Vow of Obedience: Cavalieri Della Morte Read online

  “Easy, babygirl. I’m not going to hurt you. But you are going to fucking feel this.”

  Geraint braces his hands by my head and I hold onto them for dear life as he pounds into me. He goes deeper and deeper, filling me and stretching me to a breaking point, until I feel totally consumed by him.

  Then, as if by magic, I feel the fear melting away. I angle my hips to match his thrusts, greedy for him now.

  “Am I bigger and scarier than everything else you’re afraid of?”

  I nod. No one, and nothing, is as powerful as Geraint.

  He grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs my head back so his eyes are blazing into mine. “You’re going to swear a new vow, baby. A vow of obedience, to me. I will be your God. I will bestow love. Forgiveness. Punishment. I will be your everything and you’ll answer to no one but me.”

  My orgasm bursts through me, a tidal wave of release and submission.

  “Good fucking girl,” he says through gritted teeth, and then he pulls out and I feel his come spurt all over my back as his cock slides between my slippery ass cheeks.

  After cleaning me up, Geraint eases himself down beside me and gathers me into his arms, kissing my sweaty forehead. “You might sin and sin again, baby. But I’ll always forgive you. Now, go back to sleep. No more dreams.”

  Nestling close to him, feeling tired out in the best possible way, with all the shadows chased from my heart, I do as I’m told.

  We’re sitting in Geraint’s car up on the drive, sheltered by trees. It’s just before eleven in the morning and Geraint has called daddy with the location of our meeting and told him to be here by midday, alone, or else.

  The or else held a dark, threatening undertone. Or else I’ll cut your daughter up, like you did to Trefor.

  “And now we wait.” Geraint has his binoculars trained on the vines, watchful for signs of any of daddy’s men getting into position. I’ve got a pair of binoculars too and I try to peer through them, but the shadows in my heart are back. What’s going to happen when I see daddy again? I’ve been free of him for months but family loyalty has been drummed into me from birth. I have to be strong, for Geraint’s sake and for mine. But I’m afraid. Deathly afraid.

  The cicadas chirp as the day heats up. A short while later, Geraint points across the vineyard. “Look. There.”

  Daddy’s SUV enters through the gate at the other end of the property. He drives to the center of the field, as instructed, and gets out of his car, holding his phone.

  Geraint hits dial and speaks as soon as daddy picks up. “Are you armed?”

  “You told me not to be.”

  “Lift up your shirt and turn around slowly.”

  Daddy does as he’s told. I look through the binoculars and see his angry expression, and my stomach lurches. When daddy gets angry, bad things happen.

  “We’ve got a sniper trained on your head,” Geraint bluffs. “You see the driveway to the south up the slope? Walk toward it.”

  Geraint hangs up, comes round to the passenger side door and opens it, then takes me by the upper arm and digs the barrel of his gun between my ribs. I gasp slightly, feeling the cold metal.

  “It’s all right, babygirl,” he tells me soothingly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not when I only just found you.”

  Daddy approaches us a few minutes later. We’re sitting on the hood of Geraint’s car, the gun still pressed against my ribs. His eyes run over me, and then he turns to Geraint. “Who are you? I don’t do business deals with nobodies. If Arthur wants to talk to me, he should have come himself.”

  Geraint’s hand clenches on my arm at the overfamiliar way daddy says Arthur’s name. “Let’s go for a little drive, just the three of us.”

  Daddy’s eyes narrow. “Oh?”

  “Hey, I’m from New Orleans. I thought we could do a little sightseeing.” Geraint’s voice is light and pleasant but I feel how tense he is. Daddy’s going to notice in a moment. Geraint needs to do better if he’s trying to pretend this is a business deal and not a revenge hit.

  I can see daddy trying to figure out whether to do as Geraint asks. I don’t know who Arthur is, but apparently daddy does, as I see his jaw flexing as he thinks. “We can talk at Avallonis. I do all my deals there.”

  Geraint shakes his head. “I’d rather know there weren’t half a dozen guns trained at my head.”

  “And I’d rather Arthur didn’t send spies into my home,” daddy retorts angrily.

  Geraint laughs, but it sounds forced to my ears.

  Daddy’s eyes are cold and calculating. I wonder if he’s worked it out yet. Who Geraint is, and why he’s here. Not as this man Arthur’s liaison, but as Trefor’s brother, out for blood.

  “You gonna ask your daughter if she’s okay?” Geraint grits out.

  For the smallest second, triumph flares in daddy’s eyes and I feel the bottom drop out of my stomach. He knows Geraint isn’t really going to hurt me. The gun in my ribs is just for show. A broad smile crosses daddy’s face and, without looking at me, he asks, “You okay, baby?”

  Miserably, I nod. Daddy’s going to coerce Geraint to go to the house. I won’t go. I’ll stay right here, no matter what, and then Geraint will just have to stay with me too. If he sets foot on Avallonis, he’s dead.

  “What do you want from me?” daddy asks Geraint, eyeing the gun. “All this is very unnecessary. Arthur’s getting fucking twitchy in his old age.”

  “Just to talk. You and me. This girl’s coming too, in case you get other ideas.” He levels the gun at daddy’s chest. “I’m tired of asking nicely. Get in the fucking car.”

  Daddy doesn’t move. Geraint lets go of me and steps forward. He frisks daddy for weapons one-handed, and then shoves him toward the back of the car.

  He tosses me the car keys. “Branwen, drive. Take the first left, and then the next two rights.”

  Daddy protests at the rough treatment. “Hey, what the fu—”

  Geraint gives him another shove and they squeeze into the back seat. I start the engine with shaking fingers, wishing I could tell Geraint he was making a mistake. That I know my daddy, and he might seem like he’s resigned or weak right now, but he’s got an ace up his sleeve. I don’t know what it is but it scares me. I have a terrible feeling, like he’s going to kill Geraint and there’ll be nothing I can do about it.

  As I drive, daddy’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror and he says the words I’ve always wanted to hear from him. “It’s okay, baby. I know you’re sorry, and I’m not angry anymore.”

  I swallow hard, tears blurring the road ahead. I haven’t heard him sound this soft with me in years. It reminds me of a time when I believed he loved me as a father should.

  His hazel eyes are so soft and tender when they meet mine. “Daddy forgives you.”

  Geraint

  “Shut the fuck up.” I hold the gun up closer to his head. “She’s got a new daddy now. One who doesn’t fucking terrify her.” How dare he say those things to her? The words I say to comfort Branwen from the terror he made her feel.

  Lange’s eyes harden to flint. He looks between Branwen and me, searching for clues. “Is that how it is?” he says softly.

  Branwen’s cheeks burn and I see her hands falter on the wheel.

  “Keep talking. It’ll only make your death more painful.”

  “So, you do plan on killing me,” Lange says conversationally.

  He’s doing what I would do in his position, pretending like he’s not worried and that he’s in no hurry to escape. That all this is amusing to him and he’ll go along with it until he’s bored. Then, he’ll kill me.

  I’d like to blow his brains out right here but two things stop me. This is a classic car and I don’t want to spend the next week washing Lange’s brains out of the upholstery. And I’d rather not do this in front of Branwen.

  Lange glances at me and he sees it in my eyes. How much I’m looking forward to killing him. That he might be bluffing, but I’m fucking not.

 
; Surreptitiously, he glances at the door handle, the locks, searching for a way out but pretending he’s not. “What I don’t understand is why Arthur wants me dead. There are so many business opportunities for the both of us to explore.”

  Arthur might have wanted that once. If Trefor had returned to us, unharmed, with favorable reports about how Lange treats his business associates, maybe we’d be having a very different conversation right now. Spies might be dirty but they’re a necessary precaution when you’re dealing with men like Lange. There’s no insurance if something goes wrong. No regulations and laws protecting you. No courts of law. You have to know the person you’re dealing with can be trusted to honor his word. We’d heard some rumors about Lange we didn’t like.

  I pull Trefor’s crucifix out of my shirt and dangle it before his eyes. “Thanks for the souvenirs of my brother.”

  Lange nods slowly. “Ah, he was your brother. You got his finger all right, then?”

  Son of a fucking bitch.

  He makes a dismissive gesture, as if all this talk of my brother’s murder is boring him. “Arthur should have known what would happen if he sent a spy into my ranks. I was perfectly justified in killing that man. Arthur would have done the same. Why don’t we all grow up and talk business instead? I can make you and your boss very rich.”

  Of course Arthur would kill any spies he found within the Cavalieri Della Morte, but no one would need to spy on us because Arthur never goes back on his fucking word.

  Lange gazes thoughtfully at his daughter as she makes a right-hand turn and we head down a deserted narrow road. “You could have killed her. You could have raped her and sent her back to me in pieces.”

  He talks as if he’s offering her to me so I can do just that. Take my revenge on his daughter so I don’t harm him. Fucking asshole.

  “But you’ve already sampled her, haven’t you? I guess you got a taste for pathetic little bitch after you got your dick wet. Blood is thicker than water, girl. Or maybe it doesn’t matter to a slut.”

  I turn the gun around and slam the hilt of it into Lange’s face. Blood spurts from his nose and he doubles over, cursing.

  Desperate, Branwen looks around at me and shakes her head. Don’t what? Don’t hurt him? Don’t listen to him? I don’t know what she means but right now, I don’t care. All I care about smashing in this fucker’s face.

  A moment later, Lange sits up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Nothing to say about this, Branwen?” he seethes. “No loyalty for your father? You’re not as chatty as you used to be.”

  “She’s taken a vow of silence,” I say through gritted teeth. “Won’t speak because of something you did.”

  Lange thinks for a moment, then shakes his head, as dismissive about this as he was about Trefor. “Is that all? For heaven’s sake, girl. We’ve all got to make sacrifices for the family. No one understands loyalty anymore.” He turns to me. “I thought you would, being Arthur’s man. I thought Arthur vetted his men more carefully, but apparently not.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Maybe he’s losing his touch in his old age. That brother of yours gave himself away after just a few weeks. Couldn’t keep his poker face on, just like you. You’re not going to kill me…what was your name again?” Lange says this with the manners of a man making small talk at a cocktail party, despite the blood on his face. “You’re not going to kill me, young man, because that little girl isn’t going to let you.”

  He nods at Branwen, a smile that’s almost proud touching his lips. He’s not proud of her, though, he’s proud of whatever he thinks he can expect from her.

  But Lange doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know shit about his daughter and what we’ve been through together. I clasp my hand around the gun, feeling how sweaty my palm is. “Branwen isn’t going to lift a fucking finger to help you.”

  Lange laughs, and then winks at Branwen in the rearview mirror. Her hands on the wheel are trembling.

  “She’ll help her daddy. You’ll see. Now, where were we? Oh yes, your brother. He was alive when I sawed off that finger. Screamed like a little bitch and gave up who he was in a matter of minutes. Pathetic.”

  “Here,” I snap to Branwen, because I need to get out of this fucking car. “Pull over.”

  There are a lot of dense trees by the road and I march Lange into them, holding a fistful of his shirt collar and pressing my gun into his back. Lange’s put terrible images into my head and I can’t stop seeing my brother screaming in pain.

  “Kneel.” Before I kill him, I want to know one last thing. Not about Trefor, but about Branwen. “What did you do to your daughter? Why is she so fucking terrified?”

  Lange stays silent until I threaten to clock him with the gun again. He stares straight ahead, stubborn and resentful. “One of my former associates was arrested and he gave evidence about some business we’d done together. The charges didn’t stick to me, but I needed to teach him a lesson. His daughter used to be friends with Branwen but he’d forbidden the two to see each other. I suggested to Branwen that while Cora’s father was in prison, she renew her friendship with the girl and like a dutiful daughter, she did. I followed Branwen to where Cora was staying, and I killed her.”

  Behind me, I hear a sob, and I know Lange killed this girl right in front of Branwen. Maybe she knew in the back of her mind that her daddy hadn’t suggested she renew the friendship with this girl out of the kindness of his heart, but Branwen never would have imagined he’d do something so cruel. She led her friend to her death.

  All I want to do is go to her and put my arms around her, but I can’t let this fucker out of my sight. “You used your own daughter like that?”

  “We all have to make sacrifices for our family,” he replies stonily. “Branwen understands that, even if she’s needed some time to think about it.”

  “Family shouldn’t have to pay in blood,” I growl, thinking of what Trefor did for me. How he paid with his own life to prove he didn’t need to be left behind anymore. That he was worthy to be among the Cavalieri. I could have talked to him and made him see he didn’t need to do anything so dangerous. That I already believed in him.

  That I loved him.

  My hand shakes as I point the gun at him. “All she’s wanted all these months is forgiveness for something you did. She thinks it’s all her fault, you fucking monster.”

  “Then I don’t know where I went wrong. I thought I raised her better than that.” Lange sighs, exasperated. “Look. Here’s what’s going to happen, young man. You’re not going to kill me. I could see it in your eyes earlier. You don’t have it in you. You’ve hit me and defiled my daughter, so let’s just call it square. I’ll even give Arthur a good deal on any business we do, to show there’s no hard feelings.”

  He killed Trefor, and I broke his nose and slept with his daughter. We’re even?

  I don’t feel angry anymore. I just feel sick. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and grind them so hard, I see stars. I don’t know where my anger has gone but it’s like it has been sapped from my soul. Lange’s an asswipe of a human being but the more poison that pours from his mouth, the less I want to kill him.

  What’s happening to me?

  I can feel Trefor standing beside me, as I did last night when Branwen and I prayed. He’s not angry with Lange either. He and Branwen have sapped my fury and now I don’t know what to do anymore. I look out across the rolling hills of Napa, despairing.

  Trefor’s body. I should find out what Lange did with it. I’ll get back Trefor’s remains and give him—

  “Daddy, look out!”

  I turn to look at the same time Lange does. Branwen’s spoken at last, and her voice is filled with fear.

  And she’s spoken to me.

  Branwen’s staring at something in her father’s grasp and I see her running in slow motion, her hands out to stop him.

  She’s spoken to me. To save me.

  Lange has turned to look too, so confident she means him. That she�
��d only ever call out to save him. There was a blade concealed in his belt buckle and it shines in his hand, poised to stab me in the guts. Branwen’s going for it, and ice water floods my veins as I realize what she’s going to do. Because she called out, I have a split-second to react and I’m not going to let her die for me. I’m the one who protects her.

  I grab Lange’s wrist and tackle him to the ground. He roars in anger at being denied the chance to kill me by his own daughter.

  That’s right, you fucker. She called out to me, not you.

  I grapple with him on the ground and the gun goes flying from my grip. I’m not going to kill him. He can suffer with this knowledge until the day he dies. That one of his own betrayed him, and it’s all his fault. I try to wrestle the blade from Lange’s hands.

  Then it stabs, hard. Right into Lange’s guts.

  The knife falls from his grip and I get up and kick it away, then pick up my weapon. But Lange is on me like a tiger, trying to wrestle the gun out of my hand. I feel his blood all over me but he doesn’t seem weakened at all. I think I can hear Branwen screaming but I’m fighting for my life. I’m fighting for hers too.

  Lange punches me in the guts and the gun goes flying from my hand a second time. I return the favor, sinking my fist into the wound in his guts, and he roars in pain. We’re on the ground, scrabbling with each other. He gets his hands around my throat and this motherfucker is strong.

  An explosion shatters the air. Lange goes stiff, his eyes flying open. Over his shoulder, I see Branwen. She’s got the gun in her hand and she’s pointing it at Lange’s back.

  “That’s for Cora.” She fires two more shots. “That’s for Trefor. And for momma too.”

  Suddenly, Branwen looks at what she’s done. Her resolve crumbles and the gun falls from her fingers. I get out from beneath Lange and lunge for it, just in case he’s not done fighting.

  But he doesn’t move. Blood is pouring from the bullet wounds, and he’ll be bleeding on the inside too.

  Lange looks up at me with hatred in his eyes. “You’re fucking weak. I would have gutted you if it wasn’t for my slut of a daughter.”