Page 18 of Unbroken

“He is probably killing our mother,” he bites out. He brings his sword down in an arc, aiming for my face, growling as he does. I’ve pissed him off, he is still angry at me because I don’t think my mother is worth saving. In the past three days since we cremated my father’s body, I’ve not talked to anyone, preferring to throw myself into training. My magic feels like a second skin finally, instead of an uncertain limb I don’t know how to use. I can’t face Bishop, and I’ve avoided Esme and the triplets. Well, mostly Rodyn; Ty and Trys don’t know the word “no,” and I don’t mean that in a taking away my choice, they’ve been the only ones to see through my bullshit and come see me regardless of me pushing them away. I lean away, pivot, my shoes squeak from the move as I swing my sword up to meet his. His comment catches me off guard and I block him at the last minute. I almost forgot the question I asked before my water assault.

I ignore him and keep moving, we both fall into our usual dance of moves and countermoves. Marcus is a beast, his muscles bunch under his sweat-drenched training clothes, a white tank top and red basketball shorts. Not his normal sparring clothes, but he had to make do as all of his belongings are back at Caelum. He isn’t holding back, and I don’t want him to. The force of his blows are jarring as he slams into me repeatedly. I smile and block another strike as he forces me backward. With a flick of my wrist, I use my telekinesis to pick up one of my knives off the floor and send it flying towards him. Marcus’s eyes widen in surprise as the blade flies straight for his face, he spins but the tip nicks his cheek. Blood flows down his face and I falter. The sight stops me in my tracks as I drop my sword and go to him.

“Oh shit, Panda—"

Before I take two steps, he hits me with a fire ball to the chest and I barely get a shield up in time. The force of the blow sends me spiraling as I hit the floor with a hard thud, leaving me winded.

I lay on the floor with my arms splayed out like a starfish. I turn my head slowly to the side as Marcus drops his sword. His face is a mask of fury, lips turned down, face pinched, eyes blazing. He points his fingers at me accusatorially and stops.

“This is the last time you drop your guard for me.” His voice is deadly low, lethal and threatening. My mouth falls open in shock as I slowly sit up.

“Ma—"

“No, Mi. I mean it. I can take a hit. I have been hurt so many times I stopped counting.” He points to the cut on his cheek and wipes the blood away. “You can’t come to my aid every time I get hurt. When we are out there on the battlefield, I am not your baby brother, I am a fellow soldier. Furthermore, if any one of them get hurt, you have to let them pick themselves up, Micah. Don’t save the one, save the fucking many, Mi.” Marcus’s shoulders slump and his face softens. “That is how he was able to get you, and he will do it again because despite you being a badass. . .you have a heart of gold and are a natural protector. He will use that against you. Don’t let us make you weak.” He huffs, turns away from me, and snatches his sword off the floor.

“Panda,” I call after him as I swallow past the lump in my throat. My baby brother handed me a serious dressing down and I can’t deny what he is saying is true. I know this is about what happened that night in the clearing. If I hadn’t gone to check if he was alive, I wouldn’t have been within reach for Michael to use him to stab me.

“Don’t, Micah.” He shakes his head and holds out his arm stop me from crossing the room. “I’m done for today. I’ll see you later.” He storms past me and I watch him go, before he leaves, he pauses in the arched stone doorway.

He turns with his sword tucked tight at an angle under his arms and I wait. I know my brother; he’s been stewing for days and ready to deal verbal blows. “What are we doing here, Micah? It’s been three days since we said goodbye to dad. Why haven’t you talked to Bishop, Rook, your Mates and Tethers? I understand you’re grieving, so am I, but this inaction is making me crazy. Why are you hiding in this room everyday instead of telling them what you told me?” He waits for me to speak but my mouth opens and closes, with not so much of an exhalation of breath. Marcus tsks and rolls his eyes. “No one is here but you and me, tell me the truth. Speak freely, Sis, please. Because my answer to your question earlier is fact. Michael will kill our mother, if he hasn’t tortured her to death already. So, what—"

I can feel the anger burning hot inside my body, like a boiling pot, ready to spill over. Not at his words, because yet again he speaks the truth; my baby brother, my voice of reason. “I am not ready!” I shout. There is my truth. “I don’t feel ready to bear the weight of so many lives on my shoulders. What if I fail, Marcus? What if all of this, all the pain and death is for nothing because God just wipes us all out anyway?” I pace, feeling ashamed and frustrated. “I have all this power; I can feel it. It’s abundant and overflowing, waiting eagerly to be unleashed. What if—"

“You won’t know unless you try. I am beside you no matter what and so is everyone else. They are waiting for you. You are our leader, whether you want to be or not. So, lead. Talk to them, Micah. It’s time,” he says as he backs out of the room and leaves without another word.

“Damn it,” I mutter to myself. Marcus is right. What am I waiting for? Even my own argument of not being ready sounds weak to my ears.

“Rook,” I call out his name and in seconds my back hits the wall, rattling the weapons above my head and blue piercing eyes gaze down at me. I place my hands on his bare chest, this Demon never wears a shirt and I think he does it on purpose. Kicking my legs apart, I gasp as he wraps his hand around my braids and yanks my head back to look up at him. Rook steps closer and nestles his body between my legs, grinding his already hard cock against my core. Heat floods my body, and for a moment, I forget why I called his name in the first place.

“Hey, baby girl. I’ve missed you.” He leans down and runs the tip of his nose over my sweaty skin and I try to push him away from me. I’ve been sparring with Marcus for hours; I probably smell like the walking dead.

“I’m all sweaty, Rook,” I say in disgust as I try to push him away again but it’s like trying to move a mountain, his body doesn’t budge. Ignoring me altogether he kisses my neck, then licks my face until he reaches my lips and attacks. With my head tilted back, I’m not in control and I love it. Rook claims me every time he kisses me, his possessiveness is addictive and heady, I can never get enough.

He pulls back, taking a minute to suck my bottom lip, making me whimper. Damn, why did I call him again? My pussy throbs and with him this close, all I can do is rub myself against his length, suddenly desperate for release. You would think with five dicks at my disposal that I would be thoroughly sated, but I can never get enough.

“I love your sweat, baby. In fact, I prefer you this way,” he whispers, his breath mingling with mine as he pins me to the wall with his hips, leaving me nowhere to go. Releasing my hair, his hands roam my body, setting my skin on fire with each pass of his fingers. He kneads my breasts through my sports bra; dropping his head, he latches onto my nipple through the thick lycra, and he sucks hard. “Oh. . .oh. . .shit,” I whine as I feel the pull all the way down in my clit.

“Fuuuck,” I moan as he repeats the action with my other breast, leaving me panting, rocking on my tiptoes as I ride him through my clothes unabashedly.

He pulls away and kisses my lips once more. “I think I might.” He winks, as his hands go to the waistband of my yoga pants. Oh, moons and stars, this man thinks I mean I want to fuck, literally.

“Rook, we can’t do this here,” I shriek, catching his hands before they go any further. He stills, his eyes darken and his eyebrows raise in challenge. I look toward the door and his eyes follow. “What if someone comes in here?” I whisper, and he smirks, those wicked lips spread in a conspiratorial smile.

“Arms over your head, baby girl,” he says seductively, making me want to melt into a puddle on the floor at his feet.

“But—"

“Don’t argue with me, Micah. You want to cum, don’t you?” He kisses my neck, licking my pulse point, and I know I’m done for. “I bet this pussy is begging for release.” With his lips still sucking at my neck, he reaches down and cups my pussy through my yoga pants, and I groan. Just strip me down right here. Take me I don’t care. “You’re frustrated, baby, is that why you called me?” His eyes search mine, and for the second time today I am speechless as his fingers skim the top of my waistband. I lift my hips like the greedy bitch I am and nod my head. Yes to all of that.

“Words. Baby. Give me your words,” he growls against my lips, his fingers teasing the skin of my stomach.

“Yes,” I say breathlessly.

“Then, be a good girl and lift those arms up,” Rook says in a singsong tone. I want to roll my eyes, but I want my orgasm more. I raise my arms over my head and his eyes gleam with victory. My mouth falls open in a gasp as his hand slides inside my pants, his finger parts my slick folds until he finds my sweet spot, stroking my clit lightly.

“Rook, don’t tease me, please,” I say, already too wound up to wait, I’m ready to cum from just a brush of his finger. Rook’s free arm snaps up and he wraps his hand around both my wrists, gripping tight, keeping me firmly in place.

“Let me worry about the world outside of this moment, you just hang on and feel, baby,” he says as he pushes my panties aside and plunges two fingers deep inside of me while rubbing my clit with his thumb.

---