“Not that it will stop the bitch from biting.”
“Dibs on Darling!” Seth yells, raising a hand high.
The second she hisses at him, I pick her up and haul her over my shoulder. Vincent may have the brute strength. He knows how to throw down and take down, but I still have my military muscles. I know how to handle a rabid bitch.
And I can’t fathom why, but I let her kick, bite, scratch, and claw all she wants. Even if it gives her more kinship punishment, I’ll give her this power…
Because it’s all she has left.
7
Seth
“IS THIS THE PART WHERE I’M SUPPOSED TO BEG FOR MERCY?”
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Afterlife”
“Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”
Jesus H. Christ, does this girl ever run out of energy?
Her fighting covers the sound of our steps in the tunnels. And her chanting. She knocked off Jude’s mask almost as soon as he’d tossed her over his shoulder. He could easily paralyze her in his grip. But this girl is different. Seems like she’s gotten under all of our skins. Maybe even…Raphael.
I smirk because Vincent has balled his hand into a fist, and I’d swear the tendons are prodding through that hoodie he always wears. His “lucky” hoodie.
The air inside the mine is damp, cold, and smells metallic, like iron. But there always seems to be a hint of bone dust and blood curling all around us.
I prefer sawdust, but bone dust is cool, too.
Raphael leads the way with the flashlight, the beam cutting through the pitch blackness like a blade. We know all the routes and rooms in this mine. But flashlights scare any critters away.
I stay a step behind him, careful not to trip over any loose debris. Rory’s right behind me, practically huffing and puffing.
In between beating her fists on Jude’s back, Briella turns her head every which way, her eyes taking in the remnants of the mine’s past—rusting carts, broken pickaxes, and shattered timbers. Not that it’s going to collapse with how much we’ve reinforced it over the years.
“Aww, you boys didn’t have to decorate for me!” She makes an exaggerated swooning motion.
Fucking hell. I’m falling in love.
Jude grunts, and I widen my eyes as she jams her elbow into the back of his head. Good thing the sexy black devil has no hair; otherwise, she would have pulled it out by now. Well, almost no hair.
“Keep talking, Firecracker.” Rory grins.
She lifts her head, tossing that pastel purple hair back. “Okay, then. Do I get to light a fuse and blow you all to hell, or do you just like getting burned?”
Rory throws me a keen look, lips tugging to one side. Ahh, fuck, I know that look. And he’s gonna do it. Level 3. Level fucking 3.
We pass room after room, each one an empty cavern left to rot, until we reachthe dungeon. Raphael flips on the lanterns one by one. Sets the ambiance. Shadow and flame and…all the twisted sex and torture instruments the Devil himself would drool over.
Jude sets her down. Well, not set since she’s flailing too much and ends up on her bottom, pretty tits bouncing and wobbling deliciously. Can’t wait to get my mouth on those apples.
Curves that won’t quit. Nice ripe thighs—perfect for teeth marks and finger bruises.
Once she swipes her curls out of her eyes, her gaze takes in the room. For the first time, she freezes. Her eyes widen, flickering over the cage, the pillory, the swing, the gleaming BDSM bench with the two dildos, and the massive bed draped inblack sheets. She swallows hard at the sight of the toys—blades, paddles, whips, cuffs, things I don’t even know the names for. Chains hang down from the ceilings. Some have cuffs and collars. Some have…hooks.
Her lips twitch, that boldness coming back. “This is…cute. So, you guys arereallycommitted to the whole creepy dungeon aesthetic. Let me guess, do you have themed nights too?” she sneers, clearly covering up her fear with comebacks.
