Furore (The Night Skulls MC #1)(53)

CHAPTER 32


Jo



A thousand-pound headache split my skull in half. In a haze, I willed my eyes to open. What the hell happened to me? And who were those two men who took me?

Could it be Step Mommy Dearest? Or had the Lanzas finally figured it out and collected their prize? The latter would explain why I was still alive.

Taking in the surroundings, the only thing I could make out through the drowsiness and the fact that my body could barely move was sunlight. How long was I out? Why could I not move?

I snapped my eyes open, an annoying yet consistent buzz in the background, and a little spike of adrenaline nudged me up. My body lifted off the bed I was in just a little before I realized I was on my stomach and my wrists were cuffed to the bed. “Fuck!” I yanked at the chains. “What the hell did you do to me?! Who did this?!”

Panic had me on full alert mode. I looked down and a sliver of relief washed over me when I saw my shirt on. The buzz stopped, and another person’s breath hit my ears. Panic turned into sickening dread at the coldness of my lower body and the tightness around my ankles. I was naked from the waist down, and my ankles were restrained, too. “No. No. Fuck you.” Crying, cuffs rattling, I twisted, kicking and screaming, to see who the fuck did this to me, to no avail. “I’m going to kill you. Whoever you are I’m going to fucking kill you! What did you do to me? What the fuck did you do to me?!”

“Easy, baby girl. Don’t hurt yourself.”

I froze at the voice. Then I let out a long breath. “Oh my God. I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch. You did this?”

“Yes. So sit still until I finish.”

“Finish what?”

The buzzing returned, and then something sharp tickled my buttock. “Is that… What the fuck, Laius? Are you giving me a tattoo without my consent? On my ass?!”

“My ass. It’s my ass, Jo. Since you seem to forget, I reckoned a reminder was in order so you’d always remember.”

Sobbing, I twisted my neck again so I could see him. I was enraged by his actions—he was branding me for fuck’s sake—but I’d missed him and needed to see his face. He wouldn’t give me that much, though. He was hurt, and he had every right to be. “Stop, Laius. I know I hurt you, but that doesn’t give you the right to kidnap me. To cuff me to bed like that and fucking mark me.”

He didn’t speak, and the needle didn’t stop pricking my skin.

“Goddamn it, Laius. Fuck this shit. Are we in Houston?”

“Yup.”

“How did you find me?”

“A GPS tracker on your car. Fort did it early on when he was watching you.”

“Oh my God.”

“What were you doing in Utah? And where the fuck was that punk ass kid you ran off with?”

I just shook my head.

The buzzing and the needle pricking stopped. Then a photo capture sound ripped the silence. His footsteps approached from the side. His frame shadowed out the bright sun. His beautiful face numbed my aches and disturbance for a second, but the blame in his gaze set them ablaze. He flashed his phone at me with a photo on the screen.

Property of Furore. On my big wrinkly butt.

My fists and eyes squeezed. Violated was an understatement of how I felt, and rage was dulling any kind of guilt I was feeling for hurting him. “You fucking branded me.”

“You fucking ran away with a piece of shit kid who dumped your ass and left you hating yourself after you told me you were moving in with me. After you told me you were mine.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“Your piece of crap note was pretty elaborate, Miss Meneceo.”

I rattled my chains, the fog from the drug his men used on me fading, and I was fully aware of the pain pulsing on my ass from the tattoo. “Get me out of these cuffs.”

“Not until you tell me what the fuck happened.”

I yanked hard at the restraints, my wrists, ankles and naked butt burning. “Get me out and put my pants back on!”

Suddenly, he was on top of my back, subduing me with his strength. His arms were tight on my waist and his scruff was scratching my chin. “When will you learn that fighting me gets you nothing but fucked? Is that what you want, baby? To get fucked?”

My lips curled under my teeth because in this situation, where I was kidnapped, cuffed, half naked and branded against my will, while a man was threatening to fuck me, I wanted to fucking smile. How could I like that? How could my pussy become wet when I was vulnerable like that?

He cupped my pussy and let his fingers in. I trembled when he found the evidence of my shameful arousal. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Laius…no.”

He chuckled at my lie, his hand moving at my lower back. Then something clinked, which I assumed was the buckle of his belt, and then a zipper came undone. He gave my pussy a swat before he pressed his hardness against my opening. “Lift those hips for me, baby girl.”

When I didn’t move, his strong grip did it, and then he spanked me. “Bad girl.”

I swallowed, clenching. I bit my lip on another smile. “Is this even your bed?” It smelled like him, and it added fuel on my desire for him.

“What dumb question is that?” He entered me with a tight groan. “This is my room at the compound.”