Page 11 of Broken Surrender
“I know, I know,” she said. “I was kidding. If I get bored, I’ll ask Leonard to call you incessantly.”
I used to wonder what she would have been like if our parents were still around to raise her if I wasn’t her provider. But I stopped those thoughts lately. They didn’t have a purpose. I headed back up the stairs.
“Get some sleep,” I said.
“I will,” she yawned. Halfway up the stairs, she added, “You know what today is?”
Five years since she had ‘died.’ Five years since we had left.
“Go to sleep,” I repeated.
I checked my pockets for my chosen training gear, then headed out. Though there was a walkway through the neighborhood that would have led me to the front door of the Dalton House, I chose to go through our backyards again, using the door in her gate. In a wealthy neighborhood like ours, gates gave a false sense of privacy, because no one locked anything. Doing so would announce your distrust for the Syndicate’s ability to keep us safe.
But the best enemies came from within.
I had stolen the Daltons’ spare key during my first week in the neighborhood. I pulled it from my pocket, using it to open the downstairs door. I let myself in through the house, analyzing the lack of decorations. John Dalton must have liked keeping it empty.
The master bedroom door was opened, Lena standing inside of the balcony doors, staring outside. A shiny robe tied around her waist. I grabbed her arms from behind and she yelped, smacking me harder than expected. I liked that; it would make things interesting if she tried to revolt.
“Damn it, Callen, you—”
“You have got to get used to me,” I said, my voice low. “Expect me. Stop jumping when I show up.”
She winced, her eyes falling to the floor. The woman had killed her husband, perhaps with her own bare hands, but she couldn’t look at me,or anyone,in the eyes for an extended period of time. It was strange, like she purposefully forced her rage down, preferring to keep it hidden.
“Tell me what you know about the Marked Blooms,” I said.
She looked through the balcony doors and shrugged. “I was living in Oakmont. This man approached me. Said he could give me a better life. That I could have anything I wanted. He said my whole life would change.”
I heard the subtext there; nothing was what it seemed. I could relate. Sometimes, the mirage seemed so real that you had to reach out, even when you knew it was false. I had learned the hard way that nothing was trustworthy.
“What did they tell you?” I asked.
“I had to become his wife. Forget my past. Change my name. Then I would have access to everything I wanted.”
“And what did you want?” I asked, but she didn’t need to answer. I could read it on her face since the first time I laid eyes on her. I squeezed her arms, and she stiffened under my touch, but her eyes widened, still cast on the ground. I put a finger under her chin, shifting her head, her eyes tracing my neck, my chin, my lips, until finally she met me with those honey-colored eyes. “Did you get what you were looking for?”
“No.”
Her eyes fell and I pinched her chin. “Look at me,” I ordered. Quickly, she focused back on me. “If we are going to convince the Board that we are lovers, that you are valuable enough for me to offer to the Syndicate, you’re going to have to get used to me touching you, and you touching me.” A delicious tint of red covered her cheeks. “Need I remind you that if you say the word, I’ll leave. I won’t look back. But we both know what will happen after that. The Marked Blooms Syndicate will see you as a threat to their members, and they will kill you.” I grinned. “Do we have an understanding then?”
She nodded, her neck stiff.
“Good.” I let go, stepping away, giving her a moment to catch herself. Gray walls enclosed the bedroom, a delicate chandelier hung above the bed, the monochrome curtains tied to the sides of the balcony. A black and white painting was framed in silver on the wall. Everything in gray, except for the painting on the ceiling. “In this tradition, we must convince the Syndicate that it hurts me to offer you. That you are so devoted to me,to my mission,that you’re willing to be sacrificed.” She flinched backward, and my cock pulsed. “Don’t be afraid, Lena. You act as if you’re innocent, but you’ve done far worse already.”
She rocked in place, then held herself right. It was amusing to me, knowing that with a little obedience training, Lena would worship at my feet. She would eat out of my hand, showing everyone that she was mine, and our relationship would prove that I didn’t need a connection with her, or anyone. Power over others came before all else.
“They have to believe you matter to me,” I continued. I bent my head and leaned in closer to her. “But you, my sweet little killer, are nothing to me. I don’t care who hurts you. Who touches you. I don’t even care what happens to you. I only care that you fulfill my purpose.” I rubbed my finger along her pouty lips, imagining my cock there. “But the Syndicate won’t know any of that. They will believe that we love each other. Won’t they, puppet?”
She sucked in a breath, weighing the lies.
I smirked to myself. “On your knees.”
She fell to the ground like a voice had awoken inside of her, making her instantly obey me. Before I had seen what she had done to her husband, I had assumed she was extremely deferential. She kept her eyes to the ground, shoulders slumped, and whenever our eyes met, she peeked at me timidly every time. As if she was afraid of authority. Like shehadto bow down to me.
But I knew better now. Something inside of her burned for more. And I intended to break that spirit.
“Knees shoulder length apart,” I ordered. “Hands behind your back.” She adjusted herself accordingly. “Open your mouth.” Her lips dropped into a crescent, but I pinched her mouth between my fingers until her lips formed a perfect ring. My cock swelled, begging for her lips and tongue.
