4. Hellena

4

HELLENA

I dream in the darkness.

Of Tell, of Evan, of Gavin.

They've come to find me.

But there's nothing left of who I was.

They look and look in the shadows, but I'm not there.

My mind eventually protests the torment, drives me back toward consciousness. I fight it. There's nothing good waiting for me there.

Just misery.

Cold.

Except that when I reach out, hesitantly testing the sensation of wakefulness, I feel a blanket.

A thin mattress.

I'm back in my cell.

The void of my solitary confinement is over.

I barely remember the hours lost in there this time. Almost like the cold from the freezing water seeped in through my skin, replacing my fears, my anger, my hopes with muted resolve.

Acceptance of my situation.

A numbness that smooths over every concern with ambivalence.

Even when I hear voices outside my room, I hardly move.

But my curiosity is piqued when I hear Lonnie bark, "Where the fuck you been? You were supposed to be here yesterday."

"Yeah, we had to pull the bitch out 'cause we thought she was dead," Vance adds, snorting.

"I was preoccupied. She's not my only patient, you know."

"Fuck that. Marco says get here, you get here."

The other voice, the one I don't quite recognize, mumbles something.

"Heh, more likely the doctor was fucking strung out. Couldn't get out of bed." Grico is the smartest of the three, the sharpest, but far from witty.

Memories flicker through my head from my first few days here, trying to match the doctor's voice to his face. Those days were awful, though.

Vague.

But the voice still seems off.

Locks click open before the door creaks and Lonnie peers around at me in the dimness.

"Good. You're up. Need to make sure you're not fucked up."

"Quit yapping and get her into the lab."

The lab. They've used that room to question me. Punish me. And as a makeshift doctor's office.

It's the biggest room down here. Versatile, I guess.

It's also the room with the thickest door. Soundproof walls.

Convenient.

Rising slowly, testing the aches and stiffness in my muscles, I settle onto my bare feet, the ice of the basement concrete only a faint sting. Standing is more of a chore, but I do not want to force anyone to offer "assistance".

Crossing the hall, I lead the way into the viewing room, turning back to face the door with my back to the paper covered table.

"Wondered when you'd call me again. The cumulative injuries to her body could cause serious issues in the future."

"Just make sure she's still breathing and let us worry about her later."

"Of course." The doctor tilts his head at Grico as he steps into the doorway, his eyes flicking this way and that.

"How long you need?"

"As long as it takes, you oaf."

"Watch your tone, you junkie-ass old man. Ring the bell three times when you're ready to go."

"And you watch the door. Isn't that all you're good for?" he sneers, right before he slams the door in the giant man's face.

The lock on the outside clicks shut.

"You're in a mood today," I snip, my body tensing to the closed quarters and the fact that I'm only wearing a simple shift. Someone cleaned me up and dressed me.

The thought makes me shiver.

I really hope it was one of the maids and not the brutes outside.

"I don't like bullying tactics. Those two harass me every time I come to do my job."

"And how many times has that been? Remind me."

The doctor ignores my question, setting his bag down on the cabinet and sorting through his tools. His movements remind me of the other times.

Still, something itches in the back of my brain, a slight hint of familiarity that has nothing to do with the doctor.

"What do I call you?"

"Doc or Doctor should suffice."

"Can't get too attached to your victims. Smart."

"My patients are my life, Miss. Even if they aren't… conventional. Criminals need treatment too."

"And you need money under the table. Drugs."

A flicker of a smile plays at the older man's lips, and what might be a flash of amusement in his eyes behind his round glasses.

"Sit."

"No, thank you. I've been sitting in filth for hours. Days. I lost track of how long the torture lasted."

This time, he turns back to me with his stethoscope, a clear look of concern on his face. Grief, even.

"I'm sorry they have mistreated you. No one deserves such cruelty. Except maybe the one who ordered it." He snickers softly, like he's sharing a private joke with me.

I keep my disdain clear.

"You're just as wretched as the man who's paying you to be here."

"You are not wrong, there. But he is. And I am here to do a job. So take off your gown and sit on the fucking table."

The forcefulness in his voice startles me, making me take a step back into the table at first.

Then that spark that's always gotten me into trouble fires up, the way it always has, especially when someone is just asking for it.

"Fuck you. You come in here every time they break me to patch me up again, just so they can do it all over again." I may be done fighting back against Marco and his men for my sanity, but this guy is a target I can take some of my frustration out on.

"That's how this works. Putting up a fight and taking out your frustrations on me doesn't help anything." He shrugs at my lack ofcompliance and presses the earpiece to my chest. I breathe in, the usual shit.

Then he proceeds to examine my eyes, mouth, ears.

His hands are surprisingly gentle. Warm.

Not clammy like they were the other times. I remember that much at least.

Which makes me even more suspicious. And a little rambunctious.

I start to hike up my gown, watching him watch me as I do.

"Thank you for participating. Now I'll check your bruises and stitch any cuts that need it." He sniffs in annoyance, like he's doing me a favor.

I mean, I guess he is.

But I can't bring myself to be nice about it. About anything ever again.

"You getting off on this, sicko?" I taunt, slipping the fabric up over my breasts.

The cold in the room has them peaked, my nipples hard.

Let him fucking look.

"Nothing I haven't seen before." But there's a tension in his shoulders as he forces his eyes to stay at head level with me. "Please, sit on the table, Hella."

The word doesn't register at first.

But then my heart stops. My breath catches.

Instantly, my eyes flick back up to his. For the first time, I notice the color.

The glasses are tinted, but…

His eyes are green. And he's?—

"Tell?!" I stammer, dropping my nightgown to the floor in shock.

"I thought you'd never notice." He grins, and suddenly, even through the prosthetics, I see him clearly.

And my body reacts instantly, flushing red to be naked in front of him,aching to throw myself into his arms.

"Sorry… I'm a mess." It's so silly, the words falling out of my mouth a flat excuse.

"You look amazing," he murmurs, and I melt.

We close the distance in a heartbeat, our lips meeting, my eyes closing to block out the sight of the face he's wearing, to just feel him.

And he feels incredible, his arms around me, his heart beating, pressed against mine.

Even more so when I feel him hardening to my touch through his pants. It hits me like a sledgehammer how much I want him, how much I need him.

Right. Now.

As our lips collide again, my hands are tearing at his shirt, then his pants, whipping his belt off, dropping them to the floor. Tell moans into my lips as his hands find my hips, then my ass, cupping me as I tug his boxers down aggressively.

"My goddess, that ass…"

"Miss me?"

"You have no idea," he gasps, his incredible length springing free of his underwear, already rock hard.

"I think I might…" I groan, licking my lips and dropping to my knees before him. Watching him clench in anticipation sends a flex through my core, heating my center and sending shivers of anticipatory pleasure down my legs.

The second his tip touches my tongue, I'm done.

Swallowing him whole isn't even close to enough of having him, all of him, how I want him.

But it's a great start.

Tell's fingers graze my head, so soft that chills spring out on my flesh from head to toe.

Just as I see goosebumps pop out along his legs in response to another throat-deep plunge of his cock into my mouth. It's rough, fast, and messy.

And over too soon as he pulls me back to my feet.

Not that I blame him.

I can't wait another second for him to be inside me.

Tell spins me around, cupping one hand around me, tweaking my nipples hard, making me grunt a near-laugh of shock and elation.

"Spread your arms over the table."

"And my legs, Doctor?"

"As wide as you can."

"What about my ass…?"

"Let me take care of that." Without warning, his palm strikes my exposed cheek, stinging so sweetly. Tell pulls up short immediately after, though. "Shit… sorry, I didn't even think?—"

"No. This is the good kind of rough. Please. More," I pant, desperate for him to lay into me, to plunge into my depths and make me forget everything for a few precious minutes.

Tell's grip tightens on either side, pulling me apart. I feel his eyes drinking me in, his breath quickening as the head of his manhood opens me to him, paused just inside for a torturous few seconds.

And right then, a thump at the door freezes us both.

"You alright in there?" It's muffled through the soundproofing.

"Yes!" Tell shouts to be heard. "Just doing?—"

"Some very. Uncomfortable. Examinations," I growl out, right as I slam my hips back into Tell's, driving him completely to the hilt inside me, making my head spin and my heart nearly pound out of my chest.

Tell slaps one hand over his mouth to keep from laughing at my comment and from crying out as he plows into me again, then again.

The movement is purposeful, hard. Long. Slow.

Every thrust of him fills me entirely, stretches me to the limit. Savoring every luxuriously slick slide out makes my legs quiver, makes my hands grip the edge of the table harder, biting down on my lip right before he hits home again, settling himself in my inner depths.

It's fucking heaven.

Tell drags fingernails down my naked back, igniting my skin with tingles, awakening a feeling that I thought I had lost.

It's feral, violent, primal.

And I funnel every bit of the pent-up rage that's been useless the past two weeks into that sensation.

My muscles burn with our efforts, straining to hold tight to the table as he pounds me. And in turn, I push myself back into him, drawing him into me with every fiber of my being.

It's the closest I'll get to feeling complete again.

So I don't waste it.

"Hella, you're gonna make me?—"

"Mmm, yes… harder, harder!" I hiss out through my clenched teeth, bracing for the onslaught of my first climax, knowing that he'll ride it out, that he'll push me to another if I pace things right.

It's the only thought in my mind as I soar off the first cliff, my inner thighs trembling with convulsions, drenching my fingers in sex as I join Tell's fingers, reaching around to circle my apex, firing off another series of explosions behind my eyes.

He's always been electric, a fucking thousand volts of lightning to my circuits.

And he knows just how to jolt my whole system.

Dragging himself out, I feel him slide down behind me, gripping me as I shudder in the aftershocks.

"I need to taste you," he breathes onto my flushed, soaked skin, lashing my core with his tongue, zapping my senses.

Pressing my face into the cool metal of the table, I watch my breath fog on the reflective surface, reveling in the sheer bliss of his tongue along every crevice and fold of my sex, toying with my clit, driving me to mind-numbing heights.

I roll my hips back, pressing my cheeks into his face as he buries his tongue inside me, and grin ear to ear as I hear him groan behind me, delighting in me.

There's nothing in the whole fucking world but his tongue, his fingers.

Just the fact that he's devouring me, worshiping every inch of me with his mouth takes me to a state that rides the edge of oblivion, threatening to drive me over again and again.

But Tell's always known how to make me work for it.

How to keep me hanging on until I'm transcendent.

That aura washes over me as he presses one finger, then another onto that certain spot, the gathering of every nerve ending that makes me go nuts.

And just when I think that's it, that I can't handle a second more, another single ounce of ecstasy, he hikes my legs over his shoulders, latching onto my clit with his lips and hammering the center of my lust with two fingers, just hard enough, just fast enough, to send me to fucking Valhalla.

My knees bend, my heels tapping against my butt as he speeds up, fluttering that maniacal tongue. He has be bent nearly backwards in half as I come undone, and the flex of my body at that angle makes the submission earth shattering. I can't move, I can't even writhe, as a massive wave hits me full force.

I can't even scream.

Until I'm on the other side, what feels like minutes later, shivers cascading down every synapse.

Tell eases me down, rolling me onto my back, letting my heaving chest catch a hint of cold air. His hair is down over his face as he huffs a little laugh, wiping my glorious mess off his chin.

Clasping his hand, I draw him toward me, pressing his fingers into my mouth, tasting what he did to me there.

"Tell… I need more…"

"Whatever you need, Hell. I love you." He slumps over me for a moment, taking his time on one nipple, then the other.

I hate myself when I don't say it back. When I can't.

I just nod, humming my affirmation, my desire.

And bless this man, he just goes along with it, scooping me up and wrapping those long, ripped arms around my middle, settling himself into me again and planting me firmly against the cool wall across the room.

My legs can barely hang on as he plunders me again.

But all I have to do is hold on to his neck, my arms locked around him, my legs hooked around his hips.

His hands cups my ass cheeks, supporting me, spreading me.

And his chest keeps me pinned to the wall.

"Give it to me… everything," I whisper, just before he starts that powerful rhythm again and I have to bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out.

The rush of chemicals in my brain has me straight stupid drunk.

Fucked up on Tell beyond relief.

"Fuck, Hellena…"

"Harder, Tell. Faster. I need you to c?—"

"Yes," he growls, barreling into me like a fucking piston, driving life into my starved soul. Driving the breath out of me with each thrust.

It's fast and vicious and relentless.

It tells me more about what he's been through the past weeks than any words could.

That he's struggled. Suffered. Just like me.

"Tell, Tell, Tell." My words come out a muffled whimper, the only way I can keep from belting it out. And the only way I can let him know I am about to unravel.

"Hella, I?—"

"Come with me."

"I—Ah!" He gasps as he doubles down, seating himself fully in me and grinding into me, filling me with him.

The heat surges through my core, blushing into every inch of my skin, burning hot.

I'm shaking as I avalanche down that mountain with him, my head dropping back against the wall as I spasm with bliss, over and over again.

That buzzing sensation overflows, tingling out of my fingertips and toes.

My goddam hair is probably standing on end from the static electricity.

This is everything I've needed.

He is. But I have to subdue that feeling, those thoughts.

Even as he lets me down, settling me back onto the table, our disaster spilling down onto the floor.

Let it. It's so fucking hot.

Tell lets one hand gently caress my cheek, the back of his hand grazing my face lovingly.

"I've missed you, Hella. I was so scared?—"

"Tell. Don't. I know."

He looks up, with someone else's face, and I have to look away.

I see the hurt there at the gesture, but he shrugs a little laugh, waving it off.

"You shouldn't have come."

"You shouldn't have made me…"

"Not what I meant." I giggle, covering my mouth. "It's dangerous. Foolish."

"I had to know you were alright."

"You see that I am. Mostly."

"Then let's keep it that way. Get you out of here."

My silence says more than anything as I watch him, watching me. I see the realization dawn on him as I square my shoulders.

"You really plan to see this through. To what end?"

"To the end."

Tell's gaze falls, finally. "We should clean up."

"I will. First, tell me what's going on in Sanctum." I want to say "back home." But it would hurt too much to say those words.

"I'm guessing Marco's kept you in the dark by and large," he says, and I know he sees me flinch at the wording. "Sorry…"

"It's fine. They just… never mind. What happened after the flood?"

"I–I don't know. I've only checked in once with Ora and the Block, let her know I was following a lead. Trying to find you."

"So they know I'm gone. Good. You should get back to them. Help them plan. People are going to need help after the disaster."

"Hell, I can't?—"

"You have resources. Contacts. Money. Use them to get the people ready for Marco. I'll do whatever I can on this end."

"Hell."

"Do you trust me?"

"I do, but Gav?—"

"Do. Not." I shove him at arm's length as he steps toward me, trying to take my arms, to comfort me. "Do not say his name. I can't. Or Evan's."

Tell glares at me, his chest rising and falling like I stabbed him through the heart.

Again.

"Just get back there and make sure they are okay. Promise me."

Tell, falling back into his sickly, sagging doctor persona again, turns away, reaching for the buzzer that will alert the guards that he's ready to leave.

"I won't give up. Ever. None of us will."

Clamping down on my emotions, I steel my voice, clench my fists.

"Do not come back here, Tell. Or I will alert them next time. I'll have to."

Because it's past time for me to get results.