Page 15 of Blood
Now that we’ve both come down from the high of our orgasms, she looks different, or maybe I’m seeing her differently. There’s something softer, vulnerable to her. It awakens those protective instincts I’ve buried so deeply. I want to take care of my girl, fix what I’ve broken.
I nudge her with my foot. “Let’s go, baby.”
She doesn’t move from her curled-up position, but she shakes her head slightly. At least I know she’s awake and lucid.
I could leave her out here to fend for herself, I suppose, but she’s safer in the cabin with me. There are wild animals in the woods that could tear her to pieces. And if she made it back to the city, there are dangers waiting for her there, too.
I reach down and lift her from the ground, my arms under her knees and behind her back. I curl her into my chest to carry her back to the cabin.
She made it a decent way, at least a mile. She’s in good shape.
Unfortunately for her, so am I.
She’s a slip of a thing and practically weightless. I spent most of my time in prison lifting weights. I came out of the joint with fifty extra pounds of muscle compared to when I went in, and I’ve been meticulous about maintaining it for the last few years.
When I was released, the parole board asked if I planned to return to running drugs. True to my word, I’ve stopped, cold turkey.
Now I stick to murder. I have no soul to risk, and it pays well. Although apparently, I’ve branched out to kidnapping. I’ve never pretended to be a good guy.
Everleigh lets out a small whimper. Unlike her twisting and fighting when I hauled her into the cabin, she’s relaxed against me. Her leggings are still around one ankle, the scraps of her shirt and bra hanging off her arms.
There’s no one within fifty miles to see us. Even if someone happened by, Everleigh seems too far gone to care.
By the time we reach the cabin, the sun is bright in the sky, the afternoon upon us. I bring her inside, re-engaging the locks, and settle her on the bed. Her eyelids flicker, but she’s drifting on the edge of sleep.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her long chestnut hair is fanned out on the pillow, and even with the remnants of the forest still tangled in the strands, it looks soft and lush. Her lips are parted slightly. They’re a deep rose and seem kissable as all hell.
And Christ, those tits.
I turn my back on her and stalk to the bathroom. I turn on the tap, filling the bathtub with warm water. I stare at myself in the mirror as I wait. What’s this girl doing to me?
The guy in the woods—the monster who stalked a girl through the forest, then took her roughly—I know him. He’s who I’ve been for as long as I can remember. But this guy, the one who carried the girl back home like a fragile flower, who’s running her a bath? He’s a stranger.
Once the tub is filled with steaming water, I stalk back into the bedroom. She’s asleep already, curled up on the bed. I pull a twig out of her hair. There’s dirt on her arms and legs, dried semen between her thighs.
She doesn’t move when I pull the rest of her clothing off, but she stirs when I lift her from the bed.
“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.” I carry her to the bathroom, then gently lower her into the warm water, holding her up so she doesn’t slip under. She’s still half-asleep as I run a washcloth over her skin, tenderly removing the dirt.
When I bring the washcloth between her legs, she lets out a gasp, but then her knees fall apart, granting me entry. I realize I’m hard again. Jesus. This woman is affecting me more than anyone I’ve ever met.
I adjust myself in my pants with a soapy hand before I finish washing Everleigh. I leave the washcloth on the side of the tub and bring my hand under the water, finding her pussy. Even under the water, there’s the slick wetness of arousal. I run my fingers between her folds, and she lets out a soft moan, then a gasp when I push one finger up into her channel. It feels swollen, and I’m sure she’ll be sore for a few days.
“Wolf,” she whimpers, so softly I’m not sure I hear her at first.
I slide my finger out of her and place my palm on her mound, cupping her sex with my hand. “I’ve got you.”
I lift her up and wrap her in a towel. Once she’s dry, I carry her back to the bedroom and place her on the bed. Her head hits the pillow, and she whispers my name again, so soft I wonder if I’m imagining things.
I shove down the urge to kiss her forehead. To pull the covers up over my sleepy little rabbit. Men like me can’t get attached. The lifestyle I lead aside, I’m not a protector, and that’s what she needs. I’ve tried to fill that role before for someone else. It’s why I know I can’t be that person for Everleigh.
12
Asher
“Whatthefuckdoyou mean, she’s missing?” The words come out in a roar. I don’t give a shit what the Brothers think of me right now.
The leadership—the Brothers—of the Kings of Blood are gathered in what we call the War Room. It’s not the fancy place the name calls to mind. It’s just the basement of an old casino that the group owns, but it’s good enough for what we need.
