Chapter 13

Aubrey

The smell bit at my senses. Pungent, burning, and somewhat familiar. “I think there’s a skunk in the chimney,” I muttered without opening my eyes.

Close by, Colt chuckled, and the strange sound brought me immediately out of my semi-conscious state. He tilted his head back and blew out a long breath of smoke. “Take it there weren’t many pot smokers in your little town?”

His voice was deeper but more relaxed like his droopy eyelids and softened features.

“Didn’t make a habit of hanging out with them,” I said. I rolled to my back, catching the IV line on the blankets in the process and sending a small jolt through my arm.

Colt took another long puff from the joint, then I pulled it from his fingers and stared at it. The small thing powerful enough to subdue Colt. I put it to my lips and pulled in a small breath. It burned and swirled in the back of my throat like I’d just inhaled steel wool. Immediately, I coughed and spat the smoke out.

Leaning beside me, Colt snorted and took the joint back. “Easy, darlin’.” The smoke passed by his lips, painting my face with heat and the obnoxious smell.

“How do you stand it?”

He tilted his head, staring at the innocuous looking white roll. “You get used to it.”

My throat still burned, but I wanted one more shot at whatever relief it could hold. Colt let me take it back, and this time, I inhaled more slowly, just a small bit of smoke. My lungs objected, but I fought to hold it in until the ache in my side became too much. I coughed, clutching my bruised and battered side, but that motion only served to remind me of the burning tattoo on my arm.

There was no way out of this nightmare.

None.

Devlin had turned my entire body into the prison. He’d taken away my control. My choice. Etched the reminders under my skin for me and the rest of the world to see every day.

I closed my eyes and felt Colt’s arm press over mine.

The futility of it all washed over me. What did I even have left to fight?

I looked up at the ceiling, seeing another cloud of smoke rise over us.

“Hold me,” I whispered. I wanted the façade that everything might be okay—even for just a moment.

Colt sank under the covers with me, and with Isabella between our legs, he pulled me against his chest. Warm. Safe.

As far from safe as I could be.

No, I screamed at myself. I held the shrinking joint between my fingers, desperately needing the release it offered, and took another longer puff. It still tickled at my throat. Threatened to escape, to leave me in another coughing fit, but I fought back. And won.

Letting it out somewhat smoothly. I closed my eyes and floated away, safe in my cocoon of Colt, Isabella, and blankets.

I don’t know how long I slept. If I really slept. Colt’s hand was on my stomach when I opened my eyes. I felt it through the thick fabric of the hoodie. I didn’t want the thick fabric between us. I wanted to feel his touch. A deep, almost painful, burning need tightened my core.

Of all things, of all times, I wanted sex.

I pressed my shoulder into Colt’s chest until he shifted slightly and grunted in my ear. Then, I pushed his hand down to the hem of the hoodie. He opened his eyes and stared at my face for a long moment, before slipping his hand under the fabric and gliding it up across my stomach to the bottom of my ribs. I closed my eyes and gasped.

Please, I willed him. He said I’d beg and once I had fought that, but I was willing to do it now. I nudged the side of his cheek with my nose and rolled toward him.

I wasn’t me anymore.

He wasn’t Colt. Not the Colt I knew. But whoever I’d become needed whoever he was.

He pushed himself up, sitting over me. For a split second, I thought he was pulling away. That he’d leave me alone again, but instead, he disconnected the tubing to the IV, then carefully pulled the hoodie over my head and clear of the IV. His hands explored my flesh, leaving me with goosebumps that brought every cell back to life. Pulling me closer, he nudged Isabella off the futon, then covered my left nipple with his hot mouth.

I moaned and arched my back, feeling his hand slip down the front of my pants. I parted my legs, giving him full access to whatever he wanted. I needed him. To erase the feelings, the memories, the experiences etched on every fiber of my body.

Bring me back.

I caught his gaze.

Fucking ruin me. I wanted him to ruin me. There was no going back, so my only choice was to sink in deeper with him. He pressed against my clit, sending a surge of pleasure through my nerves. Then he massaged it in slow motions until I moaned and writhed against his touch.

Without warning, his touch disappeared.

My eyes popped open, but he pulled my pants down and sank beneath the sheets. His tongue found my clit this time—licking, sucking, and nibbling at the tender piece of flesh until I shook with ecstasy.

But I needed more to fall over the edge. I needed Colt. Him inside me, filling me.

Taking away my emptiness and fear.

I curled my fingers through his disheveled hair and tugged at him. He resisted at first, then moved slowly up my body, leaving a trail of kisses and nips until he got to my neck. His hot breath danced against the sensitive flesh behind my ear.

Fuck.

Every part of my body had become more sensitive. Overly sexualized. He kissed my neck, moaning against me while his cock pressed between my legs.

Then, he slid inside me, and I gasped, my body stretching to accommodate his long, hard shaft. The subtle feeling of his piercings as they slid past my tight skin. He pressed his elbows into the mattress, sliding his hands under my shoulders and holding me there as he thrust into me. Every movement becoming faster, harder, deeper.

A long groan escaped my lips. I didn’t even try to fight it or hold back. Instead, I pressed my lips against his neck and returned his kisses. I tasted the salty sweetness of his skin as I sucked and took my own nibbles. I pressed my hips up to meet him. Pushing the boundaries every time he sank deeper—until it was almost painful to take any more and his balls slapped against me.

The pain faded.

The memories faded.

Suddenly there was nothing else. Nothing but pleasure rising out of the dark ruins of my soul. I jerked, whimpering against his neck and digging my fingers into his back.

Colt’s motions slowed, and he sat back on his knees pushing my knees apart and then hooking his arms under them to pull me up. I stared down to where our bodies were intertwined and moaned as his cock pressed upward sending shock waves of pleasure from every thrust. I slid my hand down my front, finding my clit between my fingers and rubbing until my body jerked and convulsed. While I moaned and shook against him, Colt also found his end. Pounding against me until he had nothing left and collapsed on top of me.

My heart thudded in my head. I could even see it in flashes of light when I closed my eyes.

Colt lifted his body away from mine, but I wasn’t ready to let go. Contact. Warmth. I fought the feelings of overstimulation after days of solitude because I needed his sanctuary. I locked his gaze with mine, and he stayed there, resting on his knees and elbows over me. I traced my hand up his side, rested it against his left pec where I felt his thudding heart. Then, I circled his nipple, held erect by the barbell through the tender skin.

Pain. Colt’s vision of pain suddenly seemed tame in comparison with Devlin.

Colt. The man who’d strangled me with a belt, tied me up until I couldn’t feel my hands, spanked me, bit me, left me aching for sex. And every time, he pushed me over an edge where I found ecstasy.

Devlin hurt me far more without ever laying a hand on me. Drugs that separated me from consciousness locked me in that dark room of my own mind. Days of waiting without food and little water. Branding me so I could never escape. The beating near the end was merely the icing on the rotten cake.

I shuddered and closed my eyes, reliving the worst part of his degradation. The hot stream of urine. The sickening stench.

Colt dropped his head, pressing his forehead to mine. His eyes were still open, but too close for me to focus on. Instead, I inhaled his scent. Twisted my fingers through his unwashed hair.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

Pulling away, his brow dipped in question.

“For finding me. Bringing me back.” I took advantage of his new position to run my fingers down his abs to the dark patch of hair.

Tremors continued through my body like I’d been sucked into a weak electrical current. My body was fighting back for the stupid decision to tax it even more, but they were subtle, not visible on the surface so I ignored them. Colt was the only thing I wanted to focus on. The only distraction that didn’t send me into a wave of anxiety.

I pushed him over and down onto the bed next to me. His burning gaze made my skin tingle, but I continued moving my hand down, between his legs to his cock. Slipping the tip of my finger into the looped ring at the head of his shaft I laid his cock against his stomach.

“Does it hurt?” I stared at the studs lining the underside.

“No,” he said on a long, exhaled breath.

“Did it?”

He laid his head back, closing his eyes and stretching his arm under my head and across the top of the futon. “By that point, I wasn’t really… affected by needles.”

“You wanted it to hurt,” I guessed.

His eyelids snapped open.

“The piercings... Tattoos….”

He caught my arm and rubbed the tape around the IV. “You saying people only get those because they like pain.”

“No. Just seems fitting for you.” A piece of the Colt puzzle. A puzzle I’d almost forgotten that I was trying to solve. Now even my own life was a puzzle—far more complicated.

He shook his head but didn’t seem to be disagreeing.

“Do the tattoos mean anything?” I focused on the tire tread that ran around his forearm—that one wasn’t hard to understand.

“Plenty of things.” He released my arm. “Namely that I’d rather have ink than people under my skin.” I didn’t need the pointed glare to know that the comment was aimed at me. “You should be resting.”

My entire body was telling me that. I didn’t need him to reiterate it. But I wasn’t ready to close my eyes yet. To return to the dark prison that waited there. My hand started to shake uncontrollably, and I laid my head back against his arm.

I’d fought too long, and the world threatened to turn black whether I closed my eyes or not.

“Aubrey?” Colt squeezed my chin.

I grunted. I was losing my battle, but it was more than that. The sensations were terrifying.

Colt sat up and moved away, causing my anxiety to collect in my chest like I’d been kicked by a thousand-pound horse. I used the jolt of adrenaline to catch his arm.

Instead of leaving me, he wrapped me up in the blanket and carried me to the kitchen with him. He sat me on one of the tall chairs by the island—luckily, they had backs and arms to hold me in place. I leaned against the counter and moaned.

“You’re crashing.”

My eyes wouldn’t focus on him. Because of all the drugs?

With a quick sizzle and a pop of a tab, he sat can of ginger ale in front of me. “Your sugar is low.”

“I hate ginger ale.”

“Drink it,” he ordered. Wrapping my hand around the can.

I lifted it with both hands and amazingly got the fizzy liquid into my mouth without spilling it everywhere.

It still tasted horrible—just like I remembered, but I forced myself to take small drinks.

Then, a pack of peanut butter crackers landed on the counter next to me.

Peanut butter.

Crackers.

I shuddered.

“Any other options?” I asked.

A rumble began in Colt’s throat. “You’re really going to be this picky right now.”

I nodded, tightening my grip on the can of soda until it buckled slightly.

His face softened, but the anger was still there—just not aimed at me. “Ham sandwich?”

I nodded again. I couldn’t avoid sandwiches for the rest of my life, but peanut butter…. It’d be a long time before I could rectify with peanut butter.

Colt sat the sandwich, cut into two triangles, in front of me on a paper towel. “I’ll have to see if Jace can bring up some better choices in the morning. Some fruits would be good for you.”

“Just no apples.”

“Noted.” He pulled my hair back and twisted it at the base of my neck to keep it out of my face.

While I ate, he—still very much naked—dug two bowls out of the cabinet, filled one with dog food and the other with water, and sat them both on the floor for Isabella.

“You’re not a bad caretaker,” I mused aloud.

“I’m going to need another joint before I can respond to that.”

“Never saw you smoke before.”

“Didn’t need to.” He sat out a bag next to me with what looked like shredded up green leaves, laid some on a paper and rolled it up, using his tongue to seal it together. “But, for now, it’s the only way my brain’s going to shut off.”

“I know that feeling.”

He handed me an unopened bag of chips, a bag of some kind of trail mix, and two bottles of water. “Hold on to these.”

Putting the end of the joint in his mouth, he lifted me and the snacks and carried us back to the living room. With me safely on the futon, he pulled on his boxers and dug the lighter out of the pocket of his jeans. “The trail mix will be good for you,” he said around the joint, “eat around the peanuts if necessary.”

I stared down at the bag, inspecting it more closely. It looked like bits of chocolate, dried pineapple, sunflower seeds, peanuts, and dried cranberries. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Want a drag?” he offered the lit joint.

I nodded hesitantly.

“Then, on the off chance you don’t pass out, keep the mix handy. I’ll have the chips.” He took a long drag off the joint as he crawled under the blanket next to me, then handed it over to me.

Did I or didn’t I? I stared at it. Trading one high for another. There was already no going back. I drew in the heavy smoke—it was progressively easier with each hit. I still wanted to cough, but I managed to stay in control. Colt took the joint back, and I curled up next to him, releasing the smoke against his chest.

I was wrenched from the dead of sleep and sat straight up.

“Everything’s fine,” Colt muttered.

What would it take for him to realize that everything was about as far from fine as it could possibly get? “Aiden,” I said. “I have to talk to Aiden.”

“Do it in the morning—it’s the middle of the night.”

“But what if—”

“He’s fine. It can wait until morning.”

He’s fine? Colt had talked to him? To Aiden? Of course, he had. He couldn’t run any risk of Aiden getting suspicious and calling the cops. But I still felt betrayed. Cut off. Alone. What the hell was I going to tell Aiden? How was I going to explain the tattoos?

For the first time in a very long while, I considered never going home again. Just when I’d finally convinced myself that running away was the worst possible solution… once again it was the only solution.

I glared down at Colt. He was still lying beside me with his eyes closed. He didn’t fucking care. Just like he never fucking cared.

I wanted to ream him. To remind him that he was the reason I was in this particular mess. Would the alternative have been better? Would I have ever made it away from Devlin without losing my body to a stranger’s warped sexual desires or my soul to mind-numbing drugs?

I couldn’t open my mouth. Too many emotions would end up tumbling out, and I’d trip over every single one. My brain was a clusterfuck of thoughts crawling around and digging through my conscious like a swarm of beetles itching to escape.

Without warning, Colt sat up and leaned against his elbow. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing,” I whispered. There was nothing to say or do. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t go forward. And I couldn’t stay here. The explosion brewed inside of me. Would that finally bring me release? Relief? An end to it all? “Just go back to being a heartless, condescending, manipulative bastard and leave me the fuck alone.”

Colt grunted, and rolled off the futon, thumping his feet against the floor. Before I could look up again, he’d disappeared.

It was exactly what I’d told him to do. I squirmed and shifted trying to get comfortable, but the itchy IV tubing got caught on the sheets. No wonder I couldn’t get comfortable. I rubbed at it, but it only made the sensations worse, so I pulled away some of the tape. Then, I realized if I continued, I wouldn’t have a bandage to stop the bleeding.

Well, actually, I did have four of them. I pulled the gauze off the tattoo on my right arm. The tattoo was scabbed over and an ugly mess. A perfect match for every other part of me. I folded the gauze over so I had a clean portion ready when I pulled off the remaining tape and jerked the tube out of my arm.

It burned for an instant and a bead of blood formed at the site before I pressed the gauze over it. It’d have to be better. No more itchy IV. But when I tried to curl up again, the tattoo rubbed against my skin and the blanket. It was a losing battle.

Then, I remembered tattoo man.

His cold, dead eyes.

Blood pooling around me.

The stench of copper and vomit and urine.

Before I knew it, I was on my feet, unsteady as they were. I held onto the wall looking for wherever Colt had escaped to. Fuck him. Fuck how much I hated him and everything about the entire situation. He held the only hope I had of holding on.