Page 17 of Come Fill Me

“Execute you?” Indignation and shock colored his question.

Whether his reaction was genuine or an act, Liz had no idea. Nor did she care. She was so tired of fighting, so weary from worry. “Just let me see him one last time,” she begged. “Then do what you want to me. It doesn’t matter any longer.”

He arched one dark brow. “You’d offer your life for a moment with your father? You care so much for him?”

Was he serious? She made a face. “As much as you care forthe woman I took you from, the one you were trying to reach before I healed you.”

He stared at her, misery sweeping his features. Quick tears sparkled in his eyes, making him seem oddly young. The boy Liz had imagined him to be, after which she’d chided herself for such a foolish fantasy.

“As much as you obviously loved your wife,” she said, “I also love—”

“I was back with Gabrielle, my daughter,” he interrupted then cleared his throat before continuing. “She was eight years old when Carreon’s men murdered her, her mother, and a dozen other women from our clan, many of them elderly. My men and I had just taken them to another child’s birthday party when they attacked.”

Liz’s stomach rolled. On instinct, as one person to another, she rested her hand on his forearm.

Zeke’s muscles bunched while the rest of him went rigid, his expression telling her he didn’t want pity or concern from someone like her.

Embarrassed, Liz brought back her hand and curled her fingers into a loose fist. “I’m so sorry,” she said, meaning it.

“Are you?” His expression hardened. “I told you, your father’s safe. If you want to see him again, then get inside the damn van before I throw you in there.”

She wanted to argue, to question him as to where he had her father, how his men had rescued him. A spurt of approaching gunfire changed her mind on that. Liz scooted over the rough carpeting to the side facing the weapons. Sleek and deadly, their metal parts gleamed in the scant light.

Once inside, Zeke shut the doors, locking them. The vehicle’s motor rumbled to life, its tires swishing over the drive, taking them from the mansion’s lights. Given the van’s small windows, the moon’s glow did little to alleviate the darknesswithin.

Not yet adjusted to the gloom, Liz could no longer clearly see Zeke. However, she remained all too aware of his presence. Heat radiated from his big body. His skin smelled of sex. She heard his quiet respirations and then his sharp intake of breath.

“What happened?” she blurted, blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to see. Had he taken a bullet at the mansion that she hadn’t noticed? “Are you in pain?”

“Fuck yeah. Don’t you recall clawing me?”

He was whining about that when three bullets to his chest hadn’t gotten a rise out of him? Leaning back, Liz stated the obvious. “I wanted you to let me go.”

He breathed heavily again. “Not a chance.”

An internal alarm went off at the change in his voice. From a tone thick with aggravation to one laced with purpose and arousal. The van made a quick right. Liz dug her nails into the carpeting then glanced at the moon spilling through the back windows, casting the interior in its silvery glow. When they stayed on this course and the light remained, she regarded Zeke.

He sat with one leg outstretched—his toes no more than an inch from her calf—his other leg bent at the knee, his forearm draped over it. He didn’t bother to cover his balls or cock that still glistened with come. He stared at her nudity, his expression unrepentant.

Liz’s nipples puckered, tightening to a point where they began to hurt.

As though Zeke approved of her response to his ruthless masculinity, he offered a smug smile.

Arrogant SOB. Resisting the urge to cover herself, Liz remained as she was. Her breasts quivered with each bounce of the van. Her parted legs revealed her cunt, damp with his ejaculate and her previous excitement.

He studied that part of her the longest.

She managed to speak without passion. “Where’s my father?”

Zeke perused her body at his leisure and with a right that said she now belonged to him.

“Safe.”

He sounded like Carreon, doling out cryptic answers that revealed nothing. Screw that shit. She wasn’t going to be put off that easily any longer. “Where, dammit?”

He ignored her.

She saw red—boiling, brutal red. Curling her fingers, Liz hurled herself at him, ready to draw blood.

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