The Other Brother (Snow and Ash Book 3) (25 page)

Kent

~ ~ ~

Dear Kent,

I don’t blame you for what Nico and Ayden did. They loved you, I’m sure, and they were only trying to protect you and the family name. You’ll find this strange, I know, but I forgive them. As for you, forgiveness isn’t an option. You did nothing to me that I didn’t want.

I went to you willingly. I let you break me, knowing I’d shatter like glass and never be whole again. You asked, so I threw myself down and let the pieces fly. For the first time in years, I was happy.

I would have given you my soul, had you asked for it.

It was more than love. You became the center of my world. I lived for you. You were my sun, and ever since you left me, I’ve hurtled out of control, an empty rock on an endless path to nothing. All the tricks I had for dealing with life are gone, and I’ll never function on my own again. You saw me. Half the time I don’t even remember how to eat.

I see myself forty years from now in some mental hospital, if they still have those then. Once my mother is gone, a stranger will care for me, or a series of strangers, but I’ll always be a burden. I’m a quarter of a person made of ragged and bleeding flesh. Every breath I take, I wonder why I should bother. That’s not living. It’s death trapped in living tissue.

You said I was your greatest treasure. If that’s true, then don’t leave me a burden on people who’ve suffered enough. You helped me get this way, and that makes me your responsibility. If I kill myself, it’ll destroy my mother. She’s tried so hard. So I need you to do what’s right. I need you to end this. I need you to put that bullet in my brain like you were always supposed to so I can finally find peace, and everyone can get on with their lives.

I love you. I will always love you.

Bianca

I gave Michael my letter four days ago. He’s one of the soldiers Kent sent to guard us. My colonel sent all of them plain clothed so I wouldn’t have to see the Barry uniform and feel anxious. He’s so thoughtful. Since then I’ve waited for something, anything, to tell me he at least looked at my letter, considered it. The crunch of footsteps in the snow sends me flying to the window, even though I hate the stark bleakness that surrounds us. This time it is the lady across the street, and she really is walking a dog. There are so few dogs these days.

“Are you expecting someone?” Mom arches her brows like she already knows the answer.

I sink back into my seat and pick up my cards. “Not really. Just hoping.”

Mom pinches the bridge of her nose. “You really loved him,” she says and sets down a king, queen, and jack of spades.

“Yes.”

I’ve told her what happened, that it was Nico and Ayden. She still hates him though. For Dad. For me. For being a Barry.

Mom winces. “His face, though.”

I draw a card. Six of diamonds. Useless to me, and I drop it in the discard pile. “I have scars too.”

“You know what I mean.” She frowns at her hand and makes another move.

How can she not understand? “I loved all of him. The good and the bad. To me all of it was beautiful, even the scars.”

Especially the scars.

Mom folds her cards to her chest. She grimaces. “You were such a darling little girl.”

And I’m such a disappointment now. I smile wryly. I don’t look at her.

“I spent all my time chasing after your sister,” she goes on. “I knew you were all right. You’d always do what I told you, and I knew I could trust you. I was a terrible mother.”

My jaw drops. “That’s not true!”

“You needed to be held. I should have let Tish get herself out of trouble and shown you how special you were.”

My stomach tightens, and I look away. “I’m not special, Mom. I just don’t fight.”

She seizes my left hand. “Then I will fight for you.”

She narrows her eyes and grits her teeth, and she reminds me of a Rottweiler mama guarding her puppy. Her last puppy.

A surge of emotion wells inside me. I love her intensely.

Another set of footsteps. The mail flap rocks and the footsteps retreat. It’s just the guy with the news sheet, going door to door. It’s always thin, two or three pages at most. No advertisements, just whatever information the citizens need to know.

“Your move, Bee.”

I shake my head and inspect my hand. He’s not coming. Another day of making moves. Faking life.

“Amy, come look at this,” Janet says.

Mom straightens. “What?”

Janice wags the news sheet. “You’ve got to see this.”

Mom sets her cards down and takes the sheet. A second later her lips part. “Mother of God.”

Leslie seizes the sheet and gives it a scan. Her jaw drops. “That woman is his consort? I thought Ayden was his wife. Michael!”

Michael is a good-looking guy if you like the handsome, muscular, cheerful type. He ducks his head into the room, then spots the news sheet. He straightens.

Mom grabs the news sheet back from Leslie. “Do you know anything about this?”

He cocks his head. “Yes, ma’am. We were informed yesterday.”

“We have a city full of Barry soldiers!”

Okay, dead inside is one thing, but what the hell? “Mom, what’s going on?”

“No, ma’am,” Michael counters. “Mason soldiers.”

Mom shoves her chair back and gets to her feet. “What does he think he’s doing? It’s going to be a civil war!”

Michael’s shoulders drop, and he moves farther into the room. “No, ma’am. The men are loyal to Kent. Not the Barrys. This is Mason territory.”

Mom’s mouth falls open. “Well, shit!”

I have never heard my mother swear. Like me, she probably thinks the words, but they never come out of her mouth. Ever. I gawk.

I drop my own cards on the table. “Is someone going to tell me what’s happening?”

But a car door slams and my heart fills with gratitude. My chest clutches in dread.

This time when the knock comes, I’m right there at the door.

~ ~ ~

Kent is dressed in plain clothes: a white shirt open at the neck and gray wool slacks. Kent without his uniform messes with my head. Without a word he scoops me up.

“What are you doing? I can walk.”

Mom pops out onto the porch, sans coat. “Bianca!”

“Stay with them,” Kent orders Michael.

The soldier salutes.

“Kent, this isn’t necessary. You can put me down.”

Instead he presses his lips to my temple.

Okay, he’s not here to give me peace. You don’t pick up a girl and carry her away from her mother without letting her, well, say something profound. You definitely don’t kiss her. Teasing me like this, it’s just plain mean.

“I liked you better in uniform.”

He suppresses a smile. “We’re having them made over. Know anyone who can sew?”

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” He’s so warm and strong.

His grip on me tightens. “You’ll find out.”

“What’s with all the cars, anyway? I thought all the fuel was for electricity?”

“The government keeps a few for emergencies, plowing, getting around town—something your dad started.” There is indeed a plow scoop attached to the front of the SUV.

Another plain-clothed man snaps to attention and opens the rear door. Kent places me on the backseat and slides in alongside.

Before I can ask where we’re going, he pulls a wide black strip of cloth out of his pocket. The air pressure changes, and something in me clicks.

“Turn around,” he instructs.

My heartbeat slows and I turn. I close my eyes.

Kent places the satiny cloth over my face and ties the ends securely. My skin tingles as his fingers brush my neck.

The car retreats down the drive as Kent pulls me onto his lap, my back to his chest and my legs spread over his. The car stops, the driver switches into gear, and we move forward. Kent moves his hand underneath my sweatshirt and rests it on my stomach, and the first ting of anticipation hits me. I’m so not prepared for this. His touch feels like a gasp of fresh air when I thought I was going to drown.

“You’re like a dream,” he murmurs. Light as butterfly wings, he traces his lips down my neck. He stretches the neckline and makes love to my shoulder.

I cannot move. My stomach flutters against the hand that holds it, and he pulls me closer. I feel captured, and I let out a soft moan. His cock stirs against my backside, and a flood of heat fills me, spills out into my panties. When he inches his hand higher under my shirt, I jerk.

“Let me,” he murmurs.

He tongues the inside of my ear, and I cannot say no to him. One hand grips my neck; the other pushes my bra out of the way. A moment later he cups one mound, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I let out the breath I’d been holding in a long-drawn-out sigh. He brushes his thumb over my nipple, and that tiny ping melts me to the core.

“The driver,” I gasp. But I’d probably let Kent fuck me right in front of him at this point.

“Privacy glass.” He bites that place where shoulder joins neck. My legs are already spread wide from just the way we’re sitting, and I imagine him pushing that hand down under my waistband. But then he starts in again with his lips and all thinking stops.

The driver slows, stops, and puts the car in park. A moment later the engine cuts off. Kent rights my clothes.

I reach for the blindfold.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I haven’t given you permission.”

Permission. It’s like a song of sweetness.

I’m not wearing a coat, and I’m very cold as Kent carries me across what smells like wet concrete. No snow cracks underfoot. Are we in an underground garage? He pulls open a metal door, nudges through, and allows it to slam behind him.

“Where are you taking me?”

He shushes me. Softly, caressingly, but it’s still a shush. He adjusts me against his chest and begins to climb a staircase.

It’s a testament to what good shape he is in that he’s carrying a hundred-pound girl up a flight of stairs. Up several flights of stairs. There are so many twists and turns I lose count. Then Kent pounds twice on another metal door. It opens.

I hear feet snap together; someone is saluting. The door clangs shut behind us and instantly the chill disappears. It smells…damp. Not moldy damp, but earthy somehow.

“Almost there.” Again he kisses my temple.

“Almost where?”

“Home,” is his answer.

What is he talking about? Do I have a new apartment? Am I in the crazy home? Is there staff to take care of me so I won’t be a burden to my mother? Sharp disappointment pierces me. This is no gift. I need my mother. I need someone who loves me. Also, there’s Ayden. He says she’s gone. Gone as in not here right now, or gone as in forever? I wish he’d explain. This not knowing is killing me.

We pass down one hall and around to another. He goes another fifty paces. “Open the door, Corporal.”

“Yes, sir!” Several locks click, and then Kent whisks me inside. He sets me on my feet, and since I wear no shoes, I feel warm, thick carpet between my toes.

He unties the knot that binds the cloth. It falls free, and I open my eyes. I’m standing on the biggest, softest flokati rug I’ve ever seen. My toes literally curl in and lose themselves. The room is so light—electric lights! It’s a living room, and there is absolutely nothing Biltmore-ish about it. Pale yellow walls, different shades of green in the furniture, with purple and orange accents. There’s no possible way a person could be depressed in here. “Where are we?”

“I told you. Home.”

“Whose home?”

“Ours.”

I want it. I want it so badly, but he’s crazy if he thinks it’ll work. “You don’t want me. You want—”

“Come here.” Oh yeah. That military voice.

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Bianca!”

I go still. I could come just hearing that tone in his voice.

He looks me up and down, circles me, runs his hands down my buttocks and thighs. He pulls the sweatshirt over my head and drops it over the back of a chair. He unhooks my bra and throws that aside too. He circles back around.

“Put your arms down,” he orders.

He cups my breasts, lifts and drops them, seeming to measure the bounce.

I blush with shame. “I’m so thin.”

He lifts a shoulder. “That’s easy to fix. Just open your mouth. Take off your jeans. Slowly.”

He asks; I do it.

The corners of his lips twitch at the granny panties. “Come here, little girl.”

He cups my face. “You’ll do as I say. From here on out. Is that understood?”

I nod. Oddly it’s like a great burden has lifted. Joy flutters inside me like hummingbird wings.

“Kneel.”

I’m grateful for the command. I get to my knees.

“Take out my cock and suck it.”

My breaths come shallow and fast. My hands shake as I undo his zipper, pull down his trousers, then his boxers. His dick stands proud. His musky scent is all him, and it intoxicates me to the point where I ache. I never thought I’d be this close to him again. Kent opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, I trace my tongue from the root to the tip. I tickle that spot just behind the head. I trace back down and lick his ball sac. I missed him. God, how I missed him. With a moan I take his sac in my mouth and make love to him with my tongue.

I look up and find him glowering down at me. Instinctively I know he likes seeing me like this, on my knees with his penis in my mouth. He probably loves watching me as much as I love doing it. I wrap my lips around the head. Warm and salty, deliciously Kent. I let out a soft moan, and I tilt my head back so he can see better. I tease the tip, swirling my tongue and giving it gentle sucks. I press it through my lips over and over. Soft whimpers of happiness escape me as I take him farther, letting his cock sweep my cheek.

“Yeah.” He hisses in a breath, squeezes his eyes, then wrenches them open again.

How honored I am that he’s letting me do this for him. I gather as much spit as I can and spread it around, and I add my hand to the play. I stroke and squeeze his base in tandem with my mouth.

“Stop. Stop!” He fists my hair, and I let him fall from my lips.