Page 18 of Spitfire

Why are you the one hiding evidence?

"No..."

Why are you the one taking risks?

"They need me." A tear slides from the corner of my eye down my cheekbone until the salty taste reaches my lips. Despair and shame rise like a thick coat around me, enveloping me until it covers every surface.

Do they?

The question hangs in the warehouse, heavy and rotting. I can't readily answer it, because somewhere beneath all the shouting… beneath the rage, and the blood, a smaller voice whispers something I refuse to hear. What if Ashmaker doesn't even know I'm there? I clap both hands over my ears as panic rips through me. "Stop. Please!"

You're becoming pathetic. I can't even look at you in the mirror anymore. You disgust me.

"I said stop."

You're following someone around, with stars in your eyes, who has never once looked over their shoulder to see if you're behind them. They don't even know that you exist.

A scream rips itself from my throat before I can swallow it. "No! It's not true, you're a liar, they do know. They see all I do for them. They know..."

My fist collides with the wall again, and the concrete bites back, as pain explodes through my aching knuckles. My skin splits, and blood gathers, and all I can think is that it's perfect, honest, and real. Silence greets my words, and for a moment, I believe he's gone back to the shadows where he hides when I'm in charge.

I go over the distorted scene in my mind of confronting both agents. My mind zeroes in on Scarlett's appearance. There was something there, some minute expression that makes me believe she found the clue I left her. Of course she did, she's brilliant.

The moment replays itself again and again in my head, each time showing me more of the details. The rage intertwined with Agent Garnier's behavior at being called out. The way he stared at Scarlett as if he needed to protect her from harm, from me.

I slam my fist again, feeling the knuckle pop and fracture, much like my mind. The skin splits further open, and a crimson thread quickly coats my fingers like a deadly serpent. I watch, enthralled, as large red drops fall from my clenched fingers, tainting the floor below and creating a beautiful abstract pattern. One. Two. Three. Each drop blossoms beautifully into its own tiny masterpiece.

My head tilts as I narrow my glance, picturing it as Agent Garnier's blood that I'm spilling instead of my own, and the thought warms me to my core. How dare he try to keep her from me! He touched her, not casually, not professionally, no, possessively. He placed himself between us and shielded her from me, as if he had the right to. As though he believed she belonged behind him. A laugh escapes my throat, but it doesn't sound human. It scrapes against my teeth, bile rising up my throat. "He thinks he can protect her."

Can he? What are you going to do about it? Will you sit here bleeding yourself out like a stuck pig, or will you do something about him?

"I know what you're trying to do," I growl as he pushes against the barrier between us in an attempt to take control again. I can't allow that to happen. I'm not sure what he would do next, but I know it would involve going after Ashmaker and Scarlett. I can't allow him to hurt them.

You need to kill one of them. Show me that you can protect us, or I will make the decision on who dies for you, Xavier.

It's not a warning, it's a promise. The next time he manages to wrestle control from me, he will go after one of them. I can't risk anything happening to Ashmaker or Scarlett, yet I need to appease the bloodthirsty fucker that lives within me.

"I'll kill him, I'll destroy Garnier." The mere thought brings a sense of elation, and I feel the approval of my choice radiating through my mind. Yes, once Agent Jasper Garnier is no longer breathing, then I can have Scarlett to myself. There will be nothing and no one to stop me from taking her. He needs to pay for trying to claim what is mine, and for being dismissive of Ashmaker's brilliance.

I shift towards the bathroom sink to wash away my blood, my glance meeting my reflection in the mirror above, and bringing me to a sudden halt. My bloody fingers rise to my pale face, my gray-blue eyes staring back with a feverish intensity in a face that resembles a wraith. I wonder what she thought of me? Did she think I was handsome? I've been told by women that my looks are exotic, disarming even. My fingers shift, drawing symbols of death across my features, that match the tattoos that paint my skin, as my lips widen in a smirk.

"Soon, Scarlett, I will paint you with the same blood, claiming you as mine and Ashmaker’s. We will always be together, but first, I have to end Jasper's life."

I begin to hum as I turn the dual rainhead shower to the hottest setting, stripping off my clothes before stepping inside, and allowing the scorching water to pelt over me. My hand caresses softly down my chest until I reach my semi-hard cock, wrapping my fingers tightly around the rapidly engorging crown and squeezing tightly, until a harsh moan escapes my lips. My other hand moves to my base, before softly rolling my testicles between my fingers. I begin stroking up my length, and pressing against each of my piercings on my Jacob's ladder with harsh movements, needing the pain to push me over the edge. My fingernails dig into the soft flesh as a vision of Scarlett enters my mind. "Fuck, Spitfire, I need you so badly."

I release my crown and begin punishingly fucking my hand, the sound of skin on skin fighting against the sounds of the rushing water. My other hand rises, my deft fingers finding the rings in my nipples, and yanking on them, until a hoarse groan penetrates the air. It's too much and yet somehow not enough. I need more pain, I need to feel closer and closer to my paradise, to the blessed silence that only a release can give me.

I reach forward and grab the handheld shower off its mount, wrapping the coiled metal cord around my neck and pulling as hard as I can, until a gasp leaves my lips and the loss of oxygen is complete. My body struggles to remain calm as my lungs starve for air. My hand moves manically on my cock, as all the muscles in my abdomen seize, and my toes curl into the warm tile.

Just a little more. I can feel the orgasm racing up my spine, my body fully alight with pleasure, as finally everything goes completely numb and silent. My teeth bite down hard on my tongue, feeling my mouth flood with the metallic taste of pennies I crave. I lean my head against the wall, as my body trembles and my legs threaten to go out.

ENOUGH, XAVIER!

No, it's not nearly enough, not yet. With shaking fingers, I wrap the cord once more around my straining neck, holding onto the chrome handle for dear life. My legs shake with warning, and my vision begins to dim. I drop my weight off my legs and fall to my knees, my body straining against the showerhead cord. I gasp, my mouth filling with hot water, and at the same time, my body sways, threatening to bring me to the ground. The orgasm erupts up my spine, setting all of my nerve endings into an electrical charge. The hairs all over my body stand on end, despite the insufferable heat. My cum sprays out over my fingers, and coats the shiny gray tiles, before being washed away by the rainhead above.

I release my precarious hold on the handheld just as my vision threatens to go black, and frantically yank at the cord as I gasp for air. My body slumps against the tile, the hot water both a balm to my dark, malevolent, chaotic soul, and a punishment.

Allow me to take this burden from you. Let me make it right, so that you don't feel the pain anymore.