Broken (The Voodoo Revival Series Book 3) Page 8

  He pushed thoughts of the future aside, determined to live in the moment with Angela. No matter what was coming, they’d always have that night.

  Arlen’s fingers ran down her back and over her backside to her thighs. Gripping tightly, he lifted her into his embrace, never breaking the kiss. She gripped his shoulders, clinging to him tightly and folded her legs snugly around his waist. Angie rocked her core against Arlen’s straining erection. It set him over the edge and he was acting on pure instinct.

  He began to move, stepping over to the wall. Angie’s back hit the solid surface and she became a wild cat unleashed. She let out a breathy moan, which spurred Arlen on.

  Their first time together would not be against a wall on a warehouse roof. He’d do it properly, though, he wasn’t sure they’d make to a bed. Indoors and away from prying eyes would have to suffice.

  His hand left Angie and found the door knob. He pulled it open and carried Angie along with him. His feet carried them swiftly back to the apartment. As soon as the door shut securely behind them, he let her down and swooped in to capture her lips again. Angie’s fingers were working their way under his shirt, tracing over the hills and valleys of his abs. Slowly, her exploration grew braver and ventured further north, taking the shirt along with it. She pushed it up over his head and let it fall freely to the floor.

  The gleam in her eyes matched the hunger stirring within him. He wanted her, needed her and he was seconds away from losing all control and having her.

  He began pushing her shirt up, but she stopped him and broke their kiss.

  “Not that, please?” Angie begged.

  Arlen didn’t know why she wanted to hide from him, although he wasn’t about to push the subject. His attention turned south as he made quick work of her leggings and thong. He pushed them down her hips and luscious thighs. She stepped out of them and grew a little bolder. He stood back, his gaze raked over every inch of her exposed flesh, hungry to have her.

  Her nipples were drawn up into peaks, making them visible through her shirt. He reached out and took one into his palm. She filled his hand perfectly. Gods, she really was made for him, he thought to himself. He rolled her nipple between his fingers until she was writhing against him, needy. It was his own form of slow torture. He could smell her arousal pooling.

  “Need to feel you,” he groaned, trailing his fingers up her thigh to her center. She was practically dripping just for him.

  Arlen traced a finger up and down her slick folds, dipping into her just barely before retreating again. He found a rhythm to it. It was enough to drive her to the edge, yet never enough to push her over it. She quivered in his arms, but he wasn’t nearly finished with her.

  “Ah! Arlen…” she whispered, begging for him to have mercy on her.

  However, he was only just getting warmed up. The real fun had yet to come.

  He honed in on her sensitive little nub and massaged it until she was shaking and grinding herself against his hand, trying to gain some friction and relief.

  Her hand shakily found the button of his pants and popped it free. Arlen gave her nub a quick pinch before dipping a finger into her depths while she worked to free him.

  “Shhiitt, yesss. Right there!” she panted, abandoning her attempt to free him in order to grip something, anything, to help her ride out her impending orgasm.

  He withdrew his touch, leaving her frustrated and twitching. Her eyes popped open and stared at him, full of confusion and something he knew all too well.

  Shame.

  This sight of it did something to him that he couldn’t explain and he had to reassure her that this was just a part of his game. A test of sorts. He wanted to know if she could handle him. Something about her made him want to test her and push her past her limits.

  Arlen scooped her into his arms and marched to the bed. He tossed her down on it. He followed her down, crashing his lips against hers. His large hands wrapped around her hips as he tugged her towards him, allowing her to feel his arousal. He wanted to worship every inch of her, but didn’t think he had the restraint to wait that long.

  He was going to draw out her pleasure and make her beg for him, then he’d tease her until she was half crazed with need. The corners of his lips curled up at the idea.

  Arlen scooted a bit backwards and kneeled down in front of her. He buried his face between her legs and lapped at her sensitive sex. The mewls leaving her lips damn near made him spill his seed. Angie’s back arched sharply and her fingers grabbed tightly to his hair. He dipped his tongue into her before retreating and flicking it against her swollen clit. Her legs shook around his shoulders and he briefly thought about granting her mercy and letting her come.

  However, Angie did something unexpected and took him by surprise. She pulled herself back away from him and sat up. Mischief glinted in her eyes. She shifted herself around until she was on all fours facing him.

  Angie crawled forwards, nudging Arlen back until he was the one laying down with her in the position of control. This was new for him. He liked control, but his interest was piqued and he wanted to see where she’d take things.

  She kneeled above him, raking her eyes over his body. Reaching out, she grabbed ahold of his waistband and tugged his pants down. He lifted his hips to help her get them down. With a final tug, he sprung free.

  Her lips descended and wrapped around the head. She gave it a hard suck before her lips popped free. She flicked her tongue out and gave the underside of his shaft a stroke and then repeated it again. Her mouth was like heaven. Arlen found himself flexing with the rhythm she set, wanting to lose himself in her.

  It would seem she was almost as skilled at the game of cat and mouse as he was, but that would change. Or at least get much more interesting.

  She swirled her tongue around the head of his shaft and then pulling him in deep. Arlen could feel the back of her throat, yet she forced him deeper. He hissed through clenched teeth at how tight her mouth was. It was incredible. She gripped the base of his shaft and began stroking him, never breaking suction.

  Arlen’s teeth were clenched tightly together and he began bucking deep into her mouth with each pump of her hand. He wasn’t going to last nearly long enough at that point, especially if he let her have her way. Pulling back, he popped free of her mouth and pushed her back down. Snaking his fingers around her ankles, he pulled her towards him and hooked each leg around his hips. He slid himself up and down her slickened folds.

  He was at her entrance, trying to hold himself back as long as he could. His arms were taut on each side of her head. He could feel her slick warmth and he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in it. With a quick thrust, he buried himself deep within her and froze.

  She gasped at the sudden intrusion. Once he began to move again, her small pants and squeaks turned needy.

  Angie’s small hands slid up his arms and around to his back before digging them into his flesh. His vixen had claws and it seemed she liked to use them, too. The sting of the scratches along his skin sparked with his arousal as he picked up the pace, pounding into her over and over again.

  With a quick shift, Arlen lifted Angie from the bed so she was spread before him on his lap, still at Arlen’s mercy. He pushed in further, his control slipping.

  Angie gasped as he hit a spot deep within her, a spot so deep, she couldn’t form coherent words, only garbled pants. He could feel her walls squeezing him so wonderfully tight.

  Arlen’s lips crashed down onto Angie’s, hungry to taste her. Though, he didn’t stop there. His lips traced the edges of her lips and trailed down her jaw to her neck. His tongue lapped at her sensitive junction between her neck and shoulder.

  Angie’s moans grew louder with each thrust. Arlen’s steel-like grip kept her splayed wide open, allowing him deeper and rendering her helpless to escape the sweet torture. She could do nothing more than to absorb the pleasure.

  Angie clung to Arlen’s frame as his breaths grew ragged. Arlen was close, really cl
ose.

  “More,” Angie demanded, desperate to be filled by him.

  Angie’s body tensed and her pussy hugged him tighter than he thought possible. Her head tipped back and cried out in ecstasy. Arlen grit his teeth together as the tingling in his belly intensified. The blood rushed to his pelvis and coursed through his dick. Before he could stop himself and pull out, he came. He swelled inside her and groaned, emptying himself completely. He was blind to the fact that he was inadvertently tying their souls together.

  What had he done? How would she react when she found out how big of a fuck up he’d just made?

  He didn’t give himself time to think about it. He’d worry about the ramifications of what had transpired in the morning when they’d have to go back to reality. For the time being, he decided that he’d let the both of them enjoy it.

  He loosened his grip on Angie and laid her back onto the bed. His gaze dipped quickly to her sex where he could see his seed spilling out of her. He could feel the beginnings of their bond forming and wondered if she could feel the change, too. Arlen slipped from the bed and padded to the bathroom before returning with a towel.

  Angie’s face was flushed with the excitement and exertion of their lovemaking. Her eyes never left him as he climbed back between her legs to clean her up tenderly.

  He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of her thigh.

  “So beautiful,” he said, crawling up to lay beside her.

  “That was…wow.” She sighed with a heavy breath.

  Her nipples were drawn up into tight points under her shirt and she flopped one arm over her eyes and crossed her legs. Arlen frowned slightly, bothered that she felt the need to cover herself around him. Nudity was natural and nothing to be ashamed of, especially not from her chosen one.

  His brows knit together and his lips turned down barely in a frown with his disproval. He picked up her dainty wrist which was thrown across her face. His face softened when he spoke.

  “No, don’t hide from me. There’s no running or hiding now. Not with us.”

  He pressed a soft kiss to her temple and pulled her against him as he rolled to his back, dragging Angie along.

  She didn’t say any more. She didn’t have to.

  Something big had shifted between them and a sense of understanding had passed over each of their features. They lay like that, not speaking and just being in the moment for hours before eventually drifting off into a deep, calm sleep.

  Something neither had known with others.

  Chapter 13

  Angie

  The stench was incredible. It was the sickly sweet and rotten odor of death. Smoke blocked out the sun, casting New Orleans into darkness.

  Angie was standing on the banks of the Mississippi River, facing the St. Louis Cathedral. The city was quiet and ice crept into her veins. The streets, which were so often brimming with life were deserted.

  Something was very wrong.

  Glancing behind her, she spied Arlen standing several paces behind her. His stance said he was ready for an attack and his eyes never met hers; they kept scanning the streets.

  She turned back to the urban graveyard before her and strode forward. She didn’t know what she was searching for, but she knew that it was important. It lingered just out of her memory’s reach. She crossed the street and passed through the wrought iron gates surrounding Jackson Square.

  The proud statue of Andrew Jackson was blackened with the soot falling like rain from the skies. However, under the raised feet of Jackson’s steed was a dark lump. From that distance, it was impossible to make out what it was and Angie was almost certain she didn’t want to know.

  She was having another vision and anything she found was guaranteed to be grotesque. Blood stained the cement, yet no bodies littered the square.

  “What happened here?” she asked Arlen, though he acted as though she had said nothing at all. Could he hear her? Her gut said no he hadn’t so she didn’t wait for a response. Angie’s legs had grown numb, but still pushed her forward toward the old cathedral. A chill snaked its way down her spine, bringing with it all of the horrific memories of her time in captivity. They’d done unspeakable things to her in that place which was supposed to be so sacred. She was quick to push away the thoughts. Angie wasn’t ready to deal with that, maybe she never would be. They’d broken her in so many ways, she knew she’d never be the girl she once was.

  As she got closer, the lump under Jackson’s horse came into focus. It was a body.

  Angie didn’t want to take another step but the visions always twisted her to their will, forcing her to see what it wanted her to.

  Her feet shuffled her closer to the form. She eyed the man noting the disheveled dark hair and lack of obvious fatal injury. However, that wasn’t what had her rooted to her spot. It was his face. She knew the man, had met him a few times, but seeing Rhys dead like that formed a boulder in the pit of her stomach. If he was there, then where was Maya? Her head swiveled around seeking out Arlen as if he’d somehow magically be able to do something, change something, even though she knew it was impossible.

  He crouched low, searching for enemies. It was one of the things she loved about him. He made her feel safe.

  She watched as he caught sight of the man before her. Fear and hurt flashed behind his eyes before his business-like façade slipped back into place. He closed the distance between them slowly.

  Rhys’s eyes were pitch black like inky marbles and wide open as if he’d been caught off guard and realized it too late. His arms and legs hung limply to the side of the statue base.

  Arlen slipped around her, and with a clenched jaw, checked Rhys neck for any signs of a pulse. After a moment, his hand fell to his side, confirming what she already knew. Rhys was already gone.

  The French doors of the cathedral stood ajar. Angie hesitantly stepped towards the church, terrified of what could be waiting for her within its borders.

  She pushed the door open a little wider and crossed through, but before her eyes could adjust to the change in light, she was gone.

  ***

  Angie shot upright in bed, panting and covered in a cold sweat. She scrambled and grasped for something to root her to reality, and there he was.

  Arlen was wrapping her up in his embrace and holding her tight to him. After a second, he stepped back and held her at an arm’s length. He scanned over every inch of her searching for any sign of injury. He made soothing sounds as if she were a startled mare.

  It had been another vision, only this one had been far worse than any she’d seen before. This one included the people she knew, people she cared about. The unknown that had been waiting for her inside the St. Louis Cathedral nagged at her. She needed to know what it was, but she’d been ripped out of it too soon.

  Angie didn’t know how the curse worked. She didn’t know if it was even possible for her to go back and revisit. Hell, she didn’t even know what the point was.

  As far as she could tell, she saw things happening long ago as well as those that hadn’t happened yet. The only common ground was that it was always horrific and had mass casualties. Maybe that was her curse. She was to forever witness the worst of humanity, its darkest moments at the peak of depravity.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?” Arlen asked, smoothing her hair back away from her face.

  He’d been supportive and there for her each time she’d come out of a rough vision. Each time, he’d asked if she would share the burden with him so she wouldn’t have to carry it alone. She’d kept refusing his invitation, but now, she didn’t really want to push him away. Angie wanted to share that part of herself with him.

  Angie stayed quiet for a moment, mustering up her courage. It wasn’t his problem and once she told him, there could be no taking it back. He’d know just how damaged she was and there was a good chance he’d decide, just like those before him, that her baggage was too much to carry. There was another possibility though. What if he thought she was worth i
t? What if he was strong enough to help shoulder that curse?

  “I promise anything you tell me won’t leave this room without your explicit say so. You never have to keep things from me, Angela. I will listen to anything you have to share. You have my word.”

  There was a sincerity in his words that made her believe him and without further hesitation, she spilled.

  “When the guy I was seeing briefly, Brad, took me, I was sure I was going to die. They drove around for what seemed like hours before dumping me in some filthy warehouse. That first day, they took turns beating me and making sure I knew that escape was impossible. They’d catch me and make it so much worse if I tried.”

  She could still feel the damp ground digging into her backside through her thin leggings. The air was musty and stale with a hint of scorched earth. It was something she’d never forget, but maybe one day, if she was strong enough, she could remember it and accept what had happened. She owed her very life to the man sitting beside her, patiently waiting for her to tell her story.

  “The one by the river?” he asked.

  She nodded. “They kept me chained and would throw scraps of bread or whatever else they had for me to eat. There was one though, who took a lot of pleasure in watching me struggle against my restraints to get to the meager food they offered. He’d keep it just out of my reach and wouldn’t let me drink anything other than the river water.”

  Arlen’s lips were pressed in a thin line; she could tell he was pissed. He didn’t voice his anger though. He stayed quiet and Angie was sure that was the deadliest sort of anger, the kind where he waited patiently for his chance to exact a revenge.

  “The hunger and thirst were almost unbearable at times, but that was before they started doing other things.”

  She was still trying to make sense of what they’d done, her memory of the torturous sessions was shoddy at best. There were only bits and pieces, glimpses, that she could grasp onto.