St. Vicente Ch. 03

There you go! For your pleasure.

Just a note: please do not leave a comment if it's going to be about the number of weeks it'll take for a typhoid shot to actually work. I did my research. I know.

Other than that, knock yourselves out! (:

Much love xx

*

She started when the door to the cabin opened, though she shouldn't have been surprised. She'd been expecting his visit for hours now. She didn't think she could get away with what she'd done to him, accident or not.

Adrian stepped in and shut the door. The lock turned with an ominous click.

It reminded her of the other night. The night when he'd barged into her room, slid a hand to her throat and tried to choke her to death. The night when he'd raped her and taped himself doing it.

She'd been so scared then. She'd backed away as he walked toward her. But not this time. No, she was tired of being afraid of him. She'd seen the worst he could do, and honestly, it wasn't as bad as she'd imagined.

"What?" she asked, scooting to the edge of the bed and standing up. She wanted to be on her feet when she faced him. It would give her the leverage she needed if she had to defend herself.

He didn't move from his position in front of the door. He simply stared at her, his eyes moving appreciatively over her body, taking in her shorts and tank. She frowned. She knew for a fact that he wasn't attracted to her. So why did he stare at her that way? Was it just to make her uncomfortable?

She crossed her arms over her chest. Well, if that was his goal, he wasn't going to succeed.

"Did you come in here just to stare at me?"

The anger in her voice made his eyes rise to meet hers. As she stood there glaring at him, he realized something belatedly.

"You're not afraid of me."

Her spine straightened. "You're damn right I'm not."

The change was impressive. Just a day ago, she'd sat trembling in a chair, not wanting to meet his eyes. And now she was trying to stare him down with those exotic brown orbs. She was challenging him. It heated his blood.

"Why?" he asked, mirroring her stance and leaning against the door.

She flicked her hair out of her eyes. "'Cause I realized that fear was the only power you had over me. I was afraid of what you could do to me if I didn't listen to you." She smiled, but it was sad. "But I think I've already been through the worst."

Adrian felt his throat dry up, though he didn't show any outward sign that her words had affected him. "You're still alive."

"There are some things worse than death. But I doubt you'd understand that. Nothing you do now could be worse than the other night."

He stared at her for a long while and she stared back unflinchingly. She wanted to show him that she wouldn't be taking any shit from him. Not anymore.

But when he began pulling his shirt off, she took an involuntary step back.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly. He flung his shirt away and unbuttoned his jeans.

"What the hell-."

Clad in black boxer-briefs, he motioned with both hands for her to come over.

"Give me your best shot."

She stood where she was, trying her very best not to let her eyes run down the length of his body. She'd always been an admirer of the male physique and it was tough for her not to indulge herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, praying for control. Remember who he is and what he's done, she told herself.

"What do you mean?" she asked a moment later, trying for a reasonable tone.

"What I mean is that you've been giving me way too much shit about that night. It was my job to do it, do you understand that? It was a fixed plan. We all vowed to follow it through to a T."

She was outraged. "What kind of miserable bas-."

He held up a hand.

"And I'm sick of hearing about how I manipulated you, how I used you, how I forced you. I can't deny that I did those things, but I did not enjoy it." He took a deep breath, as though he was bracing himself. "So now I'm gonna give you a chance to let it all go."

She took another involuntary step backward, hitting the bedside table and knocking over a lamp. "You're going to kill me?"

He swore under his breath, raising a hand to his hair agitatedly. "No, god damnit. I want you to take it out on me. Vent your frustration. Let the anger loose because I'm fucking sick of hearing the same shit from you over and over again."

"You actually think that I'll forgive you if you let me hit you?" she scoffed.

"No," he admitted. "But it'll be a start."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to hit you. Violence solves nothing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Come on, do it."

"No."

"Do it."

"No!"

"Do it!"

"I said no! God!"

He smiled at her wolfishly. "Come on, princess. I know you want to."

She threw the lamp at him. And the remote control. And the several books that were on the nightstand. They hit his head, his chest, his arms. But he stood there, simply taking it.

God, it felt good.

She slid onto the bed and grabbed the pillows, flinging them at him. But it wasn't enough. It didn't feel like enough. She wanted to hurt him. Really hurt him.

She jumped off the bed, thinking in the back of her mind that she probably looked like a crazed person. But she didn't care.

She grabbed him by his neck, pushing him against the door. He was so much bigger than her that she had to use both hands. All the better to squeeze with, my dear, she thought.

She wanted to choke the life out of him. She wanted to see his eyes flicker in defeat like hers had. She wanted to see him struggle to get air into his lungs. She wanted him to suffer.

But no matter how hard she choked him, he seemed to be taking it well. The color left his face, but he managed to remain upright, his breath wheezing from mouth. Damn it, she just didn't have the strength to choke the man properly!

Far from giving up, she punched him in the stomach with all the strength she could muster. He double over and she pushed him to the floor, straddling him.

Now her violence had some audio accompaniment.

"Son of a bitch! You think you can get away with raping me? I don't think so!"

She grabbed him by his hair again and shoved his head onto the parquet flooring. A loud, satisfying thud echoed through the room. She repeated the move several times until she was out of breath.

But she didn't give up. She raked her nails down his torso, watching as red lines formed on his skin. She wished she had claws so she could pierce through his skin and do much more damage.

When she was through making him look like a candycane, she pounded on his chest. Each punch made a loud hollow noise, increasing her satisfaction.

When she was truly out of breath, she sat back, admiring her handiwork.

He opened his eyes. "You done?"

She flicked her fringe off her sweat-soaked forehead. "For now."

She was still sitting on him with her legs spread on either side of him. His entire body ached from the assault but he couldn't get his mind off the fact that she was perched on him cowgirl style. Her forehead was covered in a thin layer of sweat and her eyes were bright with satisfaction. He could feel the silky skin of her inner thighs pressed against his waist, teasing him. And that smile -- she was smiling down at him triumphantly -- made his breath catch.

Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him? He'd had sex two days ago, even if it hadn't been the best. It should've taken the edge off. Cleared his mind. Quenched the thirst. So why couldn't he stop thinking about this girl in a sexual way?

All he wanted to do was pull those damn shorts off her, roll her under his body and thrust into her hard, over and over again, until she screamed in his ear and clung to him for more.

But he wouldn't do it. He couldn't. If it happened, he'd call it desire while she'd call it rape. One black mark on his soul was enough. He didn't think he could handle the guilt of another mistake.

She looked down at him, wiping the layer of sweat from her forehead. He looks like a wreck, she thought. Yet, despite that, he smiled at her. "You dish it well."

He sat up slowly, bringing them almost nose-to-nose.

He was suddenly too close. Tressa wasn't comfortable with his nearness. Or with his smile. His voice had been soft, intimate and the timber of it seemed to reverberate through her. She wanted to pull back, to run. But she promised herself she wouldn't run, and she wasn't going to.

"Well, you deserve it," she murmured, feeling spurts of adrenaline belatedly pumping through her as she struggled to sit still.

Her breath was still coming out in short bursts, brushing against his lips. His eyes dropped to admire the fullness of hers, glistening as she ran her tongue over them. God, they looked so succulent, so sweet, so damned tempting.

He would've taken advantage of the situation had he known that similar thoughts flew through her mind. She was just a woman; she couldn't help but admire the strong set of his jaw, the sultry fringe of his lashes bordering navy blue eyes, especially since he was so close to her. He had no flaws, as far as she could see. But he was far from perfect.

She'd never been this close to a man before. All her suitors had been too scared of her father to make an advance. They usually preferred a quick kiss on the hand or a peck on the cheek. No one had taken as much advantage of her as this man had. Part of her hated that he'd taken too much advantage and caused her so much pain. But the other part of her knew that she couldn't have found anyone more handsome to do so.

Adrian's eyes rose back to hers. There was something different in that look. Something new. Foreign. He blinked when he recognized it as desire. He'd be damned if there wasn't. It might be an aftereffect of the violence, but the bottom line was that she desired him. After everything he'd done, she still desired him. The thought of it enflamed him and he hardened instantly.

She gasped as her seat suddenly became a little more uncomfortable. She could feel the hardness through his boxer briefs, making her react in the worst way.

He leaned in close, so close that she could taste his breath on her tongue. He hovered there for an eternity, his eyes never leaving hers, giving her ample opportunity to pull away.

Then slowly, hesitantly, he pressed his lips to hers.

It was slow. It was wet. It was sweet. His lips slid over hers repeatedly, capturing her sulky bottom lip and suckling it between them. His tongue slid out, tracing the shapely curve before tentatively touching hers. She trembled on his lap, reaching up to put her hand on his...

"Adrian?" Luc's voice was like a bucket of ice water over her head. She pulled away quickly, standing up. Her body was still trembling but she refused to acknowledge it. Dear god, what had she done?

"Adrian! Are you in there? Grandfather needs to speak to you."

Adrian looked up at the princess. She looked distraught, as though she'd committed a vile sin. Sinful though it might have felt, it certainly hadn't been vile. In fact, the taste of her in his mouth was like honey.

But it looked like he wouldn't be getting any other kind of honey tonight.

"I'll be right there," he called to his brother and reached for his clothes.

She turned away as he dressed. She couldn't bear to look at him and face what she'd almost done. How had she lost control like that? How had he made her feel that way?

When the door clicked shut, she moved over to the bed and sat on it heavily.

She needed to pull herself together. Just one kiss and she was falling apart in his arms? What the hell was that?

He was the man who'd raped her. She had to remember that fact. The man who'd taken her virginity from her and taped it all. Nothing he did could make her forgive him.

He was a hateful, perverted bastard. She should hate him with all her being. She did hate him... didn't she?

She groaned. It was all muddled now. Everything had been so clear to her before he'd kissed her so tenderly. Now all she could think about was the taste of him on her tongue. The feel of his lips. The image of his body, almost naked and pinned under her.

God, she was in a lot of trouble.

*

Marcie stood in the shower, her forehead laid against the cool tile. She couldn't wrap her head around the events of the day. It had happened too quickly. One moment, she was being picked out of bed entirely nude by Bull, and the next, the house had been blown up.

It had all been too much like a dream. She needed to find her center again.

She gasped when hands encircled her from behind, but stopped struggling when she recognized the feel of his body. A smile overtook her lips instead, and she relaxed against him.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked her, clasping his hands around her waist.

"Everything," she murmured, turning a little so she could look into his eyes. "It all happened so fast."

He rested his chin on her forehead. "Yes, it did."

They stood in the shower for several minutes, simply letting the water cascade down their bodies.

Then she turned, cupping his cheek and looking deep into his eyes. She wanted to be able to read his emotions when she asked the next question. "Why did you save me today?"

He looked taken aback. "Why not?"

She bit her lip. "I'm not important. Just your housemaid. I'm only someone you pay for sex, Lucio." Her eyes searched his with hopeful intensity.

He swallowed. What did she mean? Was she asking if she meant more to him than just that? Did she want to mean more to him?

"Marcie, I..." He paused, not knowing what to say.

"You what?" she asked, her brows wrinkling.

"I..."

He didn't know what else to say. He didn't have the words. Marcie continued to look at him expectantly. She felt like her life hung on his next words.

He tilted her head to his, cupping her cheeks in his hands. The intensity of his eyes made her breath hitch. Her fingers came up to grasp his as his lips caressed hers. Smooth and light. Clinging. Willing her to respond. Marcie didn't know what to think. What did this mean?

Soon, everything stopped mattering. Nothing but his kiss, his hands, his scent, his feel, seemed to matter. When she was in his arms, it seemed as though no words were necessary between them.

If only that were true when they were apart.

*

Grandfather did not look good. His complexion had a grey cast to it and his breathing was none too steady. He looked weak when he motioned Adrian over to his bedside.

"My boy, what is your plan?" he asked, his voice raspy. It was nearly 12, way past his usual bedtime.

Adrian knelt beside the bed, clasping his hands together.

"We're going to St. Vicente."

At Sergei's soft gasp, Adrian reached out to hold the old man's hand. "It's the safest place for us now. Augustine is maximizing his security to look out for his daughter. By now, he should know that she escaped the bomb and must be dispatching more men to search the surrounding grounds. The best thing we could do now is hide under his nose. He'll never find us there."

Grandfather's eyes closed, and for a moment, Adrian thought he had fallen asleep. After a few seconds, they flickered open again. "Yes," he replied. "It's a good plan. I have some contacts you could call, Adrian."

Adrian already knew about his grandfather's contacts; it was part of his research. In fact, he'd managed to trace the coast guard, Alex, from his grandfather's extensive stories of his loyal supporters. Despite already having the info, he let his grandfather talk, knowing the old man liked to do so if the topic was about St. Vicente and his loyal men.

Soon, Sergei fell asleep and Adrian tucked the loose covers around him, knowing that the temperature would drop at the dead of the night. Grandfather suffered from arthritis and it would not help the situation if the cold air got to his bones.

Adrian closed the door to the bedroom with a soft click. He turned in the direction of the deck, thinking of getting some air, when he saw a shadow moving in the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow, walking towards it to investigate.

Tressa stood bent over the kitchen counter, bopping up and down on her heels. The position put her ass in the air, and he paused to admire the view. She was faced away from him but her voice sounded irritated when she whispered, "God damnit."

"Why?"

She stiffened at his voice but turned towards him slowly.

"Nothing," she said, breathless, wary.

He crossed his arms. "Why are you in here?"

"I, um," she rocked back on her heels, "I'm just waiting for the bathroom."

He gave her an odd look. "In here?" The bathroom was opposite the kitchen, not in it.

She nodded.

"You do know that the bathroom's there, right?" He pointed to the small door nearby.

"Yes, but it's occupied."

"By who?" He made to knock on the bathroom door, but she called out and stopped him.

He waited for an explanation.

"Marcie and Lucio are in there," she said in a stage whisper.

"So?"

"They're... you know." She raised her eyebrows for dramatic effect.

"Fucking?" he asked, loving the way she averted her eyes shyly. If she were any fairer, her cheeks would be blossoming with color. "For how long?"

"About half an hour," she said, hopping lightly on the balls on her feet.

"Then they're probably done already." He raised his hand to knock again, but she stopped him, hissing, "You're not supposed to do that!"

"Not supposed to do what?" he asked, baffled.

"Disturb a couple making love. It's not good, like waking a sleeping baby."

He rolled his eyes at her absurd logic and knocked anyway.

When Luc answered, he asked his brother to vacate the bathroom ASAP. Luc grumbled, but complied once Adrian explained why.

Tressa entered the bathroom so quickly that the door almost caught Marcie's foot as she shut it.

On the other side of the door, Adrian heard her relief-filled sigh of 'oh my god' and grinned, shaking his head.

*

She finally fell asleep on the settee in the corridor around dawn. She'd been restless all night, pacing. Her life was quite literally, in shambles. She had nothing left. Everything she had before was linked to her father. She wanted nothing of it now. What he'd done was unforgivable. She wouldn't be able to look at him without watching the house blow up at the back of her mind.

She needed a new plan, but she didn't know where to start. She had no money of her own, nobody she could trust. She had no credentials except for her degree. As a 23-year-old, she knew it wasn't much. God, where could she go? What could she do?

She fell asleep troubled by those thoughts.

When she awoke, the boat was still. She sat up slowly, wondering where everybody was. She couldn't hear anybody moving around, despite the silence.

Quietly, she made her way up to the deck.

They were docked at a small port. Little shops lined the street opposite her, selling various fishing equipment. There was little crowd. Only two other boats were parked near them. Where were they?


She moved nearer to the stern, leaning over the railing to get a better look at the place.

"I wouldn't go much further," a voice warned from behind her.

She whirled around instantly, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Bull. Jesus, she hadn't even heard him walking around.

"You scared me," she told him, raising a hand to her chest.

"I know," he returned with a ghost of a smile.

"So where are we?" she asked, trying to get her heartbeat under control.

"We're just picking up supplies."

She raised an eyebrow at his evasion. "Yes, but where exactly?"

He shrugged. "It's not important. Would you like some breakfast?"

She put her hands on her hips. "What do you have against telling me? It's not like I can inform anyone else of our location. Do you see a wire on me? A camera? A goddamn phone?"