The Other Brother (Snow and Ash Book 3) (9 page)

“I meant to kill that husband of yours. Carve him up into little pieces and take him away for meat. It’s what he deserves for what he’s done.” He leans in and inhales my scent. “But I have another idea now.”

“Don’t,” I choke. I feel his erection rise against my belly, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Rivulets of tears escape out each corner. “I can’t! I just can’t.”

Hands holding me down while a man in a gray hoodie spreads my legs and shoves at me hard. The agonizing split as he pushes through my virginity.

“You won’t make a sound,” he says. “You make so much as a squeak and I’ll cut your throat. I’ll leave you here for your husband to find, minus a steak or two. You keep quiet, you cooperate, and all I’ll do is take a leg. I’ll even tie a tourniquet for you so you don’t bleed out. Who knows? You might even make it.”

Oh God! Oh— “Kent!”

It’s a primal cry, and it scrapes my throat raw. It’s all I have time for before my attacker releases my hands, seizes me by the neck, and slams me against the wall again.

“Big mistake. Those guards of yours are dead. I shoved their bodies in the other closet—yours, I’m guessing. No one is coming for you.”

His hand tightens around my neck. He squeezes off my air and bares his teeth as he holds the weapon in front of my eyes. The first side of his knife looks the way I expect it to—a long, crisp-looking blade. The other side is set up in two sections, one with a serrated edge like you’d see on a bread knife and the lower with a row of hooks that could easily saw me in half. I let loose a muffled babble of pleas. Using his grip on my neck, he throws me to the floor, and just at that moment I hear the sound of splintering wood. I try to scream, but all that comes out are choked inarticulate cries as I try to crawl away from my attacker. He seizes me by the hair and drags me to my knees, but before he has time to do anything, Kent flies at him in a full tackle.

I shake, and I can’t see. All I can hear are my own desperate sobs. The Cheerios have taken over my vision, and all I know is I need to get away. Away. Away.

Someone throws a blanket over me. The unknown person wraps it around my nakedness before pulling me to my feet.

I struggle against whoever it is, certain that at any minute those hooks will dig into my flesh.

All I’ll do is take a leg.

“Ma’am. Ma’am? It’s all right. You’re okay now.”

Part of me registers that I am no longer under attack, but the Bianca inside me, the animal part, doesn’t believe it. I struggle free of the soldier and dash for the relative safety of the bathroom. I slam the door behind me and my fingers shake as I search for a lock, but there isn’t one. With another sob I sink to the floor and use the weight of my body to block it from opening.

I’ll leave you here for your husband to find, minus a steak or two. I press my face to the floor and black out.

“Bianca? Open the door.”

It’s just Kent, but I can’t move. I can’t. I just want to lie here on the cold bathroom tiles where it’s safe.

Voices murmur outside the door, and after a while scraping sounds reach me. Then the door is lifted aside, and a bloodied Kent scoops me up in his arms.

“All of you, out!” Kent’s voice is cold, crisp.

“Sir—”

“And get that thing out of here!” He turns to me. “Look at me.”

I shake my head.

“Did he hurt you?”

“He was going to. He told me…”

“He can’t do anything now. He’s dead.”

Still my breath stutters, and I claw for a grip on his uniform.

“Look at me, Bianca.” He sits on the toilet seat and secures me on his lap. He forces me to face him, tips my chin until there’s nowhere else to look. Savagery flickers in his eyes, and his scars seem particularly red.

“I killed him.”

I blink. I shudder. I avert my gaze.

“Bianca!”

It’s an order I cannot disobey. I meet his eyes.

“He was a cannibal,” I tell him. “He was from that camp you just annihilated. He said you killed his family.”

Kent blinks rapidly and looks away.

“He came for you, but he said I’d do. He was only going to take a leg and leave the rest of me.” I squeeze my legs together, and a sob squeaks out of me. “He said he’d…just take a steak or two.” I tear my eyes away from his, so filled with disgust and fear that I want to escape being me.

Kent smooths a hand over my hair. “Did he touch you?”

I duck my head, and he seizes me by the shoulders. “Bianca, did he touch you?”

Shame flips to rage, and I push at him. “Yes! With his knife! With his hands when he grabbed me by the throat and cut off my air. If you want to know if he raped me, no. Only with his words. If you think that makes everything okay, you know nothing about me.”

I struggle to get up, but his arms are strong as tree trunks and he anchors me against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he mutters against my hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I never should have let this happen.”

“You said I was safe!” I give him one last shove before defeat overcomes me. I duck my head, and the sobs take over. “You said I was safe.”

He holds me. Rocks me. Whispers to me. He presses me to his blood-soaked chest. “I killed him, sweetie. I killed him with my bare hands.”

I’m cold. My body is racked with violent shivers. Kent leans over and turns on the water, holds his hand under it for a few minutes, then switches it to a soft spray.

Without a word he lifts me high against his chest and steps into the glass-walled shower. He’s fully clothed, but he doesn’t seem to care. Hot water stings my flesh and stabs into my eyes. Kent sits down back against the wall and adjusts me so I’m seated between his legs, his arms about my waist. He pets me like I’m a cat. He soothes away my tremors until I finally relax against him, until I accept that he surrounds me like a concrete barrier.

When the water grows cold, he lifts me out and dries me off. Still whispering soothing words, he carries me to the bed and tucks me under the covers. I stare at the closets. “The guards,” I whisper as he strokes my hair. “He said he killed them and stuffed them in my closet.”

Kent places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “We know. Everything’s gone now.”

I lay still as Kent strips free of the wet uniform and climbs into bed beside me. He pulls me securely against his body, wraps a leg over me, and rests his head on top of mine. “That will never happen again,” he says. “No one will ever touch you but me.”

~ ~ ~

I wake up, a scream on my lips, but Kent is there. He brushes his lips over mine and silences me. He is big and he is warm and I need him.

He strokes my still-damp hair before he runs a hand down the side of my body and over my stomach. His touch is so gentle, so assuring, and I relax into him.

No one will ever touch you but me. At first the memory warms me, but then I remember that the intruder was in our home, right in our bedroom, and I stiffen. There’s no way he can keep me safe. Not really.

Kent continues stroking my body, coaxing kisses from me, and soon I feel the familiar heat. I press into the hard length of his cock and rub myself against him.

“Yeah,” he whispers, working his lips down to my breast. His tongue circles my nipple, bringing it erect and hard. He massages the tip with his tongue, and I gasp at the tingly surges that shoot down into my belly. I arch up to meet him. He rolls the other peak between his thumb and finger as he gives the first one a gentle suck. I can’t help moaning at the feel of it.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, cupping my face in his hands.

His eyes are filled with a mixture of lust and kindness, and a rush of tenderness comes over me. I trace over the burn scars and cup his cheek. His eyelids flutter shut, and he leans his face into my hand.

His breathing quickens, and he rolls his hips against me.

Kent’s heavy into BDSM. I kick the memory of Nico’s words aside and run my hands up his chest and pull him down to kiss me. I’m wet. So wet. I crave that feeling of fullness only he can give me.

He slides a hand down between my legs. I catch my breath as he traces my juices up and over my clit and begins to tease me with gentle motions. My breasts feel so full and heavy, and I want to slide the tips against the crisp hairs on his chest. He pushes his finger into me.

You keep quiet, you cooperate, and all I’ll do is take a leg.

I suck in a breath and jerk.

“Bianca?”

I clap a hand over my mouth. “I can’t. I can’t. I—I’m sorry. I can’t.”

I cover my face with both hands, humiliated and paralyzed by my reaction. But it’s true. I can’t.

Kent eases on top of me and raises up on his elbows. “Look at me right now.”

I suck in a breath and open to him.

“I’m not letting that man take my wife away from me. Do you understand?”

He doesn’t get it. I shake my head and look away. If he sticks himself inside me, I think I might scream.

He grabs my hair and pulls my head back so I’m forced to look at him. “That man is not going to win. I won’t let him. And I won’t let you lose all the ground you gained. You’re going to come tonight.”

I gulp in breaths of air. “You just don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“No, I don’t,” he agrees. “But you can’t stop now. I won’t let you go back to fear. You have two options, babe. Relax and let me fuck you. If you can’t do that, you have to let me make you come another way. You choose.”

The muscles inside me clench at his commanding tone, but the thought of him inside me makes me sick. I squeeze my eyes shut. “I think if you try to…” I swallow. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it.”

I open my eyes, expecting anger, but he strokes my hair and kisses both cheeks, then places a soft butterfly kiss across my lips. “Thank you for being honest.”

He slides down and rests his head between my breasts, and I’m grateful, damn grateful that he’s not going to push me. I’m no bargain. I know I’m not, and the fact that he’s been so patient with me makes me feel incredibly guilty.

He nuzzles my breast, gently caresses and massages them both. His touch is soft, reverent, and I let him. When he tongues the tips, nips them lightly, and gently pulls and sucks, I am not afraid. He stays there, licking, sucking, and drawing on my nipples until they stand like rigid peaks. All the while he cups my breasts and sweeps his hands up and down my body. He releases my tits for another deep kiss that leaves me taut with yearning. When he dips lower, traces his lips down my torso, I feel nothing but his worship.

He lowers himself and nuzzles just under my belly button. I’ve never felt so close to anyone in my life.

“Spread your legs for me.” He slides his hands underneath me and squeezes my backside. He places a kiss just above my mound.

With a moan I do as he says.

“Draw up your knees for me, baby. Yeah, just like that. Now hand me that pillow.”

Why? I grab the pillow beside me and hand it to him.

“Raise your hips.”

I do, and he stuffs the pillow under my butt. Now my hips are up in the air, and my private parts are open to him. A chill goes through me, and for a moment all I want to do is run.

“You were a good girl today, Bianca. I’m going to make you come, but first I want you to place your hands on your breasts.”

I frown. “What for?”

“Because I want you to.”

Feeling decadent, like I’m doing something dirty, I grasp my breasts.

He ducks his head and brushes the tips of my pubic hair with his cheek. A few hundred nerve endings sizzle to life.

He draws his tongue up one of my folds, and I get the urge to nudge him with my knee. He presses kisses along the other fold, and I shake. I arch. He’s close, so close, but…

He taps his tongue against my clit.

Oh my God.

He does it again, and I shudder. I want him to do this every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I present myself to him, spread my legs wider for him. When he begins stroking me with slow, rhythmic licks, I moan and my eyelids flutter shut. He pushes a finger inside my cunt, and my muscles clamp around him. They try to suck him deeper. When he inserts another finger, my breasts tingle with pleasure and I have to run my palms over the tips.

He briefly replaces his fingers with his tongue. He penetrates me with the tip, then rides it up between my folds and settles his mouth over my clit. Yes! I gasp and let out another moan. His fingers are back and they fuck me with slow, leisurely strokes and it feels—oh! It feels so good. Like I’d willingly die right now if this is what death felt like. His tongue continues its assault, and I shake. My pussy contracts, and I know I’m close to something. Something…

He lifts his head. “Not yet.”

I’m panting as though I’ve run a marathon. “What?”

“Don’t come.”

I throw my head back against my pillow. “You’re kidding, right?”

He gives my pussy another lick, and I grit my teeth.

“Hold off. Just hold off, and I’ll make it so good for you.” He runs his fingertips up and down the lengths of my thighs and draws my clit into his mouth. Gently, so gently, he swirls his tongue.

It’s lightning and sugar mixed with sin, and I arch my hips. My legs shake, and if he doesn’t help me, I’ll explode. I clutch him with my thighs, needing it, God, needing him so badly I could beg.

Once again he withdraws. “Open your legs, Bianca.”

“Kent. Please. Please…”

“Wider. I won’t tell you again.”

I spread my legs as wide as they’ll go.

“Work your nipples.”

I’ll do anything. Anything. Shame has no place as long as Kent keeps going. I cup my breasts, bring my fingers to the tips, and roll them, pinch them, run my palms over the peaks as he nibbles and sucks below. Once again his fingers enter my cunt. I writhe against him, squeezing my own tits, twisting my nipples until they hurt. A third finger joins the other two, stretching me wide. I want it all.

“Please, Kent!” I rock my hips against him, massaging and pinching my breasts, head thrown back and eyes closed in surrender. I am his. It is all I can do to hold back. It is all. I. Can. Do.

“You can come,” he whispers. He places his lips and tongue over my clit and sucks.