EIGHT

 

 

Raid wasn’t in his office to receive the end of night reports, but Diego had told Shea that’s where they were to be delivered. Her friend had also said that if for whatever reason Raid wasn’t present, she should just leave them on the desk.

Shea didn’t think she’d ever been so grateful for an order in her life. After the way their morning meeting had ended, she wasn’t really sure what she would say to Raid if she had to face him… or what he might say to her.

Delivering the reports to Raid’s desk was the last task of the day. So, as soon as she’d done it, she went to shower before dinner, which was her preferred time to wash up. The communal shower room was quietest at that time. There were still people around in the hallways, if she did find herself in a compromising position that required her to call out for help, she should be heard.

By the time Shea had changed her clothes and dried her hair, she was yawning. Exhaustion came from the responsibility of her new independence. Not having Diego around was an adjustment. Although in other circumstances, she’d be too tired to think about eating, chow time was sacred.

Workers weren’t allowed to ransack the stores whenever they wanted, which made sense or there would never be anything left to feed everyone at meal times. The employees got their three square meals and that was it. Sticking to the routine was the best way to keep her safe from the wrath of both Diego and Raid.

When she rounded to enter the busy mess, the last thing she expected her attention to settle on was Raid, standing there at the back of the room like some kind of hall monitor, observing those who were eating. A couple of laughing guys came in behind her. It wasn’t until they barreled into her back, almost knocking her down flat, that Shea realized she’d stopped dead a couple of feet inside the room.

“Geez, Sexpot,” Kipling said, catching her before she fell. “Don’t ‘cause a roadblock at chow time.”

“Sorry,” she said and moved with him and Lev into the line for food.

All of them ordered. Hyperaware of Raid acting as overlord, Shea found herself glancing over her shoulder more than once. Given that she’d never had to do mealtimes without Diego, this was the first time she’d had to be responsible for herself in the mess at dinner time. But, that wasn’t why she was uneasy. Something about Raid being there, watching, was making her squirm.

“Don’t be nervous,” Kipling said, nudging her and sliding her tray further along the metal shelf that ran the length of the counter. “Laird’s always around more when Diego’s out in the field. Guess one of them needs eyes on us all the time. I don’t think he’s armed. Though, girl, don’t think that would matter, you put up some fight in the yard.”

After the incident with her and Raid in the courtyard, Shea had received plenty of pats on the back from the men who’d delighted in telling her about others who hadn’t held up so well under Raid’s scrutiny or punishment.

“She’s not nervous,” Lev said over the top of her head. He’d taken position in front of her while Kipling was behind. “Sexpot’s the new favorite, she’s Diego’s stand in.”

Kipling laughed. “That right? Well, fuck, I wonder why that is.”

He and Lev laughed. Knowing their minds had descended into the gutter, Shea scowled at each of them in turn. “It’s not that.”

Lev eyed his friend and then her, playing it innocent while wearing a smirk. “Oh yeah, and what’s ‘that’, Sexpot? What is it not?”

They were trying to goad her into giving their teasing a definition. It wasn’t malicious, all the men around here tormented each other… in the nicest possible way. Their taunting was a sign that she was starting to be accepted.

In the spirit of that, Shea sighed while pouring water for all three of them. “If I am the favorite, I wonder what would happen if I screamed right now,” she said.

“Can you scream after we’ve eaten?” Kipling asked. “I’ll take the punishment and all, but you know, I’m hungry.”

Her acceptance among the troops wouldn’t be hurried along if she went out of her way to get them punished, especially for joshing her. On a shared laugh, the trio left the line and went to take seats near the window. Shea took the spot Diego usually sat in at the end of the row. Kipling sat at her side and Lev opposite.

For a minute, they all enjoyed their food. “You’re not the only one he creeps out,” Lev said after putting down his fork and reaching for his water.

Shea took a mouthful of food and scanned the room to seek the man Lev was referring to. It didn’t take long to find him, patrolling the width of the room, scowling at anyone who thought to look his way.

“He doesn’t creep me out,” she said. Her awareness of their leader was less about fear and more about… something else. “He’s just a human being. Maybe we should ask him to sit with us.”

Kipling scoffed. “You know us, we’re as close to Diego as the next guy. But, the Laird, he won’t sit with anyone except Diego. When he does sit down here, which is like hardly ever, they eat alone together.”

“Maybe they’re dating,” Lev said and she bobbed her brows. He straightened up his cup, then second guessed what he’d said and paused with his fingertips on the rim. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Though she laughed at his paranoia, their reticence was understandable. “He’s not the king. He can’t command that you be beheaded.”

Hadn’t Raid just given her a warning on that very morning that it was best to get out of his way when he was in a violent mood? Chances were, she’d only been given the courtesy of that warning because of her gender. If any man was around when Raid was ready to hit something, they probably got hit. On top of that, Raid had an army of men ready to pound on any victim after he was finished having his own fun, if he felt like setting his people against each other.

“If you tell me you’re not afraid of him after what went down in the yard, I’ll call you a liar. Either that or you are fucking him,” Kipling said.

Until that day, most of her one on one interactions with the men involved Diego, who would head off any unsavory conversation or glare when the men got boisterous. This was her first chance to assert those boundaries for herself.

“Sexpot said it on the yard, and she was right, technically we all belong to him,” Lev said, lifting his shoulders and then scooping up some more spaghetti.

Kipling snorted. “You’re saying he’s fucking us all?”

Lev laughed. “Yeah, it’s an option.”

“So, if he tells us to drop trou and bend over, we’ve got to let him shaft us right here in the mess?”

The men were laughing, and it was sort of a funny visual. The chances of Raid ever doing that were non-existent. As far as she knew, he hadn’t done it before, so there was no reason for him to start doing it now. But, if he did, it might lead to an interesting dilemma for some of these guys.

Resting her chin on the heel of her hand, Shea twirled her fork in her spaghetti and stared across the heads of the other diners. Raid looked so alone up there at the top of the room. There was no denying that he was a commanding figure or that his perma-frown made him look mean.

It was surreal that she’d been in that man’s house that morning, drinking coffee, considering letting him take down her step-father and brother. The commander of them all. The General in charge of everyone and everything. Raid was their superior, but he was their protector too, their provider.

“Uh-oh, is that a dreamy look?” Kipling asked, snapping her out of her daze. “Is she mooning over the Laird?”

“I dunno,” Lev said. “It’s been so fucking long since I’ve seen one.”

“What?” Kipling asked. “An infatuated woman or just a woman in general?”

“Uh, Lev saw me this afternoon and I am not mooning or infatuated or dreamy,” she said.

“You’re also not really a woman,” Kipling said, earning himself a glare. “I mean, sure, you are, but if Diego caught any of us thinking of you like one, he’d cut off our balls.”

“And what would he do to the guy he caught Sexpot looking at?” Lev asked. “ ‘Cause if she was into one of us, I think Diego would still castrate us before he’d think about hurting her.”

There could be a thread of truth in that. But, she straightened and grinned. “Maybe I’ll tell him I’m interested in one of you… Least then I could have a girlfriend to talk to,” she said, popping a meatball between her lips.

That amused her cohorts, who went back to eating for a minute. “So, when you taking the pledge, Sexpot?” Kipling asked. “I heard it’s soon.”

Lev nodded. “Has to be, right? There’s only three weeks left on her limit.”

Shea still hadn’t established what was involved in taking the pledge or what would happen if she didn’t take it. “Just what do I have to do to take the pledge?”

“You afraid of needles?” Kipling asked.

Dubious, Shea wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to her question. “No, why? What am I being injected with?”

“Got any tattoos?” Lev asked.

That made her exhale some relief. If that was all, she’d be able to handle getting a tattoo. Providing it wasn’t some hideous, giant, garish number. “I do.”

“Can we see?”

This was all part of the bonding, sharing experience. Showing she trusted these men and was interested in them would bring her closer to them. It wasn’t an act or any kind of manipulation. Shea liked Kipling and Lev. Both had always been nice to her.

“Show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” she said, hoping to get more details on what was involved in taking the pledge.

If a tattoo was required, these men should both bear one, and she wanted to see it. Kipling unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt and pulled it down to show her a detailed crucifix on his pec. She nodded in approval and turned to Lev who folded up his sleeve to show her a snake around his forearm.

Neither of the tattoos were the same, so they couldn’t be part of taking the pledge. Shea hadn’t gotten what she wanted, but she had made a deal. So, twisting away from Kipling, she sucked up the last of the spaghetti in her mouth and began unbuttoning her shirt. Keeping it clasped over her breasts, she shrugged the apparel from her shoulders to uncover her scapulae, showing them her tattooed yang symbol with its detailed spot.

“Huh, what is it?” Lev asked.

Twisting further, she gave him a better look. “It’s a yang.” she said.

“Where’s the other half?” Kipling asked.

A hush settled over the room. She didn’t think much of the drop in volume until someone suddenly grabbed her wrist in her cleavage. Hauled out of her seat, Shea was still trying to figure out what was going on and struggled as she was dragged across the room.

“What? I—”

But when she identified that the man who had her in his vise grip was in fact her boss, she stopped fighting. With his fist wrapped around her wrist, Raid tugged her toward the exit. Glancing over her shoulder, seeking her dinner-mates, Shea saw every man in the mess was aghast, watching the scene unfold.

Her view was broken when Raid dragged her into the corridor. He didn’t slow down, or turn, or talk, he just kept on pulling her along until they got to her bedroom. Using some kind of master key, Raid unlocked the door without asking her permission, and threw the door from its frame. Storming inside, he swept her around to toss her onto the bed, probably because it afforded her the softest landing. Either way, she was grateful he’d chosen the mattress rather than the hard floor.

The door slammed. Shea leaped off the bed to see Raid was as seething as he had been on the balcony that morning.

“A month in solitary,” he barked. “That’s the punishment for inciting a riot. Is that what you want? Do you want me to punish you?”

Why was he so mad? She didn’t get it. “I didn’t incite anything,” she argued, flabbergasted but enlivened by adrenaline. “We were trading tattoo stories. They think of me as one of the guys, that’s it! I didn’t—”

“One of the…”

His anger became tinged with incredulity, and his attention fell to her exposed breasts. Her open shirt had slipped forward and gaped over her chest. Her plunge bra was so low-cut that it didn’t afford her much modesty.

Reaching for the lowest loose button, Shea intended to fasten it, but Raid grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from the fabric before she could.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re one of the guys,” he snarled, throwing her wrists out of his grip. “Why stop there?”

Grabbing the ends of the shirt, he ripped open the final three buttons and then thrust the material from her shoulders. “Raid!” she objected.

“You’re one of the guys,” he said with disdain.

Shocked by his domineering exploits and his blazing rage, Shea’s chest moved up and down in time with her shallow panting. The heat of her confusion was flamed by his boldness. Raid didn’t apologize. He wasn’t hesitant or uncertain. He took any action that he wanted to like he had dominion over every part of her.

Her Laird wasn’t finished with her clothes. After wrestling her shirt cuffs from her wrists, he cast the fabric aside and grabbed for the snap on her jeans. Shea yelped. Backing away didn’t help her, Raid didn’t let any distance grow between them and stalked toward her until her spine hit the wall, stopping her retreat.

He kept on coming until he was in her personal space, much closer than any straight guy would get to another straight guy in this state of undress. He undid the snap and dragged down the zip, more focused on her body than her face.

Shea had no idea where her leader’s mind was or what his intention was. But, she knew where her mind was, and where her body wanted to be. This man. This powerful man was taking her from her clothes. Being undressed had never been so stimulating. Shea had never felt more powerless and powerful at the same time.

She hadn’t expected this to happen. Her chief was driven by instinct, overcome by his need to act. There was something of a trance over him, and she didn’t want it to shatter. Shea wanted to know how this moment would climax.

Sealing her lips, she huffed her breaths through her nose, scared that if she said anything he’d stop stripping her. He didn’t. Grabbing her waistband, he shoved her jeans from her hips to her knees. They were loose enough that they fell the rest of the way to the floor.

As he rose from the crouch he’d needed to force her jeans down her legs, Shea caught his neck in the loop of her arms and pulled him closer. This was what she wanted. She hadn’t even known it. Yet, in this moment, nothing felt more natural or compelling. She wanted to be owned by her Laird in a way so much more deep and intimate than he owned anyone else.

So powerful and intense, he drew her in, energizing her heart and her hormones with his forceful conduct.

Her eyes heavy, she tried to catch his lips with hers. “Raid,” she whispered.

Kissing wasn’t on his agenda. Raid leaned back a fraction to prevent their lips from meeting. When his kiss didn’t come, she lifted her eyelids to unblur her gaze so she could focus on him. Seeking his instruction, or any hint of what he did want from her, Shea was ready to submit and comply.

Her Laird didn’t leave her wondering. “On your knees, Poppet,” he muttered, a challenge both in his voice and his eyes.

Even in spite of her arousal, she could tell he didn’t think there was even the slightest chance of her obeying. Out in the yard she’d told him that she belonged to him and that she’d acquiesce if he demanded she give herself to any inmate. This could be his way of proving she’d been full of shit. Yet, he’d seemed sure in his place that morning when he’d said he’d fuck her if he wanted to. At that time, she hadn’t believed it. In this moment, she couldn’t believe she’d doubted it.

Raid was a mess of contradictions; his complexity intensified her yearning. Whatever he was asking for, or how it related to what he truly wanted, her Laird wasn’t forcing himself on her even though he was the one man on the compound who could do it and get away with it.

There was a bed in the room, and he was stronger than her. Every employee had seen him drag her from the mess. Anyone passing would know who was in here, but even if she screamed for help no one would come to her aid.

Except with the heat of lust pulsing through her veins, she didn’t care about anyone out there. All she cared about was who was in here and how she could quench the need eating her up. Holding her on the precipice of this limbo, he was baiting her hunger.

Satisfaction flickered in his eye. He thought her inaction had proved his point. Except she had no intention of refusing him and caught the instant of his surprise when she bent her knees and began to descend. If he wanted to use her for his pleasure, she was going to let him.

Why did she want this man so badly? The reason for her overwhelming attraction to him didn’t matter; the why was irrelevant. In the real world, he’d be hot by any measure, and here he had all the power, so maybe being drawn to him made sense. In that minute, Shea didn’t care about sense, she just wanted to feel… with him.

Unfastening his pants and freeing his imposing erection, she rolled her eyes up to his and smiled before taking him into her throat and purring out her own satisfaction.

This man had the power of life and death beating through him. On this compound, with a single word, he could order anyone’s breath to be their last. His hand landed on top of her head and he bent his fingers until he was holding her hair in his fist so tight that his grip stung her scalp. That searing proof of his need made her work harder to lick and suck his cock, praying her effort was enough to satisfy him.

He slapped his hand on the wall far above her and surged forward, deeper into her throat. She managed to inhale through her nose just before he blocked her airway. But, he didn’t slow. While he pumped himself in and out of her throat, she cupped him, holding and massaging his balls with a gentle yet insistent hand that wanted to remind him who was offering him this outlet.

She inhaled hard when he pulled back. He didn’t give her much of a reprieve before fucking her throat again, faster this time, giving her less space than he had before. Shea tried to keep up, but found out why his need was driving him so fast when his cock pulsed against her tongue and then his seed exploded in the back of her throat. Breathing in fast, she swallowed hard, causing him to curse and pull back.

When his dick slid away from her lips, she curled them into her mouth to sample the remnants of his taste. As the lower one slid out, she caught it in her teeth and blinked up at him. He was just standing there, tucking himself away into his slacks. His eyes on hers, saying nothing. She didn’t speak either. She wasn’t sure what he would want her to say or what there was to say.

Being patient, Shea waited for him to take the lead, assuming that he would. So, when he turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind himself, she pushed her lips to the side and breathed out.

Well, she’d made an impression. Whether it was good or bad remained to be seen.