Page 25 of Fighting for Lucy

What did revenge matter if Lucy was dead?

The guys on his team would kick his backside if he prioritized vengeance over the life of a woman they knew he had some sort of feelings for. Feelings he’d never verbalized, not even to himself, but they knew. Knew he was different every time he went to catch up with his sister and saw her friends while he was there. Knew it was because of one of the women on Athena Team, although they might not have known which.

Half the guys on his team had been married, a couple had kids, and their last words and last thoughts had been for the loved ones they were leaving behind. There was no doubt in hismind that any one of them would do whatever it took to protect those loved ones. Because if they didn't, then all the horror they experienced would be for nothing.

Lucy’s life trumped everything.

It had to.

If he let her die like she meant nothing, like her life was worthless and easily forfeited, then there was no way he would ever be able to look at himself in the mirror again.

Seven deaths rested on his conscience.

No more.

Especially not hers.

CHAPTER SEVEN

January 24th

8:04 A.M.

Who would ever have guessedthis could be such horrific torture?

Usually, in the bedroom, all you could think about was orgasms, of the excitement of being worked up until you tumbled over that edge. It was fun and intoxicating and was what made sex so wonderful.

But when there was no falling over the edge, just hour upon hour of standing with your toes dangling over that edge, but that was it, you never got to actually fall, then it was absolute torture.

Lucy wasn’t super experienced in the bedroom, she’d always been too busy pursuing other goals to date a whole lot. Casual sex with men she didn't know well wasn’t really her thing, so the only time she got sex was when she was in a relationship, and she could quite literally count on one hand the number of relationships that had lasted long enough to get to the sex stage.

It wasn’t that she didn't like sex or dating, it was just that sooner or later her epilepsy seemed to become an issue.

Or maybe it was all in her head andherissue.

The second they treated her like she was incapable of doing something on her own, coddling her as her family did, then she always ended things.

While it made for a lonely life in some areas, the rest of her life was so full of work, family, friends, and finding adrenalin highs to chase to prove to herself that she was indeed capable. Usually, she didn't dwell on the things missing in her life, she was grateful for everything that she had, and worrying over what she didn't never seemed like a good use of her time.

Right now, though, she was wishing there was a man around who wasn’t so utterly repulsive to her that she could beg him to relieve her suffering without feeling like she was disrespecting herself.

So far, she had been good to her promise to herself. There had been no begging or pleading, but she was pragmatic enough to have already come to the conclusion that it couldn’t last.

Sooner or later, she would beg.

And plead.

And all but throw herself down on the floor with her legs open and let the closest man bring her body some measure of relief. Her body only because when that day came it would break her mind.

Hearing Scarlett describe what the drug had felt like as it had flooded her system was nothing compared to living it herself. The clawing need low in her belly that felt like a physical being trying to tear its way through her flesh was impossible to explain to someone else. While in theory, it might sound fun to be so turned on that you could have sex for hours without needing a break, in reality, it was pure hell.

Because there was no sex.

There was no relief.

There was just burning in your veins, begging you to set it free.

If her hands weren't bound behind her back, she absolutely would have thrown caution to the wind, put her hands between her legs, and taken care of herself.

---