill’s dry responses. In spite of all the healthy outdoor activities Logan told me we could enjoy around here, Quill and I have been spending most of our time indoors, engaging in a… different kind of activity.
Josh, meanwhile, has been going on long explorations of the surrounding forest, and when I have time to think about it, which isn’t all that often, I feel a pang of guilt, hoping he’s going out because he wants to and not because he doesn’t feel welcome in the house.
Today, though, Josh suggested we join him on a hike, and while the prospect didn’t exactly thrill me, I did want to spend some time with him.
Quill’s first reaction was to refuse, but he ended up giving in when I told him I was going with Josh regardless of what he wanted to do.
He really wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t letting me out of his sight, and I can’t say I mind it.
Now, Josh is busy giving us a detailed explanation of every single inch of vegetation we pass.
“How do you know all this?” I ask as we follow him down a path through a small clearing.
“My mom.” He shrugs. “She’s obsessed with plants.”
I smile, remembering the massive Bonzai tree we’d given the Devil receptionist. “I wish I could meet your mom.”
“She’s nice. You’d like her.”
I don’t even need to glance at Quill to know he’s scowling. He’s so possessive.
Again, I secretly don’t mind.
But what with feeling less anxious about our relationship with each passing day, I’m finding once more the part of me that used to love to tease him, just because I knew what would invariably follow.
“I bet I’d like your whole family. You have a little sister too, don’t you?”
“Yep. Zoey. She’s a handful. And Dad’s awesome, too, and so is my big brother. I love them, but they’re probably not too happy with me right now. Logan has them believing I decided on a whim to go stay with friends in Florida. I would never do that. We’re super close.”
“I’m sorry.” Right now, it’s not out of a desire to tease Quill that I rest a hand on Josh’s arm. Though I don’t exactly mind riling him up, either.
“S’okay. It’s worth it. Pretty cool adventure we’re having, huh?”
I can tell his previous cheerfulness is now tinged with something darker. It must be a struggle for him to have ended someone’s life.
“When all of this is over,” I say, “we’ll hang out with your family, and I’ll buy Zoey the biggest doll she’s ever seen. What’s her favorite color?”
“Blue. And she’s not a huge fan of dolls, but if you buy her a book, she’ll love you forever.”
“I already love her, just for that,” I declare.
“And my parents will love you too,” smiles Josh, looking a lot happier than he was a moment ago, when he was calling our adventure ‘cool’. “When they hear everything that’s happened, I’m sure they’ll invite you right in and coddle you and—”
“Alright, Josh,” cuts in Quill. “I’m thirsty.”
“Huh?”
Josh stops in confusion and turns back to him.
“Forgot my water bottle at the house. Go get it.”
“Quill!” I protest. “That’s not nice, you can’t just order him—”
“Beat it,” adds Quill, and Josh finally gets the hint.
“Right, right. I didn’t mean it like that, obviously. Just as a friend who—”
“What’re you still doing here?” grunts Quill.
“Sorry!”
Josh hurries away, and Quill watches him until he’s out of sight. Then he turns to me.
I’m glaring at him, my hands on my hips, positively fuming. Even more so when his mouth twists up into a smirk.
“You’re such an asshole. You can’t treat him like that. We both owe him our lives. He literally showed up at Devil Tower looking for me, and when Logan went down to free him from the cell, he—”
“If Logan hadn’t left because of him, the mafia wouldn’t have gotten to you,” points out Quill.
“Well, they would have eventually. Logan wouldn’t have spent all his time with me. He’s not you.”
“Thank God for that,” growls Quill.
I roll my eyes. “Anyway, even before he saved us, Josh was helping me. He’s the one who told Logan you were with Tragen. And I guess Logan knew enough about what Tragen was up to to be able to find me. He shot Tragen, and Josh killed Coltello’s guy.”
“Meaning everyone’s dead, and we should be able to go home,” grumbles Quill.
“Everyone is definitely not dead. Whoever hired Tragen is not dead, and Coltello himself isn’t dead. And their followers are probably not dead either.
Sighing, Quill pulls me to him, burying his face in my hair. “I’ll protect you. You don’t have to be scared, cricket.”
“I’m not scared,” I mumble into his chest. “Not out here, anyway. I probably would be scared if we went back to Astley. Why do you want to go back? Is this still about your to-do list?”
“No. I don’t want to go back. I just don’t want to be stuck here with idiot Josh.”
“Oh, my gosh, Quill!” I step back, my eyes flashing. “He’s my friend. You need to be nice to my friends!”
“Friend.”
“What?”
“Friend, singular. I need to be nice to your friend. You only have one.”
His teasing makes me angry again, but it’s a different kind of anger now. It’s the kind that makes me hope this will lead to an angry fuck.
“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice suddenly thick with lust as his fingers slide under my coat, finding the hem of my shirt and inching up over my bare skin.
“That’s one more friend than I have.” He’s not wearing gloves, and I shiver at his cold touch.
A glint of sadness flashes through his eyes before it’s replaced once more by lust.
“Quill…” I begin, my anger already melted.
His hands cup my breasts and I shiver again, losing my train of thought.
Then he traps my nipples between his fingers and twists them hard.
“Fuck, Quill!”
“Language, cricket,” he smirks, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Remember what I said would happen the next time you swore?”
The darkness in his eyes sparks a tingle of fear in me that sends a shudder down my spine and makes me wet between my legs.
“Quill, I—”
“Get me a switch.”
“A what?”
“A thin branch. A twig. Make sure it has some bend to it. Not too skinny. It has to last a while.”
“I… what? You’re going to switch me?” Any last remnants of anger disappear as I blush painfully, feeling my face grow splotchy.
“Uh huh. You’re lucky I don’t have any soap on me, or I’d be washing that filthy little mouth of yours too.”
“Oh my gosh, Quill!” I squeak.
But when he leans against the tree, crossing his arms, I scurry away to do what he says.
I have no idea why his threat is such a turn-on.
Obviously, I know by now that I like getting spanked.
But hearing him threaten to wash my mouth with soap…
I’m actually regretting that he doesn’t have any.
Hopefully he’ll act on it some other time.
Making a mental note to swear at him next time we’re near a sink, I hunt for a stick that fulfills all the requirements.
But as I return to Quill, my arousal is edged once more with anxiety, when I realize this is the first time he’ll be spanking me with an implement.
His spankings already have me reaching the limit of my tolerance.
Even though he was initially gentler after we were reunited, he’s gone right back to the old hard, relentless punishments.
It’s like he said. A good pain to replace the bad one.
It feels like every time I find myself over his lap, it does more to heal me than anything else.
Though I can only imagine what a therapist would say to that.
I swallow nervously, wondering if he can possibly be planning to hit me as hard with the switch as with his hand.
And then, there’s the thought that Josh could be back at any minute. I hope he got the subtext, and is staying far away.
Quill notes the nervousness in my eyes, and he pulls me to him at once, his eyes soft again. “Come here, you,” he murmurs, kissing me tenderly. “I won’t hurt you, cricket, if you don’t want me to.”
My fear turns to disappointment. “It’s not… It’s just…”
“Yes?” he breathes into my mouth.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”
He tucks a tendril of my hair behind my ear, then cups my chin. “What do you mean?”
“It’s like you’re… you’re giving me a choice. I don’t like that.”
What a weird thing to say, I realize. What kind of a feminist am I?
I should be glad he’s letting me choose.
Giving me an out. And yet, I don’t like knowing that what happens next is up to me.
It makes me feel like there’s a heavy weight pressing down on my shoulders.
I hate it. I need him to take control. Real control.
He doesn’t speak for a moment, and I feel myself on the edge of that old precipice, resisting the urge to say sorry without knowing why.
Before I begin to spiral, though, he asks, “But if I don’t give you a choice, how can you put a stop to it?”
“I can’t,” I whisper. “But I don’t want to be able to.”
He draws back to study me, his expression making me shift uncomfortably.
“What if I go too far?” he questions at last.
“Then I’d have no choice but to follow,” I breathe against his chest.
He takes my chin again, forcing me to meet his eye. I can tell the darkness has returned, but it’s edged with something else. Concern. He wants what I’m offering him, but he’s scared to take it.
“This is what I need,” I insist. “I need to feel comfortable resisting, saying no, trying to put a stop to it. And knowing it’ll happen anyway. I want to feel completely helpless. At your mercy. I want you to control me, really control me.”
Quill presses me against him. I can feel his long shuddering breaths, his stiffness against my lower stomach. I haven’t freaked him out. He’s just as turned on by me at the thought of me relinquishing all control.
He tears himself away from me, his eyes hooded with lust as he gazes at me. Then he whispers, “Run.”
I swallow nervously. “What?”
“Start running, cricket,” he breathes. “And you better run fast. You better try your damn hardest to escape me, because if I hunt you down, I’m going to have my way with you, and you won’t be able to do a thing about it. Turn around and run.”
The setting sun has turned him into a shadowy creature, sheathing his face in darkness, with only the whiteness of his scar standing out in stark relief. I bite down on a scream, an actual, full-bellied scream, my lungs squeezing with real fear. And then I do just what he says. I run.
Although deep down I know it’s just a game, it doesn’t feel like one. I’m running through the forest, faster than I ever have, thorns and branches whipping at my skin, my adrenaline spiking.
It doesn’t take a huge leap of imagination to believe that it’s a real monster hunting me, and it’s terrifying to know I’m his prey.
I’m definitely not fit, so it doesn’t take long for me to start panting hard, but I keep going.
I don’t hear a thing behind me, so I vaguely wonder if, after all, I’ve managed to escape.
But I know Quill well enough to realize I can never hope to escape him, and that both terrorizes me and thrills me in equal measure.
I’m just reaching a small clearing in the woods, gasping for breath, my body covered in a sheen of sweat, when a sudden force knocks me down, and I feel myself being pinned under a hard, warm body.
Two legs straddle either side of me, while a large hand grabs both my wrists and traps them behind my back.
“Quill! Let me go! Stop!”
Remembering what I’d told Quill just before, I wriggle around desperately, protesting loudly, and my heart races with excitement when he doesn’t loosen his grip. If anything, he tightens it.
Fuck. It feels so good to put up a fight, to get out all of my frustration and pain, all the emotions that sometimes make my heart heavy in spite of my current happiness. The more I see he’s not letting go, the more I’m driven to resist, just to feel his control over me.
Then I feel his other hand pull down my jeans and palm my ass possessively.
“Alright, little cricket. Ready for your punishment?”