Page 16 of Addicted to the Ruin

“Thank you, Nightingale,” he murmurs, his hand disappearing from my stomach. My brow furrows, then I feel the press of his fingers against my lips. “Suck.” I open my mouth automatically for him, two of his thick digits sliding against my tongue and I groan as I swirl my tongue over them, coating them in my saliva. “Such a good little broken bird,” he says, the husky tone of his voice sending shivers cascading across my skin once more. His fingers leave my lips, his hand making quick work of diving under my leggings and panties. I tense, gasping as it makes my injuries tug, when he reaches the apex of my thighs, my hand going to his wrist, making him pause. “Relax, Nightingale. It’s just me, and I would never hurt you.” Taking a deep inhale, I force my muscles to relax, my breath stuttering as he places his lips back on my neck and starts gently kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin there. “Not unless you beg me to anyway,” he whispers just as his fingers circle my clit.

A shocked moan falls from my lips as sparks of electricity shoot from the bundle of nerves, my pussy becoming slick instantly as he softly strokes and teases my nub.

“Jude…” I moan, twisting my head to give him better access to my throat as I work to keep my hips still in order to prevent my ribs from flaring.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Nightingale. So, fucking perfect,” he tells me, his voice low yet his words fill me with warmth, adding to the fire that his fingers are creating.

It doesn’t take long before I’m cresting the wave that he’s created, so close I can almost taste it.

“Jude, fuck, I’m so close, my prince,” I gasp, and a growl vibrates through me from behind. He really likes that nickname.

“Then come for me, Nightingale. Come for your prince,” he commands gruffly, strumming my clit over and over again with just the right pressure to send me toppling over the edge into oblivion.

I cry out, my fingers digging into his wrist as I shatter against him. He holds me as I fall, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as I shudder and whimper, and when I burst into tears, a mix of relief at being able to be touched by one of them and sorrow at all that’s been stolen from me, his grip only tightens, telling me with his body that he is with me. I’ll never be alone to face my nightmares again.

Lark

“When the party’s over” by Billie Eilish

The next few days roll past in a semblance of peace, well, except for each of the guys getting hauled off and placed in what my sperm donor calls ‘the ring.’ It’s a fucking joke, basically, a chalk circle drawn on the floor in the main room that he throws them in and lets the Soldiers beat the ever-loving shit out of my Tailor boys. The cracked knuckles my guys come back with show that they put up a fight, a fucking good one, but they are no match for the relentless numbers that now make up the Soldier ranks. Nor can they fight the fact that we’re barely fed and watered. There is just too much stacked against them, and eventually, they each have to be dragged back to the cages, exhausted and bloody.

But Rufus isn’t stupid, which in this instance is a godsend. He never brings them to the point of serious injury, and according to each of them, he films the beatings, presumably sending the footage to Adam Taylor as a warning of what could happen if he doesn’t agree to his terms.

Jude steals the key from Aeron each night, although I’m sure Aeron knows, coming into my cell and holding me tightly as he brings me to blinding pleasure repeatedly as if it’s his life mission. He was right that first night; it has helped to keep the nightmares at bay, and he never goes further than his fingers or tongue and never dips inside me, just plays with my clit until I’m clenching around thin air and begging for more.

I’m sure the others must know by now, my whispered cries aren’t exactly silent, but none of them say anything, and it’s always Jude who slips behind me as I toss and turn in the dark. I’m not complaining, but I do miss the touch of each of them and find myself less afraid than I was of becoming intimate with them again as each day passes.

Doc visits every day, checking my healing wounds and even trying to help the guys when he can. He assures us that Adam is coming, often ending the visit with his head pressed close to Aeron as he tells him the plan and they talk through logistics.

Apparently, the Tailors will send a team in to liberate us this Friday, when the HQ will be full to bursting with Soldiers, and we’re to stay locked up until then, no exceptions. Aeron won’t tell me what the plan is beyond our rescue, and I can’t deny the hurt that flashes through me at his distrust. Not that I haven’t earned it, but I thought we were past that now, trying to start afresh.

I’m pacing inside the cage, trying to keep myself as fit as I can given the circumstances, when the door to our room opens and Doc walks in flanked by two leering Soldiers.

I come to an abrupt halt, my throat tightening as butterflies flutter in my stomach, making me feel sick. I just know something unpleasant awaits.

“Good afternoon, Lark,” Doc greets, but the small smile that he gives me doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, wrinkles carve deep furrows around them and creases in his forehead.

“Good afternoon,” I reply, my voice much smaller than I’d like, especially as the excitement rolling off of the two goons fills the air. Like they can smell my unease and it gets them off.Fucking dogs.

Doc unlocks my door, stepping in and pulling it shut before the Soldiers can come inside. They just wait outside the bars, hands clasped in front of them like some messed up bouncers, their eyes tracing up and down my body with looks that make me want to vomit.

“I’m here to give you your daily check,” Doc informs me, clutching his brown bag so tightly that it creaks in his clenched fist. “And then I’m to take you to get ready for this evening.”

Wind rushes past my ears, my eyes no longer focusing on the here and now as I realize what he means. It’s Friday, and somehow, I’d lost track of the days, forgetting that on Friday I have a duty to perform. I am to take up the mantle of Soldier’s Darling again.

“Lark?” Doc’s voice filters in through the whistling breeze, and I blink several times in order to bring him back into focus. I can’t say anything, just nod as I lie down, not even feeling the pull on my ribs. Doc sighs, then kneels next to me, his examination quick and thorough as usual. I embrace the numbness that is washing over me, knowing that it will be the only thing that allows me to get through what is coming. “Time to go,” Doc says gently, and I ignore the hand he offers to help me up.

I follow as he leads me out of the cage, vaguely hearing him tell the Soldiers to go ahead of us.

“Dove!” My steps falter, my heart racing, and I’m unable to stop my head from turning to the side and being captured in ocean-blue eyes, a maelstrom of emotions swirling in their depths. My brows dip when I feel the brush of fingers on my cheek, smearing wetness from tears that I didn't know had fallen. “We will come for you; I fucking swear it.”

My chin trembles and I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that copper fills my mouth. I don’t say a word, can’t talk past the boulder that sits in my throat, a vice around my chest barely letting me breathe.

“We have to go,” Doc pleads quietly from my side, the warmth of his hand hovering over my bicep. “I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor.”

Aeron holds my gaze, my soul screaming and pounding at me to run to him and let him hold me until this all fades away like a bad dream, but this is no land of make-believe, even a hellish one. There is no escape, not yet anyway. So, I somehow find the strength to look away, his fingers falling as I place one foot in front of the other and walk away from them.

I try to ignore the roar that I know belongs to Knox, the sound of the bars being pounded and the sobs of Jude. If I am to survive this, I have to retreat to that place inside me I used to visit all too often growing up.

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