Page 40 of Kept to Kill
He jumped off his horse with a barely suppressed snarl and left the path, foraying into the thick undergrowth that grew in clusters all over the flats. He didn’t look back, just kept going until he could no longer see the road. He stood in a small clearing with a few boulders here and there, breathing hard as he tried to make sense of the turmoil within. He gripped his knife, the one that had been inside Lily, and clenched the blade with his other hand until his blood began to drip to the ground. He embraced the pain of it, what little there was, hoping it would stave off the worst of his impulses until he could do something more.
‘Quin sent me for you,’ said a voice from behind him.Bastian.His lip curled as he turned and was pleased when Bastian’s face morphed into an expression of shock – only to realize a moment later that Bastian was staring at his bloody hand.
And then he looked disappointed, as if Mal had somehow let him down.
Fury took hold of him and he leapt at Bastian, taking his Brother by surprise. He couldn’t kill the prick, but he could do some damage. He hit him hard across his smug fucking face with the back of his hand, making Bastian’s head snap back, but before he could dance away, Bastian’s fist connected with his cheek in retaliation, the force sending him backwards over one of the boulders. He used his own momentum to roll and push himself away, but before he could get up, he felt Bastian at his back. He thrust his head back with a growl, trying to catch Bastian in the face, but the quick bastard dodged, laughing low in his ear in a way that, Mal was surprised to find, made his blood heat.
He struggled, trying to twist out of Bastian’s grasp, but he found himself bent forwards over the large stone and his arms locked behind his back. He kicked back, aiming for Bastian’s knees but only able to catch his shin. Bastian swore in pain, pulled him off the rock, and flung him back into it hard. Mal hit his head on the stone as he was propelled forward and groaned as a wave of dizziness made him sway.
He recovered quickly, however, and let out a snarl as he struggled anew, but Bastian kicked his legs apart and pushed his body between them, taking away his leverage. Mal was effectively trapped between him and the boulder.
He cursed himself for underestimating Bastian. He’d seen him fight, knew how fast he was. If Bastian had a gift other than the obvious one, then it was speed as Mal’s was stealth.
Bastian stood frozen behind him for a few moments. Mal didn’t bother with entreaties to let him up. He’d never beg, not ever. Then his brow furrowed as he felt a hardness at his back that could only be one thing, but, for some reason, he wasn’t surprised or shocked as he felt Bastian reach around him and deftly unbuckle his sword belt. It fell to the ground with a clatter and Bastian palmed him through his breeches, a small growl reverberating in his chest when he felt Mal’s quickly hardening cock. He couldn’t really be …
Mal bucked in one last-ditch effort to throw Bastian off, but it was no use. He was outweighed and had been deftly outmaneuvered. His head ached where it had hit the stone. He’d lost the fight, he thought, relaxing slightly against the rock in defeat. He wondered what Bastian was going to do, how painful it would be. Gods knew he deserved whatever punishment he was going to get, but it irked him that fucking Bastian had bested him. He let out a huff.
Bastian kept him immobile and bent over the boulder. The larger man didn’t say a word as he unbuttoned Mal’s breeches and, with one hand, eased them down to his thighs. Mal’s breath hitched. He knew what came next.
A cold breeze blew through the air, rustling the leaves and branches around them and making Mal shiver as Bastian fumbled with his own clothes. And then Bastian spat into his hand and his hard staff slipped between Mal’s cheeks, prodding at his entrance, slipping in just enough to burn and stretch.
Mal swallowed back a moan, resting his forehead on the cold stone as Bastian eased himself in slowly. Mal’s cock pulsed at the intrusion, and he admitted to himself that he was surprised that Bastian wasn’t rutting him hard or trying to cause him undue pain. He had thought about this, just not knowingly. He had, on some level, yearned for Bastian, even if he was a fucking prick.
And then Bastian began to move slowly, easily, letting Mal become accustomed to the intrusion, for which he was grateful. It had been a while since he’d indulged with anyone, whether man or woman, and Bastian was not small. His hot breath tickled Mal’s neck and he liked it. There was something intimate about it that he hadn’t experienced before.
Behind him, Bastian moaned and finally let go of Mal’s arms and took hold of his hips. Mal braced himself on the rock, holding himself steady for Bastian’s increasingly powerful thrusts, making his legs go weak, his cock ready to burst. As Bastian’s hot, thick staff filled him, he had no thoughts of fighting, didn’t want to get away, didn’t want Bastian to stop. His body felt as if it was overheating even in the cold breeze, and he irrelevantly wondered if Bastian was feeling the same.
He heard another moan and realized it had been him, and he clenched his jaw, grunting with the force of Bastian plunging into him, faster and faster, erratic and unbridled. Mal’s release was hard and brutal, making him throw his head back in an ecstasy he’d never felt before with anyone.
Bastian took hold of his hair and pulled him up with a snarl, pulling his head to the side and kissing his neck, biting him hard enough to bruise, to mark him. And then he shuddered and buried his face in Mal’s shoulder as he came, some of his seed falling to the earth as he pulled out, leaving Mal feeling equal parts bereft and strangely content, the impulses of only moments ago now having dissolved into the background once more.
Mal stood still, breathing hard, trying to get his head around what had just happened. He and Bastian hated each other, didn’t they? He pulled up his trousers and retrieved his sword belt from the ground. Then he turned. He expected Bastian to have gone, but, shockingly, he was still there. To Mal’s embarrassment, he felt his cheeks heat as if he were some callow youth. He couldn’t discern from Bastian’s uncharacteristically guarded expression what the man was thinking; whether or not he regretted what had just transpired.
Finally, he met Mal’s eyes and spoke. ‘Well— I—’ He broke off and looked away again.
‘Unexpected,’ Mal said, putting the other man out of his misery.
Bastian’s playful countenance returned in an instant and he winked at Mal. ‘You’ll find I enjoy being unexpected, Brother, and count yourself lucky that I was, or that could have gone a bit differently.’
Mal snorted and walked past him, back to the road, finding Lily and Quin waiting for them impatiently.
‘Where the fuck is Bastian?’ Quin barked and Mal shrugged just as the man himself appeared and mounted up behind a shivering, miserable-looking Lily once more, her skin redder than before, if that was possible.
Mal couldn’t look away from her, remorse hitting him like a punch to the gut as he took her in. She hung her head, looking cold, unhappy, and sore, both from the saddle, it looked like, and the trick he’d played on her. Seeing her like this didn’t satisfy him as he’d thought it would. Not at all.
They continued on, the rest of the day uneventful, and as the sun began to set, they came upon the next inn where they’d rest for the night … in the shadow of the hill, the fortress.
Mal gazed up at it, feeling the fear of times long past. The imprint of that place was on his soul, he thought as he gazed at it.
‘What happened to that place?’ Lily asked from next to him, staring up at the black shell that had once been Mal’s whole world with an awe that it didn’t deserve.
He didn’t answer, ignoring her red face as he went inside, this time not feeling any need to push her or hurt her. In fact, he didn’t feel the need to hurt anyone at all. Perhaps he had just needed a good hard fuck. Who’d have thought Bastian would have been the one to give it to him? His eyes narrowed as he walked up the steps to their rooms. He couldn’t wait to return the favor, he thought as he hid in Lily’s room.
He heard the door go and he watched from his vantage point in the half-closed wardrobe as she sat heavily in a chair and pulled off her boots. He watched her undress and frowned at the state of her skin. It was worse that he’d imagined it would be. Her hands, arms, and neck were the worst, the skin red and raw, bleeding in places where she hadn’t been able to stop herself from scratching at her flesh. He muttered a curse and she froze, listening for more sounds, but then continued to disrobe when she heard nothing else.
He’d have to show her to check a new room before she started taking her clothes off, he thought. It was easy enough for someone to hide in a woman’s closet to spy on her with her none the wiser.
She peeled off her shirt and went to the bath, already full with steaming water. He watched her step in and wince as she lowered herself down, hissing when the water reached her chafed skin. She picked up the soap nearby and began to wash herself before letting it fall from her hands. Then, as he watched, she burst into tears, great, heaving sobs that she somehow made almost silent. He stared in an almost fascinated horror as she drew up her knees and let the tears fall into the water.
