Bloodbath (Order of the Unseen #4)

Chapter Fifteen

Jensen

T he crisp air bites at my skin. Anger doesn’t even describe what I’m feeling right now. The intensity of emotions I’m experiencing is difficult for me to comprehend. The violation of trust, the utter disbelief, and betrayal? I thought I knew him better.

Damien has always been guarded, and there’s parts of him I’m sure nobody would ever be able to understand.

Can I sympathize with him?

Sure.

But it’s hard to accept someone keeping something so important from you.

In a jog to keep up with Micah, I curse my legs for not being longer. It’s hard to see him like this. The three of us have built such a strong foundation of friendship over the years, but they’ve always had a bond, allowing them to connect on a deeper level.

I’m kind of surprised he didn’t know.

If Damien was to tell anyone, it would be Micah.

“I want to get fucked up,” he mutters. “I need a drink.”

“You can’t drink on your meds,” I remind him.

“That would only matter if I was on them.”

Quickening my strides, I search his eyes, although he keeps his gaze forward. “What do you mean? You haven’t been taking your meds?”

“Nope.”

I blink at him, shocked. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“Jensen,” he snaps, irritated. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Micah.”

“This is a problem for another day.”

“You should’ve talked to me,” I press. “We’re not kids anymore. Why didn’t you say anything?”

For a brief moment, our eyes meet, and… fuck. If looks could kill.

“You know I hate how they make me feel,” he argues.

“I know that. We’ve been over this.”

“A lot of shit’s been going on. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“You know you can always talk to us—”

“Yeah? Damien never talked to us. Looks like we’re all real good at keeping secrets, huh?”

“No. Don’t fucking do that,” I exhale sharply, catching his wrist with my hand. He tries to pull away, but I just grip him tighter before pinning him up against the brick wall. He glares at me, his eyes small slits. “Don’t act like an asshole. I didn’t do anything to you. If you want to be pissed at anyone, then be pissed at Damien.”

“I am,” he shoots back. “I’m fucking livid. We’ve known him since we were kids and he never even thought to mention having a brother? Not to mention he’s a literal twin, so identical it makes my skin crawl… but his own flesh and blood being a member of the Hallowed Divine? All this time? Not only his dad… but a brother, too? Those sick fucks are after our girl! We’ve been protecting her for years. Years . We all took oaths. He should have fucking told us!”

His eyes frantically search mine, as if he’s waiting for an answer.

“I know. I’m upset, too. I’m still processing all of this.”

“I mean, fuck,” he snarls, pushing me away. “I thought he told us everything. I don’t even know who he is right now.”

“He’s still the same person. He must have a good reason.”

“Doubt it.”

“You’re angry right now. You just need some time to think.”

“And Quinn,” he rushes out, his complexion draining of all color. “She’s going through absolute hell right now, and all I’m thinking about is myself. I’m so fucking selfish.” Out of nowhere, he smacks himself in the face. It happens so quickly I don’t have time to stop him. Until he does it again and again.

I leap forward, taking grip of his wrists with such strength I can imagine I’m leaving bruises. He tries to fight me off but ultimately fails.

“Stop that! Stop hurting yourself. You don’t deserve that. If you want to hit someone, then hit me.”

“That’s the last thing I want.”

“You’ve come a long way, Micah. We all have. It’s because we’re a great fucking team. We’ve kept each other in check since we were kids,” I remind him. “We look out for each other. Nothing will ever stand in our way. Not unless we allow it to.”

He rests his back against the brick wall, slowly sliding down until he’s sitting on the icy pavement.

“Look where we are right now,” I point out.

The memory comes rushing back to me, the time Micah tossed a brick straight through a store window, sending glass everywhere. We took off running after the alarm got tripped and eventually ended up here, in this very alleyway, out of breath with adrenaline pumping through our bodies like nitrous.

Micah looks around for a moment and then nods in realization. “Shit. It’s been a while, huh?”

“That was the first time I saw you have a manic episode.”

“Full blown,” he adds dryly.

My chest twinges. “I was worried about you. I cared about you then, and I care about you now.”

“I know you do,” he whispers.

“Your lips are turning blue. Let’s get you out of the cold, yeah?”

After a long pause, he sighs. “Okay.”

He accepts my hand and I help him to his feet. Once I pull out the lighter and pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket, he erupts into laughter.

“Rainy day,” I tell him. “You never know.”

He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re my person. I hope you know that.”

With a nod, I place the cigarette between his lips and spark it up. He takes a small drag before exhaling into the sky. A look of relief washes over him.

Draping my arm over his shoulder, I hold him close, and we walk down the street of Boston together in a blissful silence.

“What’s up?” Micah questions, appearing unsure, making it evident that they’re strangers.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he begins. “I spotted you back at the entrance and just now finally got the guts to come introduce myself.” He holds out his hand with a sheepish grin. “I’m Phil.” They shake hands. “And you’re hot.”

“Oh,” Micah replies. “Uh, thanks, Phil.”

I shift on my heel, irritated. Stepping closer to Micah, I straighten my posture, my shoulders becoming tense. Rolling my eyes, I bring the rim of the glass to my lips.

“So, do you have a name?” Phil questions. “Or can I just call you mine?” I choke on my drink. “You want to dance?”

Micah grins. “Thanks, man, but I’m good right now. Maybe later.”

“Okay, fine. So, what’s it like being the most handsome guy in the room?”

“No,” I grit out, throwing his arm around Micah’s shoulder. “We’re not doing this. Not tonight. Not ever.”

“Don’t be a dick, Jenny,” Micah retorts, trying his best to keep the peace. He’s acting like everything is fine and that’s far from the truth. I know how bad he’s hurting, and he’s trying to fill the void with cheap beer and meaningless conversation. “Listen, I appreciate the compliments and all—”

Phil steps closer and attempts to kiss him. It happens so fast I almost miss it. Micah snaps his head to the side and pushes him back.

“Woah!”

Right away I grab this fucker by the throat and practically lift him from the floor. “He’s mine. Stay the fuck away from him,” I warn, shoving him backward. Phil goes flying and then sprints away, escaping further into the crowd.

Several people around us stare.

Micah grabs his drink from the bar and chuckles.

“At least I have you to protect me from the occasional creeps,” he easily replies, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Bathroom. Now.”

“Huh?”

I grab him by the hem of his shirt and drag him through the crowd and toward the restrooms.

The second the bathroom door shuts behind us, the music cuts out slightly. The pounding beats and melodies still manage to seep through the walls, creating a subtle vibration beneath our feet. The harsh sting of the liquor lingers in the back of my throat as I swallow down the rest of my drink.

There are a few people in here, some standing by the mirrors that stretch from wall to wall, while the others engage in quiet conversations amongst themselves. The air is thick with cologne and sweat. Micah snatches his wrist from my hold and places his half empty glass on the counter by the sinks.

“What’s your deal?” he asks. My body stiffens. “You get jealous back there?”

I grab his wrist and drag him toward the stalls, bumping my shoulder into someone along the way. “What the fuck, Jensen?” he growls, glancing behind us and giving the guy an apologetic stare. “My bad, man. He’s crazy—”

I shove him inside the small cubicle and shut the door behind me, granting us a bit more privacy. He thinks this is a joke, shooting me a dazzling smile, except my steady gaze penetrates through me. His eyes bore into mine, his facial muscles turning tense and his eyebrows tightly furrowed.

“Stop drinking. Take it out on me instead.”

When I lower my gaze, I take note of the large bulge in his jeans. “Well then,” he lets out, readjusting his erection. “You really are jealous, aren’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap. “Your cock. My mouth.”

He releases a choked laugh. “Jesus Christ—”

“Now, Micah.”

“How bad do you want it?” he tests, slowly pulling down the zipper as I drop to my knees.

“ Bad .”

“Tell me,” he encourages, admiring the eager look on my face as I stare up at him through my lashes. He’s not the only one who feels betrayed and is seeking a distraction.

I waste no time slipping my fingers beneath the hem of his jeans, tugging on them with determination. He swats my hands away and clicks his tongue at me.

A low, feral groan escapes my chest. More anger arises. My cock jerks in response.

“No,” he tells me. “I want to hear it.”

I reach for him again, and this time he doesn’t push me away. Slipping my hands beneath his shirt, I run my hands down his chest, my fingertips grazing along the contours of his toned abdomen. With a shudder, he moans softly. His body radiates warmth. I gaze up at him weakly, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock on my tongue.

I blink up at him, desperation flickering in my eyes. “I want it so fucking bad,” I plead, faint whispers and amusement coming from outside the stalls. “Give it to me, Micah. Please.”

With that, he pulls himself free. He works his thickness with his hand while I stare at the veins bulging with his movements, a small bead of precum leaking from the tip. “You’re desperate for me.” He lifts his shirt and pins it to his chest with his chin.

Staring at his cock, I nod, my mouth watering. “Yes,” I groan.

“Show me.”

I immediately take hold of him, twirling my tongue along the smooth head. His balls draw up. He’s throbbing for me. While looking up at him and meeting his heated gaze, I suck the tip, our prolonged eye contact driving me wild. My dick twitches with need as he moves, thrusting his hips, my mouth gliding up and down nearly the full length. He inches forward and I take him fully, gagging as he passes the back of my throat. The saliva that has been building in my mouth drips down my chin and onto the floor.

“Holy fuck,” he moans, drawing out each syllable.

He watches me closely, slamming his palms against both walls of the stall. His hands search for the top, his fingers curling around the thin edge. He buries his thick cock in the depths of my throat, choking me.

“Good boy,” he whimpers. “Such a good fucking boy for me. Aren’t you?”

“Mmm—”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

I hum with fulfillment, increasing the suction and driving him to new heights. His breathing quickens in response.

“Get up,” he commands, pulling me to my feet by my hair. I steal a long, passionate kiss from him before he spins me around and shoves me against the hard frame of the stall. “The need I have to bury my cock in your ass…”

“Do it.”

“I don’t have anything,” he says desperately.

“Just spit in your hand,” I instruct.

He tugs down his pants in a hurried frenzy, coating the head of his cock with saliva before pressing the tip into me. I push back against him, craving every inch.

“Easy,” he mutters, pushing in slowly, but it’s clear that isn’t what either of us wants in this moment.

“Fuck me like you hate me, Micah.”

Without wasting any time, he thrusts deeper, again and again. It’s a tight fit, but fuck, I want this. He begins to slam into me savagely. God, he feels so much better than I remembered.

“Fuck,” I choke out, my body tensing from pleasure and pain. “Oh my fucking—hell—”

Micah grips the back of my neck for leverage and grinds into me, his hips slapping against my ass with each thrust. As soon as he adjusts his angle, a gasp gets caught in the far back of my throat.

“Oh, fuck, there ,” I encourage, trembling. The urgent force behind his thrusts sends me forward, the side of my face thumping against the graffiti covered stall with each stroke. “Keep going. Don’t . Fucking . Stop . Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“God, you feel amazing,” he says through strained breaths.

Breathing hard, I stagger forward, my legs shaky. He rocks into me harder, fisting my hair, deepening his strokes.

“Look at you,” he moans softly. “Bent over and taking my cock. Do you enjoy being my cum slut?”

“Yes.”

“Louder.”

Even with the door closed, it’s clear we have an audience outside the stall. But I pay them no mind. The only thing I care about in this moment is giving Micah every part of me.

My heart. My soul.

My ass.

He curls his fingers around my throat without warning, taking away my ability to breathe. But then his grip loosens significantly. His body tenses. Breathing hitches. A soft whimper falls from his lips, and I know he’s there .

“Give it to me,” I beg loudly.

“Yeah?”

“I want every drop.”

“Take my cum, baby,” he groans, burying himself deeper.

Hunching forward, he spills himself inside me, but his thrusts don’t stop. I reach behind me, digging my fingertips into his hip.

“ Micah ,” I moan, my orgasm vibrating through my body.

My arms go limp as he begins to soften inside me. The second he pulls out, I stumble. He catches me just in time. He leans back against the solid frame of the stall, bringing me with him. There’s so much passion in his eyes. For a moment I actually believe it’s going to take me out.

Cupping his face with my hand, I lean closer, pressing my lips against his, savoring everything about him.

The way he tastes. The way he feels.

“First me, now you,” he whispers into our kiss, tightly gripping my jaw. “Jealousy suits you better. You’re so fucking hot.”

He pulls me against his chest, tilting his head to the side and deepening our kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth hungrily. Sparks fly. My body quivers from his touch as he runs one hand through my hair, and the other down my back.

“Who needs meds when I have you?” He traces my lip with the tip of his tongue.

“Not funny.”

“I think I’m hilarious.”

Drawing back, I set my eyes on his.

“I love you,” I breathe. “I fucking love you. Don’t lie to me. Don’t keep shit from me. Don’t hide from me. Ever. Promise me.”

He slams his mouth against mine, kissing me with a need to express these powerful emotions. When we part, our lips are swollen and red, faces flushed.

“Promise,” he whispers back.

My heart thumps wildly. “If that fucker even glances in your direction again, I will carve out his eyes and make him eat them.”

“Always so romantic. You should get jealous more often.”

“Not so sure about that,” I mutter, cleaning myself with toilet paper and then flushing it. “Now I’m going to have a funny limp when I walk for the rest of the night.”

“You asked for it.”

“I did,” I confirm, watching him tuck his dick back into his pants.

We step out of the confined stall and walk past several people who can’t seem to take their eyes off us. One girl literally grabs her boyfriend by the jaw to redirect his attention to her, as if they weren’t just admiring the show together.

Fuck, I’m sore.

“Yup,” I exhale sharply as we exit the bathroom. “I wasn’t too far off.”

Micah lowers his gaze to the screen of his phone, and I do the same.

Damien: Taking Quinn to the penthouse. Meet us there.

Neither of us reply. Another text comes through.

Damien: Please?

“At least he said please,” I joke.

“Whatever. I hate him.”

“No, you don’t.”

He glances at me with vulnerable eyes. “How would you know?”

I remain silent, wondering if he’s ready for the answer. A huge part of me feels like this isn’t the time or place to even be having this discussion, but another part of me has been curious.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

“Maybe now isn’t the best time.”

He pulls me to a stop in the dimly lit hallway. “Just spit it out.”

“You really want me to say it?”

“I do.”

“I see the way you look at him,” I reveal, stepping toward him and closing the space between us.

At first, a hint of panic crosses his face. Then fear. Confusion. Irritation. Downright denial. He shakes his head dismissively, uncomfortable with my accusation.

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t hate him. You actually have real feelings for him.”

“Feelings?” he repeats, appalled. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

“Tell me I’m wrong then. Tell me you don’t feel something deeper for him.” Stepping closer, I press my pointer finger against his sternum with each word, as if to make a point. “Tell me your heart doesn’t race whenever he steps into the room.” His lips part. “Tell me you’ve never thought about being with him.”

“I haven’t,” he mutters, hesitating briefly. “I don’t have—”

I study him closely, capturing the exact moment the realization hits his eyes.

And it hits him hard.

“Did you really not realize it until now?” I ask.

He clenches his jaw, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “I… apparently not. I mean, yeah, maybe I’ve fantasized about him, but I do that with a lot of people.”

“You can definitely be attracted to someone without having feelings for them,” I agree, “but I don’t think that’s the case with you and Damien.”

“No way,” he dismisses.

I shrug.

“He’s always just been my friend. One of my best friends,” he stammers, trying to wrap his head around this. “How does that happen? How didn’t I notice?”

“I think it happened gradually. I had my suspicions until a few months ago when I started catching this spark in your eye, but I’m no expert, clearly. I just recently started figuring my own shit out.”

“Do you feel some type of way about it?” he questions, fidgeting with his hands.

“Do you?” I counter.

“I’m not sure. Are you seriously cool with this? Did I just make shit weird?”

Taking his hand, I shake my head. “I don’t mind. I mean, I out of all people understand. It happened with us.”

His lips curl into a subtle grin.

Holding up my hands, I shake my head. “I definitely don’t have any romantic feelings for him, if that’s what you’re wondering,” I say with a laugh. “We all have a bizarre thing going on. Damien and Quinn. Quinn and all of us. You and me.”

“Good point.”

“It works for us. All I know is I’m happy if you’re happy.”

“He’s my friend,” he says faintly. “I don’t want to ruin that. Make it messy. He’s not into me, anyway.”

“I don’t know. I’ve caught him checking you out a few times.”

“When?”

“The bathroom the other night, for starters. When you had the towel wrapped around your waist.”

“He was just goofing off.”

“Whatever you say.”

“All I want to do right now is kick him in the balls,” he retorts, draping his arm around my waist as I head for the bar.

He pulls me in the direction of the door. “I’m good. I already got my fix.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I ask.

“ You .”