Page 47 of Ends of Being

He doesn’t elaborate or try to explain his reasoning, but I have a feeling I know it’s because they’re both a mess, and they don’t want me to see it. They’re protecting me from the carnage.

I allow them to lead me out further until, finally, they’re helping me settle into the back of the car. Squirming around, I can tell that I’m not sitting on normal leather seats, and I get a small amount of relief from this small detail.

I scoot into the middle seat, and Tony and Lilith get in, sandwiching me between them. I manage to swallow down the sob that remains stuck in my throat, but they both must notice my internal struggle because they each reach for one of my hands.

We sit like that in silence as the car pulls away from the curb.

Dare

To say that our rescue mission was a bloodbath would be a significant understatement.

I’m rather perturbed at the number of bodies that are laid out in that room by the time we’re done. While some did attempt to defend themselves, the vast majority of them were just fodder, bodies to stand in the way.

It seems like we caught them off guard, so I can’t for the life of me figure out why they would go through the trouble of taking Antoinette and then not take necessary precautions to keep her. She was surrounded by men who were unarmed and mostly inept at general hand-to-hand combat, so I can only assume they were all there for one purpose—to torture her.

After some debate, we finally decide to torch the building. We don’t normally use fire as a means to dispose of bodies; however, in this particular case, there are too many to move without someone noticing. Matt is going to call our fire guy so I can get back to the house to tend to Antoinette.

I asked Lilith and Tony to get her out of there for me because I didn’t want her to see the mess, not only in the room but also on any one of us. Relief flooded me when I saw she was safe and that she allowed them to cover her eyes and lead her from the massacre.

Lilith planned on getting her home and cleaned up. Then once I got back to the house, she was going to return here to see if any of the bodies are of any importance. She didn’t believe they would be, but when Antoinette said someone seemingly important had gotten away, we figured it was best to double-check.

Finally, I walk through the door of my home, the clean-up taking far longer than I thought, and I immediately head down to the basement to dispose of my bloody clothes and take the first layer of blood off me.

I collapse heavily onto the bench in the locker room area, suddenly feeling exhausted. I’m completely overwhelmed by the deep sense of elation from knowing that she’s okay. She had obviously been knocked around a bit but, for the most part, seems to be unhurt.

I’m sitting on the bench, my head resting in my hands, when there’s a noise in the doorway. I glance up to see Antoinette standing there. Groaning, I shake my head at her as I say, “Go back to the bedroom, Antoinette. I’ll be there shortly.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, her blue eyes filled with questions. I haven’t looked in the mirror, but I can only assume that I look a fright. The blood that dried on my skin and in my hair and the stickiness as it soaked into my clothes and stuck to my skin. I did manage to at least wipe off part of my face and wash my hands, but that isn’t really much considering we took out a lot of people using blades, which tends to create quite the mosaic of blood splatter.

She stands taller and pushes her chin out a bit, then walks toward me. I sit up straight but remain seated, and she stops in front of me and raises one hand to my face, her fingertips stroking along my cheek gently. I close my eyes, reveling in her touch, but then her hand is gone, replaced by a sharp sting of her palm as it makes contact with my cheek.

I flinch back, my hands shooting out to grab ahold of her wrists as she screams in my face, “You motherfucker!”

I barely manage to push her back and stand before she goes completely wild. She gets in a few good kicks, and I effectively dodge her knee to my balls as I attempt to restrain her with my body. I end up having to take her feet out from under her, falling to the ground with her in a heap, where we then grapple for domination. I finally pin her beneath me, using my full body weight to ensure she can only move her head.

The sting from where she scratched me, and the lump that formed when she punched me during our tussle radiates pain. I lean forward and scrape my teeth against her brow as I ask, “What the fuck, Antoinette?”

She bares her teeth at me in response as she shouts, “You should’ve told me!”

I sink further into her, my head leaning in so I can graze my nose along the side of her face, but I quickly pull back as she lashes out at me, managing to nip my ear pretty fiercely.

I’m at a loss for what I should say. There are so many things I want to tell her, so many things I likely need to tell her, but all of it gets stuck in my throat because it’s just not the right time.

Obviously, she now has a good idea of the type of man I am, not that I’m ashamed—quite the contrary, actually. Maybe I’ve been too easy on her so far, and she missed the part where I’m a controlling, self-serving bastard. Maybe it’s far past the time I showed her.

She struggles beneath me, and I glare down at her in annoyance. “Cut it out, Antoinette. Surely, we can speak civilly about this.”

She barks out a humorless laugh. “There’s nothing civil about you, Dare. You’re an animal, a bloodthirsty, unrepentant fucking animal!”

I lean in closer to her. “That’s right, my little minx. I’m a fucking animal. And you fucking love it, so don’t try to pretend that you don’t.”

She thrashes beneath me in response, managing to break one leg free that she then uses to kick me, though not very effectively. All that move accomplishes is her spreading her legs even wider for me, and I rub the hard length of my cock against her pussy, groaning at the small moan that escapes her.

I rock my hips again, lowering my upper body as I say, “That’s right, baby girl. You like that?”

She shakes her head, a contradiction to the quiet sobs that erupt from inside her. She pulls on her hands halfheartedly and whispers, “Let me go.”

I laugh. “Never.”

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