The Hunter (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (20 page)

Every month closer to the twins’
birth the worse the anxiety got- the more they oooed and awwed over me being the daddy, trying to include me, the worse I felt. Like I don’t realize I’m already the third wheel. Katya doesn’t love me, not like she loves Ezra. I’m only here because Ezra wants me to be, and I’m too jealous and territorial to leave.

I’d made myself a promise when I found out that Katya was pregnant: if the child isn’t mine, I’m stepping away. I can’t interfere anymore. I’m in the way of their happily ever after. I love Ezra enough to put him first, to leave him happy.

I was writing a goodbye letter when I heard the shout. Katya’s water broke, flooding the kitchen floor. I had quickly dialed nine-one-one, and ignored the irony that one of our paramedics was my enforcer partner, Leviticus Wilson. Never seeing Wil smile in his life, I almost fainted when he flashed me the most brilliant smile I’ve ever seen. A cheerful and very efficient red head that Wil called Cory helped us into the ambulance… that was five hours ago. How long does it take to birth a baby? I really should have read those books Ezra bought me.

Solidifying
my resolve over leaving is the fact that I’m not even allowed in the room with Katya and Ezra. I’m left out in the hallway with Marc, Diane, and Ava. Actually, Ava was allowed to go into the room, but she didn’t have the stomach to listen to her mother’s screams. I’m just some random dude. They’d asked if I was a friend of the family. I said I was family, and then they pointed me in the direction of the waiting room. How do you say,
no, I’m the third of this triad relationship with my cousin, my male cousin?
You can’t, that’s how. So husband and wife and their loving daughter await the miraculous event of birth- the birth of their twins. Twins that even if they are my blooded children won’t legally be mine because children born in a marriage belong within the marriage- nice law, that.

Legally, mentally, emotionally, and physically… I. Am. Fucked.

“Cort,” Marcus tries to gain my attention as he keeps pace with my pacing. He’s tried to get me to stop for the past three hours. It was really funny when he stuck his foot out and tripped me. I now have a skinned knee and a bruised shin, but I’m still pacing. Marcus, the slapstick comedian.

“A life-altering decision depends on the outcome, back off,” I fiercely warn, and Marcus actually cringes away.

“What decision?” Marc mutters. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?” I shake my head, but before I finish the movement, Marc says, “of course you are.”

A girly sound that I can’t possibly
recreate with letters of the alphabet erupts from my daughter’s throat. After my ears adjust, I realize what it means. I slowly turn, scared shitless, ready to piss my pants.

“This wouldn’t happen to be yours, would it?” Ezra ask
s, smirking like a sonofabitch. Extended in his arms is a screeching baby, mouth wide open, releasing a primal scream, little fists shaking their wrath into the air. “’Cuz, I’m pretty sure she belongs to you. Nobody cries like you do.”

“Mine,” I mutter. “She…” I point at the flailing creature. “That’s mine?”

“Unless Katya smuggled some other gorgeous Hispanic man into our bed when I wasn’t looking, I’d say this baby girl belongs to you,” Ezra snarkily says, eyeing the gorgeous tan skin on the demon child.

“Holy shit, my sperm aren’t pussies,” I hiss in awe as Marc chokes on his tongue. “She’s my monster.” I reach for my baby. Ezra gently settles the snarling, pissed off creature into my arms. Ezra’s hands linger for a moment, touching me and the baby at the same time. He stares at me
, and then the baby, over and over his eyes flick while he cries and smiles.

As soon as Ezra’s hands slip free of my child,
she shuts up, blinks her tiny eyelids, and then pins me with her fierce emerald stare. Puffs of red hair dot her head. No mistaking she is Katya’s daughter. But I see me, too. She looks like me, her features. So she looks like Ezra, too. But mostly, she looks like a tan, red-headed version of my mother. It’s the skin and her attitude that announces me as the father.

I look up, seeing Ezra standing near me with another bundle, this one in a blue bla
nket. Hope blooms in my soul. We can start again- anew. I missed out on Zane- we missed out on Ava. But we will know what it was like for our half-grown children as we raise these twins together.

“
His name…” I swallow a half a dozen times. “His name should be… Marcus Zane Zeitler, but let’s just call him Baby Ez for short, since he looks just like you,” I murmur to Ezra.

“I… really like that idea,” Ezra chokes out on a sob. “Thank you,” he mutters, not bothering to wipe the tears from his eyes since his arms are full of Baby Ez.

“My mother’s name was Celeste Azriel. But she was an original. So I think we have another original cradled in my arms. Azriel Celeste Hunter, and I’d like her to have the surname Zeitler, if that’s okay with you, Marc. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a dad,” I sincerely say, but Marc won’t look at me. I’ve never seen Marcus cry, and I don’t now, because he’s hiding his face with his hands.

“Thank you,” Marcus whispers between his fingers
, tears filling his voice.

“Hell, I don’t even know if a Julian Abernathy exists
in reality or if my mother just made him up. She would never tell me when I asked. I’d change my last name to Zeitler if you’d give the okay. Then we’d all be a real family.”

“You should… you really should,” Ezra mumbles, nodding his head right along with his words. “Or go back to Hunter in honor of Celeste, it’s your decision. But a family name should come from your family. We’re your family.”

The fire alarm screaming from my tiny child’s mouth stops all conversation. “What do you think, Azriel? What should Daddy do?” As soon as I speak, she shuts up like I flipped a switch.

I look to Ezra, holding his
watery gaze. Never did I think Ezra and I could share a child together, let alone children. It was physically and genetically impossible. “I’m a dad,” I say in wonder, “to
our
children.”

The Hunter
: Past
-Chapter Twenty-Two-

Morning, evening, midday…
I don’t know. All I know is that we’re alone. But for how long? How long does it take for Raymond Hunter to get bored with his toy? Quite a while, actually.

Our sustenance consists of chicken wings and beer from the ‘fine dining’ establishment that is situated on the same lot as the motel. How do I know it’s a fine dining restaurant? I read anything and everything I can get my hands on. The only piece of paper in the hotel room besides shit paper is a pamphlet advertising the motel and restaurant.

I know we’re on the Cowanesque Lake, and Ray is too cheap to buy us anything on the attached menu that isn’t chicken wings. If I survive this, I’m never drinking again. I’ve lived off of tap water and beer for Lord knows how many days.

Oh, we’re alone, but Ray is still here. He’s bought up a block of rooms. Three or four, I don’t know. I lost count. I can usually count higher than three, but with all the beer and the tranquilizers and no food or sleep…
and the beatings… I’m not thinking clearly.

Ray is next door with the not-a-whore. She’s screaming again. She’s screaming loud enough for us to hear it through the open door between our attached rooms, but not loud enough to attract notice from the three people on site- the three people that are in the restaurant,
and nowhere near the motel. Not-a-whore could be dying over there and no one would hear her- well, we would.

Ezra keeps trying to talk to me. He uses the girl’s torment as his opportunity to apologize and tell me things I refuse to listen to. He keeps talking of games and elders and enforcers and game masters and The Meyers and The Holden and The Whittenhower and The Fontaine and The Simpson and The Green and The Spencer. Ezra says names I know. People I personally know. But how can I concentrate when the not-a-whore is screaming,
please help me? No, not that. Oh, God, that hurts.
How can I concentrate on anything else?

Ezra is being
a selfish prick.

All I can think is,
did she scream like that for me when I raped her nineteen times? Did I hurt her as badly as Ray is right now?
When she quiets down, I fear that she is dead. But then again, she may welcome the sweet release of death to free her from her torments. I know I would.

“How does that work?” Ezra’s eager protégé asks. Unlike me, Aaron is paying attention, hanging on to every word Ezra speaks. He’s absorbing the information and asking a steady stream of questions.

How can they compartmentalize this shit? Can’t they hear not-a-whore screaming for help? Don’t they care that a man is in there tormenting and raping and torturing an innocent girl?

Are they so desensitized to it after watching Ray fuck whore number one three time
s, and then good ol’ Uncle Ray forced me to fuck her six times… and then there was whore number two, Ray had her once, after I had her three times. Whore number two was too loose so Ray let her go… whatever that means. Ray let whore number one go after he strangled her because she was too lifeless of a fuck, so she might as well be truly lifeless. I don’t even want to remember what happened next.

At what point did Ezra and Aaron stop caring? Was it when not-a-whore was brought in to make up for the disappointment of whore number two? Because Ezra and Aaron freaked the fuck out when they saw whore number one’s lifeless body being used by Ray.

I just sat in stunned silence with my eyes glued to the dirty carpeting as Aaron screamed bloody murder until Ezra had to punch him quiet… and then Ezra got up and started beating on his father’s back. Surprisingly Ray didn’t touch Ezra. Ray simply turned, looking over his shoulder at his son, but whatever that look portrayed… it had Ezra backing up and dragging Aaron with him. They locked themselves in the bathroom while I sat in the corner, frozen in shock.

The bathroom no longer has a door…

Thankfully Ray is very pleased with not-a-whore, I’ve had her nineteen times, and Ray keeps dragging her to the other room for hours at a time. As long as she keeps bleating like a dying animal, Ray keeps fucking her.

“Your job will be to make the plays I put into action,” Ezra says, not giving a shit that the screaming stopped. I stare at the door, willing not-a-whore to make some kind of sound to prove she’s still alive. It’s not above reason that she could be dead. It’s not like I have
n’t watched Ray kill a woman, and I’m pretty sure he murdered number two while we were tranquilized.

“No one will listen to me,” Aaron whines, and I hate him for it. “I’m too small. They’ll just laugh.”

“It’s not about size, it’s about power. It won’t matter who you are, because you will be
my
enforcer. We all have to follow the rules. To break a rule means you have to go before Faith, and no one wants that…”

“Faith’s nice,” Aaron mirrors my thoughts.

“Not anymore. Not in the game. Faith takes her job as Game Master very seriously, and you should too. Cort, are you even listening? This is important,” Ezra tries to gain my attention.

Eyes still locked on the door, willing not-a-whore to be alive, I mutter,
“Life is more important than a stupid game I refuse to play. Force me all ya want… I hear ya, I know the rules… and I don’t give a shit. Don’t worry, I won’t break the rules because every fucking one of you is just as insane as Ray. Leave. Me. Alone… until I need to take another punishment, please. I’m done.”

“Cort,” Aaron whines, and I don’t even have the energy to glare at him.

“Shh… Aaron. Cortez needs his space. You know at home that he needs alone time every day or he gets bitchy,” Ezra placates like a little insane bitch.

Alone time… that’s what you call sitting here like a zombie, listening to the silence of death?

Alone time.

Bitchy.

Aaron was hit twice, so fucking what?

And then there is Prince Ezra, excuse me, Elder Holden. The Holden hasn’t been touched or hit or screamed at or made to fuck or forced to rape. He hasn’t had a boot pressing down on his throat or on his nuts. He hasn’t been punched and kicked and slapped and shoved.

And all of this would stop if Ezra would just admit that he fucked Faith and knocked her up. That’s it. But as usual, Ezra blames everything on his DID. Everything.

Ezra never takes
responsibility for his actions because he’s never had to suffer the consequences.

I do.

I am the orphan. I’ve been the billionaire’s whipping boy since birth, I just didn’t know it until now.

Drawing my knees to my chest and curling my arms around my legs, I sit, staring at the silent door. I don’t cry. I don’t speak. I’m just as silent as the dead.

And she is dead, I can feel it. It’s been minutes without sound. Not-a-whore is no more. I… I can’t… I can’t do number four. I won’t survive it.

Cortez Abernathy
: Present
-Chapter Twenty-Three-

Kneeling beside the sofa, n
uzzling my nose along the soft skin beneath Katya’s ear, I rouse her from her nap. “Is my Kitten tired?” I tease, peppering kisses all over her face and neck. “Hmm?”

A palm flies out and lands against my forehead, with a forceful shove, Katya says, “cut the shit, Cortez.”

“Ah, still pissed at me, I see,” I murmur, smirking, as I sit back on my heels. Katya rolls from her sleeping position on her office’s sofa to sit as far away from me as humanly possible.

“I’m not mad,” Katya sighs out. “But I don’t want to play pretend
anymore. The past three years have been hard enough.”

“What do you mean?”
I ask, sliding to my butt to sit cross-legged on the carpeting in front of Kat. I exude calm, serenity. I know Katya is upset, angry even, and I want her to trust me enough to open up to me. She and I may not be on the best of terms right now, but I do care for her, and it’s killing me that she is in pain. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t at least listen when I know I cannot fix it?

“This,” Kat points between me and her. “This prelude to sex that will leave us both feeling like s
hit. You don’t want to touch me,” her voice quivers with rejection and I want to deny the claim that I want her when I don’t. But I didn’t touch Katya for sex. I wanted comfort and I wanted to comfort Katya at the same time.

“Kitten, that’s bullshit,” I angrily hiss, moving to kneel before
her, getting right into her face. Green eyes clash with my gray. “I wasn’t touching you for sex, goddammit! I was touching you because I love you, and needed to touch you. You’re hurting and I wanted to comfort you, to take comfort from you.”

“Oh,” Katya deflate
s, falling back on the sofa. She reaches out and takes my hand, fingers tightly wrapping around mine. “You and I need to talk,” she says the words every man on the face of the planet dreads. “If… if I knew you were only touching me because it’s affection, the pressure would dissipate. I can’t touch you sexually anymore. It makes me feel… bad.”

“Why?” I gasp in surprise.

“Cort,
LOOK
,” Katya points at my crotch, at my limp dick. I walk around with a perpetual bulge in my pants- always. I’m a big guy, so it’s always really freaking obvious.

“I…” I stumble over my words, speechless.
Staring down at my junk, my face scrunches in confusion. “Um… I must have just broke,” I tease to cover my mortification.

“
I seriously doubt that,” Katya snidely says, rolling her eyes. Her tone is purely offended, rejected. “Has that ever happened before?” Katya prompts, still staring at my broken junk as if she is willing it to fill with blood. Katya stares at my crotch with determination, as if it’s important that I be aroused by her.

“Once,” I admit, lips twitching into a
wicked smirk. “Well, shit… I guess this makes sense, now... My dick doesn’t like my wives.”

“Divina?” Katya gasps in shock
, but it’s instantly replaced with relief. “This happened with Divina, too?” she asks filled with hope- if a woman as beautiful and desirable as Divina couldn’t arouse me then maybe Katya isn’t an old hag either.

I brilliantly smile to put Katya at ease. It’s not her failings that has my cock deflated. I sigh in exhaustion as I slide back down to the carpeting to sit on my ass.

“Alright, let’s drop the shit, shall we? I’m going to talk to you like I talk to Divina. I think that will help us. Because you’re right, I feel like shit after we fuck, too. So… I love you, Kitten,” I profess as I reach out to take her hands again. “I think you are an incredibly gorgeous woman.”

“I thought you said we were dropping the shit,” Katya snarls. “This smells
a lot like shit to me, Cortez… like you’re complimenting me before you insult me.”

“In a way,” I admit. “But I didn’t lie
to you about anything I just said. I’d meant it… When you came back to us, I was jealous of you, angry. But I genuinely like you as a person, enjoy being around you. Ezra, being Ezra, had to make it more. I… did it for him, like I always do everything. You and I, we both feel the divide and it’s making us nuts, resentful.”

“I know,” Katya breathes, and she looks extremely relieved, happy even. I smile
, feeling good, light, for the first time in three years.

“I love you,
” I profess. “I truly do. I love and respect you as the mother of my children, and I’m glad you’re the mother of my children. Do I see you as a wife? No. A lover? No. My friend? Yes. But how I feel for you is more of a brotherly affection- it’s exactly how I feel about Divina. And I will admit, it’s how I’ve always felt about Faith- as I’ve felt about all the women Ezra has pushed upon me. What I feel for you is uncomplicated: Responsibility. Respect. Love. Happiness. And I wish you the best in every endeavor. But I’m not your man, and we both know it.”

“Thank you,” Katya breathes. Crying, but she doesn’t look sad. “Thank you
for finally being honest with me, for finally opening up to me and telling me the truth.”

“I can’t tell Ez, not yet. I’m not ready to lose him
after I just got him back. I need some more time with him.” I cover my face with my hands, heart beating into hyper-drive inside my chest. My body breaks out in a thick sweat but I shiver with cold. I agreed to share Katya to keep Ezra. I’ve always known that Katya was nonnegotiable. I was either with Ezra
and
Katya, as their third wheel, or I lost Ezra forever.

“Oh… no…” Katya murmurs, hands seeking my face. “I think we both feel the same way
right now, Cort. I should have realized that. We’re so much alike, so we feel the same things. I… you think Ezra will leave you if you tell the truth, and I think Ezra will leave me if I tell the truth. Truth?”

“Truth,” I agree
, emphatically shaking my head. “I guess we need to work this out between us, and then eventually go to Ezra.”

“This is a start, a really good start, Cort. Thank you,” Kitten repeats. “Thank you…. Now tell me about you and Divina. That worked really well for you two, maybe we can do that,” Katya hopefully says.

“Oh, Divina,” I laugh. “We were really good. Truly. If I had a sister, she would be Divina. Divina
is
my sister. I’ll tell you something I’ve never told another human being. I could never go through with it. I lied. Divina lied. Every day on our honeymoon, Divina tried to seduce me, and every day I went limp. It was… a phenomenon. Christ,” I hiss, rubbing a hand through my hair. “Divina is fucking hot. One of the hottest women I’ve ever seen. And she was fresh, innocent, and offering herself to me,” I shudder for a myriad of reasons- seeing a young, virginal Divina stripping for me in my mind’s eye. “I couldn’t do it.”

“What did you guys do?” Katya mutters in awe, green eyes wide with shock. I laugh at the little pouty O her lips create.

“After a very awkward last day of our honeymoon where Divina used the handle of her hairbrush to rid herself of the evidence of being a married virgin, we went about life. We shared a bed at night, but instead of sex, we’d play games and gossip. She’d kept a pen on the nightstand, and we’d play hangman and tic-tac-toe on my arm with ink while we gossiped and talk about our affairs. I’d offer advice on how to… touch a man. And after Divina fell asleep, I’d go back to my room so my nightmares wouldn’t wake her.”

“Why lie?” Katya makes it sound so simple.

“I had a reputation to uphold, and our marriage was never consummated, not legal- there was a lot at stake. Plus, Ezra would have analyzed me to death. We had a pact. We’d divorce when Divina was ready to remarry for love or when Ezra told us to divorce. Ezra told us to divorce as soon as you came into our lives. Without asking our opinions about anything- Ezra assumed I’d want to be with you because he did, and I did it because… because it’s Ezra,” I say as if he is the explanation to everything… and to me, Ezra is.

“I’m sorry, Cort
ez,” Katya sobs, fat tears plopping from the corners of her eyes. “I think I knew that. I’ve always had reservations about all of us. But it happened so quickly. And then I was instantly pregnant, and it was too late to take it back. Deep down, I’ve always known. It’s why I’ve been so… bitter… and lost.”

“Oh, Kitten,” I gently murmur, hand cupping her damp cheek. I brush a fingertip beneath her eye, clearing a fresh crop of tears away. “It’s no one’s fault. We’ll figure it out.”

“I…” Katya swallows so hard that I swear her tongue is in her tummy. “I’m not having an affair with Dexter and Monica.”

“Um…” I stare her down. “Bullshit, I’ve seen you fuck them on countless occasions.”

“It’s a scene- it’s fake- it’s not real. You know Dexter hates being in public. I hate being in public. Monica hates being in public. I just… I just do it to… to see how you and Ezra react. Your reactions are telling.”

“What? What do we do? What are you doing?” I rapidly ask.

Katya starts to laugh, and it turns into hysterical giggles- green eyes manically bright, lips twisted in comical delight. “Dexter is training me, and it’s totally professional. But afterwards, the three of us get high and bitch about all of you. We smoke pot. I bitch about my shitty life. Dexter bitches about ripping Ezra’s head off and shoving it up Ezra’s ass. Monica bitches about ripping your dick off and making you eat it… and then we send Toby to get us pizza and donuts. I don’t do the shower routine when I come home to wash the sex off- it’s to wash the tale-tell signs of weed from my hair and skin.”

Katya keeps laughing, and I smile right along with her. When she starts to sob, so do I.
I sit on the sofa and pull Kat into my lap. She allows the affection because it’s the intimacy between two people who deeply care and love one another- intimacy that isn’t suffocating and makes you feel raw and exposed. We have nothing to lose by snotting all over each other, unlike the embarrassment we would feel if Ezra saw us in this state of duress.

Katya curls into my lap as I stroke her back and whisper comforting lies of hope. We don’t heal. We don’t feel better. But Katya and my relationship evolves from the strained fake marriage of people playing pretend for appearance sake to reality. Katya and I find a happy medium we can
both live with as we finally understand one another on a deeper level.

“Why did you seek me out today? You never do,” Katya says the sad truth
when she’s finally calmed down.

“I’m an asshole,” I hiss.

“You came to see me because you’re an asshole?” The teasing lilt in Kat’s voice makes me smile. “Nothing new there- if that’s the case, you’d be shoved up my ass every moment of the day,” Kitten sarcastically says, proving just how much we are alike, and why it would never work out between the two of us. Opposites attract, keeps it interesting. Being with Katya is like hanging out with myself- you don’t want to fuck yourself.

“I’m an asshole for pretending.
But I don’t think I was just fooling you and Ezra, I was fooling myself, too,” I finally admit.

“I understand,” Katya whispers.

“Truthfully, I came to see my editor,” I announce, pulling Katya to her feet, and then towing her towards her desk. After Katya is settled in her chair, I sit opposite her.

“I’m your editor,” Katya says
, smirking. “I’m the Chief Editor at Edge Publishing, Katya Water. Mr. Hunter, or should I call you by your pen name of Abernathy? Welcome to Edge Publishing. How may I be of assistance?”

Grinning like an idiot, I say, “
Abernathy would be best since we are keeping this relationship strictly professional.”

“Mr. Abernathy,” Katya purrs, winking at me.

“Ms. Waters. I have an idea for a new project. Actually, it’s almost finished. I was so inspired that I’ve wrote constantly for the past few weeks, pouring my soul out upon the page.” I explain the concept of The Hunter to a very silent, and slightly awed Katya.

“Are you sure… are you sure you can do that. Put it all out there like that, for everyone to see, to know, to feel what you feel?” Katya mirrors my concerns.

“I don’t know. But I must. I had to get it on the page. I had to spill it from my mind. I have to let it go so I can finally move on. Finally start living instead of surviving,” I softly whisper, knowing Katya feels exactly as I do. “It’s time to heal, Katya- to live.”