Leighton Mia - Hero

The cold click of a gun hammer registers somewhere in my fuzzy mind. I look up just as a shot rings through the air. I scream, my hands flying over my ears as Calvin jerks and falls next to me. It’s in slow motion that he looks down at the bullet in his shoulder and back at the man. Where relief should be in my heart is pure fear; not the fear Calvin inspires in me, but a base, guttural fear that he’s going to die. Another shot hits his chest, and the night is suddenly silent. Calvin’s cold eyes darken as he stands and brushes himself off. He advances without another moment’s hesitation.

Calvin catches the man by his shirt collar before he makes it two steps and slams him into the ground. I watch, broken screams trapped in my throat, as he hits him across the face. His blows come with sickening thuds, over and over. I’m too close; blood sprays into the air like fireworks each time Calvin’s fist smashes the man’s face. Eventually, his head falls back, and he goes limp. Calvin checks his pulse and after a moment, stands upright.

“No,” I whisper. Freedom dies before my eyes. I could taste it. I could feel it, but with each advancing step, Calvin slowly sucks it from me through the coldness in his glare. Blood covers the hand that reaches out for me. “No,” I shriek, crawling backward. “Don’t take me back there.”

Calvin’s hands grasp my hips to hoist me over his big shoulder. A delirious terror consumes me, and I fight him with everything I have as he walks us back the way I came. I beat his back with my fists, attempting to get to his chest, aiming for his bullet wounds, but he doesn’t slow. All I can do is hang from his body, screaming, kicking, and thrashing until eventually, everything mercifully fades to black.

* * *

I jolt back to life when a door slams. I’m weightless, supported by strong arms as the mansion forms around me. My cheek is against a bare shoulder, and Calvin’s smell invades my world. I’m swimming in a dark, long-sleeved shirt. Memories flood me faster than I can keep up as we cross the foyer.

My fight is gone. It’s better that way. It’s apparent now that I will lose. I will always lose. My tangible escape is dust in my hands.

Calvin is barking orders, and familiar Norman rushes around the corner to meet us. “Oh, you poor child,” he says.

“She’s been in a fucking nightgown for half the night.”

Even Calvin’s warmth hasn’t lessened my shivering, which comes with some numbness and a dull headache.

In my room, Calvin sets me on my feet next to the bed, and I instantly yelp, clinging to him to hold myself up.

“What is it?” He picks me up again and seats me on the bed’s edge. Crouching down, he takes my ankle to look at the sole of one foot. “Jesus Christ, Cataline. Running around in the woods with no shoes? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t care,” I say through chattering teeth. “I’m cold.”

“This needs to be tended to,” he says. He turns his head over his shoulder. “Don’t just stand there, Norman. Get your things.”

Norman jumps as though broken from a trance and disappears from the room. Being alone with him, a Calvin whose rage I cannot fathom, my lips automatically recite a breathy prayer. I’ve disobeyed in the worst way, and all I can think is that he’ll kill me for this.

“You need to calm down,” Calvin says as he studies my feet. I pull his shirt closer around me, watching his brows furrow.

When Norman reappears and I exhale with relief, Calvin glances up at me. He accepts a cotton ball from Norman and brushes it over my soles, all the while muttering to himself. Even though his grip on my ankle is strong, he cleans me carefully. With tweezers, he pinches at my skin, removing all the things embedded there. I grit my teeth against the stinging, holding the pain inside. His eyes flash up to mine when he’s finished, and he spreads gooey Neosporin over my skin. “Brave girl,” he says.

I open my mouth for Norman to take my temperature. They clean up, putting medical supplies back into what looks like a toolbox. Norman plucks the thermometer out and announces that my temperature is high.

“Give her something,” Calvin says, lifting me from the bedspread. After dragging back the covers, he inserts me between the sheets. I can only watch his face sharpen with determination as he tucks me in.

I take two pills from Norman and swallow them gratefully with a full glass of water. “Thank you, Norman,” I say.

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.”

“What?” I gasp. “No. Please.” I fix pleading eyes on him, ignoring Calvin’s glare. “You can’t leave us alone.”

Norman looks uneasily at Calvin.

“He’ll hurt me,” I whisper. “He’ll hurt me for running. You don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Calvin says. “Turn off the lights on your way out, Norman.”

“Master, she’s not well enough—”

“Out.”

With a comforting smile in my direction, Norman dims the lights. He exits the room, closing the door behind him. When I look back at Calvin, he’s standing next to the bed, untying the drawstring of his pants.

“Oh, God. No,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “I c-c-can’t, Calvin, please, don’t make me.”

“Cataline—”

My face buries in my icy hands. “I’m so sorry I ran. I promise I won’t do it again. I’m so cold.”

“Sparrow, shut up and take off your shirt.”

I do as I’m told, inhaling erratically and pulling my arms through the sleeves slowly.

“Your nightgown too,” he says, followed by a deep sigh. As soon as I discard it on the floor, the sheets lift. Calvin’s naked body melds around mine from behind.

He hushes me as I pry at his arms in vain. “You’re still shivering. Let me warm you.” Distrust screams in my head, but my body sinks deeper into him.

“You killed them,” I say against the pillow. “And they shot you. You should be dead.”

“Quiet. Go to sleep.”

His embrace thaws me quickly. I stop fighting and let warmth replace the fear I should have of being wrapped in the arms of my enemy.

Cataline continues to shake, even after she falls asleep. Or maybe I’m the one shaking. I’m holding her tightly. Too tightly. I force myself to loosen my grip.

A man’s eyes the moment before he dies—that’s true fear. Cataline had that look tonight, but it wasn’t for those men. It was for me. She thought I was going to hurt her for running and hurt her bad. Maybe kill her.

The security tape shows she never hesitated before fleeing. It was without a look back that she left the mansion. And me. While she’ll take any risk to get away from me, including freezing to death, I’m finding it more and more impossible to let her go.

I look down at the girl in my arms and wonder how, after these past few days, I can ever let her out of my sight. Her breathing has evened and her hair, unruly as ever, covers half her face. I brush it off her cheek and touch her forehead with the back of my hand. I ease away to give her space. Instantly she makes a noise and backs deeper into me.

“Fuck it,” I mutter under my breath and wrap her in my arms. Jasmine is the only thing on my mind as I inhale it from her hair and fall asleep.

* * *

Because of the dimmed lights, the room glows ethereal when I open my eyes again. Cataline’s still secure in my arms, her back sweaty and stuck to my front. Her ass moves against me in a soft, small gyration. It happens twice more, so I lift my head from the pillow. “Are you all right?”

She doesn’t respond, but opens her eyes and turns just her face to me. Her eyes are dark, sleepy blue as she looks at me almost longingly. Without thinking, I lean in until our mouths are an inch apart. When she doesn’t push me away, I press my lips to hers.

She sighs a contented, girlish moan that sends my hand up the smooth skin of her stomach. She backs even closer to me, opening her mouth to let me in. It’s warm and silky. Reminds me of how it feels to be buried inside her.

Her ass pushes into me again, more deliberate this time. I groan and deepen the kiss, taking her breast and squeezing it hard. My hand skates up to the base of her neck to pull her even closer.

I coax her shoulder so she falls onto her back, then roll on top of her without disconnecting. Her legs surrounded me instantly, and we grind against each other. She pushes her head back into the pillow, exposing a long neck that I’m unable to taste fast enough.

My dick slides under the elastic of her mesh panties, fucking between coarse fabric and the smooth hollow created by her hipbone. One hand tangles in her hair and pulls. I hover over her lips, pulsing against her lower stomach, pre-cum sticking to her skin and underwear. My kiss is aggressive, sucking need and want off her tongue before giving it right back to her. I find each of her hands with mine and lace our fingers, raising them above her head and pinning her to the mattress.

My cock is hungry, searching for her pussy with the same fiery urgency as my kiss. Her hands squeeze mine powerfully and her body writhes as I press into her wetness. “Relax,” I say.

“I can’t.”

“You can. Just let go.”

It takes a moment, but I’m patient as her thigh muscles relax, and her grip lessens. Her body slowly melts into the mattress.

“That’s it, baby,” I whisper. She gasps as I inch into her. “That’s good.”

“Calvin,” she says against my lips. “I like having you here, somewhere no one else has been.”

I grunt, my dick throbbing at her unexpectedly arousing words. I begin to slide in and out, willing myself to keep an even rhythm.