Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy (17 page)

After a few unsuccessful attempts at sticking it in, she closed her eyes, subdued the part of her brain that was thinking too hard, allowing her new-found instinct to guide her hands. She felt the make-shift key slide in. When she heard the lock click, a sigh of relief escaped her mouth.

She couldn’t let them know she’d found a way out. She needed to build their trust. Ironic, yes. But a time might come when their trust wasn’t as important as her freedom. The moment they were threatened—any of them—she would sacrifice that trust. For their safety.

But if Mitch’s Hyde-bomb might explode any minute, how much time did she really have? After sliding her arms back through the bars and tucking the key into her bra, she sat down to wait for another chance to convince them that they were out of options. And if that didn’t work…

“Damn it.”

The second the shouting started, she regretted sending Landon down there. Like she’d just told someone to start walking towards the angry-looking men with guns because they only wanted to chat. Only snippets of the conversation traveled upstairs, but it was enough to know that she should’ve sent him down with a white flag.

Mitch’s voice saying, “…actually believe the crap she’s bullshitting you with?”

Then Landon’s even louder reply of, “I don’t know. But sitting down here, doing
nothing
, isn’t going to convince me one way or the other.”

She stood as she heard the rapid pounding of feet heading from the living room to the stairs.

“She’s not Eden,” Mitch yelled. “I’ll prove it. Don’t bother coming along, you’ll be able to hear everything from downstairs.”

Proof?
She tried to focus, so she’d be thinking logically when he demanded whatever kind of proof he thought existed. To prove something that wasn’t.

“What are you going to do?” Landon yelled back.

“I’m going to ask her a couple of questions. That’s it.”

Questions. Well,
talking
was better than skinning her alive to see if she was a
real
girl or not. And she wouldn’t lie, even if it
wouldn’t
make her nose grow.

A moment later, Mitch came tearing into the room, slamming the door behind him and locking it. He didn’t slow down as he stuck out his arm to snag the key to the cage off the dresser. His long, heavy strides not stopping until he was a few feet outside the bars.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he screamed at her.

“What?”

“Open the door!” Landon pounded on the door, cursing.

“Answer the question, Chastity.”

She bit her tongue, holding back another demand that he stop calling her that name. Because she knew how important the next words out of her mouth were.

“Open the goddamned door, Turner!” Landon called.

Mitch took another step forward. “Yes or no, do you want to fuck me?”

“I can’t answer that,” she said. Of
course
she wanted to fuck him. But if she said that, he’d think Chastity had answered. Because Chastity would never refuse the offer. And if she said ‘no,’ he’d know she was lying. And the Eden-he-used-to-know didn’t lie.

“Why not? It’s a simple question.”

No, it was a
loaded
question. No matter which way she answered, she’d lose. He already knew what she wanted. If her quick breaths, the heat she’d felt rise on her cheeks and chest from the moment he’d walked into the room weren’t enough, he
must
have noticed the hard nipples pushing against the thin fabric of her dress.

“Don’t you want me?” His voice lowered, every syllable promising what she wanted. “To wrap your legs around me. Feel my cock slide inside you. Or maybe I’d bend you over and fuck you from behind.” He swallowed. “Ram into you, over and over, holding onto your hair as I take you, as I make you scream.
Then
would you answer the question? Would you scream it out as you come? As I
make
you come?”

He slipped the key into the lock, gently turning it, all the while keeping her trapped in the intensity of his gaze. It was an angry look, far, far from the loving one she’d dreamt of. But it held so much heat, so much desire, she didn’t care.

He opened the door of the cage, still telling her all the things she could
have
if she only said yes. She wanted him. She wanted him so badly, the need consumed her. The lust Chastity brought with her pulsed like the base of her favorite song. But Eden couldn’t give in to it. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t say yes. To Chastity
or
to him.

Neither Eden nor Mitch would come out of this unscathed. He wanted
more
than proof. The moment she gave in, would he give her what he was promising, or would he turn and walk away? Would he be
able
to walk away?

She backed up, not trusting herself or him, only stopping when her ass hit the other side of the cage.

“I know
I
do.” He didn’t stop talking, didn’t stop moving forward. “I want to be inside of you so bad, it hurts.” The only wall between them was built of desire, of heat. And, with every step, he pushed it deeper into her. “I want to press you up against these goddamned bars, lift your skirt and take you. Hard. But that won’t be enough, will it?” His eyes scoured her body, the intensity exposing her, branding her skin. “You’re so goddamn hot. And I know
exactly
how you feel inside. It’s burned into my mind—every thrust, every time your body tightened around my cock as you came. I need to feel that again. Right now. I want to be
so
fucking deep inside you, we might never come apart again.”

Her body shuddered with anticipation. Every word making her denial even weaker.

“I’m going to make you come so many times, you won’t be able to stand.” He moved her by the waist, so their hips met…and released. In…and out. “Until you can’t breathe.” Again. “And then I’ll fill you with my come. So my heat lingers. So you remember me being inside you.” And again. “Until the next time. And the next time. And the next time.”

Yes, that’s what she wanted. Everything. She wanted it all.

“Tell me.” With each word, his lips brushed hers. So close. He was
so
close. “Tell me you want that as much as I do.”

“Yes,” she breathed when she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Then say it.” His hands clutched her ass, grinding his erection against her. “Tell me you want to fuck me.”

She didn’t dare move, knew he was looking for any reaction that would give her away. Was looking for signs of embarrassment as she said the words he wanted her to say, all of the things she wanted him to do to her. But he was still looking for the person who would blush when she said it. And Eden was no longer that person. Her mind swirled, Chastity pushing forward.

Eden felt like she was being suffocated between them—Mitch on the outside and Chastity from within. It wasn’t fair.
No one
could fight this.

All she could do was hold onto the love she felt for him, the hope of what
might
be. Or they’d
all
lose.

“I want to make love to you, Mitch.”

His arm came up quickly, about to strike, but instead it landed on the bar next to her head. “Tell me
exactly
what you want me to do to you.” He ran his teeth across her jaw, biting.

She blinked so she could focus, remember the game he was playing, mentally shoving Chastity away like she was…well…a bitch in heat. “I want to make love to you.”

When he pulled back, he looked confused, as if her reply threw him off. But it was only momentary. “Not like that. You want me to fuck you. Say the words.”

She swallowed, shaking. “What will words prove, Mitch? No matter what, you’ll think I’m lying.”

He inhaled deeply, as close to losing control as she was. “I’m just asking you a simple question.”

“And I answered it. Believe me or don’t—I don’t care. Words prove nothing.”

He studied her, not moving or speaking. His eyes burned hers. But despite the heat, she couldn’t look away. She didn’t
dare
look away.

“You’re right. It’s everything
behind
the words that holds meaning.”

“Then ask another question.”

The pounding on the door stopped. Or it could’ve been the entire world.

“Do you trust me?” he asked finally.

The question hung in the air. Why that? Of
all
the things he could ask her, how would that prove anything?

“Yes,” she said. She had to. She had to believe that he would return in kind. Or she’d—

A shot rang out, puncturing the door, sending large slivers of wood into the room. Landon shoved in was left of it and came barreling into the room, his weapon raised.

“Leave her the hell alone, Turner.”

The commotion had made her jerk, but Mitch’s arms on either side of her had kept her still. He continued to look at her as if he hadn’t heard a thing, his stare heavy on her.

“Turner, get out of the goddamn cage.”

Mitch blinked and shook his head slightly, as if shaking off a dream. He glanced at Landon before turning back to her. Then he leaned in, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her ear.

“Guess how I know you’re lying,” he whispered. “How I know you’re not her.”

“Now, Turner,” Landon yelled. “Don’t
make
me shoot you.”

He didn’t react, didn’t even flinch. “Because Eden would never trust me.” His voice caught. “Not after all I’ve done to make her
not
.” Then he pushed away from her and stormed out of the room.

She wanted to call out to him, beg him to talk to her, give her another chance, but she couldn’t speak. Her breath was shallow, adrenaline pulsing through her veins. She tried to stand upright, to do
something
to regain her balance. But the look on his face filled her mind, smothering all logical thought, leaving only hopelessness behind.
He hates me
. Because of her eyes. The same eyes that had seen through all of his walls, had known who he was behind his fear and self-loathing.

If he could just close his own, would she stand a chance of reclaiming what was once hers
? Close your eyes, Mitch. Close your eyes and pretend that you still love me.

“You okay?” Landon asked.

She swallowed as she pried herself off the bars.

“I’m fine,” she answered gruffly. Words that proved nothing.

It wasn’t safe for Mitch to leave the house now that he had something The Clinic wanted. But it wasn’t safe for him to be
in
the house either.

He was running out of options. But one thing men are
always
ready for is something physical. And the shit he’d pulled after his last fight had only made him a more desirable opponent to guys who were too stupid to know better.

Tonight he took his time, gave the other fighter a chance to think he was really doing some damage. Mitch didn’t duck. Fuck. He didn’t even
move
. He simply enjoyed every punch the guy threw. Felt it shake his body, bruise his muscles. If he was lucky, maybe he’d have some good internal bleeding going by the end of it.

Eventually her image would be knocked out of his skull. At least the pain was there to help him feel better. Less angry. And a
lot
less horny.

Landon’s dramatic entrance had actually been a blessing. Even if she’d said exactly what Mitch wanted to hear, he still might not have been able to make it out of the cage without fulfilling every promise he’d made.

Forget about it, asshole. Focus on the fight, not on her.
Or he would get a fucking hard-on and, in a Fight Club, there’s
no
coming back from that.
No one
will want to get too close to the prick with the hard prick.

He squeezed his eyes shut to try and rid his mind from the look on her face. From the way her body had been practically
begging
him to make good on his offer. Yep, if Landon had shown up about three seconds later, he would have walked in on an even
more
disturbing scene. And Mitch would be feeling even worse than he did right now.

If he gave in to the needs of his body, of
her
body, it still wouldn’t be enough. Because it would be with the wrong woman.
Ah, what a fucked up world we live in
. He
sees
Eden,
wants
Eden, and can’t
have
Eden. Because she wasn’t actually Eden. And screwing her alter-ego would be hollow and meaningless. Like pounding back a cup of coffee so you don’t fall asleep while driving and then, after you wake up in a ditch, realizing it was decaf.

He needed to go home now, to be there when Eden woke up. So he ended the fight. Quick and dirty. But
this
time he didn’t offer to help his opponent stand back up. He just walked away. Was that a sign of inner-spiritual-growth or inner-I-don’t-have-the-time-or-interest-to-give-a-fuck?

Yep. He wanted to be there when Eden woke up. Then he’d feel a hell of a lot better.

§ § §

In the morning, the first thing Mitch did was throw on some clothes. The second was go check on her. He’d spent half the night feeling Hyde scratch apart the inside of his chest like the bastard was peeling off wallpaper. Then, once that
delightful
experience was over, he spent the rest of the night telling himself that everything would be okay—Eden would be back, and whoever she’d been yesterday would’ve disappeared like a wallet accidentally left behind on a barstool.

But his inability to sleep wasn’t because of the excitement of seeing her again. It was more because he didn’t know if he’d ever have
anything
to be excited about again.

He stood in the doorway to his bedroom, checking out the damage Landon’s bullet had created and waiting for her to open her eyes. She was curled up on the mattress inside her cage, her back to him. After a few minutes of trying to quell his anxiety-riddled impatience, he smacked his hand on the door. It wasn’t a particularly loud sound, but it had the intended effect. Even
more
than the intended effect.

She flipped off the mattress and was in a fighting stance before his hand had dropped. When Chastity’s eyes made a B-line to his, he felt the little hope he’d
had
plummet out of his chest and splat on the floor, never to be seen again.