Vendetta

twelve

DEVON

It's nearly midnight when I come home carrying a bag of takeout from a fast food place I know she loves. She and her cousin have this routine dinner every week at the place. Sometimes he used to be a real cock-block, never leaving her alone for a second, but I understand. She’s precious to her family. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person to eat at a place like that, so I figure he was just placating her.

My hand with the key hovers near the lock hesitantly. My heart is beating out of my chest. Why the hell am I so nervous?

I shake my head. Like a fucking teenager. Before I talk myself out of it, the key is in the lock and I turn it and slowly open the door.

The lamp is on, and she's lying on the bed on her stomach, her eyes closed, one of her hands hanging off the side. After locking the door, I walk over to the bed and put the bag with the food on the bedside table and shrug my jacket off, dropping it to the floor. She doesn't shift when I lie next to her, so she must be sleeping. I bury my face in the hair at the nape of her neck and inhale deeply, the mix of lavender shampoo and just her overwhelming my senses. I could spend all day doing nothing else.

“That's so creepy.”

I smile against her neck, running my fingers over her bare arm. She shivers under my touch but other than that, she doesn't move. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“No, I'm just dying.” She flips to her back and groans, banging the back of her head on the bed. “So fucking bored.”

I prop myself on my elbows and inhale and hold my breath, looking at the ceiling. I glance at her, my gaze traveling from her messy hair to her face. The bruise on her cheek is starting to fade, she has dark circles around her eyes and she's so, so pale. I've never seen her so pale. It doesn't make me feel good to see her like this, Moore or not.

I let myself fall on the bed again and finally exhale. “Okay, get up. Did Hayley get you anything warmer to wear?”

She lifts her head slightly and looks at me, her forehead scrunched in confusion but her eyes . . . how can someone look so hopeful and disappointed at the same time?

“Come on,” I say, adding a hint of impatience to my tone. I get off the bed and glance at her sprawled on the bed in tiny shorts and a T-shirt. I ignore my cock as it notices she's not wearing a bra under that shirt. Instead, I turn around and start looking through the drawers, though I see nothing in there that she can actually wear outside. It's gotten cold in the last few days. There's that smell of snow in the air, like it's about to start falling any minute.

She doesn't move, so I walk back to the bed and drag her up by her hands until she's standing. She looks at me, then down to our joined fingers. Squeezing my hands, she looks back up.

“We can go for a walk here on the estate,” I tell her, my voice softer this time.

She exhales and leans into me, pressing her face into my chest. “Thank you,” she mumbles into my shirt.

I don't even think about it, my arms go around her instantly and squeeze her tiny body tight against mine. I close my eyes, just feeling her molding into my embrace, like a puzzle piece falling into its place. And when she pulls away from me, I miss her already.

Of course she was made for me. I never doubted it. Because life couldn't get any more fucked up otherwise. And this is exactly why I cut her out of my life the first time. Why I should have never even gotten anywhere near her in the first place.

I take her hand in mine and lead her out of the room, trying to be as quiet as possible as I lock the door behind us. There are always my uncle's men around, even when it looks like the place is empty. They are always somewhere. I just hope no one sees us, because this wouldn't go down well with anyone, taking her out like this. I hold her gaze and she nods in understanding, her bare feet silent as we descend the two flights of stairs.

Instead of outside, I take her to my room. She gives me a curious look when I point to the bed, but doesn't say anything. She takes a seat on the edge of it, leaning on her hands behind her while I turn around and grab some warmer clothes for her to wear. When I look back at her, she's looking around, her gaze touching every inch of the room.

I leave the clothes next to her on the bed, and look around as well, trying to see it through her eyes. Cold, and dark, and just . . . dead.

Finally, our eyes meet.

“I hate this room,” she says, keeping her voice down to a whisper. “It's not you at all. No wonder you're always brooding.”

I look down and purse my lips, trying not to smile.

She gets up on her knees on the bed. “Come here.”

She pulls me by the belt loops on my jeans, urging me to come closer. I don't resist the pull, and when I'm standing right in front of her she slides her hands upwards over my chest, and starts to unbutton my shirt when her fingers reach the top.

Not exactly what I had in mind when I brought her here. I put my hands over hers to stop them from going any further, glancing toward the door and trying to remember why this isn't a good idea.

The door is unlocked and anyone can come in, as unlikely as it is at this hour. Anyone could hear. My uncle is just down the hallway, sleeping in his room.

But most of all, I want to give her something, and show her I'm not a monster who only takes and takes and takes from her, and never gives anything back. I know she's dying of boredom and silence in that room.

My fingers tighten around her wrists, halting their path, but that doesn't stop her mouth from crushing mine. Her wet tongue teases my lips, trying to convince me to forget everything around us and just let myself go.

She moves away from my mouth and trails kisses along my jaw, her hot breath tickling my skin whenever she pulls away. By the time she reaches my ear, my resistance is all but crumbling.

This woman is dangerous.

“I want you to fuck me in your bed,” she whispers, and then bites down on my earlobe.

As if there's anything that would stop me right now. My jeans are already too tight against my hard-on as it is.

I grab the collar of her T-shirt and just rip it off her, exposing her perfect breasts. She gasps in surprise, and then moans as I take her nipple into my mouth and lightly bite on it. Her back arches, and she presses herself into my mouth as I lick and suck and bite her other nipple.

Placing a hand flat on her stomach, I lay her on the bed. She lifts her hips when I pull off her shorts, taking the underwear with it. I kiss my way up the inside of her thigh until I finally reach her core, already wet for me. I look up at her, smiling at her ragged breathing, her stomach quivering in anticipation, and then I shake my head when I see her eyes closed.

I let my mouth hover over her clit. “You know I won't touch you until you look at me.”

She opens her eyes instantly and locks them to mine. The second my mouth latches onto her clit and my fingers find her entrance, her hands press at the back of my head, her fingers tangling in my hair and pulling on it. She tastes so fucking good. I wrap an arm around her thigh to keep her from writhing when I finally insert my finger inside of her and pull it out, then insert two and start sliding them in and out in a steady rhythm.

I feel her clench around me within minutes, and I quicken my pace to bring her over the edge, sucking and licking her clit. I lift my head as she rides her orgasm, her eyes holding mine.

When her body falls limp back onto the mattress, the only sound in the room is our breathing, hers ragged and mine heavy, because the erection in my jeans is at the point of being painful. My self-control is definitely at its limit; I'm just about ready to bury myself in her.

I pull my fingers out of her instead and then get up and sit on the bed, adjusting myself. I glance at her and take in her flushed cheeks, her teeth still biting on her lips to keep from screaming.

She's the personification of beauty.

Her hand finds mine and she tries to pull me down to her, but I bring her up to sit instead and take the clothes I laid out earlier. I pull the hoodie over her head, only to reveal her confused eyes when it's on her.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I lean over and kiss the frown on her forehead. “I told you, we're going for a walk.”

“What, now?”

I just nod.

“But—”

“But what?”

“I was looking forward to that.” She waves her fingers in the general area of my crotch.

We both look down at the bulge in my jeans. An evil grin curves my lips. “Oh, you're going to get it. Tonight, in my bed, where I already had you, what, three times last night?”

Her eyes widen in surprise. I thought she at least suspected that was actually my room, but obviously not.

I get off the bed, find a pair of boxers in one of the drawers, and walk back and slide them up her legs.

“Leighton, I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget about everything but me inside you,” I say, meeting her gaze.

She swallows hard. “Is that a threat?”

“A promise,” I say casually, picking up the sweatpants and sliding them up her legs as well, then pulling on the drawstring around her waist to secure them cause otherwise they'd probably fall off. I fold the waistband over for good measure.

She stands up, still on shaky legs, and smiles. She leans down and rolls each leg up three times over until her feet come out. It looks ridiculous and kinda hot at the same time, to see her practically swallowed in my clothes. I throw two socks at her and she smirks, putting each on.

“There's a warm jacket somewhere in that pile of clothes.” I point to the pile in question, trying to hide a sheepish smile.

She walks over to the chair it's all thrown on, and starts rummaging through the clothes, her back to me. She pauses for a second.

“Never took you to be so messy,” she says, her voice slightly louder as she shuffles some of my clothes around. She turns around after shrugging my jacket on, her hands in the pockets, and sniffs the collar. “Can I keep this?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say, though I was going to buy her some warmer clothes, jacket included. But I like her wanting to keep mine. Like she wants me with her even when I'm not.

“You forgot your jacket in . . . wow, your room?”

“Yeah,” I say, unbuttoning the rest of my shirt and pulling a sweatshirt of my own on. “But that's okay.” I adjust myself again deliberately, and she smiles. “I could use the cold.”

LEIGHTON

It's times like these that I forget. I forget that I’m essentially a prisoner, and that the man I love is probably going to be the last thing I see before I die. He makes me forget everything. Walking down the path behind the house, hand in hand with Devon, the only thing I can think of is him. The now. This very moment. His hand is gripping mine tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. I return the gesture, but what I'm afraid of is the moment he does exactly that.

I know I have an expiration date. Now I just need to find out how much time I have.

“You okay?” Devon asks me, a puff of frozen breath leaving his mouth as he speaks.

Truth be told, my legs are still a little shaky from the orgasm he gave me, but there’s no way I’m going to voice a complaint about that. We walk toward a bench under a bare tree and Devon gestures for me to sit. I pull the jacket around me, trying to protect myself from the harsh cold and sit down slowly.

“Thanks for this, I needed it.”

“Please don’t thank me,” he says, lowering his voice. He sits next to me, putting his hands in the hoodie pockets.

I sigh, and stare at the house in front of us, searching for the sole window of the room I'm in. It's a huge three-story house, with stone walls and a large deck. It’s a mansion, really. There’s a smaller house to the side of it, probably a garage or something. I guess nothing sets it apart from the other houses in this area. It's not hard to locate the window of the room I’m in. After a while I realize there is only one with wrought iron bars.

I look at him curiously, and open my mouth to ask him what the deal is with the bars, but then I close it. Neither one of us says anything.

I close my eyes and inhale the fresh air I've so foolishly taken for granted before. The wind, the smells. . . It hits me, right then. I’m not willing to give this up. I’m not ready to leave this world.

And who is this person I’ve turned into, that I was letting myself become accustomed to this fate? I open my eyes and tilt my head to study the handsome man next to me. His eyes are closed, too, as if he's enjoying this moment of freedom with me.

My love for Devon is my greatest weakness. It has me confused, blinded. Determined to become a martyr for a crime committed by my family.

Weak. This is not who I am.

Did I think, in the end, that he would love me enough to spare me, and my family? If I’m being honest with myself, I guess, maybe I did. I realize bitterly that’s exactly what I was holding onto. A small slither of hope that all would work out in the end. Maybe I read too many books, too many unrealistic happy endings.

If Devon loves me even a quarter of the amount I do him, by this point he should know that he can’t kill me. He should know and realize that a love like this shouldn’t be sacrificed for anything—even revenge.

More death won’t bring back his family. Maybe the death of my family would be fair justice in his book. But my own death? How is he going to come out from that? Not unscathed, that’s for damn sure.

“You’re thinking too much,” he says, his eyes wide open, and back on me.

“Is that not a quality you want in a woman?” I tease, my lips twitching.

He smiles, standing up and offering me his hand.

“We have to go back already?” I whine, not wanting to leave.

“Not yet, come on,” he says, taking my hand in his and pulling me up off the bench. I suppress a squeal when he picks me up and holds me like a bride, one hand on my butt and one arm around my shoulder. I pull the jacket harder around me, making sure my torso isn't pressed up against him. He carries me through the dead, frozen grass behind the tree where we just sat, until we reach a small playground with a swing set.

I grin playfully. “A swing?”

He smiles again, showing off his white teeth, and wordlessly sets me on it, my legs dangling. He stands behind me and starts to push me.

“I can push myself you know,” I point out, brushing my hair out of my face.

“What’s the fun in that?” he says, pushing me once more with a hand on the small of my back. The wind blows in my face as I swing over and over again, so many times I lose count. I almost have the urge to jump off the swing and jump into the grass, like I used to do when I was a kid. The swing comes to a halt, and Devon pulls my back against his warm front. I lift my head up to look at him smiling down at me.

“Your face is all flushed,” he says, leaning down to kiss my dry lips.

“Do we have to go back now?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“Yeah, we better. Come on."

I get off the swing, and busy myself, brushing off my ass in case there's anything on there from the swing. In reality, I don't want him to see my eyes tearing up, but I could blame it on the wind.

“We’ll come out again, all right?” he says when I finally face him, playing with a lock of my hair. “Besides, I think you have something to take care of as soon as we get back inside,” he adds, taking a step forward, a devilish glint in his eye.

I take a step back and he frowns. Before he has the time to think it over, I take his hand in mine and squeeze it, averting his attention. “Is that right?" I ask as we retrace our steps toward the house.

My prison. But not for much longer.

“Why did you push me on the swing?” I ask, shaking that thought off.

“I remember as a kid, it used to make me feel free.” That's all he says, and he doesn’t need to explain anymore. He wanted me to feel free, even for a moment. Even if it was an illusion.

What he doesn’t know is I intend to be free once again.

On our way back to the house, we spot a figure by the parked car in front. I can tell by their build it's a man, gesturing wildly with his hands as he yells into the phone, pacing back and forth next to the vehicle. Devon and I look at each other, the same question on his face that I'm sure mine shows. My hand flies into the jacket's inner pocket and grips the gun I found in Devon's room, its coldness shocking my fingers. I relax them, mentally scolding myself for almost giving it away, and pull my hand out, careful not to catch his attention. Devon crouches behind the low stone wall near the backyard entrance gate and gestures for me to do the same. I follow him down and press my back against the wall.

“Who is it?” I whisper-yell, looking at him.

He doesn't reply, but shushes me with his hand. His eyebrows scrunch in concentration: I actually see him straining to hear the conversation. All I can hear is a voice occasionally rising, but the only word I make out is “soon,” yelled so loudly I jump a little. Devon places a hand on my shoulder, probably to reassure me.

A car door slams, and then I hear the sound of an engine starting. I peek up from the wall to see it driving off, the tires screeching against the wet pavement.

I turn to look at Devon, and ask him about it again. He ignores me, his eyes on the spot where the car disappeared. He shakes his head as if to clear it, and then finally looks at me, a blank expression on his face.

“Who was it?” I ask for the third time.

“No one,” he says shortly. His tone of voice tells me it was definitely someone, but I don't ask again. What does it matter to me? If I play my cards right I'll be out of here soon enough, and then it will all be over.

We make it back to the house without seeing anyone else. I panic for a moment, thinking we'd go into the room we were in earlier for some reason, but he leads me straight to my—his—room.

After locking the door, Devon undresses himself and slides between the sheets, beckoning to me. I go into the bathroom instead, and carefully hang the jacket on the door, then I strip and walk out of the bathroom in his boxers only, holding them at my hips with my hands. His hungry eyes roam my body, and when they reach my waist, I let the boxers fall down as well and step out of them. I smile when I realize he's already stroking himself under the sheet.

I point at him with my finger as I walk in his direction. “If I remember correctly, you have a promise to keep.”

I get into bed and straddle him, leaning down and taking his mouth in a hungry kiss, pressing myself against him to feel his body warmth. He pushes my shoulders and we pull apart, my breathing already heavy and my stomach fluttering in anticipation as I feel his hard cock pressing between my thighs.

“Leighton?”

“Yeah,” I reply, my eyes on his lips.

“Whatever you were thinking out there, just don’t do anything stupid, okay?” he whispers, running his large hands down my back and stopping on my ass, squeezing. Instead of replying, I capture his lips in another demanding, needy kiss, making us both forget everything but each other.