Vengeful Soul by Emma Creed
She’s trying real hard to be brave, I almost admire the girl for her determination. But she’s wasting her efforts, the pretty little bitch can’t hide how scared she is from me. I’ve seen fear in all its forms. Just never in a way that got my dick hard.
The place Prez has found us is perfect. Off the grid, secure, and if by some miracle she did manage to get away from me, she’d have nowhere to run to. The house is surrounded by marshy fields with only one track to the main road, and it's a real long one.
When I get back from the grocery store the door is still locked, and everything is quiet. I let myself in and head straight for the kitchen. As expected, she’s still tied to the chair, but it’s on the ground now, laying on its side. No doubt during her attempt to escape.
The girl should know better, there ain't no way she’s getting away from me. Many have tried, many have failed, and those rarely live to tell the tale. I rest my shoulder against the doorframe and watch as her eyes lift from the floor. Slowly traveling up my body until they settle on the smug grin I got specially for her. I’ve barely known the girl five minutes, and already I know how much it irritates her.
“Are you gonna help me up or stand there staring?” she snaps.
I take my time placing the bag of groceries on the table, then make sure I stand so her eyes are level with my boots.
Slowly, I reach down and take the back of the chair in my hand before hauling it back up on to four legs.
“You ain’t gonna escape.” I grip a fist of her hair, tugging her head back and forcing her to look up at me. I catch that glimpse of fear again, her eyelashes batting hard and a terrified little swallow slipping down her throat.
Jesus, that throat would look good with my cock fucking it. With her gagging and spluttering around me, while her eyes drown in pretty tears.
I push that thought away and quickly release her from my grip, stomping back out to the truck to get the rest of the supplies.
She watches me with a vicious scorn while I unload the bags. I try to ignore how her nipples are standing hard beneath the light pink top she’s wearing… and the goosebumps that pebble her arms and legs. I also try to ignore the temptation to bite that bitchy scowl right off her fucking lips.
“You gonna tell me your name?” she says, as I rummage around the cupboards trying to find a pan.
“You gonna tell me yours?” I throw back at her, finally finding one big enough to fry the ground beef I picked up.
“You don’t know my name?” Her eyebrows raise in shock. “You took me from my home on the day of my parents’ funeral, and you don’t even know my name?” She makes that irritating laugh again. The one that makes me want to take her across my knee and slap the shit out of her ass.
I don’t know what she could possibly find amusing about the situation she’s in.
“Your name ain’t important,” I shrug, watching her amusement fade into disappointment. I finish cooking the beef, then leave it to cool while I fix us both up a sandwich, finding two plates, and dropping one on the table in front of her.
“And how do you suppose I eat that?” she asks, turning up her nose at what I’ve made for her.
“I could make you eat it like a dog,” I point out, taking pleasure in the way her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in disgust. “Or, you can promise me you’ll behave, and I’ll consider untying your hands.”
She stares back at me for the longest time, and I'm half expecting the stubborn little bitch to lean forward and devour the sandwich using only her mouth.
In the end, she lets out a frustrated breath and chews at the inside of her cheek.
“Fine, I won’t try to escape, untie me.” I cock a brow, to show her I expect better.
“Please,” she adds with a huff of irritation. I nod my head, satisfied with her attempt, then stand up from my chair and move behind her to loosen the ropes from around her chest.
I’m leaving the ones around her ankles intact though. She’s far too much of a flight risk.
“Thank you,” she whispers so quietly that I almost don’t hear it, and I sit back in my chair watching her eat her sandwich in small delicate bites.
There’s something fascinating about the way her lips move, something that stirs my dick and has me staring. And when I manage to pull my eyes off them, I realize she’s caught me watching.
“My name's Grace,” she tells me, in a tone that’s borderline friendly.
“Brax.” I don’t know why I offer her that, especially when I got no intentions on playing nice with the girl.
“Brax,” she plays with my name on her tongue, it sounds sexy as fuck coming off her lips. And I decide I wanna make her scream it. I just haven’t figured out if I want it to be outta pleasure or pain yet.
I remove myself from the table, taking the bowl of ground beef that’s been cooling on the side and placing it on the floor for the dog. Looks to me like the thing hasn’t eaten in weeks. There are no houses nearby, so I doubt he belongs to anyone.
He tucks in immediately, the sounds of his scoffs filling the room as he pushes the bowl around the floor with his nose.
“Looks like he needed that,” Grace says, watching him with that same smile that I’d seen in her photo. She’s trying to make nice, but I see right through her act. If she’s hoping to find a weakness in me, then she’s setting herself up for failure.
I rest my ass against the kitchen side, and light up a smoke. Sucking in a drag and letting it burn my lungs before releasing a thick cloud of smoke into the room.
She fakes a dramatic splutter, placing the palm of her hand over her chest. I roll my eyes, balancing the cigarette between my lips as I move toward her. Squinting my eyes to avoid the smoke, I untie her legs and feel her stare scorching me. I can’t help but appreciate her slender toned legs, and fight the urge to lick her all the way from her heel to the edge of her cute little shorts.
I wonder if I pressed my hand over her cunt would she tremble, would she leak through those cotton shorts and soak my fingers?
Pulling myself back up, I purposely exhale a long breath of smoke directly at her pretty face. This time she doesn’t choke or splutter, she looks me straight in the eye, giving her best ‘you don’t scare me’ attempt.
I stretch my arm over her shoulder and feel around inside my duffel bag, pulling out one of my shirts and tossing it at her.
“Put that on.”
She could think it’s because I’ve noticed she’s cold. It’s not. I’ve decided that she’s far too much of a distraction like this. Her shorts are sitting too high on those thighs for me to think about anything else other than spreading them.
“Thanks.” She fakes a smile as she pulls my checked flannelled shirt over her shoulders, doing up a few of the buttons at the bottom. The thing hangs off her when she stands on to her feet, but it still doesn’t cover enough of her. If anything, she looks even fuckin’ hotter than before.
“We need to find you somewhere to sleep,” I tell her, snatching at her wrist and dragging her out of the kitchen.
I’m cautious as I take the stairs, half expecting them to collapse under us. This house may have water and electricity, but I can’t say much for the construction. There’s dry rot on the walls and I’ll be lucky to find a room that isn’t damp from all the holes in the roof.
I check out all three rooms and push Grace through the door of the only one that has a bed.
“You’ll sleep here,” I tell her impatiently, noticing how her eyes flick disappointingly around the dreary room.
“There’s no pillows or blankets.” She looks horrified when she notices the stained mattress.
“What were you expecting, room service to bring you some up?” I force her forward so she tumbles face-first onto the dirty mattress, and she makes a tiny squeal that has me wanting to strip her of those shorts and fuck more sounds out of her.
Apart from the bed, the room is empty, and I notice how she looks straight at the window, her brain already formulating an escape plan.
“It’s kind of you to let me have the room with the bed.” She pulls herself back together, morphing back into that friendly act she’s almost choking herself on.
“Not kind.” I take the handcuffs from my back pocket. “Practical.” The way her nostrils flare in annoyance, tempts me to rile her some more. But that ain’t gonna do me no favors. I have to stay focused on the job. Putting some space between us might make me stop thinking about all the things I wanna do to her.
Snatching at her arm, I snap the cuff around her wrist, then attach the other cuff to the metal framework of the bed.
“I’ll be out in the hall.”
“You’re leaving me in here on my own?” I can’t decide if she sounds shocked or scared at the thought of me leaving.
“I ain’t sticking around to tell you a bedtime story.” I head for the door.
“Brax.” The way she whispers my name has me quickly spinning around, and I cuss myself for it. “Why am I here?” she asks again, so pitifully that I almost wanna give her an answer.
Almost.
I ignore her question, shutting the door and leaving her in pitch black. I can’t risk going far so I sit on the floor, and rest my shoulders against the banister of the stairs. I stare at her door, wondering what she’s doing on the other side of it. Will she finally give in to her emotions now that she’s alone? Let herself cry all those tears she’s been holding back from me?
I imagine she’d look pretty falling apart. Those big green eyes filled with tears that spill through her lashes onto her cheeks, while her lips tremble out of fear.
She can play pretend as much as she likes. I scare her, she told me that herself. I don’t think she meant to, but at the time she was too shocked to deny me fear.
And she’s right to be afraid, judging by the way Prez has thought this all out, the shit she’s in is serious.
A furry head nestles onto my lap, and I pat him, letting him know it’s okay for him to keep it there.
I’ve liked dogs ever since I was a kid. Mama always promised we’d get one when she’d saved enough money for us to get our own place.
That never happened, none of the things Mama promised happened. But none of them matter anymore. What matters is that I stick to my promise, and that the person who took her life pays for it with theirs.
No one in the club knows about my past, not even Jessie, and he knows me better than anyone. Besides, if Jessie knew everything I did, he’d be chasing the same retribution as me.
I haven’t shared the story of our past with Nyx yet. Like me, he doesn’t deal well with all the heavy emotional shit. And our shit’s so fuckin’ heavy that it’s weighed me down for twenty years. I can’t remember a time when my heart didn’t carry hate, and my dreams haven’t been plagued with vengeance.
This job Prez got me sitting on, is just another obstacle preventing me from getting closer to nailing the man who stole her away from me.
Over the years, frustration has made my hate grow thicker. It’s spread and consumed me. And now I could kill that bastard a thousand times over and I doubt I’ll ever be healed of the curse he put inside me.