Hunted for the Holidays

Chapter 8

8

NASTY LIL FREAK BY SIR SILLY

C harlotte's dark lashes flutter against her flushed cheeks as I carry her into the cabin. Her punishment took more out of her than she bargained for. Setting her down on the sofa, I toss a blanket over her sleeping form and follow Wyatt into the kitchen.

She’ll need to be cleaned up, but that can wait. Fuck it, maybe I’ll just keep her constantly covered in blood and cum; that’d tame the fucking brat out of her fast. The little stunt she pulled just proved how much of a fucking problem she's become. If she’d been fucking caught, she could’ve gotten Wyatt and me sent away. I won't go back to prison.

I amble into the kitchen and fall in step next to my brother as we cook. As we shift around the kitchen to make dinner, I wait for Wyatt to tell me how much I've fucked this up–how keeping her was such a bad idea and that I should've just snapped her pretty little neck in the first place–but he doesn't say a goddamn thing. He just silently bobs and weaves around me.

Fucking ass. Is he giving me the cold shoulder? After we just had both our cocks in the same fucking hole?

I start to chop the potatoes while he heats the cast iron skillet on the stove. The pan sizzles as he drops the thick cuts of meat into it, and I toss down the knife with a sigh. "You were right."

He grunts in response, wiping his hands on a towel and cocking an eyebrow in my direction.

"About her," I clarify, motioning towards the living room. "Today could’ve turned out a lot fucking worse. If an actual rescue team got their hands on her, we'd be in fucking cuffs right now."

Wyatt doesn't say anything. He just turns back to the stove, seasoning the meat. The muscles of his back pull against the tight t-shirt he’s wearing. The urge to bend him over and force him to submit to me until he fucking let’s go pounds through my mind. I don't do well with this kind of silence. I spent all those years in prison being cut off from friends and family, my days filled with uncomfortable silence and nights sleeping with one eye open. Wyatt needs to be taught that he can’t just ice me out and bottle up his anger.

"Look," I start again, trying to get a response from him. "I think I just need to get this out of my system. Fuck her raw, ruin her in every way I can. Years of anger don't just go away overnight. Killing Kit was justice, but I want more. I want to fucking ruin everything in his perfect little life, the way he ruined mine. Starting with her.”

Wyatt pushes past me to grab the potatoes and add them to the skillet. I go to say something else when footsteps catch my attention. Pivoting on a heel, I find Charlie standing in the doorway with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, hiding those perfect tits from my sight.

Her brows furrow as she looks up at me with wide blue eyes. "Do you have any ibuprofen?"

"Are you sore, little bunny?" I rasp, folding my arms across my chest.

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she nods.

There's a small part of me that doesn't want to see her in pain, but that flicker is quickly squashed at the reminder of her running from me– us –again. This was a punishment; a lesson every pet needs to be trained on if she’s going to be mine.

"Do you know why you're sore?" I ask, unmoving.

"Uhm…" She frowns, flickering her gaze between the two of us, Wyatt still laser-focused on the stove. "Because I was bad?"

"Is that a question?"

"No." She swallows roughy, gaze dropping to the floor. "I-I was bad and I got punished and now I'm sore."

"Do you think you deserve to not feel the pain?" I question, stepping forward. "You hurt me, bunny. Those marks on your chest are a reflection of how it felt when I came home and found your bed empty." Gripping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I force her to look at me. "Do you want to hurt me?"

Tears well in her eyes as her bottom lip quivers. "No. I want you to save me."

Not the answer I expected, but she’s playing her part well. Maybe she’s coming around.

"Here's the deal,” I grumble, my gaze flickering over her innocent face. “You run again, you're dead. Whatever you think your father or the man he picked out to take your virgin cunt would do with you, I’ll do ten times worse. And that punishment won't have an ounce of pleasure attached to it. Next time I catch you, I won’t just be fucking your mouth, bunny. I’ll fill all your holes so full of cum that it’ll leak out of you for days.”

She flinches back at my words, but I pinch her skin tighter to keep her in place. Pain creases her features as I go on. "You're ours . Our pretty little pet. Everything you are, everything you feel, is for me to decide. I can make what's left of your life a living hell with nothing to look forward to. But, if you can be a good girl for us, then you’ll get pleasure with your pain. So, what’ll it be, Charlie? Do you want to be our good fucking girl?"

"Yes. I’ll be a good girl," she sniffles.

I know she’s lying but hearing her submit is the sweetest surrender I could ever ask for.

"I'll be your good girl."

Your good girl. Fuck me, the ways she says that makes me instantly hard. Seems our little captive is finally learning her place. Maybe if she'll actually fucking behave, I can convince Wyatt that my plan to bring her home with us is a good one. I lean down, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. She squeals and tries to pull away, but I hold her tight, forcing my tongue past the seam of her lips, demanding access. When she doesn't immediately submit, I bite her lower lip, hard . Hard enough to draw blood. She shrieks in pain, and I take the opportunity to pillage her mouth with my tongue, swirling her blood and our combined saliva together before finally pulling back to stare down at her.

"Go start a bath and get yourself cleaned up. I'll bring you some antibiotic cream and painkillers shortly."

She brings her sweet little fingers tenderly to her lip, wincing in pain at the wound. The sight makes my cock jump in my pants. With one last look towards Wyatt, she turns and retreats from the kitchen. I move towards the storage cabinets against the back wall, rummaging around for the first aid kit. Even though his rigid routines and overly prepared bullshit can be kind of grating, it’s because of him that we've got everything we need out here.

Pulling out the metal box, I check it has everything I need to tend her wounds and ease some of her pain. With her father putting some sort of bounty on her head, we really can't afford for her to get an infection. The nearest hospital is over an hour away, and they're probably looking for a wounded little bunny to wander in.

Wyatt's adding the meat and potatoes to plates as I move to the sink and fill a glass with water. He sets two on the table and one in the oven as I turn back around, hooking a thumb over my shoulder. "I'm going to help her, I'll be right back."

He grabs the ax that's propped by the door to the mudroom, twisting around to face me. "Eat without me."

What the fuck is his deal?

I fucking apologized to him, told him he was fucking right, and got our little captive to submit–and now he's going to act like this? Shaking my head, I stomp down the hall, grabbing Charlotte some clothes from my room on the way. I don't know what's going on with Wyatt. I shared her with him. Hell, I let him suck me off. I'm not fucking stupid, I may be out of the loop when it comes to most things these days, but I've seen the way he looks at me.

Call me a goddamn idiot to think that he enjoyed what happened in the woods just as much as I did and it might ease some of the fucking tension between us.

Whatever. He’ll get on board when he sees what a good girl she can be; how sweet sharing her will be. Because I just lied to my brother. Keeping her is most definitely not something I regret. Something about her sweet innocence has snaked it’s way inside my cold black heart. She’s mine . And I have no fucking intention of letting her go.

Stepping through the open door, I find Charlotte in the bath, moving a washcloth over her skin, wincing as she drags it across our initials. I don't think the cuts are that deep, but I'd be surprised if they didn't leave a scar. I fucking preen at that thought. No matter what happens with her, my fucking claim is carved into her skin forever.

I reach down to adjust the growing hard-on in my jeans. I'll give her a break before I play with her again.

She catches my movement from her periphery as I set everything onto the counter.

"Can you hand me the towel?" she asks, her voice small, almost innocent.

But she's not. She's more of whore than she lets on.

I rip the white towel from the rack, holding it out for her as she stands, water dripping off her stiffened nipples. The tub starts to drain as she dries herself off, and it takes every last bit of control I have to keep from fucking her right now. I busy myself with getting out the antiseptic wipes and antibiotic cream.

“Derek?” she asks hesitantly as I lay out my supplies on the counter.

When I don’t respond, she continues anyway. “Are you two going to kill me?”

Spinning around, I take in the sight of her. She’s bloodied and bruised and has spent her entire life being beaten down. She might be our captive, but there’s something about her that makes me feel protective and possessive.

“No, bunny,” I sigh before holding out my hand to help her from the clawfoot tub.

She carefully steps out, towel wrapped around her tiny figure.

“You have to understand, we’re not good men—I’m not a good man. I will lie, cheat, hurt and even kill to get what I want.” Stepping into her, I get close enough that her heaving chest brushes against my shirt. Wrapping my fingers around her chin, I lift her eyes to meet mine. “But what I want, Charlie, is you.”

She sucks a short breath in as she digests my words. I know she’s a liability, a weakness, a problem. But she’s also an obsession. And I’m not going to let her go.

"Sit." I tip my chin towards the closed toilet lid. "And let me see your chest."

Without an ounce of resistance, she does as she's told.

"Good girl," I praise, and I swear her eyes light up.

I get to work cleaning her wounds. Nothing requires any bandaging, so I just smear the ointment over her tits, pinching her nipples while I'm at it.

"You like that, don't you Charlie?" I murmur when her breath hitches.

"Yes," she moans as I twist them between my fingers.

"Good," I reply, withdrawing my touch. "Keep being a good girl and you'll get rewarded tonight."

I set two of the little white tablets on the counter beside the glass of water, gathering up the first aid kit. "Take those, I need to check something. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

As I'm walking down the hall, I hear a few beeps coming from Wyatt's room. Stepping inside, curious as to what’s making that noise, I hear it again, this time accompanied by static and a distorted voice.

"Is anyone on this channel? My ski-mobile broke down. Will continue on foot. Over."

“Roger. Rendezvous at base in forty-six hours. Radio if prize is located before. Over.”

Prize . She’s not their fucking prize. She’s mine. And they’re not getting their fucking hands on her.