Vow of Obedience: Cavalieri Della Morte Read online

  My throat feels thick as I say the final lines. “For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.”

  And then it’s all out of me in a great rush, the grief and the pain. A stupid campfire ritual with a bottle of whisky wasn’t going to do it. I had to honor my brother in a way he would have wanted, even if it’s not something I believe in.

  I can still feel him here beside me, except now, he’s smiling.

  There are tears shining in Branwen’s eyes. A lump of something vile and sticky has been dislodged from my chest and it didn’t come from some God or heaven or whatever people want to call it. Branwen did it.

  “You’re a fucking witch or something, girl,” I choke out.

  I look at her—her sweet body bare and her hands pressed piously together. She hasn’t said one word to me, ever, but whole universes of understanding have flowed between us. I’m not down with that higher power bullshit but damn, if it doesn’t feel like the cosmos has pushed us together for a reason. Because I’ve needed her so much.

  It’s been a long time since I kissed a girl. Properly kissed one, with all the feeling that’s meant to go into it. But when I reach for Branwen, that’s the way I do it. Her lips are soft and sweet and open just for me. I kiss her with the hunger of a starving man. A man who hasn’t felt one drop of solace his whole damn life, and she’s a brimming cupful of it.

  I pick her up in my arms and lay her out on the bed. She gazes up at me, trusting and oh so sweet, her arms wrapped around me. I’ve never held a woman so tenderly in my life. Never wanted to feel a body pressed so closely against mine because my soul craved it like I’m craving her. I remember my claim on her virginity, that I’d take it so her daddy knows what I did right before I kill him, but her sweet pussy isn’t going to be mine out of revenge. It’s just going to be mine. All of her is going to be mine and the devil take anyone who gets in my way. Not her father, and not her God.

  I slant my mouth across hers in a ferocious kiss, defying even the heavens themselves to tell me it’s wrong. My hands roam over her body, and then my tongue. She’s still so wet from her punishment and I taste her thoroughly, dipping into her sex with my tongue. Feeling how tight and hot she is. How ready.

  “Branwen, baby, do you trust me?” I whisper between soft kisses on her pussy.

  She nods, her gaze beseeching me. I spread her open wider and taste her again, her sweet, untouched sex. All mine.

  “I don’t have any condoms. Guess we’re doing this the Catholic way.” Skin-on-skin, the way I want it. I sit up and plant my hands beside her head. She’s splayed beneath me, ready and waiting, and I’ve never seen such a goddamn beautiful sight.

  Branwen traces the chain around my neck, and then lets her tentative fingers trail down my chest to my belly. She caresses my skin in little swirls, learning the feel of me, getting braver as she goes. I watch her, barely daring to breathe. She strokes lower until her hands touch my straining cock. Hesitantly, she strokes up and down, featherlight and cautious, her eyes flicking up to mine as if afraid she’s doing something wrong.

  I close my eyes for a second and breathe hard. “Fuck, that’s torture, baby. Don’t stop.”

  Reaching down between us, I caress her sex, and then dip into her with my middle finger like I did that first night, testing her tightness, imagining her grip in my cock. I’ll have to hurt her, but I know she’ll be brave for me, just as she has been every time I’ve inflicted pain on her. Because good things are always waiting on the other side.

  I take my finger out and line up my cock against her sex. Branwen looks so smooth and fragile against my hard, hairy belly and jutting cock. The lamb lies down before the lion. I push into her just an inch, a small torture for me. I’m desperate to plunge into her greedily but I make myself wait. Branwen gazes up at me, trusting, her brow creased with just a hint of the pain that’s to come.

  I cup her cheek and remember how she sucked my fingers that first night when she was down on her knees. She must have taken the Eucharist from her priest so many times, the wafer dissolving away to nothing on her tongue and the sweet release of love pouring through her. I push my thumb into her mouth and she sucks it hard.

  Slowly but firmly, I thrust into her. She whimpers and her face creases in pain, and she sucks harder on my thumb.

  “Good girl, Branwen.” I thrust again, and again, firm and deep. Her flesh grips mine like a vice and her tongue massages against the pad of my thumb, urging me on. I take it from her mouth and reach down between us, stroking over her clit. The last of the pain in her eyes gives way to pleasure.

  “Such a pretty girl,” I murmur, fucking her steadily. I don’t ask for much, just the whole world in my hands. Beneath my body. Branwen looking back at me, her dark eyes filled with desire and submission. She makes little mewling sounds in her throat and clutches my wrist, grinding her hips against my hand and cock, edging herself closer to what she needs.

  “Ready for more of me, baby?” I ask, and I plunge further until I’m balls-deep in her pink velvet. Fuck, she’s so perfect, taking every inch and wrapping her legs around me. I watch her tits quivering with every thrust. As she comes closer to the brink, she bites down on her plush lower lip.

  Then it’s bursting through her, rocking her beautiful body and transforming her into something swan-like. Her pussy clenches hard on my cock, driving me into a wild frenzy. I want her to cry out, to shout, but even now she’s silent, her nails digging into my back instead.

  I pull out right before I come, even as I can feel myself not wanting to. I want to make her mine, completely. My come spatters against her belly. Branwen trails her fingers through it, fascinated.

  “You still hurt, babygirl?” I ask, noticing the smear of blood on my cock as I lie down beside her, but she shakes her head.

  She lays in my arms, curled into my side like a kitten. I stroke her hair, thinking about the blood that’s going to be spilled tomorrow. There’s no way around it. I may have mourned him, but Trefor still needs to be avenged.

  “I know what you want me to do. You want me to forgive your father because you’ve shown me how powerful forgiveness is. But this isn’t what’s happening here. You don’t forgive someone who murders your brother.”

  She doesn’t shake her head or look anguished, but she does look afraid.

  “I promise you one thing. This isn’t revenge now. It’s justice. Maybe not your justice, but it’s my justice.”

  When I put a bullet in her daddy, it will be with a clear head and an open heart. I’ve already said goodbye to my brother. Now I just need to tie up the loose ends.

  The problem is, I have no fucking idea how.

  Branwen

  “Will you be by my side as I do what I have to do?” Geraint asks me.

  I trace the links of silver chain around his neck. What he has to do. Justice, not only for Trefor, but for Cora too. There’s nothing I want more than to be by his side forever, but first we have to do something that frightens me. I nod, because I know he’ll protect me, no matter how scary it gets.

  “Good, baby. All the same, we need a plan to get into Avallonis and you won’t draw me that map. I’m not asking you too, either,” he says quickly, putting a finger over my lips, as if I’m going to speak up. “But I’d rather not walk up to the gates and get a fucking bullet in my head.”

  I think for a moment, wondering how to get around the problem. Then I sit up and tap my chest.

  Geraint’s eyebrows raise. “You have a plan?”

  I sketch a sort of curtsy, spreading my arm and dipping my head.

  “You? You’re the plan?”

  I make my thumb and pointer finger into a gun and hold it to my head. Use me as bait to draw my father out. I wish I could explain to him my father’s not likely to hand over piles of cash or jewels in exchange for my freedom, but it’s not like Geraint is even asking that. All he needs is to come face-to-face with daddy. My father’s proud of what he thinks he owns, which includes
me, so he’ll resent another man taking it away from him. Even if he doesn’t love me.

  Geraint regards me for a long time, thinking. Then he reaches over to his bedside table and passes me his cell. “Key in your daddy’s number for me.”

  I do, and pass it back. Geraint blocks his number, and then hits dial, switching to speakerphone so I can hear. There are a few rings, and then someone picks up. It’s daddy, and he sounds cross.

  “What?”

  “Cavalieri Kidnapping Services,” says Geraint pleasantly. “Am I speaking to Adelmo Lange?”

  “Who the fuck is this?”

  Geraint chuckles, obviously enjoying how pissed off my father sounds already. “I believe you’re missing a daughter. Poor little thing, so far from home. You must be so worried about her.”

  There’s a seething silence and I can hear daddy wondering what Geraint wants. Money? Merely to taunt him? He won’t want to reveal anything until he’s figured the caller out, in case he shows any weakness. Love for me, if he loved me, would be a weakness.

  “Cavalieri. You work for Arthur.”

  “I sure do. Arthur appreciated your little gifts. I was thinking I could send you some too.” He picks up my hand and makes to bite off my fingers, and then he winks at me.

  “Arthur shouldn’t have sent spies into my home. You tell him from me that—”

  “Tell him yourself.” Geraint cuts across daddy, as if the idea of anyone telling him what to say to this Arthur gravely offends him. “Look, you’re a businessman. Arthur’s a businessman. We needn’t let a few corpses get in the way of what we really want.”

  There’s a long silence as daddy thinks, probably about money and the business deals he could make. He hasn’t even asked if I’m okay. Geraint slips an arm around my hips, pulling me closer to him and rubbing circles on my back, as if he can feel my hurt.

  “And what do we really want?” daddy asks.

  “We want to make money, of course. I’ll send you a meeting place and time. Be there, or I’ll find some other way to entertain myself.”

  Even though I know Geraint would never hurt me in this way, I feel a shiver go down my spine at the threat in his voice.

  “Why should I do what you say? If this is a business meeting—”

  Geraint’s tone transforms into seething and nasty. “You’ll do what Arthur wants or you’ll get your daughter back in fucking pieces. One of his men is dead and he doesn’t fucking trust you. We meet, alone. I hand your daughter over as a sign of good will, and then you and I can talk business. You’ll be hearing from me soon.”

  He stabs the screen to hang up and then throws his cell down. “Fucking asshole.”

  A moment later, he gets up, but I stay where I am, thinking. Hand me over to daddy. After what he did to Cora and Trefor, I don’t want to go anywhere near him, but if this is ever going to end, I’ll have to.

  But what then? I watch Geraint sift through a stack of papers and magazines in the corner. Geraint is some sort of assassin or hitman for this shady Arthur. A good Catholic girl like me doesn’t belong in that world. I don’t know the first thing about shedding blood.

  Geraint comes back to me with a TV Guide, wraps me in a sheet, and takes a proof-of-life photo, with the date on the front page visible. In it, I look bewildered and rumpled, as if my captor has been putting me through it. Which is about right. Just not in the sort of way that daddy will think.

  I give Geraint my father’s email address and he sends the picture from an account he’s just created. Then he gets back into bed with me and pulls me into his arms.

  “We’ve got a long way to go tomorrow, babygirl. Time to get some sleep.”

  Anxious but exhausted, I close my eyes. Safe in Geraint’s embrace, I fall asleep.

  We set out just before seven the next morning with cups of coffee, a comforting routine I know will soon be coming to an end. Just past Bakersfield, we stop for lunch and Geraint studies a map while he eats.

  “Is there a deserted place within a few miles from Avallonis that’s overlooked by a hill?” he asks me.

  I think for a moment, before taking his phone from him and scrolling around the map. Then I hand it back and point to the place. It’s an old, deserted vineyard that hasn’t been worked in years. I used to walk through there, enjoying the solitude. From up on the drive, lined with trees, you can see the dead and broken-down vines.

  “Perfect, baby. That’s where we’ll start.”

  Geraint calls daddy from the car and I drink my milkshake, listening to him talk on speakerphone again. “Tomorrow. I’ll tell you exactly where soon. Come alone.”

  “Will you be alone?” my father replies.

  Geraint just laughs and hangs up. “Nice fucking man, that one. Real concerned about his daughter.”

  We go into an outdoor adventure store and Geraint buys two pairs of binoculars. He also buys me a plain T-shirt, some denim shorts, and a packet of cotton underwear, all that we can find in the town. I change in the bathroom, not thinking much of the outfit but glad to be wearing something else at last.

  At seven in the evening, we reach Cordelia, and head into a motel. Napa is just a short drive away. I know this area well.

  We eat tacos in bed together for dinner. Exhausted from the day’s drive, I fall asleep while Geraint is in the shower.

  Sometime later, I’m catapulted into wakefulness, my chest heaving, my body drenched in cold sweat. I scramble to feel my throat, feeling like I’m choking. Feeling like I’m dying.

  “Baby, baby! What’s wrong, are you sick?”

  I feel Geraint’s hands on me and he’s searching for something that’s hurt me. It’s the blade in my throat. I can still feel it, because this time when daddy tricked me into going to Cora’s house and he followed, it was me he killed instead. I was looking on as he held Cora in his arms with the blade against her throat. The blood sprayed against the wall, but when she fell to the ground, dead, she rolled onto her back and it was my face looking back at me. And daddy was smiling.

  “It was just a dream,” Geraint says, pulling me into his arms. He’s slept in the bed with me again and I press myself into the warmth of his body, needing the safety of his arms. I wish I could say all the things that were in my heart, but I’m too scared. I’ll just make everything worse, and I’m terrified of what I might lose if I tell Geraint how I feel about him. I’m scared of tempting fate, when tomorrow, he’ll be facing daddy.

  Geraint pulls back a little and takes my face between his hands. “Branwen, baby, I don’t want you to come with me tomorrow. I want you to stay here where it’s safe.”

  I shake my head vehemently. I’m not being left behind. I’ve changed since that night I was running and running in San Antonio. I’m brave now. He’s changed me.

  Geraint looks at me for a long time, as if trying to decide something. “He’s your father, so you deserve the right to get justice for whatever he did to you.”

  I angle my cheek into his hand and close my eyes briefly. I don’t know how I’m going to face him, but I know I couldn’t do it without Geraint by my side.

  “But you’re still scared, and I’m not fucking having that. My girl is not going to be scared by anyone or anything. You’re going to do exactly as I say. Get on the floor. Kneel.”

  I do as I’m told, slipping to my knees on the carpet and looking up at him from the floor. The faint red light from the digital clock illuminates his face, making his handsome features seem sinister. Geraint’s eyes are as black as pitch as he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and squeezes hard.

  “Better pray, little girl. Pray for that forgiveness you so crave.”

  I press my palms together in supplication to him. Waiting for his words. Anticipating his punishment.

  He leans his face down to mine, seething with fury. “You think you can hide things from me, even if you don’t speak? I see it all, baby, the play of your sins over your pretty face.”

  I shake my head, because I desperate
ly want to believe I’m not sinful, and he grabs a fistful of my hair.

  “No, baby? Why are you lying to me?” he growls. “You’re afraid, and that’s a sin. That disrespects me. That disrespects yourself.”

  He pulls me up over his lap and catches my wrists behind my back. With his other hand, he tugs my new cotton briefs up into my ass, exposing my behind, and then raises his hand. I look over my shoulder at him, even fearful of this punishment on top of everything else. I’m so scared, I’m trembling all over.

  “Go on. Tell me. Are you afraid?”

  I nod, tears running down my face. I’m deathly afraid, for him and for myself.

  “Fear is a sin in my church. And you know how I punish sins.”

  He spanks me so hard I want to scream. It hurts so bad I wrench myself around in his lap, not able to control my fight to get away from him. After a few minutes, I exhaust myself but he hasn’t stopped. The pain and heat are blazing and I sob into the sheets, knowing I have to take my punishment but feeling like I’m going to burn up.

  “You don’t feel fear. You don’t feel guilt. You don’t feel shame. You don’t let anyone push you around.” He stops, breathing hard, and then pulls me up so I’m looking into his eyes. “No one but me. Those are your new sins and you better repent them hard. Now let me see the ‘Yes, daddy’ in your eyes.”

  I nod, letting him see it. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to be afraid and he’s teaching me how. Geraint puts a hand down between my legs, stroking the wetness there that’s coating my pussy. Between my thighs, I see his cock, thick and upright.

  “I’m going to fuck you hard, little girl, until you really believe that.”

  He tugs down my underwear, then pushes me down onto my stomach and spreads my legs with his thighs until I’m vulnerable to him. Then, without warning, he impales my slippery sex with his cock. I tense up in panic, anticipating the pain I felt last night, but though it’s crazily intense, it doesn’t hurt.