Miscreants: Next Generation Page 7

  “You really don’t have to.”

  “Tell me where,” he replied, sliding his palms higher.

  “Anywhere?” I hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question, but part of my brain was still sending out warning signals. This wasn’t a good idea. I’d avoided being beneath him for nearly four weeks.

  He laughed lightly and leaned down, capturing my mouth. As soon as our lips met, the debate in my head became obsolete. He kissed me briefly but deeply before moving his attentions gradually lower. My body warmed in response, the feeling in my lower stomach bringing more wetness between my legs. His lips on my neck, he gently nipped the flesh, causing me to shudder.

  “Mal,” I breathed.

  “Don’t speak. Just feel.” His voice was cool and controlled. He worked his way lower, telling me to lift so that he could remove my tank top.

  The cool air had goosebumps spreading across my skin. With no bra on, my nipples hardened. Without comment, he continued his path downward, taking his time. Lips skimmed over my navel, making my stomach dip.

  Gripping the elastic band of my shorts, he pulled them off and paused. I wasn’t wearing underwear, but I wasn’t embarrassed. He’d seen my body a hundred times before. His eyes traveled from my bare pussy to my hairline, taking their time. As they did, his hands tightened around my thighs.

  “I fucking hate how beautiful you are. I hate it, but I love it too.”

  I rolled my lips, unsure what to say. This wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this.

  He was one to talk. He was infuriatingly gorgeous too.

  “You know what makes it better?” he continued, spreading my legs further apart as he settled his face between them. His stubble rubbed against my skin, heightening my senses. “Knowing you’re mine. It makes your pussy taste sweeter.”

  The first tentative, teasing lick had a soft moan spilling from my throat. His strong tongue slowly made its way up my pussy and to my clit, making my mind go blank. There were no thoughts, just an urgent need for him to keep going.

  His fingers skimmed along my inner thighs. He teased and tortured me before sliding in a single digit. His finger swirled against my walls, hitting the most sensitive spots as he stretched my pussy. A second finger slid in and he began to rock them in and out of me while his tongue worked my clit.

  My soft moans became repetitive and loud.

  It had been so long it didn’t take much to bring me over the edge.

  I reached down and threaded my fingers through his thick, dark hair, pulling his face deeper between my legs.

  “Mal,” I whimpered.

  “Come,” he urged, pushing his fingers deeper inside me. “Come, babygirl. Let me taste it.”

  My thigh muscles began to lock up, my inner walls contracting as he brought me to climax. Tightening my grip in his hair, I cried out as my body trembled and heat pervaded through my veins. He continued to lick me as I came back down. I felt like a puddle of mush. When he drew back, the table lamp illuminated the juices on his face.

  He moved away to remove his jeans and briefs, lowering them over the sharp V that led to his cock. I pushed myself up onto my elbows so I could watch him.

  Like him, I’d seen his body so many times, but I could never get used to it. He was toned in all the right ways. His tattooed sleeves and double insignias made him a leaving, breathing work of art.

  My eyes traveled over the dark patch of curls and to his cock. It was thick and long, with a prominent vein going from the smooth head to the base. Something was different, though.

  His piercing.

  He’d only had one before, but now it looked like there were two or three in the shape of an X. I could see four metal beads sticking out from beneath the skin.

  “You almost done?”

  My gaze flew to his. “When did you do that?”

  “A while ago.” He climbed back on the bed and settled himself between my legs. “It’ll make you feel good.”

  That brought a ton of questions to the forefront of my brain. But I was gasping and grabbing at his back before I could ask. He’d pushed inside me without hesitation. The pleasurable burn created another gush of liquid. I was dripping wet, but his dick was too big for me to easily accept.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, holding himself still.

  I buried my face in his neck and grasped his shoulders, feeling my pussy stretch to accommodate him. I felt the metal bars of his piercing too, brushing against my walls. He lifted my legs over his forearms and pushed himself deeper.

  I whimpered, digging my fingers into his skin. After withdrawing, he thrust back in. He didn’t slow or stop this time. He fucked me rougher than he had in months, but still gentler than usual, forcing me to keep still and take every inch of him.

  Moans became whimpers, and the sound of our skin slapping echoed around the room.

  I was going to come again. I felt it building in my core. I think I said his name again, but I wasn’t sure. My pussy contracted around him, and a mangled scream tore from my throat.

  “Fuck, Lils,” he growled, capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss as he continued to pound into me.

  I ran my hands down his back, curling my fingers into his heated flesh as another orgasm rapidly built. He kept his pace the same, making it that much more intense.

  “Mal, please,” I pleaded, pulling him deeper.

  “Please?” he toyed with me, his voice still level aside from a slight rasp.

  “Make me come.”

  He readjusted and started fucking me from a different angle. His cock and his piercing hit my g-spot simultaneously. I could hear—feel—how wet I was as he thrust in and out of me.

  I felt the flood of warmth and liquid inside my pussy before I realized I was coming. Absolute bliss flowed through my whole body.

  I rode the high as Mal found his own release, pulling out at the last second. He fisted his cock, moving his hand up and down to get every drop of come out. The sticky liquid spurted onto my lower stomach and pussy, dripping down to the mattress.

  My chest rising and falling, I wrapped him in my arms and hugged him tightly, never wanting to let this go. He kissed my forehead, then my lips, before easing himself backward.

  I rolled my head but didn’t bother to move, watching his toned ass as he vanished from the room.

  When he returned, he had a warm rag and voluntarily wiped between my legs.

  When he was done, he laid down beside me, his back flat on the bed. I shifted closer and rested my head on his shoulder.

  We remained like this for a few minutes, both consumed by our own thoughts.

  At first, I thought I’d regret this, but now I knew I wouldn’t. Having him inside me was one of my favorite addictions.

  The other was him.

  Being by his side and loving him was as natural as breathing. Maybe that’s why the pain was inevitable—because it wasn’t supposed to be. Our love was manic—bittersweet and possessive madness. It didn’t matter that it was nurtured by blood and obsession, addictive highs and crushing lows. It continued to grow.

  The secrets and animosity between us did nothing to slow its progression.

  It was growing so rapidly I had become anxious.

  The man beside me had become someone incredible, but I didn’t know him anymore and he wasn’t giving me a chance to learn who the new him was.

  Despite all of this, I loved him now more than I ever had before. I found that realization to be terrifying—more so when I thought back to what he had said the night prior.

  He began tracing up and down my spine. I snuggled closer to him, relaxing into his warmth and the softness of the duvet beneath us.

  “I don’t like keeping you captive.” His deep voice broke through our comfortable blanket of quiet.

  “Then why do you?”

  “Because everything is different, and you’d run from me the first chance you’re given.”

  There was so much I could ask or say in response to that, but I just didn’t feel like talking anymore. I was tired of spinning on this hamster wheel, running in place. We either said too little or didn’t say nearly enough and came to yet another roadblock.

  Everything that needed to be vocalized was caught in our failure to communicate or our wires getting crossed.

  Unless we took our clothes off. We had no problems communicating then.

  It. Was. Exhausting.

  If—when—I got away from him, I knew he’d come after me. He might even catch me, but that wasn’t what I was most concerned about.

  I closed my eyes and pretended to be falling asleep. Either he believed the act or chose not to call me out for it. His next words threatened to splinter my resolve.

  “I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I need you to know I never forgot our promise. You’ll always be the peace in my world. I’m doing all I can to make it one you want to be a part of.”

  Why the hell did he have to go and say that now?

  I wanted to yell—to scream—to make him explain how I could possibly be his peace when the only thing we gave one another was chaos.

  I kept my eyes closed, fighting back the tears that burned behind them. If I looked at him again, in this kind of position, I’d be done for. Samael was riptide. At any given moment, he could drag me under.

  I was always holding my breath and bracing for the chaos that would come once he caught me in his turbulent waters.

  My best defense was the only one I had left: running.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The hardest part of heartbreak isn’t the ending. It’s the memories of what once was, and the possibilities of all the things that could have been.

  Seeing the flowers was another blow to my psyche. When had he found the time to slip away and return before leaving o
n his run?

  I tightened my grip on my drawstring bag, testing the weight of it. I’d heeded Poet’s advice and packed as little as I could, taking few sentimental items.

  Slipping out of the cabin, I peered up at the cloud dominated sky, searching for a hint of blue or any sort of sunlight. The air felt heavier this morning, falling in line with my mood.

  Spurring myself into a quick pace, I skipped the porch steps and began the trek down the path. I could still feel him as I walked. I tried not to think about that too much.

  The silence was cutting.

  The majority of the faction would still be sleeping while whoever was on patrol did their routes. I sincerely hoped the person guarding the docks wasn’t someone I knew well enough to give a damn about.

  My breath came in small puffs, the chill in the air almost strong enough to make me wish I’d dressed in something heavier. It would be replaced by the heat soon enough, though. I’d gone the simple route: shorts, tank, cardigan flannel, and a worn pair of knee-high boots.

  It was practical and flexible in case we ran into trouble. I reached the end of the path that split in two and fell right in step with Takara, who’d been waiting on me.

  She wasted no time in divulging all I’d missed as she handed off a holster like Samael’s, equipped with the same style gambit.

  Both of us were careful not to look overly suspicious while remaining alert in case someone spotted us. If we drew too much attention to ourselves now, we’d never make it to the docks.

  “Samael and six others left about three hours ago. We’ve got Poet in place with our gear, and the other guy.”

  “What other guy?”

  “There are two proselytes standing watch by the docks.”

  “What other guy?”

  Did she think I would miss how she just avoided that question?

  “Travis,” she spit out.

  “Who the hell is Travis? Please tell me it’s not the man from the pens.”

  “We need him. I’ll explain more once we make it out of here. We’ve gotta move quick. No one seems to know where Samael was going.”

  “So, we have no idea how far he went or when he’ll be back?”

  “Exactly.” She nodded so hard her ponytail swished from side to side.

  Something dawned on me as we neared the decrepit building that had once been a boathouse. “How’d this Travis guy get out of the pen?”

  “I let him and a few others out, then gave them instructions to run the wrong way while we went another.”

  “Dang, girl. Brutal.”

  She shrugged. “At least now they’ll die for a worthy cause.”

  “Right. But if they tell whoever winds up catching them that it was you who opened the pen….”

  “Damn. I didn’t think of that.”

  “Come on.” I broke into a jog, listening for anything that would indicate we’d been found out.

  When we got to the old boathouse, Poet wasted no time getting his ass in gear. I would’ve laughed at the crouching tiger pose he was in if our situation wasn’t so dire.

  “Grab the bags,” he ordered Travis before taking the lead towards where the boats were docked. There were only four, and two were the kind you had to peddle with your feet. One of those two was extremely weathered, to the point I wouldn’t trust it to get us from one side of the lake to the other.

  This whole escape thing would have been so much simpler if we could’ve taken the main road that everyone used to come and go. That was next to impossible, though.

  Whereas the lodge was patrolled as an extra safety measure, both the actual entrance and the long tarmac leading to it had a small army just waiting for someone to try them. Not to mention how easily we could be followed on that route.

  Plus, I imagined Samael’s reach extended quite a few miles. Proselytes or potential allies could be anywhere. At least this way, if anyone pursued us they’d have to take a boat and then find which way we took in the woods.

  The lake came into view just ahead. Mist clung to its usually shimmering surface. Somewhere beyond that white vapor lay the embankment we needed to get to.

  The two proselytes Takara had mentioned were both facing away from us.

  They were in full Stag-Lazarus gear: dark hooded robes that could pass as black, and the Stag masks with lethally pointed antlers. Samael had wanted that small detail added on purpose. He never wanted his people to be without a weapon.

  I’d seen countless individuals impaled by those sharpened horns.

  “You take left, I take right?” Poet asked without looking at me.

  “Sure,” I replied, already reaching for my gambit.

  “You help me with the boats,” Takara said to Travis.

  No longer whispering and our boots meeting with wooden slates, the proselytes were alerted of our presence. They turned right as Takara and Travis split away from us, Kara taking my bag from me in the process.

  I couldn’t tell who I was looking at whom due to the faction gear—not that it would make much difference.

  I couldn’t think of this person as one of my friendly acquaintances. It was them or us, and I had to go with us. The ridges of my blade’s handle felt natural against my palm. It’d been a while since I’d done this, but you never forgot how to kill someone.

  “Lilith?” the man questioned.

  His confusion was unmistakable.

  “Sorry for ruining your morning,” I quipped, walking right up to him.

  I raised the gambit and slammed it into his stomach. The sound he made encouraged me to sweep upward, my blade slicing through his midsection as easily as it would butter. My fingers were immediately coated in liquid warmth. He hadn’t even tried to defend himself. A strangled noise flew from his mouth.

  One of his hands grabbed for my shoulder; the other went for the thick knife lodged in his stomach.

  Looking in the eyes of the mask, I twisted from left to right. Then, using my forearm, I pushed against his chest and shoved him backward, forcing his heavy body off my blade.

  His hands were pressed to his stomach as he fell off the dock, hitting the water with a satisfying smack. There was a second splash from the proselyte Poet had been dealing with.

  No time to dwell or linger, we hurried towards the boat Takara and Travis had procured. Poet climbed on first, then reached back to help me. As soon as I was fully on board, he moved to the oars.

  “Grab the extra pair and row,” he directed at Travis, dropping down to the center bench.

  I sat beside Takara, watching the dock for any sign of approaching proselytes.

  Poet and Travis were already rowing, gradually lengthening the distance between the boat and the camp, taking us further into the thick fog.

  The adrenaline coursing through my veins numbed me to the cold.

  When we were far enough away from the docks, I twisted around and dipped my hands into the water to wash away the blood from them and my gambit.

  “We did it,” Takara said softly.

  “Yeah.” I drew back and turned to sit correctly, placing the blade back in the holster around my waist. “But we’re far from being in the clear.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  As we got even further away from the lodging site, it began to sink in just what we’d done.

  Betrayed our faction.

  Betrayed Samael.

  The repercussions of our actions wouldn’t just fall on us. I went to run my hand through my hair, pausing when I remembered I’d styled it in a single braid.

  I wondered where he was. What he’d do when he got back and discovered I was gone.

  I hoped he wouldn’t hate me for this. After all he’d done for me and everything we’d gone through together, I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

  Not when I hated myself.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I knew she was gone the moment I stepped foot back in my territory. A somberness clawed at the air. Proselytes choked on tangible fear.

  As they should.

  I arrived at the docks just as Grant was removing a second body from the water, their Stag mask long gone.

  I promptly told him to put it back.

  They were useless to us now, nothing but corpses we’d waste time burying or burning. At least providing a meal for the fishes benefited the eco system.

  I wasn’t surprised they’d been killed.

  Lilith wouldn’t have known she could spare them. If they’d have laid a finger on her, it would have been me tossing them into the water one piece at a time.