Eleven

eleven

GAbrIEL/BEZALIEL

The coldness has moved inexorably from my chest into my entire body, seeping poison that left me utterly numb. The strong white lights of the hospital waiting room feel like balls of fire pushing on my shoulders, forcing me to hunch against it.

Bez is alert but keeps away.

We are all here. Waiting. Hoping that it's all a mistake.

Raph is sitting, holding Michael's body as it's racked with sobs. Rami is pacing up and down under Hunter's grim gaze. Uri is standing with Sari in his arms, whispering in his ears, trying to calm him down—he kept stopping any nurse or doctor passing by asking for news. Rague has Ollie all wrapped around him, he holds him pinned to the wall, my brother's back keeps shaking. Linda is staring ahead, eyes dim, her pale skin looks almost translucent.

The silence is deafening. Lori is next to me, rigid like a statue. I can't look at him. I feel like if I do, I'll crumble.

"Meg collapsed, and we can't wake her up." That's all Ferdinand told Rami.

Two hours later and still the doctors have nothing to tell us. She is being treated by the best team of doctors, Sari knows most of them, and Rami did a background check. Doctor Sallinger, the immunologist that is treating her lupus disease is also here.

More time passes. Minutes? Hours? Until a doctor wearing a white coat comes. I only hear three words: coma, cause unknown.

The air stops inside my lungs until I feel a hand touching my arm. It spreads a rush of dread. I'm suddenly assailed by a prickling sensation, like thousands of sharp, searing needles piercing my skin all at once, sinking in. I jerk my arm back, but the pain intensifies.

Get out! Bez screams.

I push away from the chair and run through the corridor. I don't stop when I hear someone calling out for me. I keep going, bumping into people. Every collision push the needles deeper inside my body. Each one a stabbing excruciating pain.

I finally reach the exit. I don't feel the rain at first, but when I do, I welcome the fresh wet sensation on my aching skin. I yank my t-shirt off and toss it on the ground opening my arms and letting the cold drops fall on me.

"Gabe!"

I turn my head toward the screaming voice. Lori is standing a foot from me. His curls are stuck to his face, black makeup rolling down his cheeks. His presence isn't soothing the uneasiness this time. It's making it worse.

"Go inside," I rasp before I start walking toward my car. I need to leave. I need to get in control of myself again. Pain has its claws in me, I need to placate it. I don't want Lori to see me like this.

I unlock my car and slide inside, not caring about the mess I'm making. As I turn the engine on, the door on the passenger side opens and in gets Lori.

"Get out, go back to the hospital," I order him through my gritted teeth.

He locks his jaw and seems to mumble something under his breath. After a second, he replies calmly, "No."

Force him to leave, Bez growls.

"Bez, shut up!" I grab my head and pull my hair, trying to clear my thoughts, but the agony I'm enduring is getting unbearable.

"Get the fuck out, Lori!"

"No," he repeats with a trembling voice.

"Never do what I tell you!" I mutter. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." I hit the wheel with each curse. Hating myself when I hear a whimper coming from him. And when I see the silent tears rolling down his face? Shame hits me right in the gut.

"I won't leave you. Stop wasting time." His voice cracks, and he pauses a beat before repeating, "I'm not leaving you… Ever." He adds that last word after a moment, and it holds so much meaning. So much hope. I fear it. It fucking hurts more than anything I've ever suffered.

My chest expands slowly as I suck in a deep, painful breath, then exhale it.

"I'd offer to drive, but you think I'm a maniac behind the wheel, so…" He sniffs, pushing his wet locks away from his face. His big brown eyes are filled with sorrow and anguish. His lips look wet.

It's like I have a magnet in my chest that pulls me inexorably down toward Lori. And the more I fight the force, the more it tears through my bones and flesh, creating a cavernous hole.

The truth hits me with an implacable force: I love Lori. The knowledge is brutal, and it couldn't have come to me at a worse time. But it assuage some of the suffering I'm feeling, like a soothing balm on an open wound.

"Lori." His name is a prayer on my lips. To leave? To never leave me?

"Drive. Unless you want to stay in this hospital parking lot. Whatever you need." His hand lifts, moving toward my arm, but he suddenly halts the movement and lowers it back on his knee. I can see a muscle jump in his jaw before he turns his head toward the drops of water rolling down outside the window.

The rain is still coming down hard as we leave the hospital behind. It takes me longer than usual to get home in this weather, the ache that keeps penetrating my body doesn't help either. Just like in the car, the ride up to the apartment is filled with a grievous silence. I feel itchy and unstable, need something to stop the pain.

As soon as we step inside the living room, I grab the bottle of whiskey from the sideboard near the window and down two glasses, one after the other. The amber liquid burns on the way down, making it worse.

"What do you need?" Lori asks me, coming back wearing one of his loose t-shirts. He's holding a pair of my sweatpants and tries to hand them to me.

"Go," I say, even though I don't want him to. I just don't want him to see me this unrestrained. This broken.

I pour another whiskey, stretching my neck, rolling my shoulders against the prickling feeling. The hand near my side is twitching and flexing. I drink and drink. A fire is burning me from the inside, a visceral pain that will turn me to ashes.

I let the glass drop on the rug and walk to my knife room. My sanctuary. As I step through the threshold, a little of the pain goes away, but it's not enough. I need to release this ball of dark emotions that is threatening to explode inside me.

Meg. Meg. Meg! I can't lose my mother again. My biological mother's face replaces Meg's, and I scream all my anguish. All my fucking pain.

I can't. I can't.

Breathe , Bez orders me. Breathe.

Fuck!

Why aren't you taking over? I angrily ask him.

It's your battle, Gabe. Fight! He states.

Selfish fucker!

I open one of the many drawers of the tall storage unit covering the left wall. They are all filled with knives. My precious collection. I grab some randomly, and turning to the target on the opposite wall, I start tossing them. One after the other. Not caring if they hit the wooden shape or the wall. I keep throwing. It feels like every blade is spearing my heart. And I don't stop the torment.

I deserve it. All of it. I should have protected her. I failed Meg, just like I failed my mother.

I don't know how long I keep going. My arm aches, but I continue tossing until I feel something wet on my hands. Blood. My blood dripping down my fingers. I must have nicked myself with a blade.

I hear a gasp behind me. When I turn, Lori is staring at my hand.

He takes a single step closer, bringing us less than a foot apart, but doesn't try to touch me. He's so fucking beautiful and infuriating. I grab his hair hard and using a flat, hard tone I say, "You need to…"

"Take care of your hand," he vehemently states.

"What?"

Why did I let him come?

Because you need him , Bez whispers.

"What you need is to leave me the fuck be!" I raise my voice.

"And I already said no." There's no fear in his deep brown eyes, only sadness and acceptance.

I tighten my grip, pulling him onto his tiptoes.

"What do you really need?" he asks me with tears in his gaze.

I close my eyes a moment, my head feels like it's exploding, skin burning, the inner flames are reaching my throat. When I answer him my voice sounds hoarse. "You." A single word, and I surrender.

His gaze flickers between my eyes like he's looking for something. Then he slowly kneels at my feet. His breath catches in his throat as the buttons slip out and my jeans open, revealing the thick head of my cock.

For the first time in the last weeks, I'm not hard near him. The pain is taking everything from me.

My flaccid dick doesn't seem to upset him. His hand rises, about to touch me, and I jerk back. "Don't." It sounds like a plea. My skin feels on fire, too sensitive, too raw.

His eyes turn glassy, and I can't utter another single word. Being careful, he slides down my damp underwear and lightly brush his tongue over the tip. I tense against the touch, but the wet, cool sensation actually ease the ache.

I nod at him and Lori starts worshipping my cock and balls with his mouth. He licks, sucks, and lap at my shaft until I'm hard as a rock. His fuckable mouth massage the head, tongue twisting around it, stopping on the slit to taste my pre-cum. The pain is slowly engulfed in pleasure, crushed by Lori's expert lips.

I run my fingers into his damp curls to get a better grip and push until my cockhead nudges the back of his throat, stretching him, filling him. Owning him. So. Fucking. Mine.

A hot, tight, strangling vise, eager to be fucked. He looks exquisite like this, kneeling, mouth impaled on my cock, eyes watering. It makes me shiver with lust and possessiveness. I feel his wet, warm tongue under my length as I'm still lodged in his throat. And push deeper until a soft choking noise makes me pull out enough for Lori to breathe. But only enough.

Keeping his head still, I thrust roughly down his throat, stretching him wide. I fuck his mouth mercilessly, holding him in place, and forcing every long and thick inch inside him. For once, I don't care about anything but reaching my ecstasy.

I'm using him, and although I know this is wrong, that I should think about him as well, I can't stop. I need this. Him like this. Yielding to me completely.

He opens his mouth wider and relaxes even more and just takes it. Every single hard thrust, moaning in bliss, gazing up at me, lusty eyes half-lidded.

"Fuck yes, just like that. Suck harder," I demand, rolling my hips to meet the next bob of his head. Damn, I want to fuck and wreck his mouth until the end of me, fill it with cum until his stomach turns round. Have my cock inside of him for so long that he never feels empty ever again.

His lips are swollen as I keep ramming my dick down his strangling throat. I let go of his hair and lay my bloody hand across his neck, squeezing. My blood is among his locks, and now on his skin too. It turns me the fuck on.

"I can feel my cock moving in you," I gasp, and squeeze harder, looking at the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jesus Christ, he's a fucking vision.

My stomach clenches, and my eyes roll back as pleasure rushes through me. My nails dig into the side of his neck as my cock keeps jerking, spurting cum inside my beautiful Lori.

When I pull out, my dick is still hard and bursting with want. His lips are shiny with my jizz. The urge to lean down and suck that soft dip, abuse it more, taste myself in his mouth, hits like a wrecking ball. But I have other plans as I feel the prickling resurface slightly.

"Don't swallow, spit it on my cock." Lori looks at me wide-eyed, but does as I say.

"Up," I order. Then I pull off his shirt and roughly bend him over the back of a chair. I slide my hands down to his thighs and wrench him open, spreading his legs obscenely wide to display his gorgeous ass and red pucker.

I spit on his hole and rub my cock over it, transferring some of my cum to make it slick. It looks swollen, tender from the earlier finger-fucking Bez gave him. Beautifully ready for a pounding.

The head of my cock notches against his soft hole, sending a wave of pure desperate need through me. I lay one hand on Lori's ass cheek, pulling him open with my thumb, adding to the stretch as my thick tip eases in. The tightness inside is enough to make my cock jerk, spilling pre-cum, painting his clenching walls.

I pull back, the slide of my heavy cock leaving him feels wrong because it belongs inside Lori. All the fucking way inside his wet hole. I let out a growly curse, and without a warning, I fill him up in one hard, brutal thrust, forcing his body to arch toward the ceiling. He throws his head back with a long, sexy, filthy moan.

The aching burning inside me disappears replaced by unmeasurable pleasure.

Give in, Bez tells me.

Yes.

That's my last coherent thought as I start nailing him without mercy. It's as I let go of the last of my ability to hold myself back. I feel him gasp for air as he melts under my fast battering.

"Gabe. Love your cock. Fuck me open."

So dirty. So freeing. I pound him into jelly, cock surging so deep into him with every snap of my hips that he can't do anything but take it.

Spank his ass. Show him who he belongs to , Bez groans.

My hand falls down hard as my dick keeps piercing his shiny pucker ruthlessly.

My balls ache, full and ready to burst. He's clenching rhythmically around me, and I hear the wet sound of his hand working over his cock just before his orgasm rolls over him all at once. His inner muscles tighten around me, and he screams my name.

He's still sobbing as my climax hits a few seconds later. I let out a deep, animalistic sound that echoes in the room and vibrates through my chest. My balls constrict as the heat in my stomach explodes and spreads through my chest and limbs. Everywhere. I thrust deeper, burying myself inside him, enjoying his whimpers. My whole body trembles, heart races.

Little shivers flicker through him as I pull out. He's wet and stretched, ass cheeks red, body slumped on the chair. I did that to him. My cum starts rolling down his legs, and it's a masterpiece. If I knew where my phone was, I'd take a picture.

I take off my wet jeans and shoes and haul a limp Lori into my arms, bridal style. I walk to my bedroom and sit on my bed. Back against the headboard. Lori warm and pliant on my lap.

"You need more?" he mumbles against my shoulder. The level of empathy in his voice has a knot forming in my throat.

"Not now. But I need you near me, Lori." I've been naked with numerous lovers, but I never felt this bare. This exposed.

He lifts his head to look me in the eyes. His gaze is searching. When he opens his mouth, though, he doesn't ask me what I expected. "Is Bez okay?"

"I am, Little Wasp." He smiles hearing Bez's statement.

"What happened, Gabe?"

I take a big breath and squeeze my eyes. "I like control. I need it. The thing is that I need to vent somehow, and killing donors is my way. When I let too much time pass, I start feeling uneasy. My skin itches, aches, I feel off, unstable. Until you came."

"Me?" His eyes widen with surprise.

"When you're near me, when you let me touch you, fuck you, and I feel your hands on me, the sensation disappears," I confess.

"Not today." He looks down at his hands on his lap. He hasn't touched me since the hospital, when I jerked back. I grab his hand and kiss each finger before placing his palm on my cheek. He sighs, like the contact soothes him as well.

"I don't know what happened today. I've never felt this level of pain. Not since I was a kid. Hearing about Meg, it took me back to what happened to my mother. How I lost her because of what I did. I couldn't protect her, just like I couldn't protect Meg." I pause as sorrow falls silently in my heart. The prickling tries to come back, but I wrap my arms around Lori and hold him tightly against me, taking a giant hit of lilies and pushing the unwanted feeling away. "It was, it still—it hurts."

"I know." His voice is filled with tears.

"I didn't want you to see me like this. But it turns out all I needed is you."

His wet smile is filled with joy as he brushes his fingers over my short beard, nose, and eyebrows. I sigh at feeling his calming touch on me again. When he gets to my lips, I nip his thumb. He giggles and gives a light peck on my mouth.

"Is what Sari said true? About you and Bez?"

I search my memory. "You mean the fact that Bez doesn't come out much?"

He nods.

"It's true. He doesn't like my family."

"They are boring and annoying," Bez clarifies.

"You don't like anybody," I tell him.

"But my Little Wasp," he adds.

Lori bites his lower lip, and I might be wrong, but I think seeing me and Bez interact like this with him turns him on.

"Is he coming out more because of me?" He knows the answer already, he just wants to hear it from us.

"Yes. I've wanted you since the first time I saw your round ass bouncing in front of my eyes," Bez crassly says.

"You've been fucking me both at the same time lately. Why didn't Bez come out before?" he asks in a low tone.

"What, you prefer Bez?" I can't hide the bitterness in my voice. Since Lori came into my life, I've let emotions govern me once again, especially when I'm around him.

"Are you jealous?" Lori seems shocked, while Bez snorts. "How can you be jealous of an identity that your mind created?"

"Answer the question," I insist, not wanting to analyze how what Lori just said makes perfect sense.

Everything about him becomes uncharacteristically hesitant. "I love to be taken by both of you because it's you. Gabe, Bez, I don't care. It's you. I love both my boys."

Everything stills except my heart that tries to claw its way out of my chest.

"Of course, you do. You're ours," Bez replies smugly.

"You love both of us?" I feel a weird stretch on my lips, and judging by Lori's starstruck look, I might be smiling. But how can I not when I discover that my love is reciprocated?

"I did it!" He raises both arms in the air. "Blimey. Your smile is a lethal weapon." He suddenly frowns. "Don't you dare do it with anybody else. Only me!"

"You've seen Bez smile many times."

"He smirks. It's different. You are different, I've never thought I could love two men at the same time. In the past, I got easily bored with one; two seemed double the boredom. I was wrong. I was just waiting for you two, I guess. Love is not finite. The best thing about it is that there's always more to give."

Fuck. My Lori is just amazing. "Promise?" I echo his word. The longing in my voice is clear.

He straddles me. Cups my face in his tiny hands and whispers with a thick voice against my lips, "Promise." Then he kisses me. With his arms wrapped tightly around my neck, legs squeezing my hips, and lips devouring mine, Lori seems to say, "Don't leave me." And I never will.

When we part, his contented little sigh makes me smile again.

"I'm not good at expressing my feelings," I start saying.

Feelings, schmeellings. He's ours. The end.

Thank you for sharing, Bez, but Lori deserves more than that.

He blows a raspberry. I ignore him.

"I wrapped caution tape around my heart. I never thought I'd find someone who could win me over and accept my multiplicity. And then you came with all your incongruities, all your facets, your sassiness, crazy talk, and stubbornness."

"I am the stubborn one?" He sniffs.

I kiss his nose. "You enraptured us with your acceptance and your love. Being drugged sped things up. But you and us were inevitable."

Tears fall down his cheeks onto my chest as the most beautiful smile curls his lips. "Bloody hell, you win the express-your-feelings award."

"We did? And what's our prize?" Bez growls, our hips thrusting upward against Lori's ass.

He flings himself at us, molding his mouth to ours, kissing us with rough desperation.

Sometime later, we are lying on the bed. Bez is sleeping. I can't. I feel love welling up in me, bursting out of my pores. It sneaks past my sorrow and into my heavy heart, filling it with light.

The shadows are still there, though. The doctors have no idea why Meg is in a coma.

Her lupus has given her ups and downs through the years; I thought it was simply a difficult period. We all did. She never talked about it. Always diminishing her condition, not wanting to burden us. Maybe I took my stubbornness from her.

"Did it hurt?" I ask Lori.

"Huh?" He sounds sleepy, who wouldn't be after three orgasms?

"When your gran died."

He doesn't tense against me, but I feel a change in him. "It felt like tearing my heart out of my chest. The bleeding hole is still here," he whispers. His voice sounds strangely empty.

"Tell me."

He pulls back and sits, hugging his knees to his chest. I shift until my back is against the headboard and wait for him to keep going.

"I have a dark spot on my soul, can't you see it?" His voice quivers. "I killed her," he brokenly says. His grief-stricken eyes make me feel helpless. "Guilt rattles me every single day. It's a beast that can't be tamed."

"What happened?" I want to touch him, hold him, protect him from everything painful in the world, but he doesn't look like he'd accept it right now. I need to let him come back to me.

Bez is awake now, alert once again. He felt my worry for Lori.

"She had lung cancer. Loved her cigars. I still remember the bitter smell of them. Strange how a memory can be comforting and painful at the same time." He pauses, swallowing. "The doctor gave her only three months to live. The first was rough, she worsened quickly. She was in so much pain. Gran had always been a very independent woman, full of life, walking her path with her head high. It was harder for her, not even being able to go to the bathroom by herself." Lori wipes a tear with the back of his hand.

"One night, her heart stopped. The paramedics were able to revive her, and she stayed in the hospital for a couple of days. I could see something had changed in her. Her fighting spirit was gone. She signed a DNR, and when I took her back home, she…she told me she didn't want to die in a hospital, to be put to sleep until her death occurred. She didn't want me to wait next to her, day after day." His smile is heartbreakingly sad. "So, she got a medication from a nurse. A medical aid in dying, it's called. Which, as you know, is illegal in Illinois. I tried to stop her, but when she made a decision, she rarely changed her mind. The next day, she said it was a good day to die, but she couldn't inject the medicine. Her hands were trembling. So…" His voice breaks into sobs, and he pushes his forehead to his knees.

I've heard enough. I slide my arms under him and scoop him up, positioning him on my lap. He wraps his arms around my neck as he keeps crying unconsolably.

"Shhh. You did good, Lori," Bez uses a soothing voice I've never heard from him before.

"I should have stopped her. Should have tried to change her mind. I was so weak, so stupid."

"She would have found another way, another day. She would have been alone. Instead, you were there. You were not weak, you are the strongest person I know," I tell him.

"I can't even go back into her house. I see her everywhere, in the pots she bought from a stupid commercial on TV, in the ashtrays she made herself, in the books she loved to read. It hurts so damn much."

"We will when you're ready," I say.

"We?" His voice is filled with so much hope and sorrow.

"Silly Little Wasp," Bez whispers.

"We love you, Lori Boone. You belong with us. It's a promise." I kiss his wet cheek and push his curls back.

"Love you right back," he whispers.

"Your gran sounded amazing. I wish I met her."

"She loved spicy romance, if we put her urn in here, she'll have a front seat to your hotness every night." I'm glad to hear some mirth in his voice again.

"And morning," I add.

"She wanted to be tossed in Lake Michigan, but I-I can't let her go."

Ollie let it slip out when I asked him about the urn. I open the nightstand and pull out a silver chain with a small pendant. A ball I had made for Lori. I place it in his palm. "It's a tiny urn. If you twist the bottom, it opens, so you can keep a very small part of her always with you." Lori stares at me, eyes unblinking.

Did you break him with the mushy present? Bez grunts.

"Uh, you can also engrave the ball, writing something to remember her with." Still nothing.

He hates it! Stop talking.

"If it's a bad idea, just forget about it. We can put it back—" I try to take it from his palm, but Lori makes a fist around it.

"This is crazy," he finally breaths out. "How can you be this perfect when I thought you were all wrong?"

A wave of relief washes over me and our crazy, consuming love seems to sparkle all around us.

Then I hear a thump coming from the bathroom in the corridor—Wednesday's room now—just as my phone starts ringing. It's Rague.

"I'll go check on her, you answer the phone," Lori tells me after giving me a hard kiss.

"Any news?" I say into the phone.

"Not what you're expecting. Meg is still the same. Raph, Michael, and Linda are at the hospital with her."

"So, what is it?"

"Someone dropped Philip Bailey, tied up like a pig, on Uri's lake house steps. He's still alive, but he had an arrow in his left arm and one in his left cheek…ass cheek."

Fuck yes, Bez comments.

"Do we know who?"

He grunts. "Nope. You need to come to the base. Bring Lori. I have a little surprise for you."

"Coming." I leave the bed, and Lori is back just as I hang up. "Meg?" he asks, leaving Wednesday on the floor. She starts pecking at the carpet. I'll have to change it soon if she keeps using her beak to make holes.

"No, but Philip Bailey is at the base."

"They got him?! I'm coming too!" he hurriedly says, taking a defensive stance, which is not very convincing since he's butt naked. And all mine.

Ours, Bez reminds me.

"You are coming."

"I've been taking care of myself all my life," he keeps going like an unstoppable train. His index finger already poking my pec.

"Lori, you are," I repeat, grabbing that finger and sucking it between my lips.

"I am?" My words finally get to him. He blinks up at me, his brown pools a little glassy, making me smirk.

I leave the finger with a pop and pull him toward the bathroom, enjoying how small and soft his hand feels in my own bigger palm—and his round butt cheek in the other.

LORI

I take the last step of the metal stairs that end inside the base. Gabe pulls me toward the FUNS room; the tiny, round urn swings around my neck. I stop when I hear a "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I see Ollie and Sari walking inside the lab while talking animatedly. I send a glance to Rague and Uri in the FUNS room standing near a naked man tied to a chair. And then turn again toward the lab.

"Give me a sec," I tell Gabe, as I let go of his hand and make my way to the lab's door. I type in the code and enter.

"My huevos are on fire!" Ollie hisses.

Sari looks frantic. "Why did you…"

"What's going on?" I ask, reaching them near Sari's desk.

"I drank the potion." Ollie slaps a hand on his forehead, looking weirdly restless.

"A witch potion?" I ask, confused.

"The drug! The one you ingested," Sari explains. "I had a few samples on the desk, and he accidentally took one."

"How the hell did you do that?" I look at my bestie in shock.

"It was in a glass, or it looked like a glass. I thought it was my water, I wasn't thinking! I'm worried about Rague," he says nervously. His face is turning red, and he's fidgeting.

"Bloody hell, mate. You're a disaster," I huff at him.

"Fuck you, Lori!"

"Let's calm down. He only took a sip," Sari tries, but he looks more agitated than Ollie.

"Much less than me. That's good. How do you feel?"

"Heated, jumpy, horny as hell," he growls.

"No pain?"

"Not yet." As soon as he says the words, he bends in two and groans.

"Damn it, he'll turn into a sex maniac very soon," I state.

"I don't know how to process that." Sari frowns at me. "Maybe?—"

Ollie cuts Sari off. "Help me, you idiots!"

"So rude." I glare at him.

"I have a sedative!" Sari suddenly exclaims.

Ollie lets out a scream.

"No sedative. Go call KKJ. Now!"

Sari runs out of the lab, and I instantly move closer to Ollie, freezing when I see his eyes full of desire zero in on me. Oh. Fuck the hell, no!

"Ollie. I love you, but I'll skin myself and let badgers lick me raw before touching you in that way."

"You're such a dick! I don't want you! But I would have done it for you. I almost… Ahhhhh!"

"What the fuck?" Rague barrels into the lab and hoists a moaning Ollie in his arms.

"Beastie, I need you…to fuck me. So much." He starts humping his husband, reminding me of my first time with Gabe and Bez. The good and the bad.

"Kitty, I'll take care of all your needs."

"Go!" I tell him.

He nods and then disappears, out and up the stairs.

"It's all my fault. I did this!" Sari looks on the verge of tears, pulling on his long braid. "I should have been more careful."

I try to calm him down. "Angel, you actually gifted them a few hours of multiple-orgasm shagging. No worries."

He wipes the tears under his light blue eyes, leaving his glasses on the tip of his nose.

"How are you?" At the hospital he looked devastated, wretched, inconsolable.

"I…I need to go back to work." He averts his eyes and walks back to the desk. He keeps so much inside.

"I'm always available if you fancy a talk," I let him know, hoping he'll come to me when he needs.

As I open the lab door, I hear his soft thank you.

Gabe is still waiting for me outside, typing on the phone.

"Looks like Ollie and KKJ are going to be busy." I sigh, lacing my fingers with his.

His lip twitches. It's okay. I know how to make him smile fully. But now is revenge time.

I look at the glass wall facing the FUNS room and only now notice two naked, unconscious men strapped to two different boards—those are for Gabe's knife-throwing practice. Wait, they are the Skid Mark brothers!

"Ready?" Gabe asks me, pocketing his cell.

"I was born ready. Bez, are you?"

"Yes," he replies.

I enter the FUNS room with my boys. It's a large room covered in plastic sheets—easer to clean. Today the color is prison jumpsuit orange—I love Rami's craziness. There's a large sink in the back with a hose and a bucket, and a small table covered with some instruments of torture. Rague installed chains coming from the high ceiling with a hook at the end, from which more tools are hanging. My eyes find a baseball bat. I need to thank him later.

Uri is standing near a suffering and gagged Bailey, shooting him a non-smile that would give most normal people screaming nightmares.

"Normal people are boring," I say out loud.

"Normal is a stupid word," Uri retorts.

Bailey has an arrow sticking from his shoulder, and since he's sitting, they must have removed the other from his ass. I wonder who is the intrepid Robin Hood that gave us such a present.

Bailey also has various cuts all over his body and some burns, two fingers on one hand are missing. Who did this to him?

"Did Rami discover who delivered Bailey to your door?" Gabe asks his brother. He looks a bit tense, his fingers keep flexing between mine.

"No. The guy had a white mask on his face and was wearing a hoodie." Uri grits his teeth.

Pity. I'd like to send him a basket of fruit or something.

Wait, a white mask? "Is it a fashion statement? I saw a bloke with a white mask like three times in the last couple weeks."

Uri's eyes jump to mine. "You did? Where?" He sounds very interested.

"Uhm, the first time outside the firm building, for less than a second before the elevator's door closed. I thought I imagined him, but then I saw him at Crimson before getting dosed."

"What was he doing?" Uri insists.

"Nothing, just standing near a column." I shrug. "I saw him last two days ago outside your restaurant downtown, the one on restaurant row."

Uri nods, seemingly lost in thought.

"Do you think there's a connection with Bird Turd and the white-masked guy?" I ask Gabe.

"Bird Turd?" Uri inquires.

"Phoenix," Gabe explains.

"No connection," Uri answers.

"We can't dismiss any theory," Gabe states.

"He worked on Bailey before dropping him off at my house. Why would he do that if he was on Phoenix's side?" Uri insists.

"Maybe they want to get rid of Bailey, and we're actually doing their dirty work for them." Gabe's theory is plausible, but from what I learned about Phoenix, they like to get their hands bloody.

Raph's voice suddenly resounds in the room from the intercom. "Rami said that Bailey has been having fun with minor prostitution lately on top of illegal drugs. The Dorridges liked that as well, very much."

"Well, that adds a whole new layer of horror to this," Michael mutters. I look at the glass wall; they're standing there, looking tired. They stayed at the hospital with Meg a long time. Rami must be there now.

"Linda?" I ask.

"Doesn't want to leave Meg." Michael sighs. I did the same with Gran. I understand.

Bailey moans, saliva drools down the corners of his mouth.

"Did Sari take the samples?" I ask, and Uri nods. Sari always takes donor samples. He's a medical researcher, and he exploits the donor's body to find new cures or remedies. The bros have an amazing thing going here.

Gabe's eyes are fixed on Bailey. I try to take a step toward the weapons, but Gabe's hand doesn't let go. I frown.

I glance at Michael, and his face reflects the same confused expression, because Gabe looks uneasy when he never looks anything but cold around the donors.

I move back to him and whisper, "Everything okay?"

"Bez never came to play in the FUNS room. Ever. He's unstable when he comes out to protect me. I have no memory of my father's death—Bez switched taking complete control—but I remember standing near his mutilated corpse. It was a blood bath."

Gabe told me about his father's disembowelment at Bez's hands.

"If you see what he's capable of… We won't let you go, Lori. We can't." Is he afraid I'll be scared of them? After everything we went through? Preposterous.

"I'm not interested in donors. But this is a revenge kill. For you. For what's mine, and I want it," Bez declares.

For a long second, I gaze at him, the fire in his eyes is replaced by something else that makes me nearly shiver. I dreamed about a thousand death scenarios for Bailey since he gave me that drug. But I realize that Bez needs this more than me.

"Then have your fun," I tell him. "Gabe, let him do it. Trust me." He squeezes my hand, and I take that as a yes.

"Let him." I hear Bez snorting as he mocks my words. I pucker my lips, getting a quick slap on my ass as he lets go of my fingers and moves toward Bailey. No weapon in his hands. He pulls down the gag and stares at him.

"I'm not going to tell you fuck. I already said everything to your sadistic masked friend. Plus, I'm dead anyway." He spits on Bez's t-shirt.

"Don't like talking," Bez replies before yanking hard on the arrow in his shoulder, pulling on it with a slow move until it is fully out. The scream that leaves the donor reaches the devil's throne. It intensifies when Bez punches the wound once, twice, three times until we hear a crack. Then he pushes two fingers inside the bleeding wound and pulls on the broken bone, tearing flesh to take it out.

Uri and Raph have deadpan expressions on their faces, but when I glance at Michael, he looks enraptured. He has a thing about blood.

Me? I'm equal parts grossed out and turned on by his ruthless, vicious methods.

Bailey starts begging, but when it doesn't work, he confesses everything. How Phoenix contacted him over the internet. How he was promised a huge slice of the pie when the drug hit the streets. He tested the first three types on people at his sex club, blackmailing his rich clients at the same time—like he tried with Gabe. He never met Phoenix, they only exchanged texts, but he has dates, places, and times of the next three shipments, and the names of the dealers who are supposed to sell it.

Fifteen minutes later Bailey is sweating profusely, head lolling on the side, whimpering. Bez's chest is heaving, eyes staring at his gruesome masterpiece with satisfaction. He suddenly lifts his boot and stomps on the maggot's foot. I hear crunching noises mixed with wailing as he grinds his heel.

"I told you everything I know, I swear," Bailey cries.

"Don't care." Bez goes to his wrist next. He unties it and then proceeds to fold it, pushing the fingers until they touch his forearm. More blood, cracking noises, more white bones on display. He keeps going until all the maggot's bones in his four limbs are broken and my stomach feels upside down. This will go into my torture record book.

"You should be thankful you didn't touch what's mine," Bez tells Bailey, taking three steps back as he cleans his hands on his t-shirt.

"Have fun, Little Wasp." He smirks at me, and then his lips turn down. Gabe is back. He looks down at his bloody clothes and sighs.

I go to him and brush away some red drops from his chin. "I'll give you a shower later." I smile at him, showing him I'm still utterly consumed by him. And he nods.

"Big fan of your better side," Uri tells Gabe.

"He's hotheaded, but he can crack a bone." Raph always sounds uninterested.

"Now it's my turn," I announce as I move toward the chains hanging from the ceiling. I choose the bat, of course. "Michael, let me hear about a disturbing method of torture." It's a hobby of his. I like it.

"How about immurement? It's a form of execution in which a person is sealed within an enclosed space without any exits. In this form of execution, the victim generally dies of dehydration and starvation, and then is slowly eaten by insects."

Okay.

"Sounds boring. Bodies are made of goo and juice, just take the goo out. The end," Uri replies.

"I want to try that," Raph says.

Michael keeps talking, but I tune him out.

The bat I'm holding is not as good as mine, but it will do. I roll it like a pro before a baseball game and move toward Bailey first. He's not moving and bleeding from too many wounds, but I still hit his face with the bat. Twice. I owe him that. I can see his cheek ripple under the force and weight of the wood and his temple crack.

"Is he still alive?" I ask Uri. He shakes his head. A wave of justice and satisfaction washes over me, but I don't have time to enjoy it fully yet. The Skid Mark brothers are waiting.

They woke up at Bailey's third scream and look scared shitless. Their shocked expressions turned into threats and then begging. Now they're both trembling silently, especially as I make my way to the older one. He slides his beady eyes from my high boots to my tight legging and white tank top. Even a few minutes before dying, he's still a slimy, disgusting prick.

"Help me," he pleads.

"After you paid someone to kidnap me? I'm here to kick your ass." I swing the bat, nailing him right on the hand that touched me. He screams bloody murder, and I smirk.

"You won't get away with it," the younger brother yells, shivering like a leaf in the wind. He's glaring at me and Gabe. "I knew there was something fucked up about you!"

"The only thing fucked up here is the way you like to force yourself on minors," Uri says, as Gabe's first knife flies through the air and pierces the maggot's ear. The second hits his pinky. Third and fourth, his testicles. Such precision. His cries resound inside the room, followed by his brother's cussing.

"My boyfriend is… What is a person obsessed with knives called?"

"Aichmomaniac," Michael comes to my aid.

"Need to know how to spell that. But to be more specific, he likes to use people as a target and to cut them in pieces."

A squeaking noise comes out the younger maggot's throat. Blood rolls down his legs.

"Quit being such a whiner," I tell him. "You pretended to be a badass when you demanded I be fired!" My bat swings again, hitting his brother's knee. More screams echo among the four walls. I like the sound that a bat makes when it hits bones. It's a very specific one. It reminds me of spring for some unknown reason.

"Aren't you sorry now?" I ask rhetorically, because I know he isn't. Not really. "For all the people you assaulted?"

"Yes! Please," he yells. I roll my eyes and hit him in the dick. Twice. Wincing both times. But it's for all the victims who felt violated because of him.

I turn to Gabe again. He looks fucking spectacular right now. He doesn't utter a word or lose his composure as he tosses his knives. Purrrr! The way he prepares himself, the icy precision in his eyes just before he throws, and the rapidity of his movements. I'll probably nut in my legging if I keep looking.

I swing my bat upward, shattering the maggot's jaw and then getting his temple, knocking him out. I don't care if he's dead or not. I've had enough.

I drop the bat on the floor, it rolls for a couple of seconds and stops at Uri's feet. He's looking at me, but doesn't say anything.

My arms ache, but I feel so damn good. This is what I want. What I need. To share everything with them.

I move near Gabe, and he looks down at me before tossing two knives almost at the same time, without taking his eyes off me. The blades slice the air and get both brothers in the head.

So bloody hot. If what I'm feeling is wrong, I don't give a shite.

"I love the way the corner of your lip curls just before you toss a knife," I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck and smiling up at him, not caring about the blood on our clothes. It's amazing how his blond hair is still perfectly styled. No wild strand in sight.

"I love you," he says, and bloody hell, it's nice to hear it.

"What now?" I ask.

"Now you learn how to be mine," he declares.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I narrow my eyes at him. "I don't need to learn anything from you, you thickheaded, stuck-up, arrogant?—"

He shuts me up with a short but dirty kiss. "Do you always have to fight back, Lori?"

"Always," I echo.

"I'll have to get used to it," he utters simply.

"Promise?"