The Hunter (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (19 page)

Cortez Abernathy
: Present
-Chapter Twenty-

“
My mom read the Velveteen Rabbit to Daddy and me when we were little, too,” I tell all the kids, and I mean all of them- even the grown kids. Finishing up the book for the fifth of sixth time- not tonight- because it’s Azriel’s favorite, I’m cuddled up at the head of Azriel’s bed, with a twin under each of my arms. Their chubby little arms are curled up on my chest, with their sweet cheeks resting on my upper arms so they can see the pages.

The rest of the kids are scattered around
the room. Lounging on the floor, Prissy is using Ella’s thigh as a pillow while Whitney braids both girls hair. Ava and Spyder are sprawled on Baby Ez’s bed. Niel is wandering around the room, peeking into drawers, poking around, trying to figure out why a kid would need the items. The spy in enemy territory, Torian, is memorizing every detail to take back to his nosy family.

“I wish you could have met your Grandmother Celeste,” I wistfully say. “She was the perfect mommy. She’d bake cookies, timing it just right so that when we got home from school they were warm and the house smelled like butter and sugar. She’d read us stories and play games with us and pull us into her bed to watch scary movies…”

I’m quiet for a moment, quickly running a fingertip beneath my watering eye. “I…”

“I’m sorry, Cort,” Niel sympathetically says, fingers frozen on Baby Ez’s old pacifier. “I was four when I thought I’d lost both my parents… on the same night. I
eventually got them back, but…” Niel looks around, seeing upset girls and captivated toddlers. “You know the story, no sense repeating it.”

“Thanks, Niel. Sometimes it feels good to talk about Mom versus everyone keeping quiet and forgetting she ever existed. But then I look in the mirror and see Mom staring back at me, or Ezra will do something that triggers a memory. That’s why kids are fabulous. Those gray eyes of Baby Ez’s are my mom’s, the same with Ezra and me.
It’s the mark of a Hunter.”

“What about my eyes, Dad?” Ava chirps.

“No, sweetheart. Yours are closer to blue. It’s the Holden eye color. Your eyes are like Grandma Diane, Aunt Pearl, and Divina’s. Which is amazing since if I look at you, I don’t feel as lonely for them. They’re always with me.”

“Me, Daddy,” Azriel demands
, tugging on my earlobe to gain my attention. “What about me!”

I softly chuckle, loving how demanding my baby girl is. “Az, your eyes are just like Mommy’s. Big, green, and endlessly compelling.”

“I… I like the idea, ya know? The idea of seeing yourself in your child,” Niel mutters to me but it’s directed at someone else entirely. I give the kid props for not allowing his eyes to flick towards the girl.

“Switch?” Ezra asks me from the doorway. I hadn’t even seen or heard him arrive. “I’d like some alone time with my
kids. Sorry to push you all out, but I had Martha make her chocolate cake as an incentive.”

Torian splits before the word chocolate gets out of Ezra’s mouth. That kid is obsessed with food. “You guys better hurry. You know Torian can polish off a desert in seven seconds flat,” I warn as I crawl out from between my kids.

Ava tries to make a break for it, knowing Ezra wants to talk to her about something important. “No,” Ezra breathes, fingers latching onto Ava’s thin wrist. “I miss you,” he breathes. “And I made sure Martha saved you a piece of cake, so there is no reason to run off. Sit with me,” he pleadingly looks at Ava, fingers rubbing her wrist.

“Ladies, we better hurry or I’ll have to kick Tori’s ass again today,” Niel tauntingly warns.

“It was a draw,” Ella teases, rolling her eyes. “Tori’s smaller than you. If you guys were the same size, he’d kick your ass back to Sunday.”

“Thanks, sis, thanks a lot,” Niel growls. “I’m taking up martial arts, and then we shall see…”

A sinister giggle turns my blood cold, and I try to hear it as my daughter, not Ray. Spyder and Ava share a taunting laugh, conspiratorially whispering and rolling their eyes at Niel. Teenaged girls can be such little bitches.

“I’ll go, too,” I say to Ezra when it’s just us and the kids in the bedroom. “I’ve monopolized them enough for one day.”

“You don’t have to,” Ezra softly murmurs, reaching out for my hand. “I want you to stay.”

“I
already know what you’re going to talk to them about, and you know my thoughts,” I stress. “Plus, I need to nail down that chick that keeps avoiding me.”

“Avoiding me, too,
or so it seems.” Ezra runs his fingers through his hair, and then breathes out a long-suffering sigh. “You and I need to talk about that, too, and then her.”

“Yeah… I’ll see ya in about an hour,” I quickly say, ducking out of the room before Ezra tries for that conversation right now. The one he’s having is an easier conversation: stay here and wait to get ShadowHaven back from Faith, or look for a new house of our own- start fresh. I threw a fit, saying I’d never give up on ShadowHaven.
After I stopped screaming and started crying, Ezra said he’d ask us all before we decided.

“Going out again?” I ask Katya as she tries to skulk away, thinking I didn’t see her in the hallway.

“Judging me again, Cortez,” She defiantly hisses, red hair flying around her face as she angrily shakes her head back and forth.

“Just wondering if you were going to acknowledge the existence of two of the three human beings you brought into this world, is all. Curious as to why Restraint is so important when that room is filled with your family.” I point to the twins’ bedroom door.

“What do you care?” Kat hisses.

“I care a lot- a
whole helluva lot,” I slowly enunciate each and every word. “Our children need a mother.”

“They already have a mother,” Katya snarls, pointing at my chest. “Daddy is in there with them right now after
Mommy
spent all day with them. Don’t look so fucking shocked, Cortez. That’s all you wanted from me, isn’t it? I was just the surrogate for you and Ez, isn’t that right?”

“What the hell crawled up your ass and died?” Calling Katya a bitch would be disrespectful, but it
thickly hangs in the air as if I said it anyway.

“I’m g
etting smarter- less naïve,” Katya calmly says, leaning against the hallway wall, defensively crossing her arms over her chest as she glares into my eyes.

“
You
are the one who demanded that Ezra and I got back together and now you’re pissed?” I incredulously stress.

“Cort,” Katya sighs out, anger
dissipating. “This isn’t going as I’d planned- this conversation. I love you. I love Ezra. You love each other and need to be together. I always wondered where I would fit when it happened… and now I know.”

“
What? Katya, you are important to us,” I cry out, barely leashing my need to reach out and comfort the woman who has shared my life for four years. But Katya is right on one thing, I’ve never truly let her in- we’ve never bonded like she has with Ezra.

“Important to Ezra, but we both know that you and I a
re nothing, not really… I don’t want to talk about this, not yet.”

“Ezra, you, and I, our issues
shouldn’t have anything to do with the twins. No matter what happens, they are your children. If anything, think of how Ava will feel if you ignore her siblings. I… I lost my mom, Kitten. She’s gone- dead,” my voice breaks from age-old grief. “I’d do anything to get her back. Please, just try… don’t do this to our children. Don’t be a living ghost that haunts them and makes them feel inadequate and worthless,” I plead.

“I am,” Katya mutters in defeat. “I am, Cort. I’m trying. I haven’t told anyone, but I’m seeing a therapist to deal with this stuff. I just get so angry, and I don’t know why.” Katya bends at the waist, bowing her spine, and covers her face with her hands.
She quietly sobs, bleeding out pain and frustration that have been building for years. I long to comfort Katya, but I have no idea how.

“Our relationship
isn’t going as I’d dreamed, but it sure as shit is going as I’d expected. The resentment is making me bitter and hateful and bitchy and emotionally closed off… and angry,” Katya snarls. “So fucking angry. I just have to scream, to do something to let the… fury out. That is why I go to Restraint. It’s either that, or I’d physically hurt you and Ezra. It was too fast, everything was too fast. I never dealt with the pain… the trauma… the rape… the… the… the violations, the betrayals, and all the lies. Even now, you all lie to my face.”

“What?” I mutter, feeling lost.

“Fuck you,” Katya shouts, fist striking out, hitting me in the stomach. With a grunt, I sink to the floor onto my knees. I gasp for air, lungs not expanding.

“Oh God,” Katya cries, dropping to the floor next to me, hands hovering over my stomach,
but not touching. “I didn’t mean it, Cort. I really didn’t. See what I mean? I can’t control it. You… you were still lying to me, even now… even after… after everything,” Katya sobs out. “I saw him, Cort. I saw him.”

“Saw who,” I gasp out
while rolling onto my hands and knees, trying to some air into my lungs.

“The boy, Cort. I saw the boy
…” Katya lets her statement dangle while I’m lost in shocked silence.

“
I was coming into Dexter’s room when I overheard Dexter and Syn talking about me. Dexter was defending me, yelling at Syn for being nasty to me, for always baiting me. Dexter said,
quit being a bitch because you’re jealous
. Syn got really angry, and she just screamed a name. Syn screamed
Zane
, and then she flew from the room and right into me. Syn punched me in the face, and then ran before I could defend myself.”

“Shit,” I hiss, emotions running in a million
different directions, having no idea what I think.

“I ask
ed Ezra. I asked him who Zane was, and he said absolutely nothing. He just looked me in the eyes with the same expression you now wear on your face, like you got caught red-handed. I just walked away… done. I couldn’t deal without the truth, so I followed Syn for three days until she went somewhere with her family… and there he was… Ezra… a child Ezra… Ezra’s son Zane,” Katya breathes, voice quivering with agony. “Ezra’s son he shares with Syn… and a pregnant Syn… and the security guard Levi… and Torian Spencer, whose resemblance is obvious now that I’m not blinded by his skin color… they are a family. Pregnant Mother, Father, and boys…”

“I. Know. Exactly. How. You. Felt. In. That. Moment.”
I tip Katya’s face to my gaze with my fingertips on her chin. “I’m sorry. I will explain.”

“I don’t want an explanation
,” Katya says in a dead voice. “At least not from you, Cortez. It should be from Ezra. I gave him the chance. I tried again after I found out and had proof. I even showed Ez the pictures I snapped with my cell phone… and nothing. Not a word of the truth. I need no explanation. Zane’s age, Zane’s mother, and the lies are enough explanation, don’t you think?”

“Actually, I do,” I murmur. Having nothing more
to say about that, I pull Katya into my arms. I know all too well how Ezra’s betrayals and lies makes a person feel after being on the receiving end of this exact betrayal.

I offer Katya the only comfort I can provide. “Every day we meet people, not knowing if they will impact our lives, or how they will impact our lives. Are they your future, your downfall, an enemy or a friend… or do they simply show you what is wrong or right with your life? I don’t know, Katya, but I’m so fucking sorry.”

The Hunter: Past
     
-Chapter Twenty-One-

My mother alway
s said that a first impression was the most important thing, so make sure you’re not being an ass. Yes, my mom’s version wasn’t as flowery as the actual saying, but much more colorful. Plus, I may be charming, but I’m a charming ass.

First impressions are important. But I don’t believe in being fake
because it’s always harmed me. Be real, be yourself, because you never know if that person you are meeting will change your life.

I’ve met thousands of people, and I’ve always used my charm upon meeting them- I was fake, not me, not real. I showed the acquaintance a side of me that I publicly project because I wasn’t sure they
would like me- Cortez Hunter: the bastard, the orphan, the whipping boy, the sexually confused. When someone describes me, they just say charming. Why? Because they don’t know me, that’s why.

A few times I was so throw
n upon meeting a new person that I was unable to project the image I’ve crafted- I was real, and those people changed my world.

-The meeting of Marcus Zeitler-

“Ugh! I’m dying,” I grunt, holding the stitch in my side. “No more running,” I gasp. I drop to the foyer floor and sigh in bliss as the cold marble cools my overheated skin.

“You need the exercise, chubby,” Ezra taunts me, crouching down on his heels, and
then poking me in my blubber gut. Ezra makes a silly Pillsbury Doughboy sound, and I flick his hand away in disgust. If I weren’t panting for my life, I’d be cursing him.

“I’m starting to think you quit soccer because you’re lazy,” Ezra chuckles, tormenting me some more by yanking off his
sweaty t-shirt and proving that he’s lean and starting to develop cut muscles- the bastard.

“I didn’t
quit
,” I twist the word. “I was told never to come back.” I roll to my side and sit up.

“You shouldn’t have used Caleb’s head as a soccer ball, just saying,” Ezra sounds disappointed in me for bei
ng mean to his buddy. I’d punted Caleb in the head because he
is
Ezra’s buddy. I don’t make friends, and I can’t afford for anyone to steal Ezra from me. It didn’t work, though. Now Ezra and Caleb are on the soccer team together… without me to interfere. My bad.

“Caleb Green is a d-bag,
just saying,” I snarl. “I don’t see why you like him so much.”

“Lazy,” Ezra repeats, holding out a hand for me. I slap my hand in
to his palm and he pulls my exhausted ass to my feet with a grunt.

“Nothing new there,” I mumble. “I like being lazy.”

“You’re not sitting on your ass all summer. I’ll think of something outdoorsy to do that you won’t bitch about too much.” Ezra looks at me like I’m the one who throws temper tantrums. Not true!

“I like my fat ass,” I taunt myself, slapping my butt and smiling when the smacking sound reverberates around the foyer.

A deep laugh fills the space, flowing into my ears and curling in my belly. Wide-eyed with embarrassment, blushing bright red, I turn to the guy who’s laughing at me. My mouth pops open. I yank Ezra’s sweaty shirt from his hands to hold it over my belly, covering my embarrassing body because the dude before me shouldn’t see my baby fat.

Leaning against the archway into the living room is a boy, a very handsome boy. I don’t know what he looks like when he’s not laughing, because his smile dominates his
entire face. Huge brown eyes glow from a mop of silky black ringlets. I blush harder for some reason.

“Oh, this is going to be interesting,” the guy says in a smooth, deep voice that makes him sound a lot older than he is. He’s still a teenager, I can tell. But he’s got a man’s voice.

“I didn’t know you’d be here today,” Ezra growls, looking mighty pissed. He forcefully yanks his t-shirt back and stalks up the staircase. For a suspended second, my hands stay right where they were, and then I cover myself like a total pussy.

“Ummm… I… err… umm…” I gnaw on my bottom lip, unsure
of what I’m trying to say. I settle on, “who the hell are you?”

I shudder when that laugh hits my ears
again. “Hello,” is twisted with amusement. “I’m Marcus Zeitler.”

“Well, bully for you,” I snidely mutter. “That doesn’t really tell me much. Why does Ezra know who you are and I don’t?” I pout, upset that Ezra is keeping things from me.

Laugh lingering on his lips, he cocks his head to the side and runs his eyes over me. Unbidden, my hands drop, and I expose my belly. A dark brow arches as a wicked grin curls his lips. “Oh,” he purrs in a very deep voice, “this is going to be interesting, my naughty boy.”

“Cortez,” my mother calls with her chastising tone. Her command to behave proceeds her into the foyer from the living room. “You’re not being mean to Diane’s
fiancé are you?”

I scowl, and I don’t know why. Upset for some unknown reason, I start to cry.

-Ghosts of Ezra’s Past-

I hate meetings, and I really hate the game. This is a huge waste of my time. So kind of Madam
e Game Master to have the meetings at night to fit into everyone’s schedule- everyone’s but mine. No one gets it. Just because I don’t have a nine-to-five doesn’t mean I don’t work. I can’t hold office hours because inspiration and creativity
do not
cater to a specific time table. You are either in the headspace or you aren’t- end of story. Do I work a forty-hour work week? No, I could work ten hours or all one hundred and sixty eight hours of a week- I’ve done it before. I work when my muse tells me, and right now my muse is pissed the fuck off that I have to sit at Meyers Manor in a hard chair, smushing my nuts into the wood while listening to a bunch of pompous fucktards gloat over sticking it to the next fucktard.

Waste. Of. Fucking. Time.

Why am I here? As with everything, I am here because Ezra wants me here or because Ezra did something that caused me to be here- both are equally true. Good ol’ Uncle Ray left his seat as The Hunter vacant, and I was the only bastard left to take it. ‘Cuz the whipping boy gets the dirty jobs while Elder Holden gets the throne.

I gaze at the gorgeous woman next to me. Gwendolyn Meyers is… perfect in all ways, absolutely perfect. Blonde, blue-eyed, hourglass figure with huge tits and a sweet heart-shaped ass, soft spoken, and petite and protectable. Gwen is my Elder, the one that orders me around, which she doesn’t because Wil picks up my slack.

Am I lazy? Oh, yeah.

Do I give a fuck? No.

Would I protect my Elder? Not on your life.

Do I make plays? Not a one.

Do I sit here bored out of my skull while creating alternate endings to their plays and envisioning myself shooting them in their smug faces? Every second.

Why am I still here? The white-
haired bastard, sitting like he’s the king of the fucking world, is why. We share everything, every experience, and Ezra couldn’t leave me out of this one, either. I wish he had. I don’t have the stomach for it.

Waiting on the
gavel-banging bitch, I feel a pang of regret. How can you miss someone so much when you hate their fucking guts? I don’t know, but I manage it. Hell, I hate Ezra as much as I love him. I’m not even sure I like Ezra as a person. As much as I hate Faith, I really like her as a person. I’m really confusing myself.

“Sit next to your grandmother,” Faith’s soft voice flows before she enters the living room. I glance around, seeing that everyone that has been here for the past few years is accounted for. A boy skips into the room, actually skips. He’s kind of short, but stocky. Soft brown curls frame an adorable mocha skinned face. Oh, Boyd’s son Torian is joining the family business, I see.

Except young Torian doesn’t skip to his grandmother’s side- the woman I didn’t swear to protect. He happily walks over to his parents and hops onto his dad’s lap. His infectious giggle has me smiling right along with everyone else. The boy has to be around thirteen years old, and he’s fucking with us. I can spot a player at ten yards. Young Torian is trying to appear meek and stupid. My assessment rings true when the brat winks at me.

“Ugh,” I gasp, flying out of my chair until my back hits the wall, and still, it’s not far enough away. Panting, drawing in breath at a rapid rate, my vision begins to fade around the edges. “Wha… what?” I mumble.

A ghost. A ghost of Ezra’s past walks towards me. A perfect rendering of the Ezra I knew when I was a twelve year old boy. Tall, lanky, huge gray eyes and white hair. Except this visage of Ezra has a big mop of white ringlets brushing his jawline.

Heart pounding in my throat, chest rapidly rising and falling, I make a sound of an injured animal. I am an injured animal. My heart is bleeding out. How can you miss someone that you didn’t
even know existed? In this moment, I miss twelve years of mediocre events and important life stages, and it’s all Ezra’s fault. 

Ezra never admitted it.

No matter who was tortured, Ezra kept his mouth shut. When asked outright, he’d deny it. I knew. I’ve always known. I even know that there is another ghost of Ezra’s past safely waiting in Pennsylvania for when Ezra’s mental health improves- if his mental health improves.

Knowing and seeing are two very different
beasts. The pain, the betrayal is instantaneous and explosive.

Feeling faint, vision shot to shit, I can only hear the pounding of my blood and my labored breath. “What’s your name?” I ask the boy who approaches me, the boy who is now
righting my chair to sit in next to his grandmother.

“Zane,” he very softly replies, eyeing me cautiously like I’m not all right
. He’s right, I’ll never be right again.

“Who is your father?” I roughly ask. Wil steps between us, protecting the boy from me. I want to ask why, because I’d never hurt a piece of Ezra,
no matter how much I may hate Ezra’s fucking guts right now. It’s not the boy’s fault his father is a worthless, lying, betraying piece of shit.

“My birth certificate says Leviticus Wilson,” Zane trails off, silently adding that we all know that’s bullshit.

I veer around Wil, and stare the boy down, and he stares right back at me with endless patience. Inventorying Zane’s features, I see me- I see a lot of me. Meaning I see Ezra. Zane is
ours
. Wil tries to get between us again and my expression warps. I have no idea what my face looks like, but the badass enforcer looks like he wants to cry for me.

Hating the pity, I sprint across the room, fastest move I’ve ever made in my
entire lackadaisical life. “Tell me the truth,” I scream into Ezra’s face as he sits before me. “Is Zane your son?”

“No,” Ezra quietly denies and the meeting room fills with
uncomfortable laughs of shock, titters, and an outpouring of outrage from several of the game players.

I quickly look at Zane, and now my face hold
s the same pain and pity Wil’s did for me. I close my eyes, feeling disgusted that Ezra would deny our blood the right to be called ours. As a son to a father that never claimed me, I hate Ezra for denying this precious child the right to call him father.

Right now, Ezra doesn’t deserve Zane.

“I’ve done so much for you… over this,” I scream, pounding my fists onto my thighs like Faith used to do when she was frustrated. “I… I… you know what I’ve had to do for you,” I sinisterly growl, eyes narrowing with hatred. “And yet you still deny Zane. It’s not about me. It’s about him,” I shout as I point at the calm boy sitting between his grandmother and his ‘father’.

With a primal scream, I launch myself at Ezra- words, fists, teeth, and nails
as my weapons. Faith is next.

-Who’s the
Daddy?-

Nine months- for nine months I’ve heard nothing but,
I hope it’s Cortez’s babies
. Really? How selfless of you, Ezra. Who wouldn’t want a replica of themselves?

There is no one left in my family, not really. I don’t have a dad, my mom is dead, Ray is in prison- thank Heavens. Ezra is my family, but I really wish he wasn’t. I’m not fond of being in love with my cousin. Real fun explai
ning our incestuous relationship to our kids. Even though I’m raising Ava as my daughter, she’s not. Ava is my blood, though, so we both feel the connection- the connection not one single person acknowledges.

So yes, I want a child of my own. But I’m not
selfish, not really. Ezra and Katya are husband and wife in all ways. Ava is
their
daughter, not mine. What if they are just keeping me around because they pity me? What if it is pity, and then the babies are mine? It would complicate everything. If the babies are Ezra’s, and they get sick of me, they’d still be a nuclear family: Mother, father, daughter, and the babies.

My manliness has been a big issue for me. I was a fat kid. Everyone says I wasn’t, but I felt like a fat kid. And it doesn’t matter that I have tiny abs and no
belly fat right now, I still feel like that fat kid. It never mattered how many women I charmed into my bed, I still felt inadequate. Now… now I struggle with being in a relationship with Ezra. Because let’s face it, if it came down to me and Ezra, he’s the man- the husband. Knowing Ezra is strong and virile, I just don’t see how my pussy sperm could have impregnated Katya. I just don’t see it.