Chapter 20: God of Pain: Chapter 20

I wince as the up and down of a harsh tongue continues.

On my face.

I startle awake and my eyes nearly bug out at the tiny little face, ears, and whiskers.

“Tiger?” I all but shriek, and he jumps back on the bed, startled, then he slowly waltzes in my direction again.

He’s grown since the last time I saw him at the shelter weeks ago, but I have no doubt that it’s him. He even has the cute heart-shaped mole between his eyes.

I sit up and wince when my sore muscles cry out in pain. The bath barely did anything after Creighton fucked me on all fours on the tiles, then against the wall and on the bed.

It was so powerful and raw and he didn’t hold back like the first time. He took and took and gave me blinding pleasure in return.

He was enraged, absolutely animalistic and unhinged.

To say I escaped with my life intact would be an understatement.

Well, I did enjoy it, but I don’t like that he felt distant afterward. Even as he took me to the shower and cleaned us both. There wasn’t that tender touch from when he ran me a bath and washed my hair.

For a moment, I thought maybe I’d taken down his walls, but he proved that was wishful thinking on my part.

But he gave me the most beautiful necklace ever as a birthday present. I glide my fingers over it to make sure it’s still there.

Also, he had me sleep tucked into the crook of his body, so maybe it’s not all hopeless?

Though he’s nowhere to be seen now and I’m the only one in bed.

With Tiger.

He jumps on my shoulder, reaching for my head like he used to, and I laugh, petting him. His purrs fill me with a much-needed dose of dopamine.

“Were you here all along, baby? You even have a collar, so cute.” He bumps his head against my hand and purrs some more, then meows, probably for food.

Leaving him on the bed, I stand up with effort and search the room, but there’s no food or any sign of my clothes.

So I throw on one of Creighton’s hoodies that swallows me whole and step into the hall, carrying a fussy Tiger.

“All right, all right. I’ll just find you some food.”

That’s easier said than done, because I soon get lost, not sure which direction I should go in.

It takes me a few moments to find the stairs and even longer to reach the base of them.

Then I walk through the living area, looking around and wondering if I’m somehow trapped in a ghost house.

The lack of noise in such a huge place raises the hairs on the back of my neck and I hold Tiger tighter.

Now would be a good time for Creighton to show himself.

Unless he disappeared before I woke up to save me the embarrassment of asking me to leave?

My heart squeezes at that thought and I promptly shove it back into the abyss of my soul.

“Who do we have here?”

I flinch and so does Tiger. He jumps from my hands and hisses at the newcomer, tail up, body curved, and ears back.

Eli stares down at him as if he were nothing more than dirt on his shoes, and then the strangest thing happens.

Tiger tucks his tail and runs to hide. Did he just scare him away with a look?

“I’m not that popular with animals.” He smiles at me, but there’s not an ounce of honesty or welcoming feeling behind it.

He leans against the wall, a slaughtered buffalo head hanging above him, giving him a gruesome edge. His expression and aura conflict with the classy way he’s dressed. Pressed black pants, elegant button-down, and stylish Italian loafers.

He could walk into a shoot and the photographers would drop to their knees to have him in their lenses.

“Hi,” I say, trying hard as hell to sound casual and not at all intimidated by him.

If only Creighton would show up right now. Not that he’s any better than his brother, but the devil you know and all that.

“Annika. If I remember correctly, we have an unfinished conversation.”

Right. Back at the fight club when Ava went for his throat and Creighton kidnapped me. I wish those two were around at this moment.

But since they’re not, I’m about to force a smile but recall how Creighton told me I don’t owe the world anything, so I ask in a calm tone, “What did you want to talk about?”

“One, your relationship with my brother. Two, your relationship with brother. Three, how it’ll be a bad idea if you one day have to choose and you pick your brother and leave my brother behind. I’ll take it personally and do everything in my power to destroy both of you.”

My spine jerks at the amicable way in which he issues threats. His voice sounded suave, absolutely eloquent, as if he were a BBC News anchor.

“I won’t hurt Creighton,” I manage to reply calmly, assertively. “And Jeremy isn’t the monster you make him out to be. He won’t brutalize Creighton just because I’m with him.”

“Do all these delusional thoughts help you sleep better at night? We both know your dear Jeremy is capable of more than that. So how about you take the easy way out before the shit hits the fan?”

“With all due respect, you have no right to intervene between Creigh and me. And I’m not leaving.”

I realize that Creighton and I have a long way to go and that the brutal fucking from last night after he revealed a bit of himself is only the beginning, but I don’t mind.

I like myself with Creighton, I like the way I’m more outspoken and less of a people pleaser. And I want him to like himself when he’s with me, too.

For that, I’m willing to do anything.

Eli watches me for a beat, his gray eyes looking almost black. And while I want to run and hide, I force myself to maintain eye contact, to meet his stare with one of my own.

“Very well.” He pushes off the wall. “I’ll keep my eye on you.”

“I’ll keep my eye on you, too.”

“Oh?” He smiles like a wolf, head cocked to the side. “What for?”

“For whenever you think it’s a good idea to intervene.”

His smile widens. “No wonder Creigh chose you when he never had interest in anyone before.”

Fire erupts in my belly, but it’s the good type, the type that warms me from the inside out.

I flip my hair back and can’t help but grin. “I’m special like that.”

“Arrogant, too. I see why you’re friends with her.”

“Who’s her?”

“Never mind.”

He’s about to leave, but I step in his way. “Can I ask you something?”

“I only take questions on Sundays. Like the church.”

“Today is Sunday.”

“Lucky you,” he says with that permanent smirk and I pause, thinking maybe I’m missing something, but then I promptly let it go.

I inch closer to him. “Do you know when Creigh got his spider tattoo?”

This is my attempt to frame the time he realized he was still haunted by his childhood memories, despite having a family. No matter how much he denies it, I know what happened in his childhood has an effect on him one way or another. I didn’t get the chance to ask him due to all the fucking that he must’ve used to shut me up, but I can fish for information from Eli.

“In secondary school. High school to you Americans. It’s a memento to the younger version of him.”

“You…knew.”

“That he’s adopted? Of course. Everyone knows.”

How come no one told me? Maybe it’s a close-circle thing and I don’t belong there. Although I’m slightly hurt, I decide to focus on a much more pressing issue.

“Do you also know of his…past?”

“There’s nothing I can tell you about it aside from what he divulged.”

“I just want to know if he became the way he is due to that.”

“The way he is?”

“I’m sure you know he’s a…sadist.”

He grins. “Proud of him.”

Of course he is. Now, I’m starting to understand why Ava calls him He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

Eli is an anomaly.

But maybe he’s the type of brother Creighton needed while growing up with that sort of baggage.

“So?” I press. “Is he that way because of his past?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

It dawns on me then. Creighton once said that he eats too much because he was starving at a point in his life. And he probably sleeps whenever possible because of how he felt when suffocated by the gas.

When he was dizzy and crawled and crawled.

Goosebumps erupt on my skin with creepy speed, like when he was telling me the story last night.

To think that someone so young went through that makes me want to cry.

But I don’t want him to take it as pity. I really do not pity him. I just want to be there for him.

I’m apparently shit at expressing that, though, because he was offended by my words last night and took it out on my poor body.

“My turn to ask questions.” Eli’s voice brings me back to the present. “How did you coerce him to talk?”

“I didn’t.”

“Try again. He went through intensive therapy when he was a kid and has long since gotten past that phase of his life. He wouldn’t talk about it unless he was poked. So tell me, Annika. What type of poking method have you used?”

“I really didn’t. I just asked about his tattoo.”

He narrows his eyes for a beat, then schools his expression. “Huh.”

We remain silent for a moment before I murmur, “Do you know where he is?”

He cocks his head to the left. “In the kitchen.”

“Thanks.” I start in that direction, only to find out that Eli is coming with me. I choose not to comment on that in order to avoid any type of unnecessary conflict.

If I want to be with Creighton, I need to get used to Eli since he’s part of his life.

A commotion greets us as soon as we open the door.

Creighton is wearing an apron and scrolling through his phone while flour stains his hands, face, and even his pants.

Remi seems to be his coach, considering the matching aprons and his folded arms.

Across from them sits Brandon, seeming oblivious to the whole mess as he drinks his coffee and reads from a tablet.

“I’m telling you, spawn, all these recipes are stupid and wrong. How dare they compete with my lordship’s opinion?”

Bran lifts a brow. “And you happen to be an expert?

“Of course.” Remi throws his hands in the air. “I’m always right.”

“More like always wrong,” Creigh mutters.

“What the fuck? What the actual fuck, spawn? I woke up early after my shagging session last night—make that sessions—to help you with your quest and you say I’m wrong? I’m reporting you to human rights associations for abuse.”

“Here we go again.” Bran sighs.

“You shut up. Don’t go acting innocent after you started this irreparable rift between father and son. Spawn, how could you do this to me?”

“Focus,” Creigh says, still looking at his phone. “How much butter should we heat?”

“Enough to drown Remi in.” Eli strolls inside, grabs an apple from the table, and grins.

“Blimey, what’s with all the violence directed at me this morning?” Remi pretends to hold up a phone. “Hello? Witness protection? Come pick me up.”

Creighton lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine from across the kitchen before they slide to his brother and narrow. He tilts his phone away, finger pressing at the back of it as he sizes me up from head to toe and back again.

The air shifts with hungry, animalistic tension that I’m surprised no one in the room picks up on.

When he shows no intention of cutting eye contact, I swallow the lump in my throat. Focus on the others. “Hi, guys.”

Bran nods in my direction. Remi basically runs toward me and grabs me by the shoulder. “Save me from these savages, Anni. I swear they’re after my lordship’s life.”

Creigh basically tosses his phone down and reaches us in a few steps. I watch with bewilderment as he grabs Remi’s hand that’s around my shoulder, twists it until his friend groans, then throws him against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck was that for, spawn?”

“No touching.”

“Someone’s jealous.” Eli leans against the counter and nudges Brandon beside him. “Did you ever think we would witness our Cray Cray’s transformation into a caveman?”

“I predicted it since he wasn’t happy at the prospect of me becoming her fake boyfriend.” Bran takes a sip of his coffee.

“The fuck?” Remi stares between us, having completely forgotten about how Creighton pushed him. “That long? How come I’m only finding out now?”

“Because you’re slow?” Eli pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Or just don’t get it?” Bran clinks his cup with Eli’s.

“Too caught up in your dick to see straight.”

“Short attention span, too.”

Remi goes full dramatic mode and starts calling them names. Brandon and especially Eli keep escalating.

In the middle of their arguments, Creigh removes his apron, tugs on my hand and pulls me out of the kitchen, then drags me up the stairs.

As soon as we’re in his bedroom, he shuts the door.

I’m slammed by his darkened eyes, closed-off features, and blank expression. All three directed at me.

His low voice strikes my skin worse than his crops. “What were you doing down there dressed like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re naked beneath it.”

“I couldn’t find my clothes. Besides, this thing is super oversized.”

He grunts. “I like you in my clothes, but you’re never walking around like that in front of them again.”

“Don’t be a dictator. Besides, I had a reason why I wanted to find you.”

“Which is?”

“Tiger! How could you not tell me you adopted him? You know how much I love that cat.”

“He was supposed to be your second birthday present.”

I grin. “You can be so sweet when you’re not an asshole.”

He narrows his eyes and I blurt, “I meant, thank you.”

“Kneel in front of the bed, chest on the mattress and legs wide apart.”

That familiar tingle erupts all over my body and ends at my core. I bite the corner of my lip. “Can I get a little break? I’m happy to go again, but I’m sore all over.”

“I won’t fuck you. Don’t be a brat and do as you’re told.”

Every time he tells me not to be a brat, that’s exactly what I want to be. But to prevent any unwanted punishments, I kneel in front of the bed and do as he said.

“Lift the sweatshirt up. Let me see my pussy.”

My fingers tremble as I glide the hem of the hoodie to my middle.

“Mmm. Good girl.” He gives my ass a slap that feels like a reward and I jerk, then suppress a moan.

With my ass in the air, both of my holes are his for the viewing and I have no idea why that’s such a turn-on.

The sound of a drawer opening and closing nearly deafens my ears.

I swallow. “Hey…I didn’t do anything to be punished for. I don’t think? Can we talk about this?”

“Shut up or I will give you a reason to be punished.”

My lips purse together when I feel him behind me. He places something violet on my lips.

“Suck.”

A toy, I realize. No, a butt plug.

My eyes widen and I shake my head.

“You know what this is?”

“Duh. And we are not doing anal.”

“Not yet, but I will eventually claim your arse like I claimed your pussy. Mark my words, you will milk my cock and beg me to decorate your skin with my cum. Now, open.”

My core throbs when it has no business to.

“Violet is not purple, you know. You should’ve at least picked an aesthetic color—”

My words are interrupted when he shoves the plug in my mouth, glides it against my tongue as if it’s his cock, and then wrenches it out.

I’m panting when he kneels behind me and grabs my ass cheek in a hand.

“Relax.”

“Easier said than done,” I mumble, but I try my best not to stiffen.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not all the time.”

A dark chuckle surrounds me like a fucked-up symphony.

“Smart little brat.” He pours something cold over my backside—probably lube—and slides the plug against my back hole.

I tense up no matter how much I convince myself not to.

“Don’t.” He spanks my ass and I yelp. “The more you fight this, the harder it’ll be.”

His fingers stroke my clit in that expert way only he is capable of. I tried to mimic it when I was on my own, but there’s no way I’d be able to touch myself the way Creighton touches me.

My muscles relax as moans slip past my lips. My pussy apparently hasn’t caught on to the fact that I’m sore.

Creighton uses the chance to push the plug in little by little. My heart hammers as I’m filled to the brim.

But I focus on the bursts of pleasure exploding in my core. By the time he shoves the plug all the way in, I’m coming.

My lips part and I let the wave wash over me.

“You’re so sensitive, little purple.” He spanks my ass for good measure. “I love how you’re so attuned to my touch.”

But damn. That was fast.

Please don’t tell me I also need the pain to have strong releases.

Is he corrupting me?

Probably.

Creighton jostles the plug in my ass, making me whimper, then straps something from the plug against my clit.

“You’ll wear this two hours a day.”

“W-what? You expect me to wear this every day?”

“Yes, and I will check.”

“How will you be able to do that?”

“You’ll figure it out.” He pulls me to a standing position and gives me a box, probably for housing his latest torture device. “If you don’t wear it, you’ll be punished.”

I shift and release an erotic sound despite myself. “It feels weird.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“Is this another birthday present?”

A beautiful smile stretches his lips. “One of many.”

“Any others I should know about?”

“The cake that Remi butchered.”

I laugh. “Is that what you guys were doing? Baking?”

“Attempting to.”

“Pretty sure I can salvage it.”

“Doubt it.”

“I’ll show you.”

We go downstairs after Creighton demands I put on a pair of his sweatpants that I have to roll several times before tying them against my waist.

I don’t have to salvage the cake since Eli threw it away and Remi ordered one. The five of us sit for breakfast in the midst of Remi’s antics and the others’ sarcasm.

Creighton doesn’t speak much, but he’s attuned to each and every one of them.

He likes them, I realize. That’s why he’s willing to spend time with them. He even comes to Remi’s defense whenever Eli goes too far.

He’s loyal like that.

And he’s mine.

This gorgeous, beautiful man is all mine.

Even if only temporarily.