Paradise Fought: Abel (28 page)

“Fuck, I forgot about you,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well, I’d like to forget you, too,” I spat back at him. He didn’t move from his position. I had expected him to approach me harshly, throw me on his bed, and take what he wanted from me. His stilled body led me to question those aggressive thoughts.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Cain said low. The words surprised me even further. I didn’t have a response.

“He…”

“Don’t talk to me like you knew him. You knew nothing about Montana,” I interjected. I didn’t want to hear him mention my brother. He didn’t have the right.

Cain was watching me with cold eyes as I spoke. His head nodded once in acknowledgement of what I’d said. The silence rolled between us for several minutes.

“Why did Abel pay your tuition?”

“Because you stole everything from me.”

“How did I steal from you?” he asked, shifting his weight so a knee rose to the bed. He leaned forward as if he was to pounce, but the smirk on his face showed his intrigue. He was going to enjoy killing his prey.

“You killed my brother. We had nothing left after he died.”

“I see,” he paused, nodding once again then the smile deepened, “and that was my fault, how?”

“Montana needed that fight. He could have beaten you. You took it a step too far and killed him instead.”

Cain shook his head side to side.

“You’re a child,” he laughed without humor and twisted away from me. He leaned forward again, placing his elbows on his knees, and clasping his hands. He looked down at them like he was praying.

I hated him. He was arrogant. His very presence said he thought too much of himself.

“You’re not answering my question. Why did Abel pay for you?”

I was ready to remark that Abel hadn’t paid
for me
. I wasn’t his property. He didn’t own me. But it occurred to me that Cain was asking something else.

“I have no idea why he did it. Perhaps because he’s just a good guy.”

Cain’s head turned to look at me. The rest of his body didn’t move.

“Did you sleep with him?”

My mouth fell open. “I don’t see how that’s any of your damn business.”

“So you slept with him?” His lips twisted. “Is that what he wanted?”

“He didn’t want that. He said he needed a tutor.”

“In sex,” Cain teased.

“In foreplay,” I replied, without thinking, and Cain raised an eyebrow similar to his father. The resemblance was uncanny. The salt-and-pepper hair and the weathered skin were the only distinction between father and son.

“I mean, he didn’t know how to date. He wanted me to help him get a girl.”

“Which girl?” With those words, he sat back. His attention fully focused on me. I suddenly felt ensnared. His eyes glared at me and I was trapped by the darkness within. I couldn’t move. I almost couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t know. Any girl, I guess,” I whispered, uncertain why the words weren’t louder. I had no idea if Abel had a particular girl for his original mission or just women in general. He had definitely become more flirtatious since we’d met, but it had more to do with his popularity as a fighter than anything else. After a moment, Cain relaxed and turned away from me again.

“Do you want to be that girl?” he asked, looking up at something across the room from him. My eyes wandered to his focus. On the fireplace mantel sat the image of a girl. She was young and beautiful; smiling back at whoever took that photo. She looked like she loved the cameraman, and I wondered briefly if it had been Cain who took her picture. When time passed and I hadn’t answered, he tilted his head in a way to emphasize he was waiting.

Did I want to be the girl Abel was trying to seduce?
In so many ways, I was the girl. He’d been good to me. He’d been sweet to me. He’d been tender with me. If I thought about it, I was the practice girl. The tutor. But the student had surpassed the teacher, I reminded myself, and Abel knew it. He was a good lover and he took care of my inexperience. He made me crave more of him. I wanted
his
instruction. In my heart, I wanted to be teacher’s pet. Unfortunately, I believed I was more of an experiment.

“I don’t think Abel wants that,” I said in my defense. It avoided a direct answer of my desire. Thoughts of Abel taking me by his mouth or filling me entirely would get me nowhere. I couldn’t hope he’d want me, after the way he looked at me in his father’s office. I’d never seen him look so cold. His skin almost took a blue cast to it. He was frozen to me after his father exposed my initial plan.

“He’s willing to fight for you.”

“That isn’t about me,” I guffawed. It wasn’t over me that these two brothers would fight. It was for pride. One did what his father requested; the other wanted to prove something to his father. Either way, they’d both lose. Their father would have the ultimate reminder that he was lord of this manor. He was the original fighter in this family. He’d win at all cost: the sacrifice of one son for another, the death of one at the expense of the other. He could glorify and grieve in one fight. Atom Callahan was a sick man.

“I think you’re wrong. I think this is very much about you,” Cain said, staring at me. He stood and closed the distance between us. He sat across from me on another edge of the bed and continued to examine me, searching my face for something. I looked away for some reason. His investigation was too intense.

“Look at me,” he demanded. I turned to him with hatred and narrowed my eyes at him because I’d given in to the command.

“He loves you,” he said. The words seemed to catch in his throat. Not so much for what he said in concept, but the term
love
itself.

“He does not,” I barked.

“He does.”

“How would you know?”

“Because Abel only fights for what he loves.”

“That doesn’t mean anything? Abel didn’t fight until recently,” I argued, misunderstanding his meaning, and taking it literally.

“He didn’t love until recently, either.”

Entering my old bedroom brought a wave of suppressed memories. The room hardly looked like a child’s bedroom, even when it was a child’s. The walls were a lighter blue to soothe, but they were empty of any trace of the boy who grew up in here. I collapsed on the bed, my body exhausted, but my mind actively awake. I closed my eyes as I lay on my back, but in my head I could hear it: one of so many similar situations.

“Abel, did you do this?” I was too scared to respond.

“Answer me,” he’d barked.

“I did it, Father. We were wrestling and I knocked into the table, making the lamp fall over and break.” Cain came to my defense.

“Wrestling? Abel? I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true, sir. I did it,” Cain defended.

“Fine. Abel, go to your room,” he’d commanded.

“But...” The slap was almost instant. The sting so sharp I felt cut by a razor, not clapped by a hand.

“I told you to keep your mouth shut. Do as you’re told. Go to your room,” he demanded.

I rolled to my side and stared at my closet door. All my posters and belongings were boxed in the closet, the space I’d use to hide in when Cain took his beatings. Inside it held secrets. I was afraid. I was ashamed. The mirror still hung inside the door, where I’d stare at my reflection in the darkness of the small space. I’d curse at myself for being so weak. I didn’t speak up for myself. I didn’t speak up for Cain. Then I’d build myself up.
One day, you’ll prove yourself
, I’d say. The words were a distant memory of a soft feminine voice, a woman without a face, as I hardly remembered my mother. I’d been told only once I had her blue eyes. It was a warning that my father would always hate to look at me. I’d remind him of her.

I’d fallen asleep, shut down from the exhaustion, and in my dreams, I heard the noises again: a thump against the wall outside my room, a muffled cry from a child, and the sound of skin against skin. I rolled in my sleep, waking abruptly at the memory. I stared at the door, haunted by memories of things I’d heard, but never seen, happen outside of it. The results would be evident the following day with a swollen cheek, a bruised arm, or a nosebleed leftover from the night before. I closed my eyes in anguish, hoping to block out the memories.

The door to my room opened slowly then closed with a soft click. The noise was infinitesimal, but I sprang upright. The space was dark, other than a stream of light coming through the window next to the bed. In the moonlight, I saw her. She glowed effervescent blue.

“Elma?” I breathed in concern. Then I stopped. My heart constricted in distrust, reminding me how I felt about her.
How could she plan a fight against my brother?
In an instant, I sprang from my bed and pinned her against the door behind her.

“What do you want?” I growled, holding her arms at the wrists on either side of her head. How could she risk herself to seduce Thor?
To fight my brother
.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said weakly. Her blues eyes sparkled in the moonlight, tempting me like she’d already done. Her blonde hair glimmered a light blue color under the lighting.

“Were you setting me up? Hoping I would fight my own brother? Over yours?”

She shook her head, but I didn’t believe her. I leaned in for her and her mouth reached out for me. I pulled back as Elma struggled. She wanted to kiss me, but I refused. The touch of her lips would be too much for me. She let her head fall back against the door with a soft thud.

“Let me explain,” she groaned, struggling minimally under my weight. My body pressed forward, and I pinned her additionally with my pelvis. The length of me was hard and I cursed myself for wanting her. I wanted to believe she hadn’t used me to get to Cain, but I wasn’t convinced. Had she given herself to me?
To fight my brother
.

I didn’t respond. I released her wrists and ripped open the delicate material of her buttoned dress. It was the same floral piece she’d worn when I first saw her in the bursar’s office. She moaned in frustration or surprise. Either way, I didn’t care, I told myself. I was done giving to her when she wanted to take my brother. Rough hands worked over her warm skin, forcing her bra upward to expose both her breasts. My mouth covered one instantly and sucked hard until the nipple peaked to a solid nub. I pulled back to address her.

“Did he do that to you?” I barked. Elma stared at me in confusion.

“Do what…” My mouth covered her other breast and returned the aggressive latch to it. Her words were strangled as she moaned again. I released her when her hands came to my hair. I pulled her wrists back and pinned her to the door again. Moist, hard nipples hit my bare chest. I ground into her, needing the friction against her center. It encouraged my anger.

“Cain? Did he take you yet? Did he claim you?”

“Abel, he…” My hand cupped between her thighs over the dress and she paused again. Working quickly to raise the thin material and tug aside the center of her underwear, fingers claimed what they believed belonged to them. Eager to fight, my hand knew what it wanted.

“I claim you, Elma,” I said, as my fingers delved into her roughly and worked through her damp center. She was slick and I could only hope it was her body’s response to me that made her wet. I didn’t want her thinking of him. My brother.

“Abel, you don’t understand,” she said weakly, but I flicked a finger inside her and her breath hitched. She would not come, I was determined. She was for me. I hastily removed my slick digits and loosened my pants. They slid to my hips as I sprang free. I raised one of her thighs to open her for me and slammed into her. Her head hit the door again. Her breath came out in a hiss as she groaned at my entrance. Balancing on tiptoe with one foot until I lifted her, I used my hips to hold her against the door. She instinctively wrapped her legs around me. I pinned her wrists again. She would not touch me.

“I understand,” I paused on a thrust. “I paid for you,” I grunted as I dove forward again, digging deeper into her.

“You’re just like all the others, Elma. I paid for you.” My voice faltered as I felt the anticipation build. Elma moved in opposition to me. She matched me thrust for thrust, grunting at each collision of our bodies. Her forehead dampened as our bodies heated.