Torture (Siren Book 2) (12 page)

I put my arm around Milla's shoulders, and she stiffens, glancing up at me with a mix of confusion and irritation. I'm not sure whether it's the need to explain myself, or the need to be close to her that makes mes lower my lips to her ear and whisper “You can stick close to me, if you don't feel safe.”

Maybe it's hyperbole, but when she pulls away, she flashes me a bright smile. It doesn't quite reach her eyes, but it's an improvement. She tilts her chin up to whisper back “I'll take you up on that,” with her lips grazing my chin.

“So what's your story?” George asks her, flashing me a perturbed look at my obvious methods of marking her off-limits.

Her face stiffens, then falls, and the tears come.

Shit
.

I don't even want to think of what this evil fucker did to her while he was tormenting me with Denise and Evan. I don't want to think of her somewhere alone, fearing that Allen might find her—
only
Allen—and take his helplessness out on her. I don't want to think of what she nearly escaped, to be here
alive
. It enrages every nurturing instinct I have, and I glare at the others, to warn them away from asking again. “Here, come on,” I pull her to her feet, and lead her away. Her bitten lip says that crying's the
last
thing she wants to do in front of this bunch.

Chapter Seventeen

Milla

I can't stand to listen to them joking, or even
Calder
, laughing along. They both know about Denise and Alex. Allen was
close
to both of them. And they're laughing like goddamn frat boys, chasing the scent of pussy and pretending they're in the old boys' club, sneering at everyone else. It's a relief when Calder leads me away, accepting my deflection. I wouldn't know what to make up, anyways. I'm still sore with disappointment that Allen survived comparatively unscathed. If he hadn't hurt his ankle on that fall, he'd have made it into the next room I left open for him, and we'd have had some
real
fun.

Calder holds me as though he thinks I'll vanish if he lets go. The shakeup's been good for him; I've seen the seeds of doubt in his eyes, the frustration and glow of his premonition. I've beaten him. He knows he's gonna die here, and he knows he deserves it. I sob into his shoulder, not sure whether I've made it convincing enough to be worth giving up the act. His warmth seeps into me, assuaging the guilt that's haunted me since I killed Evan.

Once they're out of sight, he pulls me to the ground next to him, and sits. I've left them a larger room this time; we're technically in a different area now, only a steep stairway, really little more than a ladder,  away from an adjoining room with access to the ballast tanks. The door's open, even, but none of them have even
attempted
to leave. No doubt Calder and Allen's lack of urgency has affected the others, and the sense of community's dulled the fear they
should
have at their waking up here. I wasn't exactly gentle with them, sabotaging their car in the middle of nowhere on the way into town, drugging them, and getting them in here.

Calder’s breathing hitches every so often as he shifts and it puts pressure on his injured ribs. The awareness of it makes me want to hide my face in his chest, listen to his ribs creak painfully and his heartbeat falter.

“You don't like them, do you?” Calder says, with a little amusement in his voice.

“I'm
not
social, so being trapped with you four is kind of a special level of hell.” No dishonesty there.

“Can't blame you there.” He chuckles, and continues. He doesn't even seem to take it personally that he's lumped in with them. “George hasn't said that much to me in
years
. It's funny how a little crisis can bring out the willingness to move past stupid childhood fights.”

“You two don't get along?”

“Not really. He was always Mom's favorite; she groomed him for everything and no expectation was too high. I've never been able to keep up, and he's never been shy about letting me know it. They were always looking at some... vision... and I never quite knew what.”

He sighs wistfully, and trails off, instead focusing on my hair. “I'm glad you're okay. I was worried.”

“Weren't we all.” I know it's snappish, but I don't want to encourage him to push for me to get emotional again. It's exhausting crying.

“Still. I'm glad.” He kisses my forehead, and sweeps my hair off the back of my neck. It's almost heartwarming, how far out of his way he's going to comfort me. I'm more and more confused at the contrasts between his ignorance, and his hostility toward 'socialist bullshit', and his group-focused empathy, and desire to keep us all pulling together. It seems as if there's two different people in there: Calder the magnate, and Calder the man.

Calder the
man
is just as likeable and confusing as ever. It unnerves me seeing flashes of Calder the magnate in him. Maybe they're just more visible when he's around family and is comfortable expressing himself. Maybe if he'd shown me
more
of Calder the magnate, I wouldn't be so conflicted seeing his obvious pain when he stretches and his rib twinges.

He leans toward me, nuzzling my face, and his presence in my space—no, his need to invade my space more and
more
—triggers a rush of need and adrenaline.
Shit
; I thought I'd gotten over this by now.  “What do you want, Calder?” I ask, my voice disgustingly timid.

He looks at me, startled, and retreats slightly, realizing he's overstepped. “I want to feel
normal
. I want to do normal things, pretend this is all some wacky vacation idea, not life or death.”

I hesitate—does he mean what I think he does?

A second later, he makes it only too clear, when he tries to tip my chin up to bring my lips to his. I jerk my chin away.

“Is delusion really the best route?” Not to me, it isn't. I've come too far to let him numb himself.

“Probably not, and it's a letdown giving that up. Something nice is happening around me, and
bam
, it hits, that I'm an idiot for letting the big picture go. It makes me feel like I'm losing my mind.” He growls, a noise that makes me smile. “I'm tired of it. I want to just let go, if only for a few minutes.”

“And you can't do that with everyone else?” I know it's unnecessarily antagonistic, but his touch panics me, bringing entirely too much to the surface with enough force and chaos that I can't overpower it with my sense of purpose.

He releases me, stares at me hard. “Do you actually
like
me, Mil? Or are you just using me? Were you using me that last night together, when...”

Shit
. I don't need him as an enemy, at least not a reciprocal one. Thank fuck he didn't articulate it, lest one of the others hear and hold it against us. “What? What does that mean?”

“One minute, you're kissing me, and the next, you're needling me. You don't like being stuck with other people; that's understandable. But I have to ask
where do I stand
? Are you just using me for protection?”

“I'm
scared
, Calder. Not exactly a good frame of mind for making new friends. And
definitely
not a good climate for—
whatever
this is.”

“The hot and cold's
frustrating,
Mil. Maybe I'm overstepping, and reading too much into this, but
we both nearly died
. We don't have fucking time or energy for drama. So I want to know where you stand.”

“I—I'm not—”

“I know. Not taken, but not really free either. But that's not what I asked. If you want me to be your bodyguard, I will, but if you want
more
, you need to say so.”

Drastic times call for drastic measures. I
really
don't want him to get suspicious of me, and he's made it perfectly clear that his loyalty is dependent on this.

I drop my gaze, and try to blend as much honesty as I can into my words. “
Yes
, I'm attracted to you, but that's really frightening right now. It would be too easy to lose myself in this, and lose focus.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Once. We'll get it out of our systems once. You can have your moment of normalcy, and then we'll focus on the big picture.” My lips tremble, knowing what I'm offering. “Deal?”

He stares at me; it's not the answer he wanted, but it's a compromise. “Deal.”

Our eyes slide past each other—neither of us quite knows where to start. Finally, he gathers me into his arms, and kisses me. His kiss is becoming almost familiar, from the half smile when our lips touch, to the insistence on tasting me, not just touching me. To avoid dwelling on that, I pull my mouth away, kiss lower to his jawline, down his neck, and crawl to undo his pants and pull out his cock.

He gasps as the cool air hits his already erect member, but I ease the shock with my warm mouth, taking him as far into me as I can without gagging. The urge to bite down hits me, and I ride it out kissing the head, so I won't be too tempted. When I'm calmer, I begin bobbing, stroking the underside with my tongue, and guiding him in with my fingers wrapped around his shaft.

His hands caress my shoulders and spine as he surveys me, kneeling between his legs. For a moment, our eyes meet, and the electricity hits me, seeing how clear his eyes are, how eager he is, begging for just a little more.

“
Fuck
,” he mumbles, but thankfully keeps his voice low. I'd die of embarrassment if one of the others walked in on this.  “
Fuck
.”

As my nose grazes his stomach at the deepest point of my bob, his smell envelopes me, a masculine musk that, strangely, makes me feel
safe
, despite him having pushed me into it with the threat of withdrawing, leaving me at the others' mercy. Maybe it's that it actually
does
feel that he means to protect me, not just keep my secrets.

It buys me a little quiet. That's more than worth the cost of a blowjob. And, to be honest, he fits
beautifully
in my mouth. It's not unpleasant tasting him, feeling him flex, listening to his barely audible moans. Far from it—it's intoxicating, a warm high that courses through me, heating my blood and making my clit hum, eager for attention.

I slide my fingers into his pants to caress his balls, and squeeze them. As much as I know I shouldn't rush this, lest he think I'm playing him, again, I don't want to draw it out.  His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling me onto him harder, and I follow his lead, keeping the pace and rhythm exactly as he wants it.

If I shut my eyes, I won't have to know it's him. I won't have to worry I've taken my quest for justice too far, eroded too much of myself to fit in near him. But if I don't shut my eyes, I'll see those blue eyes half-closed with pleasure, see him
utterly
helpless under my hands, and mouth. For my sanity, I should pick the first option. But for myself, I'll pick the second. My eye stay open, though that decision’s gonna cause problems later.

His pace picks up, him guiding my head faster, tugging me onto him until he's pushing into my mouth almost too deeply. The enthusiasm reassures me that he's accepted the olive branch, that he doesn't see it for what it is.

The taste of his slick, salty precome tantalizes my tongue, indelibly him, making me worry that I've been somehow corrupted by this, but I can't give the anxiety any weight. For a moment, I let go of my deception, and in my head it's only Calder, the man, and Milla, the woman. None of my ghosts, or his poison.

“Mil,” he gasps as he comes, only a second's warning for me. As I swallow and slow my pace, it occurs to me—
I actually like the nickname.

Shit, maybe he
did
corrupt me.

Chapter Eighteen

Milla

The others are still talking; their voices drift through, muted in places where the pipes are thicker. They seem to be exploring, but halfheartedly. I'm momentarily relieved that Calder was so quiet, so restrained. At least no one knows about...
that
.

Calder holds me against him, and between his smell, and his taste, it feels like I'm
his
. Like he's claimed me some primal way I'll never be able to get rid of. The thought makes me want to cry again, except that if I cried, he'd feel bound to comfort me. And that would start this whole time bomb to ticking all over.

I listen to his even breathing, trying to calm myself. I
should
go rejoin the group, but I don't
want
to. I don't like how the other men look at me. At least here, I don't have to worry about attracting their attention. I just have to worry about the uncomfortable push-and-pull that comes with Calder's.

As the others settle down for a nap, not knowing what else to do, I pull away from him. That was all I promised him.
Once, to get it out of our systems
. It's backfired; I think I always knew it would, that it was only ever about
him
, about short-term preservation over my long-term comfort.

He's apparently asleep; he doesn't move when I leave him. I find the quietest corner I can, and lay down by myself. I have to keep it to a minimum, have to preserve myself as best I can. I can't do that cuddled up to him, pretending it means something.

The dominoes are laid out, the deck is shuffled. I'm just killing time until the right moment hits, the chance to lash out at them in a meaningful way.

Still, the interim is boring. Nothing to do but listen to the men snore, and bide my time.

There's wisps of motion to the airflow, and each time a faint breeze glides along my arm, I flinch, thinking it's Calder's touch. I know I'd see him approaching, but somehow every time my mind relaxes, it assumes he's here, close enough to touch.

The others seem to be restless, having difficulties sleeping. George sits next to me, something that unnerves me. “You okay, honey?”

I nod, not really wanting to talk.

“You're used to this, huh? Old pro?” He raises his eyebrow, and it's hard not to read a double-meaning into the gentle teasing.

“You get used to it. You'll get there.” I can't make myself smile to lighten the words; I'm looking forward to seeing him break.

“We'll see about that,” he says, puffing his chest a little. Goddamn men, always posturing.

I inspect my nails, waiting for him to get bored and leave.

“So what're you doing here, anyways?” He doesn't bother concealing the suspicion in his voice, and worry stirs in me that I've had my eye on the wrong person.

“We're not really sure. None of us.”

“I meant with Cal.”

I shudder, and he misreads the movement, leaning closer to me. “Seems like a weird time to find a fuckbuddy.” There's a definitively aggressive timbre to his voice, one that would make my breath come faster from lust if it wasn't already, from fear. Apparently I have a type, some kind of unhealthy fixation with dangerous, toxic men. And the Roanes breed good-looking bastards.

“You've gotta understand, hon, we have gold diggers around us
all the time.
Whatever you're doing here, don't get used to it. When we get out of here, he's going back to his world, and he's not gonna bring you with him.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You giving me the works for any
particular
reason? Or just because you're trapped here, with no gold diggers of your own?”

He laughs. “Okay,
now
I see what he sees in you. He likes a woman who's not afraid to
bite
.” He licks his lips, his eyes on mine.

“For the record, and so there's
no
confusion here, just because you're Calder's family doesn't mean you're my friend, and I find this highly inappropriate.”

He waves his hand as if I'd paid him a compliment. “Sure, sure. Whatever lets you sleep at night. Just don't say I didn't warn you when he's tired of distracting himself by babystepping you along, and not even your body can keep him there.”

I redden at his stare; I may as well be naked for all the privacy he's giving me.  “
What?
” I don't dare reach for the knife in my pocket, not over something this minor. But he's about thirty seconds away from me slapping him and screaming.

His smile turns to a leer, and an obscene bobbing imitation. “You put on a good show.” He winks, and before he can react, my palm collides with his cheek. I shove myself to my feet and back away from him before I can do worse. He lurches to his feet, too.

“Whatever this fucking 'bros before hos' hazing is, it needs to stop
now
.” I know I'm talking loudly, borderline yelling, but there's no way this fucked up dynamic is something I can deal with, and survive. Calder was confusing enough.

“Just saying—you may want to—” he reaches out and grabs my ass, “not put all your eggs in one basket.”

I punch him as hard as I can, barely noticing the men around us stirring, roused by the noises. “
Don't you
ever
fucking touch me again.
”

Calder comes to my side, hiding a yawn. “Mil? George?”

Surely this isn't worth it. Fucking one enemy, being groped and insulted by another... My patience is worn thin, and even the idea of seeing George die isn't enough to convince me my suffering is a fair payment. I can't fucking stay here. Maybe I'll put my plan in motion earlier than planned.

“I swear to
god
, if you
ever
touch me again, I'll take your eyes out.”

George is nonplussed, but Calder's eyes widen at my animosity. Still, he puts his arm around my shoulders, not noticing that it makes the shaking worse. “What'd you do, asshole?” he asks, giving his brother a glare.

George plays innocent, raises his eyebrows. “We were just talking. I don't know what she's on about.” His face stays smooth; no wonder he's a politician.

I can't fucking take Calder touching me now, too. I slap his arm away. “
Get the fuck away from me.
”

Marquel and Allen raise their eyebrows, though both admittedly have some actual fucking concern displayed.

For the first time since I started our little game, the claustrophobia gets to me.
Definitely
time to put my preparations to use. If I lead them to the open hatch, they'll know I
knew
it was open. So I storm to the nearest door, and make a show of throwing my weight into the mechanism, trying to find somewhere to run.

Calder approaches. “Mil? C'mon, sit down. Talk to me.” He grabs my arm, and I take out my aggression on him,
too
, slapping it away with rather more force than is needed.

“
Fuck off
, Calder. I'm not on your fucking leash.” When the mechanism fails to give, I walk aggressively to the next one, and repeat the procedure. Calder follows, and reaches for me again, and I shove him away, not regretting the violence. “
I'm not your fucking property.
”

His brows jerk together, and he's braced when he reaches for me again, pulling me into his arms despite me doing my best to yank myself away. “You're not, Milla, but I don't like seeing you like this. Come tell me what's going on.” He holds me, unaware that he's made the claustrophobia ten times worse, and doesn't deserve to be touching me anyways. I fight to get my arms between us, rather than resting docilely against his hard chest.

“
Easy,
easy, Milla. It's okay. Calm down.”

I shriek “
Get your fucking hands off me
,” and knee him
hard
in the crotch. He grunts in pain, and I back away while he's distracted, near the hatch, in a position of seeing it organically.

The half-stairs creak under my weight as I climb up, leaving various exclamations of surprise behind me, that there was somewhere
else
they could walk. Allen calls to me, but I ignore him, too. The last words I hear are “Let the bitch cool off—give her some space.” They echo eerily in the entry of the new space.

The half-level the room below connects to is mostly cement, as far as the eye can see, with various waist-level barriers to prevent someone from falling into the ballast tanks that reach all the way to the bottom of the ship. It's dark, with the lights off to avoid bringing the open hatch to their attention, and if you don't know your way around, it wouldn't be hard, to walk into one and fall.

I—I hadn't how planned this is happening, but it's what has to happen. So long as Calder thinks I'm alive, he'll carry a torch for me. But if I'm dead, it'll
devastate
him, and provide the distance I need.
And without me there, the other men won't be able to drown themselves in stupid pissing contests.

Time to bait the trap.

I sit on the nearest lip, and look down into the tank a moment, to confirm it's the one I need. Then I hold my breath and jump.