Storm: (Blood Legion MC) (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 3) (19 page)

Breaking Point

I MANAGED TO STAY upright all the way upstairs then barricaded us inside the room. Locked the door, locked the balcony, checked the bathroom. Blaize—the woman who never so much as flinched—looked like she was holding on by a very thin thread.

She watched my every move, her arms crossed around herself. Her face pale. Her eyes too wide. Her limbs quaking.

Taking my gun from its snug spot at the back of my waist, I checked the clip, reloaded it. Walked to my shotgun, and loaded the empty chamber. After rummaging through Blaize’s neatly stowed belongings I located her pistol.

An operative never fucked with another one’s weapon.

I held up the sidearm, asking, “You want me to do the honors?”

Blaize blew out a breath in a single ragged rush. “I’ll do it.”

She came forward stiltedly, and I placed the Walther in her hand.

A hand that shook.

My fingers lighted gently on the side of her face. “You can let me, you know.”

She shook her downcast head, but her fingers fumbled with the magazine.

Drawing a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders.

She looked at me with those big blues so like a summer sky, so wounded right then. “I’ve got it.”

Ranging behind her, I collapsed into the one chair, ready to pass out. From pain. From worry.

From relief.

They’d been about to rape Blaize.

Fuck.

I just needed a drink. A smoke.

I watched Blaize as she made sure her gun was fire-ready, locked and loaded. With her back to me, she seemed to gather herself.

When she turned around, her gaze flittered to the door. She stalked to it, double checked it, leaned against it with her head
thunking
back.

Getting up, I bit down on a low groan. At the rickety little table, I poured two large glasses of whisky. I laced my fingers through Blaize’s and led her to the chair where she sat on my lap. I all but threw my drink down my throat in large, burning gulps.

Blaize drank quickly, too.

I lit two smokes, cracked the window, gave her one, and brought her against me.

She trembled in my embrace.

My face hurt. My ribs motherfucking smarted. But the feel of Blaize in my arms made it somewhat better, a totally bearable and welcome punishment considering what the alternative had been.

We tossed out our cigarettes, and I kissed her neck. I drew her hands to my mouth and looked down at her, kissing each fingertip.

“I was so worried about you.” My voice croaked out.

Color filled her cheeks—fresh and pink, no longer ghostly. And her eyes—those beautiful irises—softened.

“Storm . . .”

My heart chugged in my chest. “
Cher
.”

Rising to her feet, she drew me with her. “Let me take care of you.”

In the bathroom, Blaize stripped me down. Her hands glanced off my skin, my muscles, my hard body as the rest of my clothes fell to the floor under her guidance. She ran warm water in the sink, soaped a washcloth.

I peered down at her as she dabbed the blood from my chest, my ribs, my face. She softly kissed each bruise, and her eyelashes fluttered against me, small tickles that combined with her moist breath on my skin.

After rinsing the cloth and setting it aside, she opened her medkit.

It felt like she was wringing every emotion from me one touch at a time.

I held still, barely breathing as she worked over me. Worked me over.

I was so attuned to her I felt every touch like a ripple on my flesh, a wave in the ocean.

She swabbed me with alcohol and prodded the deepest cuts.

Her mouth brushed my neck. “Do you want stitches?”

I turned to the mirror, having a hard time taking my eyes off her.

The worst was on my left cheek, and one laceration jagged against my ribs.

They’d heal. I’d have scars. These wounds weren’t the worst.

“I’d rather have kisses.” Leaning down, I touched my mouth to hers.

Her tongue snaked out and she lifted up to her toes, coiling her hands around my neck.

I drew her up against me, holding her firmly to me.

My lips parted from the wet tangle of hers to find the pulse point at her neck. “
Merde
. Blaize. That was fucking goddamn close.”

She cried out against me, “God, Storm! I thought they’d kill you.”

“Me?” I knocked my head back and stared at her. “
You
, Blaize. I thought they were really gonna rape you.”

I lifted her up and carried her to the bed. “Never been so shit-scared in my life.”

Rasping my hand down my face, I sat beside her. I rubbed a hand up and down her back, and she started to shake harder. Stark tears rained down her face as she curled over on herself.

“What? What is it?” Sheer cold terror ran through my veins.

I heard her swallow, and she raised her bleak face. “I’ve been raped before.”

“What?” I sat frozen in blank shock.

“I was raped.” Her voice became even smaller.

“Who. Tell me who so I can fucking kill him.” My body sprung instantly tight, like someone pushed a fist into my stomach, twisting my innards.

“Not
him.
Them. My squadron. I was the only woman.”

My gorge rose in my throat. “
What
?”

Blaize just shook her head, and another tear cascaded down her face. She wiped it, almost angrily, as if she couldn’t stand to show any weakness.

I reached for her. Halted. Didn’t know if she wanted to be touched.

“What happened, Blaize?” My voice barely registered.

“It was a long time”—she halted, compressing her lips for a moment—“that’s a lie. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday.”

The muscles in my throat worked convulsively, and my fists balled against my mouth, so hard I thought bones might break.

She looked at me, her lips lifting in a sad smile. “I got therapy though.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “I need to,” she whispered.

“It was when I was in training. One night. Zero dark thirty. I thought I’d been woken for an exercise. They did that to us all the time. Someone covered my head. Bound my hands. I didn’t even know what was happening. Thought maybe it was some kind of serious interrogation drill.” Her buried emotions surfaced.

She started shaking, her voice a thin thread of sound. “But then I smelled it . . . we were in the bathroom, in the barracks. The smell of bleach. The cold tile on my knees when they ripped off my clothes and shoved me down to the floor. I knew then. Knew it before the first cock was forced into my mouth. And there were so many. Couldn’t see them. Never saw their faces. Brutal. Just cocks and grunts and calling me
military bitch
and
Army wannabe
brat
. Slapping me. Hitting me.”

Blaize stopped.

She slammed her eyes shut.

I leaned over her, trying not to loom, not to scare her, but,
Jesus
, I needed to do something to help her.

A small whimper escaped her throat, and her face just crumpled.

“Raping me. My mouth. My vagina. My anus. Beating me. Forcing me to take it. Kept waking me up when I passed out from the pain. Urinating on me. Ejaculating on me. In me.” Her forehead puckered. “I didn’t submit, Storm. I went down fighting.” Her voice completely broke.

“Jesus Christ.” I opened my arms, grabbing her to me. “C’mere.”

The emotions. Fuck. I couldn’t control the emotions. I was shaking with her. I wanted to hit something. Kill someone. Rip their goddamn cocks off. Gut them like the fucking pigs they were.

I shoved it all down. Forced it all down. I felt like puking, thinking about what those animals—her own team—had done to her.

I contained everything, holding Blaize. Rocking her. Taking her tears onto my fingertips and brushing them away, but they kept falling and falling, one after the other.

“I’m sorry. I am so goddamn sorry, Blaize.” I clenched her harder to me, almost relieved when she reached her arms around me and started crying loudly. Letting it all out.

I sat with her, comforting her, wishing I’d known her back then so I could’ve taken the pain away. Could’ve battled for her.

I murmured against her hair, over and over, anything to soothe her.

She stilled eventually. She quieted down. She buried her face deeply against my neck.

“I put in a complaint. It went into the round file. But I wouldn’t give up. They switched me to a different squadron, and I was not going to give up because of them, because of what they did to me.” Her voice shook again. She cleared her throat with a sound that was rough and tight. “That was when I met James Lawless.” Blaize let out a long jagged sigh. “He took care of me. Took me under his wing. Helped me get where I am.”

“I’m a little less jealous of him now.” I gave a dry chuckle, trying to release some of my untapped fury even while the hot damp of my own tears filled my eyes, curdled my throat.

I pecked the top of her head, and she peered up at me. Her lips quirked a little.

“You never had to be jealous. Not of anyone, Storm.” She kissed me softly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Cradling the nape of her neck, stronger more powerful feelings almost overwhelmed me. “
Cher
. You won’t. I’m here. I got you now. No more fighting.”

“There's always fighting. It's what we do.”

“Not tonight.” My voice dropped. “Just you and me and what we want.”

Her beautiful eyes shaded suddenly with something more primal than pain. “I want you.”

I sucked in a breath of air, willing myself to go slow with her. “I wanna make love to you, Blaize, but only if you’re sure.”

“Yes, Storm.” Leaning forward, she kissed my jaw. “Yes. Take away the badness. Give me something good. Something to hold onto.”

Standing, I lifted her to her feet in front of me. I started undressing her, taking my time revealing her to my sight, my hands, my mouth and lips.

She watched me throughout it all.

I began to unclip her bra, and my fingers trembled.

“I can do that.” She reached for the clasp.

“Let me, please. You do everything.” Clasping her face in my hands, I drew her lips to mine. “You
are
everything.”

Her warm mouth smiled against mine, and she moaned softly.

When she was finally bare, I trailed my hands from her thighs to her hips, her waist to her shoulders to her face.

“You’re everything to me.” Low and hoarse, the words rumbled from my chest.

Her fingers found mine, and she twined our hands together. Her breasts rubbed against me, the tight nipples tantalizing against the hair on my chest.

Bruises discolored the flesh of my torso, probably made a hell of a sight of my face, too, but I felt nothing but her, barely brushing against me.

“You’re hurting,” she whispered.

“Not that hurt.” Dipping at the knees, I kissed her with just our mouths and tongues touching.

It was slow and sweet and just the beginning of something deep enough to make my entire body hum and thrum.

Blaize drew slightly back. Her hands fell to my waist. The backs of her knuckles roamed in the lightest caress along my cock, achingly hard and thick.

Her breath gusted across my pecs, and she leaned forward to suck one of the nipples hidden in the black fur between her lips.

I groaned loudly. Grunted even louder when she latched onto the nub with her teeth, a feral grin stretching her lips.

She’d already undressed me in the bathroom, but now those ministering touches turned into long delicious tugs as the heat of her palm encased my cock. She stroked me a few times, but when she started to crouch forward to suck my throbbing erection, I caught her up in my arms.

“No. Not tonight.” I laid her in the center of the bed. “Just you and me.”

“And everything?” Spreading her long legs, she welcomed me between them.

“Always.” I hovered above, bracing my arms beside her head.

She guided me to the precipice, where I almost entered her slick heat. I clasped her wrist, made her look at me, holding still.

Waiting.

Wanting.

“Don’t you see it? I love you. I love you, Blaize.” I placed my lips against hers. “I’m in love with you.”

Her breath caught, and the moment I slid into her, she arched her neck.

Groaning, I grabbed her hands in mine, locking our fingers, our bodies, together.