Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (78 page)

I look at Ez in appreciation. “I like you, Master Ez. I just thought I should tell you that,” I respectfully admit. “I still wa
nt my Ez back when he’s healthy. But don’t you dare let that demented fuck out to play or I might not be on your side anymore.”

“I’ll try to,” Ez honestly says, “but it’s a struggle.”

“You guys are fucking nuts,” Wil hisses and charges into the adjoining bathroom.

“Who said I was sane?” Ez shouts at Wil’s retreating form. “Really, who said it?” Ez
quietly mumbles to himself, looking confused. “I think they need to talk to Dr. Weiss, because we all know I’m not all there.”

“Please tell me you are joking?” I snort.

“What?” Ez scrunches his eyebrows and stares at me like I’m the lunatic.

“You’re not joking?” I say in disbelief. After a heartbeat Ez starts laughing at me.

“Hey, lover boy, get your ass back in here.” Ez yells at Wil, who is in the bathroom, but the door is cracked so he could eavesdrop. “We have some more shit to discuss. Mitchell let a lot of secrets spill tonight and I want to know if you knew it or not!”

“Other than one of two things, I didn’t know,” Wil replies as he joins us. He sits on the corner of the bed, one leg folded under his butt.

“You’d think after almost two years of this shit that it would stop shocking me. I… I can’t believe Boyd is my brother- like my real brother. I see it now. The hair- that is my daddy’s hair, soft brown curls- Torian has that same hair, too. It’s a comfort to know that Daddy is living on in his son and grandson. But it feels like a betrayal. I can’t believe my daddy knew it and never said anything for fifteen years of my life. Lara knew- she tried to tell me. She told me to move to Boyd’s because I was his responsibility now. Did he know, Wil? Did my brother keep something that important from me?”

“He doesn’t know,” Wil assures me.

“How can you be so sure?” Ez adds.

Wil’s glacial glare doesn’t even make Ez flinch. Wil all but snarls out, “because Boyd and I keep nothing from the other. If he knew, I’d know. If I’d known, I would have told him.”

“Did Boyd tell you he’s beating the shit out of his wife- your baby sister? Did he share that, too,” I snidely hiss.

“Yeah,” that one word is filled with challenge.

“You gonna do anything about it or do I have to?” I threaten.

“Are you going to kill your own brother? Because I don’t think I can love a woman like that,” Wil’s words are cutting, a blade to my heart.

“I guess you don’t know me at all if you can say that,” I declare, instead of mumble. I stare him down, instead of looking away. No man will belittle me, or make me feel like I should change because they can’t handle it. I can’t be soft like Fate- too many people are counting on me.

“Fuck,” Wil groans. “I didn’t mean that, Pixy. I’m taking this out on you. It’s what Mitchell was hoping for. He didn’t need to put me in here with you and Ez. He wants a Holden kid, not mine. He knew this would be a disaster- that you’d have to screw Ez while I watched- that we’d both feel betrayed. He knows damned well that I won’t be able to go through with it. He’s such a bastard, and you are both right, he deserves to die. He needs to die. The truths he told blinded me, because they hurt too much. I apologize to you both.”

Wil runs from the room and disappears into the bathroom. It takes me a minute; I’m not usually this slow. Wil keeps going in there to hide the fact that he’s crying. I start to stand, but he reenters the room before I can go to him. Wil has a washcloth in hand, mopping up his cheeks.

“I took care of Boyd. I can’t fix their marriage, but I taught him to respect Greta. I taught my sister to stand up for herself. I sent them to the basement, made Greta don a pair of boxing gloves, and then Boyd stood there while she beat him up.” Wil smiles to himself, completely at odds with the not-so-nice story. “She didn’t last more than five minutes
- tuckered her out. If it weren’t for the fact that I took her to get the shot, that session would have ended with another kid. They are doing better now.”

“She didn’t sound like it was better down in the foyer earlier,” I grumble. “He’s
abandoning them.”

“It’s not Greta and Torian he’s avoiding. Out of sight, out of mind- Henry is trying to get Boyd to make plays and he doesn’t want to. Education is a good enough excuse. But it only lasts for a few year
s- Boyd isn’t cut out for a PHD,” Wil says with great amusement.

An uncomfortable silence descends
upon us. We know why we were locked in this room with only a bed and an attached bathroom. We know we have to do it, regardless of whether or not we want to. I have no name for the emotion that floods through me- it’s part anticipation, part confusion, part fear, and part anger. The lack of control over myself is terrifying. We are slaves to the game. We do not own our bodies, but the game can never own my mind. 

“I’m going to shower,” Wil abruptly says. He flees the room before Ezra or I can respond.

“He’s not going to go through with it,” Ezra mutters. “I know Wil thinks he’s a badass. But deep down, he is afraid of his own shadow.”

“How can you say that? Hmm? And you have no issue going through it?” A
n offended tone is strong in my voice.

“Watch and see, and I’ll explain later,” Ez arrogantly says. “As for me, we’ve been here before. It’s nothing new. And frankly, I don’t want the stress of this for the next four months. I’ll do my damnedest to end it tonight.”

“You know what you are saying, right?” I mutter in disbelief.

“In the history of the game- what thirty years, at least- never once has
a play been outsmarted. I don’t know about you, Faith, but we’re only seventeen years old. Do you honestly believe we can outsmart people with eighty years of life experience or the players with thirty years of torment and torture under their belts? As much as I enjoy being inside of you, I’d rather it be because we were lovers, not out of survival- so this ends tonight. I don’t care if I have to spend the next three days screwing your brains out.”

“I don’t want a child,” I whimper. “I’m not ready.”

“And I am?” Ez grunts. “I had to put half of myself to sleep. Ezra is so far under that I fear I can’t revive him. I love being the one who is conscious, but I’d feel guilty if I killed a part of myself. And every time I do this, Ezra knows that I was up to no good. He fights harder to be in control- which is bad for everyone, especially Ez. When Ez is whole and Ezra is fighting and I’m fighting, it feels like I’m dying. So, no, I can’t do this again, Faith. The shit Cortez is doing to Ezra is bad enough. But adding this on top of it… Ezra would die if he knew I’d been screwing a girl. He’d go batshit with jealousy over a child. I don’t want to fight anymore. If Ezra is gone, then so is Ez, and it’s just me. I want my other half beside me, not dead. How could I function as half a person?”

“You’re making my brain bleed?” I cry.

“Imagine what my brain feels like? Right now, it’s empty. I feel nothing- all of those emotions Ezra brings to our being are gone- Poof! Nothing! I’m calm and blank. I was fractured off of Ezra because we needed to survive. I have hopes that one day we will merge as one. I’m not ruining that chance for anyone. I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way. I will do anything I have to do to feel like I did at twelve- back when I was one person with one mind. I want to be whole again.”

“How do I help?” I reach forward and grab Ez’s hand. If he was whole right now, the part that is Ezra would have tears streaming down his cheeks. Master Ez is calm, calculating, and cold-blooded. I understand why he exists, and why he is here with me right now.

“How can you help? Don’t fight me. You can fight me and I will win, or you can lie there and be bored, or you can participate and like it. One will be easiest on both of us. I’d rather you enjoyed yourself. It doesn’t matter if it’s force, submission, or mutual, it’s going to happen,” Ez threatens. 

“If this works, my kid won’t have a father.” Saying the words makes it real, and it hurts like a sonofabitch. I want to scream, cry, and violently hurt something. But I don’t, because they would just drag me back in here, tie me down, and it would be a much worse experience.

“If you get pregnant, I will be his or her father. I hate keeping this from Ezra, but I will protect us- us being the parts of Ez, Ezra and me. I will raise my child if you allow. I have to keep it from my other half until he can handle it. I meant what I said; one day we will be a whole person- one that doesn’t struggle to stay sane. I don’t want any part of me to regret missing out on our child. I will put Ezra to sleep and know my child. If you need us, ask for Master Ez. Just go up to whoever is in control, whether Ezra or Ez, and ask for me. I will swim to the surface and shut half of me down. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“I-” the bathroom door slams open with a crash, startling both of us.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Wil nastily sneers. “Shower’s free.” He won’t look at us, but he is wicked pissed. Ez snorts, a smirk twisting his lips.

“You take the next one, Faith. Hate to have you run out of hot water with shampoo still in your hair,” Ez says, never taking his eyes off of Wil.

“Are you sure this is a wise idea?” I mumble, looking between them. Ez is amused and Wil is furious. The more furious Wil gets, the more amused Ez gets, which makes Wil even more furious- a vicious cycle.

“We’ll behave. Won’t we, Leviticus?” Ez’s words are pleasant, but the tone is cutting- glass scratching down glass. Using Wil’s birth name was some sort of threat I don’t understand.

I leave them to whatever shit they are pulling. I have enough problems to deal with.

~Chapter Sixty-Seven
~

“It’s not like I haven’t been with you before,” I grumble to Wil. After I got out of the shower, Ez went in, saying he would wait until the hot water regenerated. In other words, he’s giving me and Wil privacy. I turned the lights off and didn’t undress until I was hidden beneath the blankets. Wil slide
s into the bed next to me, but he is fully clothed. I’m glad it’s dark, because I don’t want to know what expression is on Wil’s face, and I don’t want him to know mine.

“True,” Wil softly answers, “so why are you acting like I’m the boogeyman?”

“I’m nervous,” I mumble into the blankets.

“No need, it’s just you and me,” he purrs, and I
hate it. A seductive Wil is scary.

“Please, just be real,” I beg. “I can’t take it when you act like that. It’s fake. It’s worse than your serial killer voice. I’d rather you be pissed at me. The seduction routine reminds me of the person the game wants me to be- you’re not a whore, so don’t act like one. If it’
s just you and me, be the you that I know on a daily basis.”

My head disappears beneath the covers- no, I do not cow
er. I apparently figured out how to lie to myself, because I cower like a coward who wants to pretend for a few minutes that she’s a kid and sex doesn’t exist in her world. Wil’s lips on my neck have me squeaking in shock.

“I’m not hurting you, but we don’t have time for us to have small talk and work our way up to this, or we’d be here for years. Relax,” Wil murmurs. I close my eyes because it’s his everyday voice, not that phony, scary, seductive voice.

Wil crawls under the blankets with me, but uncovers my head. His warm weight is comforting and familiar. The manly scent of his skin puts me at ease, but it’s the taste of his lips that has my body igniting.

If Wil had forcefully kissed me, I would have pulled away. But he kisses me like it is our very first time- unsure and a little bit scary. His lips whisper against mine as our bodies melt from the fire we create. The connection I always feel around Wil boils through me, over me, and pulls me under. The kiss changes from
hesitant to a perfectly orchestrated dance between partners that know each other’s bodies inside and out.

My back jackknifes off of the mattress when Wil’s teeth set into the side of my throat. An animalistic sound bubbles up, flowing out of my mouth. My fingers grip his t-shirt and twist when his lips find my nipple. That one small touch has me ready and eager, but frustratingly, Wil doesn’t take advantage. I told him not to seduce me with his flirty words, so he uses his lips, teeth, and mouth as the seduction.

I undulate on the mattress as Wil bites and teases and licks and kisses from my lip ring to my bellybutton ring. His tongue follows the pathways of my tattoos even though I know he cannot see them. Wil knows my body almost as well as I do. Without light, he still knows all the outlines and shading of my ink.

A lick to my hip has me shuddering in bliss. Wil has never so thoroughly worshipped my body. Our first kiss and our first time and our last kiss is all of the sexual contact we’ve had in almost two years of knowing one another. Lately, all we do is hold hands in support. The absence of his touch has been torment. The return of his touch is torture. I want more. I need more. We are partners in spirit. I need us to be partners on all levels- emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Whimpers of protest flow from my mouth, it’s the sound of begging to intimately touch his smooth skin in return. I ache- I crave the feel of his velvety skin sliding along mine- the push and pull, the glide and thrust. I pull at his t-shirt, but he won’t budge. With his lips pressed to my thigh, I can’t reach to yank it from his body. Just as I start to protest, he does something that makes me forget everything but sensation.