Chapter Thirty-Four #2
“Hurry the fuck up – Jesus fucking Christ, motherfucker .” He chokes, holding himself steady while I dig out the bullet while Jonas holds a flashlight for me so I can see it.
It clinks in the bowl and Maverick thanks me with a rushed exhale while I finishing plucking out the debris, stitch him up then prep him and hook him up to an IV bag with antibiotics in the living room so he can sit comfortably and hopefully rest in the recliners I have set up like a triage room in the living area.
All that’s missing is the curtains to separate them.
We will never separate ever again.
“Rest.” Is all I say, handing him a few painkillers.
It takes me no time to disinfect and stitch up my pup.
When he kisses me, his lips taste a little salty, but I don’t let it linger.
I know he’s feeling so many rushing emotions, same as I am.
But I hook him up to an IV bag and have him settle on the recliner across from Maverick and give him the same order to rest along with a painkiller .
I do the same with Ivan, thanking him, to which he shrugs at me and jerks his chin to Jonas, telling me he was just doing his job.
I turn to my love and grab her hand, tugging her behind me so I can check her and myself out in the bathroom in front of a mirror.
The tip of my ear is grazed and so is my arm, but I won’t need stitches, just some skin glue. But all of that can wait. Now that she and I are alone, I can ask the questions I would normally ask a patient in private. I let out a breath.
“Did he touch you?”
She shakes her head but then stops. “He… gave me a sh-shower.”
That’s why her hair was wet and she smells different.
“I’m going to run you a bath, okay? All your same items from home are here. I just need to get this scent off you.”
“I st-st-stink?”
“No, little bird. Not like you’re dirty.
You just don’t smell like yourself. I love you…
but I can’t…” I swallow thickly, “I can’t stand it.
I didn’t allow myself to think anything negative while we were trying to get to you, but Amourette…
once you were in my arms, all I could think was everything negative because you didn’t smell like home.
And if I could do just one thing for my mind to stop racing, is smell you, will you please allow me that sense of peace? ”
She nods, big brown eyes wide in understanding. “You smell like blood.”
I laugh, letting more tears fall because fuck, she’s so beautiful it makes my heart hurt. “I guess, if you’re okay with it, I’ll run you a bath and then shower myself. Yes?”
“D-don’t leave mm-me alone, p-please.”
My heart breaks and I have to clear my throat. “Never again. I’ll shower while you bathe, then I’ll have you sit in the living room with Maverick and Jonas while I hook you up to an IV so you can rest while I make us something to eat.”
“Oh..kay.”
Relief floods me and I get to work .
I can rest later.
There are new bruises on her wrists that Maverick didn’t place there, bruises on her hips not caused by Jonas gripping her to tight, and the mark on the back of her neck now scaring, is from taking something I did place there.
The primal urge to replace them all with my own bruises and marks and reclaim her as mine is all-consuming and so fucking necessary.
I want to consume this woman with everything that I am and erase every rotten memory she’s ever been given and take them all for myself.
I will work every fucking day to make sure this never happens again.
I think of everything any of us could have done differently, but it’s just as Maverick said; they took their opportunity. The only one they’ve had for months.
I step into the shower, washing myself until the water runs clear down the drain then wash my hair and my body. My muscles ache, and the warmth of the water feels fucking fantastic, but my mind is still on the woman waiting for me in the porcelain tub next to me.
It takes me no time to dry myself, wrapping the towel around my waist, immediately going to the tub and kneeling beside it to make myself useful.
I have the washcloth in my hand, wet and lathered with her favorite body wash, asking her to turn so I can get her back and shoulders before moving to her front.
Small little sighs escape her the further down I go, and the man in me awakens.
I was trying not to push, to be as professional as possible but with each little moan, my dick weeps with need to be inside of her, to feel her wrapped around me, feel her body pressed against mine as God intended.
I’m taken aback when she places my hand between her thighs, and I have to bite my lip to keep in my moan. “Putain, Amourette.”
“Daddy…”
I am a weak, weak man. “Oui?” Yes ?
“Fais-moi me sentir mieux ? S’il te pla?t? Aide-moi à oublier.” Make me feel better? Please? Help me forget.
“Putain, Amourette, j’essaie d’être un homme bien.” Fuck, Amourette, I’m trying to be a good man. I let the washcloth fall from my fingertips to the bottom of the tub, letting my middle finger slip into her heat.
“I need…”
“What is it you need, Little Love?”
Her moan is raspy, but it doesn’t stop her from saying, “My daddy.”
Christ, this is possibly how I’ll die. Buried between her thighs with a discernable look of pleasure on my face and not a fuck given.
Without another word I withdraw my finger, and I do the only sane thing, the thing that makes me feel like myself, which is never denying her my love, and reach down to hook her knees over one thick forearm, slide the other behind her back and stand with her in my arms, heading straight to the bed, losing my towel in the process.
Her still damp legs fall open, the pink heaven between her thighs glistening with arousal and moisture from her bath and my head dips to taste her succulent cunt, groaning when her arousal touches my taste buds.
Home.
Her back arches and her thighs pull up on their own accord to accommodate the span of my broad shoulders and every breathy sigh sends shivers down my spine.
I lap and suckle at the engorged bud, plunging two fingers deep into her tight channel, drinking every drop of delicious cream that leaves her.
I am nothing but a devout man worshipping at the shrine between her legs, a heathen begging for a mere morsel of her divinity. Everything about her is nothing less than sacred to me.
Her hands dig into my hair, drawing me closer, my tongue swirling and teasing, lips nipping, teeth scraping, each cry music to my ears. My cock weeps, aching to be inside of her and when I remove my fingers only to adjust myself between her thighs, she welcomes me with open arms.
Her kiss is the sweetest, the most rejuvenating thing on this planet, her mouth the most pleasant thing I’ve ever had the honor of having against mine, (besides her pussy) I am a man engulfed in the finest, heated silk when my cock finds her entrance and I sink into her, cradling her to me when she cries out my name, eyes latched on mine.
“That’s right, Amourette. You look at daddy when you come for him,” I moan softly.
“So… so big. S-so full!”
“And you’re so very wet, and so very, very tight. Such a good girl taking daddy's thick cock in your sweet little pussy.” I growl, putting power into each thrust so I can feel her nipples graze my chest with each recoil. “I need you to come for daddy. Make a big mess so I can clean it.”
Every word is spoken between kisses, tongues colliding and when I lick along the column of her throat she flutters around me.
It’s a quick, hungry fuck but I needed this more than her.
To feel her stretch around my cock and every earth-shattering clench, to hear her breath hitch, those little sighs, to see look into her eyes when she shatters for me.
I don’t dare break apart from her, holding her closer as sweat accumulates between us, but every gasp and rock of her hips has us both tumbling, racing towards an edge we're diving off of. Together.
“Damon! Please! I need… everything! Mm-more!” she begs so prettily, and I am a weak man, lost in the rasp of her tired vocal cords crying out to me to love and fuck her with all that I am.
“Feel me fill your pussy. Come apart for me, Raven. Such a good girl for daddy.” I groan, unable to keep from spilling inside of her at what feels like lightning speed, sparks of fire licking at my lower back.
Her eyes widen and I nod, unembarrassed that I’ve shot my load too quickly, but it makes her begin to pulsate, raking her fingers down my back, nails scratching and knowing she’s marking me, claiming me triggers another small release of my seed to her womb until I’m a trembling heap above her.
I trail kisses from her lips to her neck up to her chin, cheek and temple, unwilling to disconnect from her yet. “You and I will never part again. If I have to place a biochip between every vertebra to ensure I never lose you again, so be it.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she hums sleepily, but I don’t let her get too comfortable. I still need to get her hydrated and feed her.
I make quick work of cleaning us, getting us dressed and back out to the guys the take her from me with waiting arms and when I come back with another biochip to insert into the back of her neck on the other side of where the other one was pulled out, even with the other in her shoulder, she only moves her hair to the side and accepts my form of control.
“I loved you longer…”
That may very well be true… but I will love her harder .
________
Drained of any natural energy, I place the roasted chicken, potatoes, and green beans on the table, unsurprised when Raven and Jonas come in to help set it for me. Mav digs out a chilled bottle of red wine, stares at it a little too long and opts for white. I would have done the same.
We sit around the table, me at the head, Raven on one side with Maverick, Jonas on the other, Ivan beside him.
He digs in easily, as we continue to stare at our food.
Starving, but exhausted. Eating will feel like a chore and as soon as we all begin digging in, it does.
Forks scrape against the plates, loud in the silence but it’s not overbearing. It simply is.
Raven pushes her plate away after a few bites and Maverick tries to get her to eat more but I let him know she hasn’t eaten in five days.
We at least had MREs to feed ourselves. They kept her starved and…
drugged. My stomach clenches and I lose my appetite, unable to take another bite of anything.
I rise, grabbing my plate and hers and throwing them into the waste bin, plates and all.
They crash loudly at the bottom, causing me to flinch but I don’t care.
I am so grateful we found her. I am so ecstatic she’s alive.
I am so… I am so angry we lost her in the first place.
We took so many precautions. We had so many security measures in place and even though I can’t be angry with a carnivorous Kronos for being distracted by a piece of meat, I am.
If we had been just a few hours too late, would Prescott have hunted my little bird?
I can’t fathom a life without her.
Every negative emotion I didn’t allow myself to feel suddenly bubbles to the surface and I grip the edge of the counter, feeling it all rise, squeezing my lungs and heart together.
There is so much evil in this fucking world, and we only scraped the surface.
The only good thing that’s happened is the only Prescott left seems to not be able to differentiate his asshole from a hole in the ground.
But I want each and every single one of them to pay.
“Jonas,” I rasp, inhaling deeply.
“Yeah?”
I allow myself to face them, not hiding the pain on my face. I need to distract myself with anything. “You said there were tunnels under Rayne-Moore?”
“Yeah?”
“Where do they lead?”
“Mostly to where we do the initiations. It’s like a dungeon.”
“The Rayne's and the Moore's… what were they known for? Why aren’t they around?”
They all stop eating, Ivan included and stare at me. I know I may sound crazy, but we are so fucking far from any of us being crazy. In this world, it’s flipped. The crazy have been sane, and the seemingly sane ones have been absolutely fucked in the head.
My pup's hazel eyes connect with mine, but he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “Architecture.”
It's one fucking word but it’s enough. I race to my room, grab my laptop and back, settling back in my chair, firing it up and typing out the information I need.
Ding-ding-goddamn- ding .
The blueprints for the Anderson home show ‘historical entrances from the underground railroad’ cited on the website. I type in the Monroe residence as well then type in the Hoover's address.
Goddammit. They all have them. Not only that, but each blueprint is showing ‘servant corridors' something the wealthy would have pre-plumbing for servants to carry chamber pots out of bed chambers to empty them out and not disgust the owners of the homes.
We have them in this house. The house staff still uses them to get from one room to the other quickly.
“How long has your home been in your family?”
He arches a dark brow. “Generations.”
I look at my little love. “The Monroe mansion? How long have the Monroe’s lived there?”
Same. Generations. She signs.
“Were there… hidden passageways?”
He takes a sip of his wine, thumb grazing over the condensation from the chilled wine. “Yeah.”
“And for you, Amourette? Did you have them?”
She shakes her head, looking confused, dark brows pinned together.
My eyes roam over the screen, Maverick rising to stand behind me to see what I’m seeing.
“Yes, Siren… looks like you did have them. You probably just never knew where to look for them.”