Perry rhodan 0004 twil.., p.2
Thief (Mistress & Master of Restraint Book 14), page 2
A suffocating loneliness so vast I can barely breathe through the air that will forever smell of her burning flesh and the incineration of the only home I’ve ever known.
I have no fucking clue what to do next. None whatsoever.
“It’s not wise to knock your wife around, ya know?” Furry, mocking eyebrows hitch high, stopping my protest before it can be voiced. “They tend to eventually hit back. But that’s not the biggest issue.”
Swiveling at the waist, those huge-ass boots land on the carpet in utter silence. Those strong thighs support the burly man as he rises to his feet. Even if I manage to reach my late fifties, I’ll never be as masculine as Max Atwater.
Fuck, the man is in a perpetual state of prime, always the smartest, strongest, most virile man in the any room he enters, owning the goddamn world. Which is why Max sticks to the shadows, allowing all of us to think we’re actually in power. Laughable, that.
“If you want your children to love and respect you, it’s best not to smack their mothers around.” Another mocking look, followed by a sly chuckle with the impact of a shotgun blast to the chest. “You can’t be ordered upon edict on who to fall in love with. Trust me on this. In my case, Clara and I beat the shit out of each other, then we rage-fucked, and that’s how Katya was born. The loyalty always existed. The love came much later. The lust was a shocking revelation.”
“Where is my baby?” Finding bravery because I have nothing left to lose, I confront the madman who is barring my exit.
“You have two guesses and both of them are correct.” A fingertip raises before I can answer his ridiculous question. “All of your sisters are currently at different locations. If she was good enough to fuck, good enough to raise your children, then she is good enough to hold your baby girl. Your grown daughter and your woman are taking good care of Lolita.”
Enraged spittle flying, every vein in my system threatens to burst. “That slut is not my woman–”
Max ghosts so quickly before me that I don’t even register his movements. “Eh!” Max tsks me, calloused fingertip jammed against my mouth, somehow both smelling and tasting like a pine tree. “Perception is reality, my son.”
Head twisting to the side, I dislodge his woodsy fingertip. “I am not your son–”
“You have two choices.” Max steps away, hand landing on the doorknob. “You can sit in here, rage eating up your insides because your mind can’t wrap around what just happened, or you can come with me and avenge your lost wife.”
Lost?
Motherfucking lost?
It’s not as if Greta wandered away in the park– she was stolen from me!
“What do you get out of it?” This is Dominion, after all. Everyone has a price that must be satisfied. There are no favors, no helping hands. Everything has a price to be paid.
“This is one task I cannot do on my own,” voice dipping low, Max swiftly turns away to hide his expression, door opening to reveal my sons on the other side, just about taking me to my knees.
Lungs seizing with suffocating pressure, the rage displayed sucks the oxygen out of the air around us. Lucian’s tan skin is blotchy crimson, fists curled with the threat of violence, all of it directed at me for backhanding his mother. Coiled hair springing in all directions, Torian looks broken yet resolved.
I can’t. I just can’t even allow my gaze to center on Torian, not even for a split-second. I failed him by failing to protect his mother.
They both know what’s happening when I don’t. Ezra is nowhere to be seen, which means he’s off on a side quest of Max’s creation. My sons were given the lowdown while I was sedated.
“This is a task for fathers and sons.” Max reaches out to grasp Lucian’s shoulder, stopping the boy before he decks my ass. It was a fucking miracle Patrick Frost didn’t snap my neck for real. There’s only one person on this planet that scares me just a little bit less than Max and that is Patrick. “Since my son can’t join us, I’ll be avenging him and our family on his behalf.”
Heart aching, I reach out to my son, but my arm falls back to my side, fearing what would happen should Torian break. If my son breaks, I’ll break.
“We could sit around Shadow Haven, on a roller coaster of emotion, as if a death shroud has descended, or we can be men of action. Trust me, the emotions will come later, but your pride will keep you on your feet.”
With one last glare in my direction, “I’m driving,” lands with the intensity of a punch to the junk. Lucian ghosts down the hallway toward the central staircase to the lower floors.
Momentarily forgetting what happened, Torian’s lips move in protest to issue the phrase that always comes after, then the tears manifest, gutting me where I stand. Before I can react, Torian is charging after his brother on heavy footsteps.
“I could coddle you if you’d like.” Max’s wicked smirk is an evil thing of rare beauty. A redheaded fallen angel whose pure wings have yet to turn black, so it’s unexpected when they do something sadistic. “Your brother-in-law always wanted coddling and cuddling. I’m perfectly capable of comfort. I enjoy it, most certainly. But I thought you made of sterner stuff. Are you as mild-mannered as my cuddle buddy?”
I only have two brothers-in-law, both twice over. But I find it unimaginable that Dalton has ever laid eyes on Max, since the man didn’t even reveal himself to me in the flesh until this past Christmas. I know without a shadow of a doubt that Stanton knows Max probably as well as anyone possibly could, but Stanton isn’t an in-law yet… coddling and cuddling, that’s laughable.
Mild-mannered?
How psychopathic is Max to think Levi is tenderhearted?
Cuddle buddy?
My feet can’t move fast enough. Thankfully the halls are empty, which has my head spinning as to where everyone is holed up. Recently there’s been four pony-sized puppies slipping and sliding down the hardwood, but they’re nowhere to be seen either.
Always thoughtful, Ezra is a master of detail. After locating my shoes beneath the decorative table in the foyer, my wallet and cellphone resting on top, I step out the open front doors– their medieval ominousness highly apropos with my current emotional climate. Then I come to an abrupt stop, shock locking up my muscles.
Across the circular drive, resting in the center of Shadow Haven’s front lawn as if it belongs, my sons are gawking at a helicopter. Shiny metal and fiberglass melded into elegant lines, their hands are caressing the beast as if it’s a centerfold model, eyes bright, skin flushed, blood rushing to answer the call of their cocks.
Arm extended, it’s impossible to hide the quiver of apprehension weaving its way through my muscles, I point at the machine taking up my entire view. “Luc is not piloting that,” is a warning issued, because Max is mad enough to teach Lucian for shits ‘n’ giggles.
“Of course not.” Max pats me on the back, propelling me down four steps before I can regain control over my own body. “I am.”
“Shit,” escapes as nothing but pure fear, adrenaline flooding my veins.
“The Airbus is for everyday commutes. Wait until the boys are seduced by my Sikorsky.” With another cheery slug to my shoulder to get my feet moving, “Lucian can drive once we land in Pennsylvania.”
Madman.
Max is a madman.
Chapter Two
Little Boy Boyd
Corralling me before I can do another slip and slide path around the foyer, Cora pulls me to a stop at the foot of the staircase, then crouches before me, folding her dress beneath her knees like a proper lady. “We need to get your tie straightened out, little man.” With a tug to the noose around my neck, I jerk out of her grasp, new shiny shoes slippery on the marble.
“No tie.” Voice pitching into a whine, I don’t like stuff touching my throat. Makes me feel itchy. Just wanna slide my finger beneath the fabric and loosen it– which I already did, but don’t tell Cora. “I don’t wanna walk across the street.” Skin pricking, my sweaty palms are swatted away from my trousers, where I was trying to dry them off.
Crouched down to my level, Cora cocks her head like the bird we watched from my bedroom window this morning. She said some birds have blonde hair– no, she called their hair feathers. Feathers are just bird hair, right?
Do birds have curly feathers like me?
This is stuff I ask Henry because Cora’s job is to teach me to be a gentleman. Ladies don’t talk about science and stuff. Ladies don’t talk about anything I find interesting. Ladies just make little boys wear ties and learn what fork to use at dinner. They also get mad when I try to talk about fun stuff at the table. My butt got spanked for asking if baby cows are okay with being turned into veal. Do they just take a bit off and the baby cow lives, like how you milk a cow? Does the baby cow die?
Cora looked a bit green and didn’t eat any more at supper– Henry thought I was being witty.
Veal isn’t served at Spencer Manor anymore, so must be ladies didn’t know veal came from baby cows. Must be it’s not like milking their mommas at all.
Henry and I order veal when we dine out.
The last time I wore a tie was when the old people with the funny clothes paid us a visit. They made me sit in the living room and answer a bunch of stupid questions. I liked the tests I took though. The lady with the funny hat glared at me the entire time, so I couldn’t concentrate. The gentleman didn’t have to wear a tie, but he had this odd collar on his black suit, and he kept smiling at me the entire time, the same way Henry smiles at me, like how people on television commercials smile at wiggly puppies.
They said I did well, so I get to go to school soon. Church too. They promised I’d see other little boys, ‘cuz I told ‘em the neighbor girls are silly and mean and only want to play with dollies. All the little one does is suck her thumb and bite me– sometimes she kicks me in the nads just to hear me cry.
I’m willing to wear a tie if it means I can leave the manor, but I do not wanna walk across the street. Walking across the street means I might not walk back over here again. Someone walked me across the street when I was too little to remember. Cora remembers walking across the street– she comes and goes freely like Henry. The neighbor girls were walked across the street too, but just like me, they’ve never left this side since.
“Did I do something wrong?” Tears sting my eyes, a sniffle boomeranging around the foyer. “Don’t you want me anymore? Did I fail those tests? Am I not gonna go to school? Is Grant a better boy than me? You’re gonna leave me and go with him, aren’t you?”
“Oh, Boyd.” Palm curled against her chest, Cora looks ready to cry. Henry said we mustn’t ever make girls cry. It’s not nice. Seeing Cora cry makes me cry more. “That’s not how it works, sweetling. You’re just paying them a little visit, like I do. They want to meet you, that’s all.”
That’s all.
Cora says that’s all, like it’s not terrifying to walk across the street. What if they don’t give me back? Henry didn’t give me back. The neighbors didn’t give the girls back. What if they’re taking me back now?
There’s a weepy commercial about not buying puppies if you’re going to return them when they get bigger. I’m getting bigger, almost a big boy. Is Henry returning me because I’m not cute anymore?
Cora doesn’t like answering questions about where babies come from– I assume they’re walked across the street, but how did they get over there to begin with? Do all babies come from there?
“You’re going to a meeting– ya know, how Henry is always going to meetings at Meyers Manor. You’re a big boy now, and a big boy must go to meetings and network. Isn’t that what Henry always says?”
“Yeah… I guess,” is drawn out long and slow because something is up. Cora is upset. I can tell she’s lying to me by the way my skin feels unhappy.
“Everyone you meet will be family.”
“Like you’re my family?” I perk up because we rarely get visitors besides Grant and his mommy.
The neighbors don’t count as visitors since they’re always here.
I get excited when Grant’s dad comes to visit too, because he talks about all the stuff Cora and Mrs. Whittenhower forbid, science and stuff. I like it best because Grant runs off. He only wants to talk about books and movies, leaving Mr. Whittenhower and me to have fun together without Grant sucking up all the attention.
Sometimes Henry has friends over after I’m already tucked in bed. It’s not fair that Henry has playmates and I don’t. Cora is always dragging me to the neighbor’s house to play with those silly little girls. The neighbor is always over here, but for some reason he’s visiting me.
“Most are like how you and I are family.” Shifting to the side, Cora sits on the bottom step, making sure her ankles are covered. Grant’s mommy is always lecturing Cora on how a lady presents herself. When Priscilla Whittenhower visits, I hide in the backyard.
“Remember how I told you some people are connected through blood?” Cora’s words prompt me to draw a finger down my arm, even though I can’t see the blue veins running beneath my skin through my suit jacket.
Ladies don’t talk about science, but they seem fixated on blood. No one will tell me where babies come from, but I do know blood connects people who are family, makes them look like each other, like how the baby birds in the nest popped out of their shells to look exactly like the momma birdie. Every time Grant’s mommy sees me, she’s always saying how I remind her of someone or someone else, people I’ve never met.
Henry and the neighbor talk for hours in the living room about these people, while the neighbor holds me on his lap and tickles my scalp and curls my hair around his fingers. Neighbor Tom, not Neighbor Lara. Not Neighbors Fate and Faith.
Neighbor Lara is Cora’s playmate. I don’t want Fate and Faith as my playmates– they have each other. Tom is willing to play with boy’s toys even though he’s old. Not old like Henry, but old like he drives and goes to work and stuff.
“Most of the people at the meeting are connected to you through blood, and they’re really excited to finally meet you. The rest are family because our families founded Dominion. You’ll sense which is which, just listen to your skin.”
Nodding like a good boy, I do understand that. Cora said little boys and girls need to listen to their skin, not what people tell us what to do. Cora said if my skin is unhappy, I’m not to trust the person, and I’m never, ever supposed to do as they said.
“You’re visiting my home, Boyd. My family. Remember?”
“You walked across the street because Spencer Manor needed a lady of the manor– you’re training to be Grant’s wife and move to his estate with his family. I was walked across the street because Spencer Manor needed a master because Henry is old.”
“Good.” Smiling brightly at me, Cora tries to get me to not notice how she’s crying too. Did I do something wrong? Did I make her cry? Henry says only bad men make women cry. “My father, two brothers and two sisters are inside the house across the street. Do you remember what I taught you about them?”
Cora knows I’m good at memorizing things. The fellow with the funny collar– he told me to call him Father when I knew he wasn’t my dad, because Cora said Neighbor Tom was my dad. The mean lady in the funny hat said I wasn’t to call her Mother but Sister. Weirdos. Father said I was as smart as a fourth grader. All I wanted to be is as smart as Grant, and the father laughed like a loon when I said that. The father said he knows Grant, then he laughed harder. The sister didn’t so much as crack a smile.
“Frederick Meyers is your father,” I drone off after memorizing it, since Cora has lectured me over and over. She’s gone as far as to make me fill in these funny empty charts that look like trees, making sure I know who is related by blood because they can’t ever be husband and wife.
I know what husband and wife means, because Cora has been training to be Grant’s wife my entire life. Haven’t seen much training on Grant’s part, though. I don’t know what mommy and daddy really means, other than Grant’s mommy is always with him, and the neighbor mommy and daddy are always with the neighbor girls. There’s a neighbor lady who lives with them, Amelia says she’s my aunt like Cora is my aunt, but I don’t know what that means either, other than someone who orders me around and smacks my backside when I misbehave. I have a mommy and daddy, but not really.
Neighbor Tom is my father or dad or daddy, all those words mean the same thing, which is why I knew that gentleman with the weird collar was lying to me. That mean lady in the funny hat isn’t my sister because the neighbor girls are. Cora isn’t my sister and Henry isn’t my father, we just share a household together. Cora is my aunt by blood.
Blood is important.
“Mitchell and Gwendolyn Meyers are your half-brother and half-sister through your father, Frederick. Celeste and Raymond Hunter are your half-brother and half-sister through your mother– they’re twins but that doesn’t mean they look exactly alike. Yours and the twins’ mother and Mitchell and Gwendolyn’s mother were sisters. Your father’s children aren’t your mother’s children, except for you, but they’re cousins because your mothers were sisters.”
Chuckling, Cora stops herself before she musses up my hair. “Yeah, you memorized it, but I don’t think you understand a word of what it means, but you will someday soon, I suspect. With how smart you are.”
The father said I was super bright, smart enough to take lessons with bigger kids– the sister didn’t like him telling me that. She said it would make me get a big head. I looked in the mirror every night, but I don’t think my head has grown any.
“You’re my aunt because your sister is my mother. I don’t know how she’s my mom. I don’t know how babies are made. I think we’re just walked across the street. Henry told me about storks, but I’ve never seen birds flying babies to the front door of the manor across the street. How small are babies because that bird this morning was the size of four chicken nuggets?”
“Precocious little bugger, isn’t he?” Henry hobbles out of the living room, steps uneven. The heavy thud of his cane tapping the marble with every step. “Didn’t I warn you to cut that hair off before the meeting?” Voice pitched higher, Henry never loses his cool, but we always know when we’ve angered him. His face turns red and the vein in his forehead pulses as if it’s going to jump out of his skin.
