Bought (Unchained Vice Book 3) (19 page)

But more than that, he wanted this.

The contradiction of Killian’s hips jerking away before being unable to resist; they pushed back into his firm grip. The sound of Killian’s stuttered breath as it turned into a pleasure-filled hiss.

Jerricho licked Killian’s nape then blew across the wet, salty skin. Hunger building as he watched the man tried to shake the erotic shiver off.

Such sweet reluctant surrender.

Jerricho pumped Killian’s cock, harder, faster, mercilessly driving him to the brink. A choked cry signaled the man was right on the edge, right where Jerricho wanted him.

Feeling over thinking.

And because he was a bastard, because he was feeding off this and he wanted the man undone, Jerricho curled his fingers into a tight warm sleeve around just the head of Killian’s cock, forcing Killian to actively fuck his hand if he wanted to come.

A final humiliation.

A final surrender as Killian’s hips violently thrust with a will of their own, driven only by need.

Jerricho could feel the tension in Killian’s body grow tighter, the man stiffening against him, rigid tension pulling both of their nerves tight. It tugged deep in Jerricho’s core and on the discomfort of his own engorged cock.

They were both animals of lust and need.

No longer teasing, his hand met Killian thrust for thrust, hand pumping until, with one final violent thrust, Killian stilled, and with a strained gasp, he spilled over into Jerricho’s hand.

Jerricho cradled Killian against him, cock pulsing and body twitching. Jerricho’s own cock was still hard but it didn’t matter, the power rush fed his own euphoria.

They stayed like that, heartbeats slowing before they shoved each other and roughly rolled away.

The moment was surreal.

Romeo Reyes stood in the center of the room like some kind of mirage.

Killian was almost too scared to touch the man in case he disappeared.

Almost
too scared …

But fear had never stopped him.

The uppercut to the gut winded Romeo and he crashed to the ground.

The force of impact traveled up Killian’s arm. Knuckles screaming from the collision of bone on bone, he stared at the body on the ground.

A man. Romeo was just a man.

For so long, he’d seemed bigger than that, the impact on Killian’s life bordering on all powerful. After his father, it had been an imbalance of power he’d sworn never again to allow.

Romeo writhed on the floor, wheezing as the agony and air leaked out of him.

Killian spat on the ground, shook his arms, and rolled his neck.

Loose.

He felt loose and good, a dangerous combination. Addictive. Consuming.

It was at moments like this that he understood his childhood. He understood the nature of the beast. How once you had the prey between your jaws, it became impossible to stop until you ripped it apart. A bloodlust born in a primordial state.

Except he was a hundred percent lucid, a hundred percent clear on what he was doing, a hundred percent intent on making Romeo suffer.

And for that, he would need to fight the rush and take things slow.

He circled the man writhing on the ground. “Get up.”

The snapped words elicited the opposite response. Romeo froze. He glared up at Killian with a combination of hate and defiance.

Killian sank to his knees, yanked the man’s head back by the short hair, and stared down into the dark well of those defiant eyes. There was fight, and behind that fight, there was hope.

You could break a man’s bones and never break him; killing hope was how to break a man’s soul. For ten months, Romeo had been threatening to break Killian’s soul.

Killian was going to break both.

“Get up.” The snarl was vicious enough to make the Romeo blink.

“Please.” Romeo wet his lips. “I can name names … who ordered the kidnapping … who came up with the idea. I can—” Killian could almost see him changing gears, changing tack. Defiance was pride and instinct. Negotiation was strategy.

“I’m going to give you to the count of three to get your ass up off that floor, and then I am going to start motivating you with my boots.” He kept his voice conversational as he let Romeo’s wild eyes take in the sight of steel-cap toes.

Awkwardly, hands tied behind his back, Romeo pulled himself up to his feet by the count of two.

The next uppercut caught the man with just as much surprise as the first. It cracked against Romeo’s jaw and snapped his head back.

Bare-knuckled, landing the punch had hurt. Killian didn’t mind the pain; he’d learned to feed off it.

Romeo staggered back. Hands bound, he was already off-balance, and he fell to the floor. Hard. The man winced as his shoulder took the brunt, skull cracking against the floor. That would hurt.

The time it took to make a man’s mask of composure slip seemed directionally proportionate to his character. The pain, the frustration of being unable to hit back, the fear of what was happening, it was all moving Romeo into the animal state beyond clear thinking—the state of prey.

“Get up. Please.” Confuse the prey by talking to it like a man.

Romeo shook his head, the crack of the concrete probably still ringing. He wriggled but didn’t stand.

Killian’s boot connected with his shin. The howl was back to animal.

“Get the fuck up.” Gritted words because he’d already asked nicely once.

It was enlightening how quickly someone could scramble to his feet when motivated.

“What do you want? I’ll give you what you want.” Romeo whined as he stood on unsteady feet, shifting his weight because of the pain in his leg.

Killian backhanded him with enough force to throw Romeo off-balance again. This time, the crack against the concrete was to the back of the head, a patch of blood showing as the man rolled onto his side groaning.

Romeo’s legs flailed about as he instinctively tried to regain his footing. All it took was the slow, sure tap of Killian’s steel-tipped steps on the floorboards. He didn’t even have to count.

Romeo got to his knees when Killian’s foot came up between his legs and kicked him in the balls. For a moment, sound was sucked out of the room. Romeo’s lips were moving but nothing came forth. Hands behind his back, he couldn’t clutch to protect himself as he crumpled back onto the floor, body heaving as he dry retched.

This wasn’t about an even fight. Romeo’s hands were out of commission, so he could take the beating, but the blows to his head each time he hit the floor would end this sooner than Killian wanted. It was pull his punches or put Romeo on a chair. But first …

The crunch of the left ribs cracking was as sweet as the smell of the genuine fear tainting Romeo’s sweat.

Killian bent down again, pulling the man’s hair to look into Romeo’s eyes. “You still with me?”

Eyes blinked furiously as Romeo’s breath hitched.

“Good.” Killian smiled before he stood up.

Romeo panicked, legs flaying wildly as he began to hyperventilate, nostrils flaring and chest heaving on short, frantic breaths. Deep breathing had to hurt; Killian knew his boot had connected with ribs, but the reaction was panic squeezing around Romeo’s throat.

“Get up.” No threat. No force. The man had been conditioned to respond to those words for now, survival instead of thinking.

The door opened. David had come back with Black.

Killian pulled out a chair in front of the small table that sat in the room.

“Cut the rope.” The words were directed at David, but his eyes were on Black. He was sure he’d seen something on the man’s face, but it was already gone. Shock? Black wasn’t naïve. Disgust? He knew who Romeo was … knew what he’d done to Scarlet.

Hands free, Romeo began to drag himself to the chair and Killian’s attention was drawn back to his prey.

“Wait.” Killian came round the table to stop David before he stepped back and held out his hand for the man’s knife.

On his knees, Romeo placed one hand on the worn wooden table in front of him, using the leverage to pull his hurting body to his feet.

The knife went cleanly in between Romeo’s bones as it pinned his hand flat to the table. The man threw his head back and bellowed out to unforgiving ears.

Romeo wobbled on his feet, his sweaty hand slipping as it tried to grab the hilt of the knife and pull.

Killian leaned forward and hit him back with his head. Blood burst from Romeo’s nose as he fell back into the chair. Much better than the floor, although he didn’t think the man felt any better.

“What do you want? Tell me what you want? Anything!”

“You want to know what I want?” Killian bent down while reaching for the knife in the holder strapped to his calf.

Romeo was sobbing as he tried to stem the nosebleed that dribbled out between shaking fingers and into his mouth. Eyes widening as he saw the fresh blade. His arm tugged at the hand still pegged to the table. Killian knew every instinct in the man was telling him to get away.

Those instincts were right.

Killian looked him in the eyes. “I want you to suffer. For two hundred and seventy-five days.” Because that’s how long it took to find him. Because justice was about him knowing what it had been like to live in futile agony for every single fucking minute of every single day. Because a quick death was too good for him.

Horror stretched Romeo’s eyes wide as if they could scream.

“You know what else I want?”

The man was shaking his head. Denial of what was happening or answering the question, it didn’t matter.

“I want your finger.” Killian slammed down the blade cutting into Romeo’s small finger. A push of his weight behind the blade and the finger severed from the man’s hand.

It was all animal noises now—the agony, the pleading, all incoherent.

Killian leaned in close to get Romeo’s attention. The man flinched, but there was nowhere to go.

“How many pieces do you think I can take off you before I’m through?” His voice was cold and calm, a hundred percent in control. “Your Fingers? Toes? Ears?” He drew the bloodied blade against Romeo’s cheeks, leaving a smear of the man’s blood. “Your tongue?”

Romeo offered a muffled a wail as he tried to pull back. His whole body trembled except for that pinned hand.

Killian grabbed between the man’s legs and squeezed.

“How about your cock?” He ignored the choked sound. “When I castrate you, I’m going to feed it to you inch by motherfucking inch, right before I start taking your teeth.”

Romeo was weeping as Killian stood back up.

“When I bury what’s left of you, it’s going to be a very small box.” He used Romeo’s sleeve to wipe off the blood on his blade. “Make no mistake, I am eventually going to kill you, because as much as I want you to suffer, I also want you to die.”

An eye for an eye didn’t come close; the finger was just a start.

He was going to take Romeo apart piece by piece, and Black was going to keep him alive so he could do it.

***

The first thing Jerricho noticed when he entered the old sandstone house was Killian—a hell-bound avenger burning with power and fury. Uncontained, the man was beautiful.

Savage.

Just like the violence in the room.

He knew the man taking the beating had kidnapped Scarlet.

He also knew why he was here. David had briefed him on the way after thrusting a paramedic’s bag into his hands. He knew the kidnapper had been injured, he just hadn’t known how.

Until now.

He looked at the blood on Killian’s shirt and hands.

Conflicted.

Killian put his knife back into his sheath and looked up at him.

The show was over.

Jerricho didn’t want to be here. Even as his feet carried him into the room, his head and his heart didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want the doctor in him to kick in.

Medical favors. Just like Dado.

And still he walked into the room, a war in his body fighting to go, fighting to stay.

He came up to the desk and the kidnapper lifted his chin as he raised his gaze; the effort was visible in his grimace and the unsteady bobbing of his too-heavy head.

The room swayed as the world tilted. Nausea burned up his throat and into his nose.

“Fix him.” Killian held his gaze as the man wiped the sweat from his top lip.

Jerricho froze.

He’d been here before with Dado.

Everything is his body protested moving forward. He didn’t want to be used and he didn’t want to fix the fuck who’d hurt Scarlet. For the first time in his life, he wished the Hippocratic Oath never existed.

But he couldn’t stop a lifetime habit, couldn’t stop what had been woven into his fabric.

He ignored the blood, assessing the main injuries. Broken nose, maybe a fractured cheek, hair matted at the back of the kidnapper’s head, and the hand—nothing life threatening. There could be internal bleeding, but Killian would have been too careful for that.

It was only then that he took in the patient, his focus moving out to really stare at the man.

His head jerked back, a wave of giddiness threatened to take his legs out from under him.

He knew those eyes.

Jesus, the irony.

Now that Killian wasn’t the center of attention, he saw the man more clearly. He
had
been here with Dado before, with this very man. He’d pulled out the bullets and stitched the man up. Because of him, Romeo was breathing.

Obligation.

He was responsible for this life. Heaviness set in as he tried to mentally sort out the complications.

Romeo didn’t seem to recognize him, but then Romeo was in a world of pain, just like he’d been the first time they’d met.

He’d saved the life of Scarlet’s kidnapper.

He looked back at Killian. The man was assessing him. Killian was always assessing, but Jerricho didn’t think he’d given anything away; he’d learned to keep it all in working in trauma.

Professional.

Impartial.

Even when he wasn’t.

Light and shadows played in the dying light of the day, sweeping across Killian’s features as the man waited for him to obey. A glimpse of savagery flickered under the man’s skin, but his mask of control was back in place.

Cold. Hard. Distant.

This was not the same man he’d held on the floor the night before. In that moment, Jerricho had been moved from witnessing something precious. There was only one other person in the world who got to see Killian vulnerable. It would be hard to deny the man from last night anything.

Right now, Jerricho hated Killian.

Hated himself.

Hated the price he was being asked to pay if he wanted to keep Scarlet.

Because that’s what this came down to, wasn’t it?