Page 23 of Taunting Tarran
They don’t call me The Punisher for nothing. When I choose to, I can unleash a kind of torment that would make even the Devil flinch. I don’t regret what I did – not for a single, damned second. She kept her word – she fought – and she almost broke my nose in the process.
She’s breathtakingly beautiful when she’s out for blood, my blood.
It’s addictive – like I can’t help but provoke her, just to see her bare her teeth. She’s a lamb that kicks and bleats, fragile but determined as the wolf drags it down. There’s spirit in her fight, defiance in her struggle – but against the wolf’s strength, it’s a battle that can only end one way – the wolf enjoying the chase asmuch as the capture itself.
But she also cracked. They always do. Next time, if she defies me, I’ll shove the barrel of my gun inside her cunt, and watch her squirm. I’ll know next time if she’s ready to submit, because I understand my little lamb better than she understands herself. If she was really afraid, she would have driven that knife home, right through my chest when she had the chance. If she was genuinely afraid, I wouldn’t have seen that glint in her eye – the one that told me she fed off this shit. Her body betrayed her, she’s addicted, as am I, and if I didn’t leave when I did, I would have cum there and then. I so desperately wanted to plunge my fingers into her, feel her pissing over my hand while I rubbed her clit. The only thing that stopped me, ironically, was her fear.
I’m not a rapist.
I let out a sigh, cracking my neck as I sit alone at home, lost in memories. My phone rings, breaking the silence. Without checking the caller ID, I snatch it up and growl, ‘What do you want?’
‘Boss! Flights are booked. I’ve got confirmation - Carlos will meet us at the site,’ Sal says, his voice draining away my erection.
‘Sal?’
‘Yes, boss?’
‘I need all the info on a team of mercenaries. Check Maribel’s phone records.’
Hanging up the phone, my mind reverts to Tarran. I’ve choked my chicken more times than I care toacknowledge. I even sat on my own god damn hand so it went numb and felt like someone else’s, but now I’m too fucking tired to even bother. I need more.
Time apart will do us both good. For now, she’s safe. With the club off-limits to her and no address disclosed in her client profile, she’s out of harm’s way. I’ve also instructed Mickey to keep a vigilant watch.
If Maribel had any real power, the kidnapping would have already happened. I’ve been watching Tarran for four days straight, and every single one of them was an opportunity to strike. Aside from a handful of friends, she’s a loner. I watch her obsessively; her voice is like velvet, her posh accent carving out each syllable with the elegance of Kate Winslet – a true British rose.
The moment I saw Tarran, I almost died; it felt like my heart stopped. She was breathtaking – unlike anything I’d ever known – and I’m not about to let her slip away.
My life has never been much, just a constant battle to meet my father’s impossible standards. But for her, something inside me has sparked to life. I’d set the world ablaze if it meant protecting her. She just needs to see that she’s safer with the devil she’s yet to understand.
Patience. Something I don’t have much of. I just need to wait. Give her time, and she’ll come around. She’ll love me eventually. Until then, I’ll savour our sessions.
With a stiff cock, I see Sal is calling back.
‘Sal, what did you find?’
‘The call has traced back to Spain.’
‘Spain?’Interesting.
‘She called Carlos.’
‘Well, well. Looks like we’ll be killing two birds with one stone, then.’
My, my Carlos. What have you been up to?
My Tarran. She’s already mine, though she doesn’t know it yet. I’m consumed by her – one glance into those eyes, and she claimed my soul. How I managed to keep my shit together, I’ll never understand. Over the past few days, I learnt her routines – what she buys, where she sips her coffee, the books she reads, and the people she meets. But it’s not enough. I need to unravel her completely, to understand what makes her tick. For someone who’s just experienced a break-in to put it lightly...she’s surprisingly fearless. Brazen even. She lives alone, walks alone, and doesn’t do as much as flinch when a man crosses her path.Fascinating.
I trail her discreetly, my pulse quickening as she heads to a coffee shop. Outside, I linger, feigning a phone call while watching her through the window as the rain drizzles. Missing this moment? Not a chance. If this doesn’t get her heart throbbing, I have more of a challenge on my hands than I anticipated.
CHAPTER 13
THE BUTCHERBIRD
Our coffee shop Bean Dreamers had easily become my sanctuary, a cosy haven where I could escape the relentless demands of life and find solace with Rachel, Anna, Sarah, and Emma. It is our little world, tucked away from everything else, where we laugh, share stories, and simply exist together. I bring my clumsiness and sometimes albeit not often an infectious laugh to the group – at least that’s what they always said. Somehow, I had a way of brightening the dullest of days.
Today was one of those drab days, with the sky a flat, lifeless grey. Thick clouds hang low, smothering the town in a muted light that seems to drain the colour from everything around me. The air carries a damp, earthy scent of rain and decay. I seeEmma’s wardrobe – vivid and unapologetically bright – standing out against the slick, rain-soaked streets. It is as if her colours are challenging the gloom, her blonde curls bouncing as she shrugs off the rain like it was nothing at all. I hop over puddles to join her, the crowd sweeping past me with heads bowed and umbrellas raised, faces lost in the shadows of rain, rushing to escape the dampness. Stepping into the cafe, the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils. The windows are streaked with rain, and blur the stormy world outside.
‘It’s raining cats and dogs out there,’ I say as the other girls join us.
