Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jacob

The pain in her eyes was real. I knew it, breathed it. There was no artifice or subterfuge, but there was more. Deep in the pit of her gaze, I saw questions I couldn’t answer for her. Worries I wouldn’t be able to assuage because she wouldn’t ask them. She kept them locked inside, even while she opened parts of herself to me. I wouldn’t kid myself into believing we were perfect now, the way I wanted us to be, but things were different. She didn’t have so much rage or hatred in her eyes. Was I a fool to want more of her so quickly?

Probably, but that didn’t stop the urge. It only intensified it.

Alana was an airborne infection I’d breathed in so long ago, and I was dying to have her again—to have her breath searing my face, her walls clamping around me, and her sharp nails gouging my flesh. I was sick from her, pulsating with fever and delirious vision, but what a fucking way to go. Perhaps dying at the hands of my vicious little vixen wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but for the first time in my life, I wanted to truly live.

Instead of surviving to get back to her, I wanted to create a life, a world where our sick, twisted ways were okay. That we didn’t have to apologize for being a black stain on the world because the fucking world hadn’t apologized for making us that way. None of those godforsaken therapists, orderlies, foster parents, or bitch analysts had ever truly been sorry for what I had gone through. And why? Because how the fuck could they have understood? When in their fucking lives had they ever had someone reach into their chests and rip their souls out and kept them alive on hatred and fear?

Never. Fucking never.

They couldn’t save the Alanas and Jacobs of the world because they didn’t get our world. They couldn’t redeem us or make us pretty and perfect again. They left our shattered fucking pieces out in the wild, wrapped us up in fragile paper called medication, and hoped it was strong enough to hold the tsunami of the abyss at bay. The fucking idiots knew it would never work, but they did it anyway.

But Alana and me? We were here now, in this moment of absolute silence. The world was quiet and waiting to see what we did next. In these few minutes, we were broken souls mending ourselves with dirty needles and coarse yarn stitches. It hurt so fucking good, each puncture and tightening, and it made us stronger. I could breathe a little deeper, the tension ebbing in my shoulders with each next moment. Fuck the shitty doctors and their empty promises. Sometimes pain was the perfect way to heal when pain was what had destroyed me.

I gazed into Alana’s eyes as the change came over me. From eager listener to dark lover. From the man who was understanding what our love might be, to the one who craved to drag her love out of her, kicking and screaming, while she bled for me. Alana went still, her gaze locked on mine.

“Stand up Alana.”

“Jacob,” she started, but I shook my head. It was halfhearted at best, but it was still a warning. I immediately hated it. There would be nothing like the word “no” between us.

I leaned forward and wrapped my fingers around her throat. I didn’t squeeze, but the threat was there. “You know what your problem is, Alana? You’re afraid of what you want.”

She blinked at me, gripping my wrist in her hands. “Tonight was enough, wasn’t it?”

I shook my head. “No, but it will be soon. I need something sharp.”

Her eyes widened, and she dug her nails into my skin. Yeah, that sort of looked like a no. I hate that fucking word, even silently. Squeezing her throat, I pulled her to her feet before I turned to look around the room. This was a library and relaxation room, and I knew it meant something to her. I wanted to put my stamp on this room, but if she didn’t want to answer me, I’d take matters into my own hands. I dragged her out of the room and toward the kitchen.

“Letter opener, on the desk,” she said, but it was too late.

“Change of plans. The kitchen will do better for what I have in mind. You need to learn saying no to me isn’t possible, Alana. You want me to do the things I do to you. If you didn’t, I’d have to damn near knock your ass out right now.”

When she went quiet, I knew I’d struck a nerve and smiled over at her. She bared her teeth in response, and it made my dick hard. Fuck, I wanted this woman. Once we were in the kitchen, I went to her knife collection and pulled out a thin filet knife.

“I’m going to tell you one time, and one time only, Alana, before I take the choice from you. I want to know you’re mine now. I want to see it. You can fight me every step of the way, but you and I both know I’m not going to let you go, and you don’t really want me to. I want sterile supplies, gauze, and salve on this kitchen table within five minutes. If I have to come looking for you, you’re not going to like it.”

I tightened my fingers on her throat, testing her willpower against my own. This was a test, another step toward the direction of what we could be.

Do this for me, Alana. Choose me.

It was pathetic how badly I wanted this, for her to do this on her own two feet, but I couldn’t help myself. Her gaze traveled toward the knife and back to me before she licked her lips.

“What are you going to do? That’s all I want to know,” she said.

“Mark you as mine.” I was honest. That’s all I wanted to do. Make her mine. See it on the swell of her breast, right next to Noel’s name, every time I stripped her. No one would ever be able to take that way. Ever. I needed it like I needed my next breath.

She sucked in a breath before releasing it. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

Letting go of my wrist, she moved her hands to my chest and dug her nails in. “Will I be able to mark you?”

Fuck me running. I hadn’t thought about that, but the idea made me shiver. Bonded. The two of us. How could I deny that shit?

“Yeah,” I said, my voice hoarse. The woman tore me to pieces.

Her eyes lit up with fire in a way I’d never seen before. It wasn’t malicious or foul. It was right. So fucking right. The idea of marking me, giving me pain, gave her pleasure?

“You want to hurt me?”

“Yes.” The wildness was still in her eyes, but I wasn’t afraid. My little torture queen needed to see me bleed, too, and I’d give it to her. She’d learn all she had to do was say it and it was hers, as long as it wasn’t letting her go.

“Get the stuff, Alana.”

She took a few steps before looking back over at me with an expression I couldn’t fathom, but it made my heart race. Wonder. She looked at me with wonder … and a bit of need. I could read it in her as she turned and raced away.

In preparation, I placed the blade on the coil on the stove and turned it to high. Removing my shirt, I tossed it aside. Then, I went in search of a bowl I could fill with water to cool of the knife when we were finished. On second thought, I needed another blade—for her. It took a minute, but I found another filet knife, this one with a wider blade. I’d let her use that one on me. It was on the coil, heating next to the other one when she came back in.

“I’ve got a first aid kit, Bactine for disinfection afterward, and some gloves, if we need them,” she said in a rush. Dropping her stuff on the kitchen counter, she came back to my side.

“Why?” I hadn’t thought she’d be willing to take this brand, let alone mark me too.

“Will you ever let me go?”

“No.”

“Will you stop me from killing?”

“No. In fact, I’ll join you,” I promised.

“Then trying to stop you from having your way with me will only make things hurt more.”

“And branding me?”

She stared at the knives slowly turning orange. “Because we both need the pain, and you were the one who kept me alive these eight years too,” she whispered.

“A confession,” I said. I knew the truth before she nodded. We’d found a way to break into each other’s armor. Maybe it wasn’t love yet, but we were digging our way toward it. Step by painful fucking step.

“Remove the apron.” She did, and it was like magic. She was left in her black heels and nothing else. I could choose anywhere on her to place my mark, but I wanted it somewhere I could see easily. I washed my hands, and she did hers as well, before I blocked her against the counter, my lower body pressing into hers,

“Lift your arm,” I ordered. Looping her left arm around my neck, she waited. I cleaned the area over her ribcage that would be mine. I made sure a sterile pad, gauze, the Bactine, and water bowl were near me.

“Ready?” Instead of answering me, she gripped the edge of the counter with her other hand and tossed her head back. “God, you are amazing.”

“God has nothing to do with this. This is retribution. For Noel, your father, and everyone who has ever hurt those like me. What I will accept from you is a bond to be the killer I need. But that’s all I can promise.”

I gripped the knife, waving it between us. She followed the glowing tip of the blade with her gaze but didn’t flinch away. “We are more than that, Alana, and one day you’ll admit that. One day you’ll see the real reason you’re letting me brand you and why you wanted to brand me too. But if you want to believe it’s to cement the start of our journey, so be it.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but I didn’t let her. I angled the blade and cut her. The heat cauterized the wound immediately as I traced a jagged J on her body. I didn’t want it to be beautiful and perfect. I wanted it wounded, like we were, and angry. It was so fucking perfect against her white flesh. She bit her lip until it bled, a strangled scream coming from her. She panted through the pain, and I dumped the knife into the cool water. As it sizzled, I sprayed disinfectant on the wound before covering it with the salve-covered gauze. Once it was in place, I taped it down, then wrapped gauze around her chest and over the bandage. I wanted to make sure it was secure.

“My turn,” she said.

Her voice was thick with pain, and she was breathing heavily, but her nipples were hard, her eyes were wide, and when she licked her lips, I saw sex. I wrapped my arms around her and turned us so I was leaning against the counter and she was resting on me. She cleaned my left pec and gripped her knife. I held on to the counter, urging my body to remain still. This moment defined us. She could hurt me before I had a chance to react, we both knew it. If she took this step, she was mine by choice, and I wasn’t going to let her forget it.

She waved the knife between us like I had, smiling a cruel smile.

“Jacob?”

“Yes, Alana.”

“I want a confession from you.”

“Anything.”

“I want you to scream it out when this blade touches you. Tell me, and the pain will stop.”

I swallowed before nodding. This was the killer, Nila, rearing her head. Her coldness seeped through, as well as her eagerness to give me pain. She was as tragically beautiful in this moment as she was when she told me how she’d ruined her first kill. I kissed her, ignoring the hot blade inches from my face. I traced her bloody lip with my tongue, tasted her, and swallowed her. Then I set my teeth against her bruised flesh and bit down harshly. She screamed but didn’t move away. She let her blood fill our mouths and our tongues played with the fluid; we mixed it with our saliva and swallowed it. Then, and only then, did I finally release her.

“What do you want to know, Alana?”

“Will you break me into loving you?”

I didn’t get a chance to respond before she dragged the knife against my chest. It was agony, and the smell of burning flesh filled my nose. But she wasn’t stabbing me, wasn’t killing me. Instead, she traced letters slowly across my chest. I panted and held on before I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck yes, I’ll break you! But I’ll put you back together. I fucking swear. I’ll shatter that fucking armor you’ve put yourself behind to keep from loving me, but when I do, I’ll take its place. You’ll be safe in loving me because you’ll know the only person who’ll ever hurt you again will be me. And the pain I’ll cause, baby, you’ll crave so much you won’t give a fuck. You’ll need it. And you’ll know who you belong to every time you scream.”

She didn’t pause tracing across my chest as she looked up at me. “Promise?”

“If I don’t, I’ll break open my chest for you to pull my heart out.”

“Good boy,” she said and stabbed the blade in at the end of the last letter. The heat sliced into my chest, but it wasn’t deep enough to be life-threatening. It was a point to seal the deal. The last step on the road to accepting who we could be together. As promised, she tossed the blade into the cool water and started caring for her artwork. I finally looked down and smiled. Alana & Noel. She’d claimed me for both of them. Bound me to their names and his memory, like I’d bound her to his and mine.

“You break your word, you aren’t fit to bear our names, and I’ll carve it off your fucking chest before I take your heart out,” she hissed at me after she was finished patching me up.

I didn’t answer her. Did I need to? I was never going to leave her. Fucking death couldn’t stop it. I’d find my way out of hell and be her personal demon on a leash to slay her enemies. I’d frighten her nightmares and take them over. I’d steal her soul and drag her to hell with me. No, I didn’t need to assure her of my place. She knew it. I saw the knowledge in her eyes as I picked her up and slammed her on the table. Holding her by her neck, I forced myself between her tensed legs and ground my jean-covered hardness at the juncture of her thighs. I could see the wetness, the need, the way she dampened the blue denim until it was dark.

“Take my fucking dick out so I can fuck you,” I demanded.

Her fingers were fast on my belt as she worked it free. Leaving it angled, she opened my fly and my cock fell out into her hand. I wanted to burn her insides with my heat. Brand her walls until they only worked for me. Hurt her until she could only stand my touch. I released her neck and ripped the belt from my jeans.

“Line me up, Alana.”

She did as I asked, stoking the fire by pumping my shaft against her. The head swiped through her wetness, throbbing with need. I grunted, looped the belt, and threaded the end through the buckle. I slid it over her head and down to her neck before I tightened it.

“I won’t let you go,” I promised her and slammed into her body. She screamed, clawing at my arms. Fuck, she was tight, so tight, and I hadn’t prepared her, but she was molten. Fingering her clit, I pumped into her. She was mine. Fucking mine.

But she followed me, face turning red as I pulled tighter on the belt. Her core tightened and released as I punished her. Fucked her hard enough to make the table move with each thrust. As we scooted across the floor, the screech of the table legs dragging along the hardwood was music. Violent music of our lovemaking. She couldn’t scream as she choked out noises, her eyes wide and helpless, her body thrust back up against me. I knew it hurt. I knew it was ecstasy. I knew it was everything because that was how it was for me.

Bending over her, I sucked a nipple into my mouth and flicked the tip with my tongue. I lashed it and battered it, only to bite it with sharp, unforgiving teeth. She only got hotter and wetter around me. I rocked into her, nipping and sucking hard on her flesh. Switching between one breast and the next, they weren’t safe from me. They bore my bruises and indentations of my teeth marks, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more.

I nuzzled the underside of her right breast and bit down hard enough to draw blood. To scar. To wound. She bucked underneath me, and then her hands wrapped around my throat. The angle was off, but she didn’t try to push me away. Instead, she tightened her fingers, cutting off my air. I released her wounded flesh and lifted to look into her eyes. We rode the wave together as pleasure licked over my balls, drawing them up. I held the belt, keeping her on the edge, as darkness swam on the edges of my vision. Somehow, she knew, like I did, and didn’t tighten her grip. I could barely suck in any air, but it was enough to expand my lungs a little.

The pleasure was sweeter, hotter. Forbidden. We held each other—her with the belt molding into her neck, me with her nails digging into my flesh—until she exploded. With her pussy clenching around me, I ripped the belt from her throat and gripped her hips. I set a punishing rhythm, rocking into her and jamming the table into the wall where it had stopped. We held there, me battling for that final moment. She moaned, voice hoarse, and stared into my eyes.

“I’m here, Jacob. Right here.”

She placed one hand over her brand on my chest, and the other on mine on hers, and it was enough. It tossed me into the darkness so fast I couldn’t catch my breath. One minute I was fighting my way to her, trying to catch up, to explode, and the next I was there. Right there. My cock swelled, balls drew up against my body, and I was coming in thick ribbons deep inside of her. For a moment I wished I could get her pregnant, bind her to me forever. And then I thought maybe it wasn’t time, we weren’t ready yet for the pain it might bring her. The memories would destroy the fragile thing we were growing.

I shook the thought from my head, lounged in her heat, and luxuriated in the throb of my chest. We were going to get there, one bloody step at a time.