Page 33 of Be My Sacrifice

Fuck, I am seeing monsters and villains everywhere I look. I can’t go on much more like this.I slowly lower the weapon and return it to the waistband of my pants, feeling guilty and strung tight for almost shooting him.

Jesus, fuck. I have to get myself under control.I’m ready to jump right out of my skin at the slightest sound. I hear the whisper of Sammy’s soothing and confident voice in my head, instructing me to breathe and center myself, and finally, some of the tension starts to leave my shoulders.

Where are you, Sammy? I need you now more than ever. I can’t do this without you.I let my head hang forward on my neck, feeling the sadness starting to climb once again inside of me, at all that has been taken away from me.When? When will this finally all end?Is it when the Brotherhood takes my life? They tried that already, and fate intervened. Here I am, alive and doing what I can to repay them for their cruelty. The blood that soaks my hands is more than skin deep; it stains my very soul. I will never get its crimson tinge away from me now.

Yet it’s not enough, not nearly enough. I can’t stop, won’t stop, until everyone who means something to me is free. Until the Order loses all their power, and the world comes tumbling down around them. Even then, I don’t know if I will be able to stop. Something insidious now lives deep inside of me, carving me up and leaving me bleeding from the inside out, and it craves death and destruction, like a drug addict would a hit of their favorite fix. How will I confine it once there is no one left to kill?

“I’m sorry, Abe. I… I, fuck, I’m frustrated and worried that we haven’t found them.” He lengthens his stride and comes right up to me, wrapping me in his thick arms and squeezing me tightly in his embrace. My head automatically tucks itself against his wide, powerful chest, so I can press my ear against it, and listen to his steady heartbeat. His scent and the heat from his body lull me into a temporary false sense of peace.Peace.He brings me a temporary reprieve from all the death that surrounds me, even as I know his soul is just as tainted as mine. Maybe that is what links us; we are both damaged, with dark needs that we struggle to control.

How I wish we didn’t have to live in this world, that we could just be happy, the two of us together, but we can’t. As long as Sammy and Zeke are still out there somewhere, being held against their will, it’s as if pieces of us are missing, and we can’t feel joy, not even at the realization that we are here together. He will always miss the other side of his soul, and I will miss mine. Yet for a brief moment, we can find comfort with each other.

“I know, Dinah. I should have known my father was lying to us, even with his death hanging over his head. We will find the child, and we’ll get Sammy and… Zeke… back.” He struggles to get Zeke’s name past his lips, and my head tilts back until I can see his expression clearly. His amber eyes shine with a golden hue in the predawn light. He’s so fucking rugged and handsome, so different from the other two. My pulse begins to speed up just looking at him.

“Is that what you want, Abe? Do you want Zeke back?” My heart clenches painfully, waiting for his response. A part of me, the reasonable part, knows that, of course, he wants Zeke back. He’s loved him all his life. Even with his betrayal and the rage he’s feeling, those bonds between them would still hold tight. How could they not? He was his, long before he ever became mine.

I watch his Adam’s apple move up and down as his jaw clenches, trying to restrain himself, to keep himself together at my question. The pain across his features makes me want to take it back, but a part of me needs to hear the answer. “I don’t know what to say, Atasi. I refuse to lose you. Those days that you lay trapped in the coma were the worst of my life. I. Can’t. Lose. You.”

He enunciates each word as if it pains him greatly even to speak them. His large, rough hand glides up my face, cradling it. “I can’t give him up either, Dinah. As much as I want to kill him, and I do, I have always loved him. Could you give up Sammy if the roles were reversed?”

There is not even a moment of hesitation in my mind. I could never give up Sammy, not even if it meant my own life. He is a part of me, his soul intertwined with mine. Everything I am, and everything I will ever be, is not only thanks to him, but intricately woven with his essence. He is the golden threads that bind us together. The thin pieces of liquid gold which fill all the cracks in my soul. I cannot live without my soul, therefore, I cannot live without my Sammy. The reality is that I can’t ask that of Abe, either. I can’t be selfish and demand that he allow me to kill the man that he loves, even while praying that Sammy is still alive and will return to me.

Deep down, the truth is I am not even sure I would be able to kill Zeke, regardless of his actions. A part of me has already forgiven him, knowing that he did what he had to to save Abe, and yet he’s also still protecting Sammy, and my brother’s child. He’s lost everything too. How heavy his heart and soul must be. How he must long for death, without the missing piece of his soul. When the moment comes, will I be able to stab him like he did me?Would I have been able to make the difficult choice he did? Could I have killed him or Abe to save Sammy?I don’t know.

“No,” the word is ripped from the deepest parts of my soul—the soul that remembers Ezekiel Rothesay as a child, the way he was always gentle with me, and treated me as if I were indeed his princess—his precious Snow White.

A ragged breath leaves my lips, and the longing for a moment of peace comes back. Just one moment where I can shut my mind off, without worrying about Sammy and Zeke’s safety, the Brotherhood and the menace that they are, or even the rebels and their expectations that I lead them to freedom from the oppression of the Order. All these demands on me, drowning me and crushing me with their weight. Just one moment where I can feel free and loved.Peace.I crave a moment of peace.

“What do you need, Atasi?” Abe’s husky voice causes shivers to rise along the surface of my skin, and a deep hunger is unleashed within me. A naked hunger that courses through every part of my body, scorching its way along my limbs and invading all of my molecules, until even the tips of my fingers and hair vibrate with it.

The hunger gnaws at me, demanding and sharp, wanting, no begging, to be sated. It demands satisfaction. It petitions that I give in to its demands, that I break against him like the ocean tide does against the shore.It is restless, powerful, and all-consuming. It wants him, and nothing will stop it from having him.

His eyes flare with something intense in their amber pools; a mix of desire, sadness, and danger—all intertwined until they’ve made up what he is—what he has always been, my Abe, as much as he will ever be Zeke’s. In the depths of his storming eyes lays the promise that he will never leave me, and that he belongs to me now.Mine.

My heart batters at the cages surrounding it in the confines of my chest, the blood rushing through my body like liquid lava, heating and setting me on fire. Every part of me waiting in anticipation of the joy, and depravity, that Abe can bring me with his strength and touch. All the things I crave deep down inside of myself, in the places I had only reserved for my Sammy. To be used for his pleasure. To be brought to the brink of death, and ripped back to his side because he demands it of me. I want him with a need that can no longer be ignored, and I will have him. Every part of him, his mind, heart, and soul, will belong to me from this moment forward.He will always be mine.

“Everything.” The word slips from my mouth as I reach forward and lift his hand to my neck, never tearing my eyes from his. “Make it hurt, Abe. Make me forget, even if just for a moment.” My words are husky and full of intent. I allow him to see the need and the darkness within me, and call out to him with it, tempting him like a siren’s call to come and devour me.

His eyes widen, and nostrils flare, a beast scenting his prey, and then his mouth is descending with ferocity against my lips, biting and sucking, forcing my lips to open wide to his plunder. He takes and takes, his tongue lashing against mine, consuming me and still demanding more. Demanding that I give him my very soul for his own use, while promising me pain, sin, depravity, and so much more.

One hand digs through the hair at my nape, clenching painfully in the strands, while the other tightens around my hip, holding me to him as if I would dare to try to rip away from the predator before me. That is what he is, a beast that I have unleashed with my words, one that will provide me with little or no mercy, as he takes what he wants from me, and I am here for it. All of it. I want him freed from whatever chains hold him constrained and in check, and ready to use me for his own pleasure in any way he sees fit.

He pries his mouth from mine, his eyes searching out the space around them even as I struggle to get air within my lungs. A part of me wants to beg him to keep consuming me, to take my very breath away, so that I will feel nothing but the overwhelming satisfaction of being at his mercy. Still, I hold my tongue and wait to see what he will do next—wait to see if he has indeed slipped his chains and will give me what I want, no, what I need.

“Dinah, I need you to remember that I love you, that you are mine, because I’m about to fuck you, baby, like I don’t. Like you’re my dirty whore to be used for my own pleasure.Fuck, I hope I don’t end up killing you in the process.”

He doesn’t wait for my reply, using the firm grip on the back of my neck and in my hair to push me forward, almost causing me to stumble. We keep moving, both breathing loudly in the silent space of the old barn, until we reach an old horse stall. Using his other hand, he slams the stall door open on its slider, and a menacing groan leaves the rotting wood and metal structure. The stall is empty, cleaned out of hay and its contents, except for a few discarded leather straps hanging on a rusted nail, the old crumbling cement floor greeting my eyes as Abe uses his grip to force me to my knees in front of him. All the softness from moments ago is now gone, and in its place, the beast that lives within him has taken over.Fuck, he’s going to make it hurt.My hands shake with the thought, and I clench them tightly into fists.

“Take my cock out, Dinah, and spit on him.” His crude words force my empty core to clench, and I can feel the proof of my desire, already slicking my folds and dampening my underwear. I reach forward, allowing my fingers to trail against the material of his dark pants, and over the prominent bulge that hides behind it, waiting for me to unleash it from its prison. When I don’t move fast enough to comply with his demand, he yanks back on my hair, forcing a cry of both pain and pleasure to flee my lips. “Now, slut.”

I unbutton his pants, and my tense fingers pull down his zipper, the sound loud in the otherwise silent space. The only other sound is of my ragged breathing, which gives him a good indication of how he’s affecting me and how much I need this. How much I need him to make it hurt and make me beg for more, and I will beg, because I’m what he calls me, his slut, his whore. In this moment, I want to be all of those things more than I want to breathe.

I need him, all of him. I need him to make me feel alive while helping me forget all the parts of me that are damaged and dead—the parts of me that I barely hold onto, and that threaten to cause me to lose my grip on my sanity. I need Abe like the sun needs the moon, always knowing it will be ready and waiting to follow it on its course.

I slip my fingers inside of the parted material and wrap them around his warm, stiff length, pulling him out, and he throbs in my palm. He’s pure velvet wrapped over hard marble. Long and thick, with pronounced veins trailing from his base, nestled neatly in trimmed dark hair. The mushroom head is swollen and already dripping beads of creamy precum from its tip. They slide down and meet my fingers, coating them in the sticky warmth.

My mouth waters with the need to take him deep in my throat, but a yank on my hair has me obeying his request and spitting on the head of his cock. A groan leaves his lips as my warm saliva slips down his long length. “Tighten your grip and stroke me from root to tip.” Again, he pulls on my hair to force me to comply with his request, but he has no need to. I would do it willingly.

I stroke him, twisting my hold and applying pressure as pleased moans leave his lips. My other hand descends inside the parted folds of his pants and caresses his testicles, rolling them between my fingers gently and reverently. “Suck on them, slut. Roll them in your mouth,” he demands.

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