Page 51 of The Taken Duet


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Ignoring her, I grab the bucket and fill it at the sink, which is situated in the corner of her room. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to talk to her. It’s stupid, but there’s something far too innocent about this beauty.

“I need . . .,” she whispers, her voice raspy and melodic. Once again, my cock agrees, because it jolts at the sound of her. I spin on my heel, glaring at her, causing her to cower under my ferocious stare. “I, uhm, need to pee.”

Her cheeks darken, a dusty rose which makes me lick my lips. Her skin is smooth, unblemished, and she’s free of any makeup. Too fucking innocent.

I want to be nice to her, to offer her a kind word, but the mental image of what my father is about to do to her reminds me that no one in this shithole can be saved.

“Piss yourself on the mattress. The next girl won’t be here till it’s dry.”

Her mouth falls open, and I’m tempted to use the opportunity to fill it. To see those plump lips slide over my shaft.

“Don’t mind me, doll, I’ve seen much worse.” I chuckle. “Working with him, I’ve cleaned piss, blood, and shit when he’s finished with one of you, so you’re definitely not special.” I don’t look at her, but her gaze ignites every inch of my skin. It’s as if she can see into my soul, and I’m afraid she’ll see the black that taints me.

“I haven’t been outdoors in years.” Her words are wistful, as if she’d just said she was craving ice cream or something trivial, but the reality is this girl has been locked up in a dark, cold cell, only allowed out when Thanos wanted to use her as bait, I’m guessing.

I’ve always been one to admit my wrongs. To give brutal honesty. And now, I know that from the moment she walked into the room, I wanted her. Being alone in the car with her doesn’t help the need I feel for her. It also doesn’t dissipate the image I have of her naked, showing her body to me because that asshole ordered her to.

The road ahead is dark. In both the literal and the figurative sense. Her gaze is intense, as if there’s a fucking strobe light on me. It’s electric, burning my flesh.

“I’m sorry,” I utter. My words drip with guilt knowing my father is responsible for the life she’s lived. For what she’s been through. And I realize nothing can ever replace what was taken from her.

For years, I felt the world owed me something. I was an asshole to everyone I came into contact with. Only one person knew what I’d been through — River. There wasn’t a girl whom I’d fucked who knew what I’d survived. None of them got close enough.

Sadly, not even my brother knows. I spent my life ashamed of what I became. Needing the darkness to enjoy a simple pleasure most people take for granted.

“It’s not your fault,” Caia says, causing me to finally glance her way. There’s so much innocence in her eyes, but also warring with the beauty of her sweetness is a glint of a warrior. Her eyes hold a fire within them, one that can be trained into a killer.

“Oh, little raven, most of the bad things that happen are my fault,” I tell her.

“Little raven?” She smiles, gifting me a flash of happiness in the sordid world she’s just been freed from.

“You remind me of the bird. Beautiful, yet darkness seems to consume you. Exquisite, but can be as violent as a bird of prey. It can devour the dead, but also shimmer in the sunlight.”

“You’re quite the poet, Drake.” She utters my name with an affection I don’t deserve. The sound so familiar, so intricately woven into the fabric of my veins. She finally reveals the truth. She does recognize me. I knew she couldn’t forget me, even though I’ve changed, hardened to a man rather than the boy I was when we first met.

“Caia, words are merely that. It’s actions that speak a thousand times louder than any utterance can,” I inform her.

“Perhaps,” she sighs. “But there are also words that can heal, that can offer solace in times where actions are futile.”

“Maybe one day you can show me,” I respond, knowing I want her to be here tomorrow, the next day, next month, and year. I don’t want to lose her again, but that’s up to her.

“You know me,” her voice confident. “These have been long, lonely years, Drake Savage.” There’s sadness lacing each word she utters. It matches the emotion that's waging war in my chest. I want her. I crave her. But I don’t want her to live in this life of darkness that’s got hold of me.

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