Come Fill Me (The Prophecy) (15 page)

Even if she would have wanted to get away—which she did not—Liz no longer had the opportunity. The Neekoma brothers kept her their carnal captive, using her brashly to suit their own desires while also fulfilling hers.

She came before either of them, not caring who heard her raucous moans. Jacob was next, spilling his thick, hot come into her mouth, expecting her to drink it, which she did. Zeke soon followed, his ejaculate filling her pussy. Their bellows filled the room, and their energy finally gave out.

Zeke released himself from her and sagged to the mattress. Jacob climbed on and stretched out, his chest heaving, his cock damp from her saliva and his seed.

Falling to the side, Liz lay between them, panting as they did. No one spoke. Touch was enough. Zeke curled his arm around her waist, pulling Liz closer. Noticing, Jacob scooted over, resting his leg on top of hers, marking his territory.

Both men held on to her and she allowed it, wanted it, worried once more about the inevitable ending of their brief time together, her leaving. Not seeing either of them again…especially Zeke.

She thought about him the most. Never having another chance to be within his arms, to hear his laughter, witness his smile. She tried to push the sorrow away, but it persisted and deepened, making her edgy.

Neither of the brothers was aware. Their breathing had slowed, their bodies relaxing in sleep. The weight of Zeke’s arm and Jacob’s leg pressed down on her. It was a welcomed hardship. One Liz needed to remember in the frightening days still ahead.

Chapter Seven

Zeke dreaded falling asleep, not knowing what trouble his dreams would bring. Unlike his visions that showed the future, the past always returned at night.

On the edge of consciousness, he watched himself as he was in his early twenties. He and his girl, Angie, were at the Taabe Sisters Shack, a fast-food joint their people owned. The rival clan, led by Carreon’s father, operated businesses on the other side of town. With an uneasy truce in place, everyone behaved and stayed with their own kind.

The scent of sweet potatoes, buffalo burgers and fried corn with onions should have been enticing, but Zeke wasn’t hungry, couldn’t relax. Breaking up with a girl was never easy. However, there was no other choice. He was beginning to feel trapped. His legs bounced beneath the plastic table. His gut clenched as Angie placed her hand on his. Her palm was so soft and warm he almost forgot what the end of their date would bring. Almost.

“Zeke, what’s wrong?” she whispered. “Tell me.”

I don’t love you. I’m sorry, but I don’t. I can’t.

“Zeke?”

He forced himself to look at her, surprised he couldn’t see her features clearly, as though he was looking through fog. She sighed. “You’ve guessed, haven’t you?”

Guessed what? That she wanted to break up with him? Would it really be that easy?

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

His dream moved forward at lightning speed, the midwife handing him his daughter, Gabrielle. Her full head of black hair was the biggest part about her. In his hands, she seemed tinier than a newborn pup. Zeke was convinced he’d break all of her bones just by holding her. When she sneezed, he panicked, not knowing what to do.

“Take her,” he told the midwife. “She’s sick. Make her well.”

The middle-aged woman patted his shoulder as she would an idiot son. “Your daughter’s fine.”

Zeke refused to believe it. He didn’t want anything harming Gabrielle, not even a cold. When she settled in his arms and breathed softly, the heat of her body, its weight and sweet baby scent calmed his worries, allowing him to smile. He fell in love.

His dream continued, showing him snatches of his daughter’s brief life. Gabrielle’s first steps, her chubby arms waving wildly with each tentative move, trying to maintain her balance on her journey toward him. He next saw her at an older age, maybe five, thrusting out her lower lip, stamping her small foot when he refused to give her more candy, another toy, permission to stay up later than she should, any number of things she demanded and he denied.

They battled and she won more times than he did, wrapping her small hands around his heart, never letting go, making him concede with so little effort.

He reached out to hug her. She stepped back, not allowing it this time, her skinny arms crossed tight against her chest. “I have to go. All the girls are.”

Bright red, blue and green balloons bobbed around her, the kind parents used to decorate their kid’s birthday parties. This one was for Gabrielle’s school friend.

“I don’t care,” Zeke said, crossing his arms as she had. He hadn’t planned on allowing her to attend the party, not because of any danger he’d feared or seen in his visions—they’d been quiet for so long he’d almost forgotten about the continuing threat from the other clan—but because Gabrielle had received such poor marks on her arithmetic test.

“You need a firmer hand with your daughter,” her teacher had warned. She was a pretty young woman, the top of her head barely reaching the middle of his chest. Despite the differences in their sizes, she lectured him with the ease of a mother. “Gabrielle needs to do her homework, not play all the time. If you don’t start saying no when she’s young, you’ll regret it when she hits her teens.”

For once, he remained firm, taking the party off his daughter’s too busy social calendar. For days, Gabrielle whined and cajoled, finally crying, deep, wrenching sobs that shook her narrow body. Her tears undid Zeke as they always did.

In his dream, he held a box in his hand that contained a surprise—the yellow outfit she coveted. “You can go to the party,” he said, trying to sound fatherlike and stern, “but only if you wear this.”

She’d danced around their modest house with the clothes clutched to her chest. She modeled them for him, making him worry about the day when she’d do the same with her prom dress and then her wedding gown.

“You’ll regret it,”
her teacher had said.

His voice rose in anguish as he smelled the gunpowder and saw the blood. It stained the walls, the still-bobbing balloons, Gabrielle’s yellow clothing. She and Angie were already dead. He held his daughter in his arms, rocking her, willing her to breathe, to live.

Come back.

“I miss you, Daddy.”

Sweet baby, don’t go.

The balloons surrounded, then hid her. She slipped away.

Zeke jerked awake, his throat damp with sweat, his chest pumping too hard with each strained breath.

Disoriented, he turned, seeing Liz on his right, Jacob behind her, his arm draped possessively across her waist. A surge of jealousy rolled through Zeke like nothing he’d ever encountered. Teeth clenched, he had an unbearable urge to shove his brother from her, to pull Liz into his embrace, to shout,
Mine, not yours, dammit—
mine
.

“Hey,” Liz whispered, her hand stalling before she’d finished pushing back her hair. “Are you all right?” She eased Jacob’s arm from her, waiting to see what he’d do.

When Jacob continued to sleep, Liz touched Zeke’s lips, running her thumb over his bristly jaw. “Did you have a vision?”

He wished. Since Gabrielle’s death, even Zeke’s worst glimpses into the future had been easier to take than his memories. That was, until his latest vision concerning Liz.

An urgency to protect her drew Zeke closer, the mattress shaking as he repositioned his body.

The movement had Jacob stirring, then reaching for her before Zeke could.

“Back off,” Zeke ordered.

“No.” Jacob sounded more alert than his sleepy features should have allowed. “It’s my turn now. That’s what Liz said when you took her first, remember?”

Before she or Zeke could answer, his brother left the bed and offered her his hand.

Zeke frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Helping the lady to her feet,” he said, doing just that.

“Wait,” she said, glancing back at Zeke when Jacob led her away from him. “Where are we going?” Her attention shot to the room’s closed door, her nudity.

“Shower,” he said, then nuzzled her neck. “Sound good?”

Zeke noticed the color rising in her cheeks, her features growing slack with arousal.

“Okay,” she murmured.

Her breathlessness was all the encouragement Jacob needed. He slipped his arm around her waist, the ends of his hair swinging above his butt as he directed her to the bath.

The bed frame rattled with Zeke’s hasty departure, his irritation mounting as he followed them. In the center of the room, Liz pulled away from Jacob so she could turn a slow circle, her lips parting at what she saw.

In here, the limestone walls glowed with an inner light that matched the gentle illumination from the lamps in the bedroom. Liz stepped closer to examine the phenomenon, stopping as the glow turned mirrorlike, showing her reflection. Her lips were puffy from his and Jacob’s ardent kisses. Her hair wonderfully tousled.

Smoothing it down, she glanced to the left. Within that wall was the shower made of the same alloy used in the tunnel. There was no glass door or showerhead, just the metal-like enclosure in a semicircular shape.

“Where’s the—” She stopped as Jacob pressed the control panel, turning on the water.

It misted within the enclosure, not one drop spilling out to touch the polished stone floor.

“Whoa.” Liz padded to the edge of it. Just before her fingers reached the mist, she snatched back her hand and retreated several steps.

“Go on,” Jacob coaxed. “It’s just water; it won’t hurt you.”

The way her breasts and ass kept jiggling was really killing Zeke. His cock continued to stiffen, already harder and longer than his brother’s. Jacob paid no heed, no doubt confident that Liz’s earlier pledge made her his.

“How’s this possible?” she asked, turning her hand in the mist. Water rolled down her fingers as it would from a regular showerhead. “How can the walls glow, then turn into a mirror?”

“Dunno,” Jacob said.

Zeke stepped closer to her. “Our clan’s ancestors built it. Remember me telling you that?”

“Right.” She eased her arm deeper into the shower, then glanced up at the music suddenly pounding through the room.
Bad Romance
to be exact. “Lady Gaga?” she asked Jacob.

He seemed put off by her question. “I like her sound.”

“Jacob’s still young,” Zeke explained, moving toward Liz, using his size to back her into the shower. “Kids like him enjoy that sort of stuff.”

“I’m fucking thirty,” Jacob growled.

Liz didn’t acknowledge his advanced age or annoyance. Her attention was riveted to Zeke, just the way he preferred it. He moved closer. She retreated. Pearls of water dripped from her lashes and beaded on her hair. Her shoulders and ass hit the wall. She flinched, pressing her palms to it.

No way was Zeke going to waste his time touching anything but her. He demanded soft female flesh against every part of him. With his hands on either side of Liz’s face, he drove his fingers through her damp mane, using it to keep her still as he lowered his mouth to hers.

She tasted of the warm water misting around them. Her breath poured out in a silky purr, the tip of her tongue meeting his. With startling speed, she filled his mouth first.

Zeke’s knees sagged. However, that hardly meant he was going to let her run this show. He’d command. She’d obey. With his length pressed to hers, he ground his cock into her pussy and suckled her tongue, pulling it deeper into his mouth.

She pushed to her toes in what could have been surprise or excitement, then sagged back down, yielding to whatever he wanted. His willing slave…his woman, just as he’d already decided.

Zeke deepened his kiss but didn’t lose control as he might have with another woman, one he lusted after but didn’t really care about. Instead, he forced himself to be gentle, rubbing his body against hers, moaning with contentment as her kiss nourished him. His tenderness achieved the effect he wanted. Liz ran her hands over his back, then down his ass, pulling him into her, telling him she didn’t want to let go.

Jacob’s pissed breathing intruded, trying to break the magic.

Zeke’s first thought was to ignore him. Growing up, his brother had always wanted whatever Zeke had, not out of some soul-deep need but simple sibling rivalry. Even when their mother prepared food Jacob didn’t like, he’d begged her to give him as much as she’d given Zeke. He’d nagged their father to get him the same archery set Zeke received for his twelfth birthday. Used only twice, the bow and arrows were still collecting dust in the garage of their parents’ boarded-up home.

And now Jacob wanted Liz, not only because she was impossible to resist, but as a competitor might covet a prize.

Reluctant to start a fight he would surely win, Zeke eased back, searching Liz’s face. Her expression said it all. She wanted them both but craved him more. He spoke to Jacob. “What do you say I hold Liz still so you can wash her? Take your time. Make certain you soap up all the good parts. All right?”

Jacob’s features relaxed. “Sounds like a plan.”

Liz teased, “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“No,” he said and so did Jacob, with them speaking as one. Zeke grinned.