Page 4 of Bathed in Blood

“Today you do. Perhaps the Blood Princess will think twice about wasting lives if she’s responsible for choosing the next one.”

“No, I-I can’t pick them. Your girls go get them and I—”

“Sit on your fucking cunt in designer lingerie and read books all day while my brothers pump your ass full of cum!” Jax roars, spit flying from his lips. “You belong in the fucking basement, don’t forget that!”

I try to wrench my hair free from Vince’s hold, but it doesn’t budge. My skull is on full display for the next hit. When the copper taste of blood fills my mouth, I choke back a scream. Notfor help, or mercy, but because it would feel so good to scream, to release just a fraction of the fucking anger building inside me.

Vince lets my head go, keeping me pinned to his chest. His dark eyes find mine the instant I make a very dumb decision. Vince may be the youngest, but he’s the smartest, the fastest. He likes to chase, and I found out the hard way that the more I ran, the harder he fucked me, the more he wanted it. He sees it the moment I decide to spit, his hand snapping my head down, my glob of spit and blood landing in front of his brother’s shoes instead of in his face.

“Lana, enough,” he snaps.

“When? When will it be enough?” Sweat prickles my forehead; I didn’t mean to say it out loud. I really didn’t. Questions like that only ever bring painful answers. I worked hard to get to the place where feelings rarely touched me.

“I’ll handle it from here, Jax.”

“You’d fuckin better. I’m this close to killing the cunt. Get her dressed and have her in the car in an hour. Get someone to put some fucking makeup on her face or something.”

The chill from the basement is long gone as my skin flushes with heat. “Vince—”

He hushes me as he jerks me up, finally tearing my eyes from the bloody spit on the floor. I don’t fight him when he bands his hand around my wrist, leading me down the long hall towards the staircase. Jax has long stomped away, but it does nothing to cool my insides.

When I speak again, we’re far enough away that he doesn’t stop me. “Vince, I can’t have anything to do with picking the people. I can’t stomach the idea of it.” Two more stairways, and the door to my room looms closer and closer before he speaks.

“Four years making snuff films, and the guilt still bothers you?”

“This is different.”

I can talk to Vince. I can make him understand. Anton won’t let me out of the house, not even for walks. I don’t want-

He takes a deep breath as he opens my door, ushering me inside, and my stomach drops when I see Anton lounging on my bed. He’s glaring at the rich, draped canopy when he speaks.

“Why do you push him like this, Lana?”

“Anton, please, talk to—”

“If you so much as think about running while you’re gone, I promise you, Lana, I will make sure your junkie brother suffers a fate worse than yours. Do you understand?”

The light delusion I had convinced myself of on the walk up here shatters abruptly, taking with it the ever-evasive rage that had been bubbling in my chest. The mention of Lewis reduces what seconds before was an inferno, waiting to erupt, to embers.

My breath escapes me all at once as Vince gives me a warning squeeze. “Yes. I understand.” How could I have forgotten? This isn’t about me; it isn’t about whatIcan handle.

I’m the breeze.

Anton shoves up from the bed, stalking over to where his brother has already started undoing the lace back of my lingerie. “There’s our girl,” he chuckles. “As much as I wish you’d stop pissing him off, it's fucking hot watching you get all worked up.”

I don’t make a sound when Vince slips my lingerie off my shoulders. “We need to get you dressed; he’s waiting.”

I don’t breathe when Anton captures my face, forcing a heady kiss. The press of flesh on flesh makes my bloody, swollen lips throb. His tongue assaults my mouth, the taste of blood whiskey souring my already curdled gut.

I’m the breeze.

2

Hunting

Ilet my mind drift as I drive, Jax’s hand resting on my lap, his fingers making small circles in the jeans they found for me.Myjeans. I haven’t worn real clothes in years; they fit me far looser than before.

I always thought I’d feel more comfortable covered, but I’m not. Vince and Anton prefer to keep me naked or dolled up in lace. My wrinkled university t-shirt is musty after years of being shoved in some closet, I’m sure. I nearly gasped when I saw it. Jax’s hand gives me a little squeeze, a warning, the metaphorical gun pointed at my head. He hasn’t ever fucked me for pleasure, for fun like his brothers. He reserves his cock for punishment, and I try not to look as it presses against the zipper of his pants. I think of my brother instead.

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