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Forty-Seven
Brennan
“Please come,”Ma pleaded.
“She’s still resting, Ma. She needs to sleep.”
“She needs to be around family.”
I sighed. “Da wasn’t very welcoming before, was he? Why the fuck would I take her into another situation like that when she needs calm and peace?”
I wasn’t sure if she did need that, to be honest—Camille kept on surprising me—but I wasn’t about to throw her to the rabid dog that was my father just because she hadn’t cried once.
During the night, when I’d held her, my eyes wide open, my brain ticking, thoughts blurring as I tried to reconcile how right she felt in my arms with how insane it all was, she hadn’t stirred once either. Not a single damn time.
No nightmares, no tears, no recriminations.
Who was this woman?
Her strength bewildered me, even as, inside, it made me want to protect her more. Made me want to do stupid shit like coddle her. I’d never coddled a woman in my life except Ma and that was only because of what she’d been through. That I wanted to do the same with Camille...
I gritted my teeth at the thought.
I’d always been the kind of guy my brothers’ women had turned to. They knew they were safe with me, knew I was honorable—I had no idea why they thought that, but apparently they had some kind of fucking radar—but it wasn’t in my nature to be soft, just protective.
Ever since Da had told me to treat the women in my life like queens, I’d listened. The difference here was, with Camille, I wanted to be both. I wanted to be softer around her, to protect her, but did she want that?
And was it weird that, at the same time, I wanted her dark and dirty, filthy with my cum? I wanted to fuck her hard, make her scream and cream at the same time. Wanted to drag her to the outer edges of her control.
Could that be done with a queen?
Mistresses, sure. But Camille was my wife. My woman. The future mother of my kids.
My palms grew sweaty as I thought about her in the limo the other day. I had two pictures in my head, that one and then of her on the ground on the compound. The two didn’t correlate, but one blew my brains and one made me want to blow my load.
She’d been regal in the limo, and somehow, drenched in blood and unconscious, she’d been powerful too.
Queens didn’t bite cocks off.
They waited to be rescued.
Camille hadn’t waited for anyone.
My voice was hoarse as I told my mother, “She bit his dick off, Ma.”
“I know what she did, son.”
I closed my eyes, then reached up to rub them. “When I went into that building, all I could think of was you. That she’d gone through what you had.”
She swallowed. “I know.”
“But it wasn’t her blood.”
“Camille was incredibly brave.”
“She was. She hasn’t cried, Ma. Hasn’t gotten upset. If anything, she just slept the whole night through.” This, from the woman who self-harmed. Whose palms were a ragged mess of scars… each one a cry for help. “She only woke up about a half-hour ago, and she’s singing in the fucking kitchen.” I could hear her all the way down in my office.
On my desk, I had the catalogue of coins from the Yakuza, but even they weren’t giving me any comfort.
