Swamp Kings 2 (Bayou Bishops #20)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The cold air burned in Bishop’s fiery lungs as a new kind of venom throbbed in his fangs, all variations of violent deaths. Power pulsed in his muscles as Fetch led them to within ten feet of their target without a single encounter. Yet. The sun was setting but wasn’t nearly dark enough to conceal them.

Fetch glanced over his shoulder with a nod and they hurried the last stretch.

Once there, Fathom motioned for them to stand back then held out both hands, releasing a whomp of energy for disabling those bombs.

“Hey!” a man yelled.

Fuck.

Fathom turned and placed his hand on Syphon’s shoulder, the connection of their powers sending a shockwave through the immediate vicinity as more yelling broke out. “Shoot ‘em!”

Zodak braced his legs apart and held his weaponized hand out. The blast from the hand-bomb slammed the two advancing men to the ground. Holy fuck. Fetch and Fin bolted behind Zodak, bracing their hands on his back right before a force hit so hard, it sent them sliding several feet along the ground.

The dark power around them shook the molecules in the air, bringing a long, strained roar from Zodak.

“Bishop!” Fetch roared.

Bishop shot forward and grabbed hold of Fetch, getting sucked into a vortex of malevolence so thick, it smashed against blood, muscle and bone. Symbols flashed across his mind as Fetch showed him the tattoos these men wore. A symbol of ancient evil trying to overpower Zodak.

Bishop’s panic caught up to theirs when he finally realized this darkness was fighting to break free and get to the children. Something flipped inside him that opened a floodgate of fury. Power ripped through his muscles and turned him into a human torpedo as he rammed Zodak from the side and brought him and the triplets to the ground as dark energy hammered into him, digging hard and fast. His mind flung out measures--rate, flow, density, power, potential, limits, lethality.

Fuck, they were there, they were at the lethal threshold, needing to neutralize the darkness but needing to syphon every drop before they did.

It drilled deeper and deeper, going for their molecular motherboard, hitting Bishop's panic button.

“SEER!” Bishop roared.

Bishop held on as the dark power stood Zodak up and slammed him to the ground, crushing Bishop under him. He stared wide eyed into the clear blue sky as a streak of blinding light raced down in a single line and blasted straight into them. The all-consuming power devoured the darkness so utterly, it felt like he might of fucking imagined it.

Bishop realized he wasn’t breathing and couldn’t move .

“Brother!” Seer’s muffled voice lagged above him as his wide blue eyes bore into his.

A faint tremor crawled along Bishop’s spine, like gears groaning. Deep in his marrow, a current ignited then surged through his body, the pain of it cracking him open and spreading like lightning. Blood suddenly pulsed through crushed veins as his lungs sputtered with a raspy cough, while six months of healing flooded through him in seconds.

With every forced inhale and exhale, Bishop’s blood throbbed with raw energy, muscles jerking and spasming, vision blurring and bending before finally clearing.

“He healed himself,” Fetch marveled on his right as Bishop blinked and groaned, every ache forced out by the life driving through his veins.

Bishop sat up, seeing Zodak sprawled lifelessly with the triplets surrounding him, hands on his body.

“Nothing’s holding,” Fathom said sternly. “His circuits are completely fried, there’s nothing to transmit into.”

“And his mind’s disconnected,” Fin added, eyes narrowed as he inspected Zodak. “The neural relays won’t hold steady—just enough static to keep him from stabilizing.”

Bishop’s vision sharpened as he added his hand to Zodak’s body, closing his eyes. This time when he saw the problem and solution, he also saw the means to do it.

Seer knelt and took hold of Zodak’s head and their gazes locked for many seconds, revealing a deep affection in his blue eyes for their giant warrior. Bishop lowered to the precise pressure points beneath his jaw, pausing with the weight of what he was about to do. Was able to do. He cradled his neck and tilted it, bringing the vein to the surface then bit down. The skin beneath his fangs sliced open for the passage of catalytic energy. He visualized the complex matrix that would reboot his synaptic connections and didn’t stop till his system was flooded with it.

“It’s working,” the triplets said in unison when a tremor passed through Zodak. Bishop carefully pulled up, watching his eyelids flutter as life sparked and neural patterns realigned, resuming their flow. His eyes popped open with a massive breath followed by awareness rushing back into him.

Bishop’s own breath gushed along with a wave of relief that put him on his ass next to him while Seer aimed his face to the sky, thanking God. Zodak sat up, his gaze finding Bishop’s and locking on, the awe in them a mirror of his own at what had just happened.

“We have company,” Fetch announced quietly, slowly standing as Bishop whipped his head around.

A small crowd of women and children stood about ten feet away, huddled together, watching. Remnants of terror covered their dirty bodies while wicked ghosts stared at him from the shadows within their eyes.

“Who are you?” one of the women at the front asked, the words forced and shaking.

“We’ re friends,” Seer said. “Here to help.”

The men all slowly stood while Bishop realized they hadn’t considered this part of the rescue mission.

“What are we gonna do with them?” Seer barely asked, arriving at the same thought he’d just had.

“Good question.”

“Might need to ask your wife,” he muttered.

“Do you have homes? Family we can take you to?” Bishop asked.

They all stared at him, some of the women looking down, the sight filling him with sickness at what they may have been through. He definitely needed to talk to Beth. Maybe she saw what the hell they were supposed to do next.

“We were taken from the city,” the same woman said at the front. “We’d formed a group after the collapse. Stranded mothers with their children who had nobody to help them. Who lost everything.”

Bishop lowered his head, his chest tight at hearing that. Mon fucking Dieu. He looked left at the two guards lying on the ground a short distance away. “Seer and Zodak,” Bishop said, locking gazes with Seer. “Lead them out of here. We’re taking them with us.”

Seer nodded, his stare locked tight to his. “You alright?”

He took a second to weigh and consider that. He would be. Just as soon as he dealt with these sick bastards. “We’ll be right behind you after we finish up here.”

Seer nodded, regarding the group of women and children before him. “Good,” he said, hunger in his tone. “Consider the cost dearly.” He brought his stern gaze back to him. “Then make it count.”

****

Bishop stared down at the two men, groaning on the ground. “Consider the cost dearly and make it count,” he muttered, shoving one with his boot, eyeing Fetch. “What do you think that meant?”

Fetch angled his head at the filth and crossed his arms. “Think it means… figure out the crime and make sure the payment fits perfectly.”

Bishop considered that in a literal sense. “They terrorized and abused innocent women and children. Only God knows what else.”

“Justice unfolds symmetrically,” Fathom contemplated. “Every transgression seeds its inherent reparation.”

Bishop regarded Fin now. “What do you think?”

He brought his calm blue gaze to him. “Considering the source, I believe the wisdom was two-fold. The first part was a warning. That your retribution will bear the same countermeasure for your own sins. The second was telling you to use your gift to bring a great yield with your punishment.”

“A great yield,” Bishop muttered teetering at the edge of disgust. He was ready to simplify with a bullet. Splattered brains on the ground felt like a great yield to him. Three bullets would yield even more. He considered the countermeasure for his own sins. What would he want if he was two hundred pounds of moral shit? A bullet was the end of the line, nothing more. A far cry from the hell these women and children endured .

A creative spark fired in his brain as he considered more fruitful ideas. “The greatest yield would be a moral filth rehab.”

“Hmm, yes,” Fetch agreed, his hunger not far from Bishop’s. “The punishment that keeps on punishing.”

“Except every man bears a unique filth,” Fathom said.

Bishop eyed him as a north wind slapped against his face. “Tailored torture for every man would take more time than we have.”

“Hmm,” Fin said quietly. “Unless you possess an adaptive evolution in your saliva.”

Bishop paused, locking eyes with the brutal serene-faced warrior. “I have that,” he realized. And the second he did, the rest unfolded—the what, the how, the when, and the why. “Wow,” he muttered. “I can create a code with a set of retributions directly connected to wicked thoughts, infuse it in my saliva and inject it into their blood. The adaptive evolution would react to its environment, changing retributions to fit each individual scum.” He suddenly hit a disgusting snag. “We’d need a method to deliver it, because I’m not putting my mouth on these nasty fucks.”

“There’s forty-six men here,” Fin said, adding the work time to the problem.

“Modify the code to work through the skin,” Fathom said. “Fetch can transmute it through the gate.”

“The gate,” Bishop puzzled.

“The tattoo,” they all said at once. “Let evil serve their deliverance from evil.”

Wow. Bishop’s nods gained momentum. “Now, that’s brilliant.” He eyed Fetch. “What do you need from me?”

He held out his hand and slid a razor-sharp nail over his palm. “Just your sacred saliva bearing that human hell sequence. Nothing more,” he warned, highly aware of all the other power diseases he could pass to him.

Bishop’s vengeance stirred as he watched the line of crimson on his skin bead up while crafting the simple code for this forever sin rehab. He spit in his own palm and held his hand out.

Fetch regarded it with the barest grin and smacked their palms together in a tight bond. “Transaction complete.” His blue eyes blazed on him. “Nice doing business with you. Marsh King.”

Something odd flashed in his gaze and the second his mind reached for it, that privacy wall shot up. Fetch gave him a wink and Bishop nodded. “One day you’ll be too slow,” he said, getting three chuckles from his estranged brothers.

“Not likely, Marsh King,” they all said.

****

Mabel didn’t understand. Why did he make her sleep in his tent for body warmth then keep said body a bloody million miles away? Had he… wanted to do something more and now had to stay away from her because he couldn’t? For some reason?

Pathetically, those answers meant more to her than freezing to death while lying next to a human furnace just out of reach. The other pathetic thing was how desperate she was for him to touch her even if it was just to warm her. She would take anything and what on earth did that say about her, what did it mean?

It was the bloody world is what it was, falling apart, she was falling apart with it. But if he didn’t want to touch her for fear of something more happening, then that meant he didn’t want more happening. And bloody wow, she hadn’t felt that kind of pain since her sixteen-year-old crush.

For an agonizingly indiscernible time, she lay there, waiting for any kind of sign that would tell her where his head was. And she finally got her answer. Snoring. Never in her life could she imagine the sound of a snore could break her down. While she was in a prison of desperation, unable to sleep, he was wanting her so much, he couldn’t stay awake. Just wow. Just. Wow. She would freeze to bloody death before taking a single degree of warmth from him now. Because wow. Bloody freaking wow.

At least that’s what the wide awake, freezing, pissed part of her felt. But that bloody wench she became after she fell asleep in the middle of the night, oh she was something. All that blustery come what may was lifted right off her when the bear skin opened behind her, and he slid his body exactly against hers. There was no stopping the full body shiver that rocked her, and it had very little to do with the cold.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered at her ear, freezing her mind and heart.

“F-for what?”

“I should’ve warmed you before this.”

Right. “Maybe you realized you didn’t need a nurse after all,” she joked, clenching her eyes shut. Bloody hell.

“Or maybe it was something else.”

Her eyes opened at that, heart immediately a frantic hammering. Something else? Like what?! “Maybe you didn’t want me drooling on your arm,” she fished.

“I do not fear your bodily fluids,” he muttered, sounding amused and something else.

“Worried I’d talk in my sleep?”

“No.”

“That I’d sexually assault you?” When he didn’t answer, she gasped. “Am I to worry you truly think I would or be insulted that you would mind?”

“You shouldn’t be insulted.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You think I’d sexually assault you! Little me? Please return to your side, my shame will keep me plenty warm for the rest of my life.”

“No,” he said, his tone low and rough and delicious. “I didn’t warm you because I didn’t want you to be afraid.”

Her heart was back to pounding furiously. “Of what?”

“Of me.”

Her mouth remained open for a few seconds. “I’m not,” she said.

“Good,” he murmured. “But maybe you should be.”

Oh God, she was scared of him, but not like he thought. “Nothing about you frightens me,” she assured, her pulse in her throat.

After a long span of silence, he said quietly, “I’m not really a virgin.”

Every molecule in the air suddenly pulsed between them at what hinted in his tone. “Nothing wrong with that,” she said, fighting to sound calm while wondering why he’d lied about it. Was he a man whore after all? “Experience is beneficial.”

“I don’t… have the right experiences.”

Panic began to set in at what he was saying. Had he been… sexually hurt? She imagined a very young version of him, her breaths shaking with the rest of her body now at the idea.

“Are you cold?” he whispered.

The softness in his voice felt like it came from a place he hid from the world. “I’m… not cold.”

The silence crackled with unmet need and tension. “Are you afraid?”

Her breaths shook now too. “No.”

“What are you?”

She closed her eyes, hearing it in his voice. The need. And the fear. “I’m…” She swallowed when her own fears assaulted her. “I’m…”

“Can I hold you?” he whispered.

Her breath rushed out as need exploded inside her. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to?” His need to know she did unraveled her more.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I… I need you to hold me.”

His heavy arm lowered over her, his forearm pressing into her chest, tugging her against his hard chest as she fought to slow her breaths. He moved his arm against her breasts, feeling them. Oh God. “This good?” he asked, his voice hot near her ear, bringing a boiling pulse between her legs.

“Yes,” she forced out, her mouth opened as she fought to get enough oxygen without devouring the air.

“May I cover you more?”

Oh God yes. Yes, more. “Please,” she whispered.

“With my flesh?”

Please lord, don’t let me pass out. “Yes,” she forced out, stifling her need to pant.

Her panic flashed when he moved off her. She angled her head, hearing he was removing his clothes and snapped her head back. Oh Jesus and the saints, there go the barriers and the brakes.

“It’s okay to change your mind,” he said behind her after a bit .

“I… I don’t. Change my mind.” She waited in the sudden silence, confusion creeping in as she vaguely realized the blizzard seemed to be over.

“Do you not want to feel my flesh with yours?”

Her breath held, realizing, then flew right out. “You… want me… to…”

“Take off your clothes,” he said, his voice a combination of sexy low and soft at the same time.

She considered what she was wearing, her heart a furious hammer now. “Have you never seen the makings of an Amish dress? It’s like a chastity belt in drape form.”

His deep laugh went off in her blood like fireworks. “May I help?”

“Oh God,” she couldn’t keep from blurting.

“No?”

“I… I’m just very uh… what’s the word.”

“Modest?”

Modest. God, no. “Terrified.”

“Of what?” he asked, his voice tender with the hint of worry.

“Not of you, of… what… I don’t know what I’m saying, it’s not like there’s a light shining down on every imperfection.”

She lay there in the sudden silence, worried with what he was thinking. “There could be,” he said quietly.

Her eyes widened. “Could be what?”

“Light.”

“No!” she cried quietly.

“Why?” Amusement colored the word.

“I just said why!”

“You think you have imperfections?”

“I bloody know I do! Nobody is perfect.”

“I think you may be delusional.”

“What does light have to do with warming? Flesh to flesh?”

“Nothing. Until you mentioned it. Now I can’t stop thinking about seeing you.”

Her face contorted with the cringing horror of him seeing her naked. She wasn’t a square, but she wasn’t exactly voluptuous. She certainly wasn’t his equal, that was for bloody sure. And yet he wanted to see her, damn him! “You’ll surely need a light to break me out of this fabric prison,” she realized.

“Is that a yes?”

She sputtered all about before managing, “Well, I suppose it is,” as she sat up.

She forgot all about shame when the light rose from the lantern, filling her eyes with his massively huge body and penis. Then he turned on his knees toward her and it was just a massive penis. Getting closer.

“What do you think?” he asked when he knelt just before her.

The soft curiosity felt like a tongue along her neck. Her body was already having sex just at the sight of him. “I… well, it’s…” Her eyes were literally stuck on it. “I’m a nurse, and I’ve… I’ve,” she whispered.

The blade of his knife flashed before her and broke the spell.

“Was thinking to break you out of that prison the quick way.”

She stared at him, back to terrified of being seen. “Already,” she sputtered, bringing his sexy half smile.

He lowered the knife and his head a little.

“Okay,” she hurried, getting his hesitant gaze. “I’m… I’m not ready but let’s do it.”

He sat next to her with such a casual grace, it baffled her. “We’ll wait till you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” she assured, getting his head shake as he stared between them.

“You’re not.”

“I am,” she said, fear making her heart pound. “I’m bloody shy,” she cried. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

He aimed his raised brows at her with a smile then looked down at his naked self in answer.

“Well… I was ready earlier, before you went to snoring and leaving me to bloody freeze to death.”

His gaze slowly sobered and she drew her knees up at what it meant. He suddenly leaned in, and she gasped when his mouth stopped right before hers. Then his lips gently pressed in, triggering the gasps. “You were ready?” he whispered, stroking the length of her face with his warm fingers. They paused at her jaw then continued along her neck.

“Yes,” she whispered, gripping the bear fur as she waited for him to take. Take whatever he wanted.

“What were you ready for?” he murmured on her mouth, pressing soft kisses.

Shallow bursts escaped her as she stared into his eyes. “You. All of you.”

Her body jerked as he ripped the dress right in half from the already shredded bottom, exposing her. His gaze angled on her, his groan thick with hunger.

“Take it all off.”

She gasped and discreetly scooted her way out of the odd pantaloon under pants, keeping the cotton bloomers on and matching camisole. He eyed it and shook his head, the tip of his knife ripping straight up the buttons and exposing her breasts. He tossed the knife and took hold of her arms, tugging them away from her chest, his gaze hungry. Her heart clenched when he paused the forced reveal halfway through, only staring.

Random jokes about small boobs got flung out when he dove on one with his mouth and the other with his greedy hand, his hot groan ripping through her fears. The hard pull of his lips on her nipple brought an explosion of lusty whimpers from her. He took her mouth next, his tongue thrusting and demanding against hers, his huge hand a hot collar on the back of her neck.

“Your beauty is a fucking miracle,” he swore, his breaths thick on her mouth as he slid his hand over her cotton panties. “I wanna sin all over you.”

She cried out as he moved his huge fingers over her privates, feeling and seeking.

He gave another groan when she opened her legs, repeating the delicious assault, bringing her shaking gasps and flicking hips.

“You need this, baby?” he whispered, moving his hand in firm circles, eyeing her then watching her pump his hand. “Mmmm fuck,” he barely said, gripping her pussy, her moans bold and free as she grabbed his wrist, not wanting him to ever stop .

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back and he immediately grabbed the back of her neck again and forced her face back down. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes, oh yes.”

“It’s what I fucking want,” he shuddered. “I want to lick and suck every inch of you.”

“Oh God,” she cried.

“You want that?”

“Yes.”

He gripped her pussy again in his hand. “Right now?”

“Please, yes.”

“Right fucking now?” he asked, sounding desperate and starved.

“Kiss me,” she begged, immediately getting his mouth devouring her.

They both yanked at her panties, removing them and he again forced her to watch, his breaths rumbling with hunger as he worked his huge middle finger between her folds.

“Gideon,” she gasped, lifting her butt and opening wider, her shame now pure need and lust as he sank his finger slowly inside her.

“Look at me,” he groaned, his eyes digging deep into hers when she did. “Feels good, baby?” he whispered, reaching bottom.

“Oh my God, yes,” she gasped, watching him as he turned his attention to what he was doing.

“You are a fucking comet,” he said hotly, his gaze back on hers as he explored the depths of her with the tip of his finger. “Ripping through my universe.”

Oh God, he was wrong. He was the bloody comet, not her. Ripping through a lot more than her universe. “You’re the beautiful one,” she blasted, getting his mouth back on hers as he fucked her with his finger till she cried out.

“Feels so fucking good?”

“Please,” she panted, thrusting into his hand, needing so much more.

He pulled back, watching her fuck while moving himself between her thighs. He lifted one of her legs and pushed her knee back, opening her so wide. “Fucking beautiful,” he shuddered, slowly withdrawing his finger and bringing it straight to his mouth. He sucked her essence off with a starved vigor as he spread his knees, getting his massive cock closer to her opening.

“Oh yes,” she begged shamelessly, her womb quivering.

“Yeah? You ready for my cock?”

“I am,” she panted. “I want you. I want you so much.”

His gripped her hair, tonguing her mouth while stroking her with his massive penis. She’d never felt anything more brutally wonderful as she clasped his neck, the feel of his hot muscles flooding her with more of everything.

She angled her hips, begging with every inch of her body. He paused and watched as he pushed the head into her entrance. The painful stretching brought her cry of ecstasy. He placed a foot on the ground, holding her leg open with his while placing a hand under her butt. He held the back of her neck again, making her watch him slowly rock the head in her opening. Oh God, it was so amazing. And he was so perfectly nasty with those thick, rough moans.

“Feels like you’re sucking the head of my cock,” he gushed, pumping faster.

Oh God. “I want to suck you,” she moaned.

“You fucking will,” he swore, going deeper now. “You ready to get fucked?”

Oh God, yes.

“Lay back,” he ordered, winded.

She lay on her back, and he lifted her butt off the floor with both hands.

“Open those pretty legs for me.”

She obeyed, her moans too loud but she couldn’t stop.

“Put my dick in your tight pussy,” he ordered, his muscles trembling.

She grabbed him, stroking the silky steel with her fingers as she placed him at her opening. “Fuck me,” she breathed, out of her mind with need.

His lips tightened with a growl, his fingers bruising where he held her hips and slowly inched his huge cock inside her.

“Gideon,” she shot out, her hands clenched next to her head as she watched this massive, beautiful man between her legs, entering her. And not just his body, he was devouring every part.

*** *

Gideon walked his knees closer, bringing her hips higher and forcing her wider. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was losing his mind with the need to cut loose. “Mabel,” he breathed, wanting her pretty eyes locked to his when he sank his cock to the bottom of her. The moment they meshed, he thrust into her body, groaning at the sharp cry of pleasure she gave. His eyes lowered to her tight tits, the creamy soft tips now thick and tall. The sight boosted his lust as he held her tiny hips in his hand and moved her slowly off his cock. He tore his gaze from her breasts, taking in the shine of her pussy on his dick. He grunted when the head reached her opening, pumping the ridge in that tight muscle till his blood boiled. Dormant feral instincts said he was doing it all wrong. He needed to fuck her without mercy, obliterate her silky, sweet body and pound every bit of himself into every bit of her.

He fell forward as he shoved his cock back in, getting her next cry of ecstasy down his throat as he kissed her. There was no turning back, the hunger was loose and he devoured it without restraint. Her shocked cries became his only purpose as he drove into her, fast and hard then faster and harder, wanting every man in that camp to hear just how hard he was claiming her. No, he wanted the entire forest to know and hear it, the universe to fucking witness his vow to be hers and no other woman’s, as long as he had breath.

She pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him, her passion triggering his climax. The power of it broke him completely and he didn’t hold anything back, growls turning into yells then converging into roars that didn’t slow until every drop of himself, his heart, his mind, and his seed was buried in the deepest part of her.

His heart pounded in his chest as the symphony died down, their ragged breaths still clashing as he held her jaw, kissing her with a different hunger, one that needed her to know what she meant to him after the pleasure faded. He stroked her face, letting the reverence part of his vow speak to her .

“Now what?” she gasped around his kiss.

He angled his head, listening, his ears picking up a faint sound. He pulled out of her and reached for his clothes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hear an engine,” he shot out, yanking his pants on. “A big one. Get dressed.”

She sputtered a little, covering her breasts. “In what!?”

He grabbed the basket of his clean clothes and shoved it to her. “Find something, anything.”

“What do you think it is?” she worried, her words shaking as he pulled his boots on.

“Nobody comes on this mountain.” He grabbed his coat. “Get fully dressed but don’t leave this tent unless I come and get you myself.”

She nodded and he lunged for her, sinking his fingers in her hair as he kissed his heaven, his very own fucking miracle. And he was beyond ready to kill anything that might threaten it.