Page 49 of Check

“Oh, god, that’s soooo good, baby.” My brows shoot up. It’s the most un Lilah thing I’ve ever heard. It’s weak, hollow even, and has a sense of midnight schoolgirl to it. “Oh god yes, yes.” Ridiculous, but I’m joining in before I know it, assuming she has some clue what she’s hoping to achieve.

A noise sounds behind the door, scuffling maybe, and her smile broadens, mouth then opening for more sounds to come through it. “Yes, baby. Oh god, I wish you had a cock.” I barely hold in the laughter that wants to come out. “You could give it to me, fuck into me and …” Her eyes harden, ear pressed against the door as she points behind me and something in the dust. I turn and look. Some old iron rods lay discarded in the corner. She nods and carries on, her hand reaching for the bars I’m bringing back with me. “Oh, yes, Beth. Yes more, I’m so wet for you. Oh god, I need a man to fill me up and…. Put your fingers inside me.”

She snatches it from me and stands back a pace, rod braced over her shoulder as her mouth keeps groaning out really quite ridiculous noises now. A wail comes out of her, one that makes me brace my own rod and look at the door in expectation. The handle moves, a key ratcheting the lock. We both brace back, me wishing this was a whip in my hand. I’m good with those, as is she. I don’t know how to hit someone with a rod, certainly not trained guards. I look at her, then at the door again, ready to at least try hitting something when it enters. What we’re doing then I have no clue about.

Shit.

The door pushes, a blast of fresh air coming with it, and she launches the rod before I’ve even given it thought. Something blocks it immediately, twisting it round and turning her swiftly back into the room. I launch mine before thought has caught up, everything I’ve got slamming my weight down and hoping to all hell that we’ve got a hope at escape. It lands straight onto the arm holding her rod, and the pained growl is so quick I barely register who it belongs to until his face comes round at me filled with rage.

“Fuck.” Oh. Bugger. Alex.

“Sorry.” I scoot backwards, hand gripping the rod still in strike pose. He shakes his head at me, a slight snarl starting to form as he shoves Lilah away and rubs his arm. “I thought you were someone else.” His brow raises, blue eyes looking straight into my soul. “Sorry.” Still he rubs, eyes boring into mine like he might explode but also might not. It’s one of those faces, the one I never really know what to do with. He looks me over, checking I’m in one piece. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t bother looking at Lilah. I don’t know why. He just keeps staring at me, no smile or show of compassion. “Are you sure?” I nod, still with my hand on this bloody rod. I should put it down. “No one’s touched you?”

“Only me,” Lilah says. His head whips to her, as does mine. “She’s good with that mouth of hers.” And back to me again, a small smile touching his lips this time.

“Really, Lilah?” I say. She could have at least given me the chance to explain first. There’s a moment then when all our eyes flick around each other, Lilah’s being the only ones smiling.

“What am I supposed to do with that thought?” he asks me. I shrug, unsure of anything at the moment. And it’s not like he hasn’t had some of her anyway. Why not me? I mean, this is all as screwed up as it always is and, oh, whatever.

“You did her first,” I mumble out, not really caring whether he likes any of this or not. It happened. Probably while I should have been comforting him, but then that was apparently Pascal’s job. I frown, not really understanding that either. His face finally breaks into some kind of smile, one that only just manages happy. In fact, now the initial whatever thing this has been has happened, why does he have blood on his sleeves? “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s not mine. Guards,” he says, tipping his head back out the door. “And you wound me up, or Lilah did. What were you doing in here?” Lilah breaks past him, not a care in the world for her nakedness as she tries striding out into the corridor beyond.

“I was escaping. Where’s Pascal?” He grabs her arm and hauls her back. “Get off me. Where?”

“He’s busy.”

“I’m not-“ The speed at which he gets hold of her and has her across the other side of the room, her body tucked under his arm, is ridiculous even for him. His hand clamps over her mouth the second she starts spitting all kinds of crap at him, words redundant at the moment. He shoves her on the cold floor, a warning finger in her face.

“Stay.” She stands as if it’s not even something that needs considering. “For a minute, Lilah. For one fucking minute.” Her snarl of compliance could be heard by the entire palace, but he walks back over to the door and out without even the slightest thought she won’t obey. And then, after a few seconds comes back in dragging bodies. What appear to be dead bodies.

“Did you kill them?” I snap. What on earth? No answer but two men being dragged further over towards Lilah. I watch the motion, disgusted regardless of the correct thing to do or not. I can’t have him killing people again, not that it matters because if this shit carries on I’m gone, back to the plan, whatever that is. What was that? I can’t think. It’s all just … and what are we going to do now? Run, hide? Lilah kicks one of them, more snarls coming from her.

“He touched me.” Alex smirks and rolls one of them over. Nothing is funny.

“Oh my God. I cannot do this,” I yell out. The bar drops from my hold, both my hands going to ease my throbbing head. This is all utterly insane, again. We were normal before all this. Well, as normal as we get when Alex is being an arsehole and I’ve lost a baby. “Men being killed. Us being kidnapped - naked.” I glare at Lilah. Stupid. I am never doing naked with her again. “This is all just …” my hands wave at the two dead people. “What is this?” Because I don’t know anything, again. I can’t … “And where is Pascal anyway? I mean, why? What the hell is going on?”

“They took my ledgers,” she says, kicking the other one and then tugging at their jackets. She puts one on, buttoning it as if it’s perfectly normal to put dead people’s clothes on. “I want them back.”

“I know,” he replies. “Thomas is on his way.” She nods at that, as if she knows everything and they have some secret code going on, and then walks over towards me holding out the other dead person’s jacket.

“Clothes?” I shake my head at it, absolutely sure that dead people’s jackets are going nowhere near me at all.

“Put the damn jacket on, Elizabeth,” Alex growls, coming at me as if I’m about to have no choice in the matter whatsoever. Screw that, and screw him, too. I’m not having it anymore. I can’t. I was about to be a mother. Nearly. I can’t deal with all this anymore. This is abnormal. All of it. This is … I don’t know what this is, but it’s all because of him, or Pascal, and this bloody life we all live.

My legs start shaking, hands holding fingers up at the pair of them to stop whatever attack of insanity is coming. What is it with these people?

“No. You’re fucking insane if you think-”

I’m shoved, then tugged, into the dead person’s jacket. Arms unable to fight him at all. And he holds me so close all the time, lips brushing across my cheek and calming words being spoken into my ear. It’s like I’m a bloody child, one he can cajole into anything he wants as and when he wants it. My head tries to shake him away, shake the thought of all this away. I can’t, though. Can’t lessen the impact of his smell or feel on me. He’s everywhere in my senses, all of them thinking of protection, love, commitment that he hasn’t given me lately at all. Why is it still there, then? Why? I can’t breathe, can’t move. Can’t …

“Come with me. Stay close,” he finally says, pulling on my hand as he backs towards the door. Where? And Why? Why bother at all? I stare at the fingers between us, looking at the way his hand is wrapped around mine.

“Beth?” I look at Lilah, lips trembling with words I can’t find. “It’s okay.” No, it’s not okay. This isn’t the world for children and families. This is … I look around the dungeon again, eyes landing on the two dead bodies, as I think of Claire and her lovely sweet smile. He did it again so easily, like it meant nothing to him. Killed. And the pain. That’s all he wants, isn’t it? To keep delivering hatred and pain. He can’t do it, can he? Can’t be a father and live in the real world where right and wrong exist.

My fingers pull away from his, the sentiment finally settling inside me at full force.

“I want to leave,” I mutter, tightening the jacket I no longer seem to care about. I do, no matter how much I love him. I have to. I look up at him, my own eyes trying to resolve the feeling of tears away so he doesn’t see them. “I want to go home, Alex. On my own.” He nods. No other answer than that, and then walks out the door he came in through leaving me standing there with Lilah.

“Stupid,” she says, glaring at me and shaking her head. “Go on then. Follow him so you can run away.”

I do, head raised as a show of strength I don’t truly feel inside, and follow his back along dark tunnels. I’m not running away, I just can’t anymore. Neither Lilah or Pascal know him like I do. They don’t have to live with it or feel his temper all the time. And they don’t have to worry like I do, don’t have to wonder where he is or if he’s coming home at all. If he’s been murdered. If he’s safe. Or even if he’s fucking one of them rather than coming home to me. Maybe if they were trying to be normal, trying to live a reasonable life in the real world where I first met him, they might understand, but they’re not. They’re not like that part of me that wants to be real and honest.

He was just a businessman when I met him. A kinky one, but that's all. And now, after these years of us all becoming something else, I’m finally realising that that first man I met is the only version of love I want.

It’s the one I need.

No matter how much leaving him will hurt.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com