Claimed (18 page)

“Pinch your clit,” he instructed. His voice was noticeably hoarse. I did as he asked, throwing my head back as a wicked slice of pain cut through me.

“Alexander,” I groaned. At this rate, I was going to careen into orgasm almost instantly. “Please…”

“Please what, Ellie?” His fingers unzipped his trousers and he pulled out his thick erection. I watched, transfixed, as he lazily stroked himself, his eyes glued to my naked body. “Please order me to pinch my clitoris again? Was that what you meant?”

My fingers were rubbing on my engorged ball of need. Pinching it sounded like torture, yet I nodded eagerly.
It would be such a good pain.

His lips twitched at my enthusiastic response. “Do it,” he ordered. “Keep pinching until you come.”

It didn’t take long. My body was already primed by my first climax. Tremors shook my body as my fingers mauled my clitoris. My hips were moving as I repeatedly impaled myself on the butt plug. It was all too much.

I moved faster.

I pinched harder.

I screamed out his name.

I shattered.

***

When I came to my senses again, I saw that Alexander had rolled a condom on his cock. “Come here,” he ordered.

I rose at once and positioned myself over his dick, facing him, looking to his eyes. I didn’t know if Karen and William were still in the room and I didn’t care. I’d tuned them out.

Now, as always, I felt cocooned by his warmth. I’d come twice. My body was sated, but I ground against him anyway. I wanted him to come. I needed him to unravel for me the way I did for him.

He pulled me close. “I’m not going to last long,” he said. “The floor show was just too good.”

I laughed at that and he kissed me. His gaze was steady and his expression was open. I saw every clenched grimace of pleasure reflected in his eyes; I heard every hiss and groan of satisfied passion in his voice.

When he came, he locked me close. “I love you, Ellie,” he said, his words so quiet I could barely hear them.

I kissed him hard and we held each other until our breathing slowed. “I love you too, Alexander,” I whispered back. “I love you so very much.”

***

Alexander:

Her eyelids were drooping shut. I hugged her tight as she slowly decompressed from the intensity of the scene. Her face was against my chest. “I can hear your heartbeat,” she said softly.

I kissed her hair, breathing in her fragrance. She was mine and I wasn’t about to ever let go.

She was in a chatty mood, my bright star. “Can we get married in Provence?” she asked. Her cheeks were flushed. “I mean, I lied to you like crazy when we were there, but that was pretty much the first vacation I’d ever been on.” Her voice was soft. “It was the best week of my life.”

I hugged her close. “We can get married wherever you want,” I told her.

She was quiet for a while before she spoke again. “I’m so jetlagged,” she said ruefully. “I’ve been in so many time zones in the last week that I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

I grinned at her choice of words. “You don’t know if you are coming, Ellie? I can help you with that problem.”

Her laugh was a merry peal of sound. “Idiot,” she accused fondly. “Seriously, I flew from San Francisco to Paris, then to Lagos, then to Hong Kong. If I’d been collecting frequent flier miles, I’d have enough to go to Hawaii or something.”

One of these days, I’d have to tell her how much money I was worth. Frequent flyer miles weren’t really a thing she should have been worrying about. “I’ve never been to Hawaii,” I confessed.

“Really?” She sounded surprised. “I thought you’d been everywhere.” She kissed my chest, her fingers tangling in the hair and her throat making a purring noise that had my cock hardening again. “Me neither. Let’s go together.”

Together.
That sounded pretty damn fantastic to me.

I shut my eyes and just concentrated on the shape of her in my arms. My life had been irrevocably altered when I was seventeen. Now, I was going to take a step back. There were still far too many slavers in the world and my money would always finance the fight against them.

But the day-to-day focus of my life had changed. I had met a girl. I was getting married to her. Maybe we’d even have children one day. It seemed so strange to have hopes and dreams. So normal. So right.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I smiled at her. I’d explain later. Right now, it was time to kiss her again and to touch her body and make her mine. To hold her close and tight and never let go.

Jean-Luc:

The bar in Saint Denis is crowded tonight. The old men are watching the screens intently. England is playing against France, and the air is thick with curses whenever the English goalkeeper makes a save. France’s glory days of football are perhaps behind it, but you’d never guess by observing this crowd.

I’m not watching football. My eyes are on the door.
I’m waiting for the woman.

I’ve sent her a message, but she’s skittish. She’s every reason to be afraid. It is something of a miracle that she isn’t paralyzed by fear. But she’s brave. She has to be, to do what she did. To fire that gun, even though her hand could barely stop trembling.

The door swings open, and a chill wind lowers the temperature of the bar instantly. I see a body silhouetted in the doorway, hesitating for a second, before irate voices tell her to
shut the bloody door
.

At those words, she snaps into alertness and moves into the room. Slowly. Carefully. Her eyes dart around the room, noticing everything. She’s untrained, but she’s conducting a rudimentary threat assessment. Good. That’ll help her survive.

Alexander’s life is changing. He’s engaged now. The wedding is this summer in Provence and I’m going to be his best man. I smile at that. It seems so unlikely. We met so many years ago, when we were both much younger, fighting rebels in Algeria and restoring law and order. We were idealistic then. We aren’t anymore.

I never expected either of us to survive this long. But there are still threats everywhere. Alexander will always have enemies that crawl out of the woodwork. Like Lena Anliker. Like Katrina Tsalev. They aren’t going to disappear because he’s semi-retired.

It’s my job to keep him safe. Since that day in Algiers when he took a bullet meant for me, my loyalty has never wavered.

The woman moves towards the corner of the bar where I’m sitting. “You sent me a message,” she says.

“I did. Sit down.”

She perches at the end of a barstool. Hasan bustles up and takes her drink order. She doesn’t order wine or beer, opting instead for a Coke. “You don’t drink?” I ask.

“Not when I’m working,” she replies. “Not when I don’t know what’s in store.”

She’s wise to be wary. She’s been a sex slave for a very long time. Freedom is precious. She will protect herself with ferocity.

She’s exactly what I need.

“You killed Lucien.”

“It was necessary.” Her voice is harsh. “He had it coming.”

“But he’s not the only one who deserves to die,” I probe. “Lena Anliker is still alive.”

I see the flash of yearning in her eyes. A wild, desperate hope for revenge. An unlikely revenge, but after Ellie, who can say what will and will not happen? All I know is that at a time when this woman should have been fearful and afraid, curled up into a ball, whimpering, rocking back and forth in terror, this woman had faced her fear head on. This woman had found a gun and though she trembled like a leaf, she shot Lucien.

She’s a weapon in the making, and in the world I live in, every weapon is necessary. Every unlikely candidate is to be nursed and trained and taught because sometimes miracles happen and sometimes, abused women who have broken free can and do kill their captors.

“I can train you,” I tell her. “It won’t be an easy road. But if you ever want to hold up a gun to Lena Anliker’s face, I can make that happen.”

Are the words I speak true?
It doesn’t matter.
She needs to believe that her revenge is possible. Strangely, I too need to believe the words I so glibly speak.
It would be a good thing if her wishes were fulfilled.

Her eyes are a caramel brown. Her lashes are long. She smells faintly of jasmine. Her hair probably feels like silk. I want to touch it; I hold myself in check with difficulty.

A small crack appears on the wall of ice that I’ve built around my heart. Just a little one. I don’t notice.
Not yet anyway.

“Or,” I hold her gaze, “you can discover what life is about. Alexander Hamilton will pay the way for your return to normalcy, if you’d prefer.”

She doesn’t ask the usual questions. Why would he do that? What does he want in return? She just considers the offer on the table.

“How long?” she asks. “How long before I’ll be good enough?”

“Five years.”

She closes her eyes for a second. “Sylvia took me from my village when I was fifteen,” she says. “I’m thirty now. Five years doesn’t seem like a long time compared to that.”

Mother of god
, she’s endured fifteen years of the Anlikers. I eye her with newfound respect. This woman is a survivor. “Do we have a deal?”

My heart is beating in my chest. I want her to take me up on my offer. I want her to train with me. I want to teach her everything I know, and I want her to get the revenge she so desperately craves.

I just want her.
But I don’t know that. Not yet.

“This is the truest desire of my heart.” The phrasing seems odd and stilted, but the emotion is very,
very
real. The hope, the yearning, the desperate need radiates from her, wave after wave till I want to take her in my arms and promise her that everything will be okay.  

I push that sudden urge back to the dim recesses of my heart. She’s not here for that. She’s just here for her revenge, and she deserves to find it. “I’m not going to be easy on you,” I warn her.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replies.

“You will hate me many times before we are done.” She’s already said
yes
. Why am I offering up words of explanation? Of justification, even? The training is the training. That is all. If she can’t deal with it, she’ll leave.

She smiles for the first time, and it feels like someone is shining a big, bright light on her face. For an instant, I find it difficult to breathe. “Are you trying to scare me away?” There’s a trace of laughter in her voice.
How can she still laugh?
Mother of god, this woman is
magnificent
. “I survived fifteen years with Sylvia and Lena. Do you think you are worse than them?”

“No. But you didn’t have a choice with them. You do now.”

The merriment vanishes. Her expression sobers and she shakes her head. “I don’t, not really. I never did. I need this to be able to sleep at night.”

Oh, I can understand this. Because my demons haunt my dreams and sleeping well has been an impossibility for so many years now.

She’s determined to proceed and I’m glad. “Let’s shake on it then.” I hold out my hand to her. “My name is Jean-Luc.”

“Soraya.” Her voice is as clear as a bell. She gestures for Hasan. “Since our business is concluded, shall we seal our alliance with a drink?” She orders two shots of vodka and my eyebrows lift in surprise. She’s unpredictable. That’s good. Being predictable in my line of work will get you killed or worse.

We clink glasses and gulp down the fiery liquid. It burns a passage all the way down my gut. She doesn’t flinch. Not even a little.

She is frightfully weak. Skittish. Untrained. Frail and useless. But the potential?
There’s so much of it.

I can hardly wait.

Dear readers,

Thank you for reading Ellie and Alexander’s story. As you can see, their path to true love wasn’t easy, but they got there in the end.

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Cheers,

Tara