The Bastard Prince (Crellids Book 1) Page 11

  It was impossible with his smell all around me.

  With him still leaking from me.

  Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t force Trigger from my thoughts.

  Like a cruel twist of the knife, my heart decided to jump aboard the torment-Ashton train by forcing bittersweet memories to the surface...

  "Ashton–" Trigger burst into my room, looking hella happy and hella high.

  Ash-teen.

  My heart.

  Grinning like a maniac, he staggered over to my bed and flopped face down on the mattress. "I did it."

  Looking up at him from my perch on the floor, I paused what I was doing, holding the nail polish brush an inch away from my baby toe, and narrowed my eyes. "You lie."

  "I truth," he countered, voice muffled from where he was attempting to smother himself in my duvet. "Ashton smell so fucking good for Trig."

  "Show me," I demanded, popping the lid back on the polish and springing to my feet. He looked far too big for my bed, all muscular and male and sexy as hell. "I wanna see."

  "My ass," he slurred, still face down. "In my ass."

  "Your ass?" I rolled my eyes. "Your jeans, more like."

  My excitement overrode my agitation at his sloppy speech – something I had spent countless hours working on him with, and knew he could do better – and I lunged for my bed.

  Crawling over the mattress, I reached for his black shirt, yanking it up to expose his broad, tanned back.

  "Holy shit, you actually did it, Trig!" I gasped, eyes locked on the Glock tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

  Not just any Glock.

  Fabio's Glock.

  My gaze trailed over the weapon almost reverently and I reached into his jeans.

  "What did you take?" I asked then, holding the heavy metal in my hands. "Is this loaded?"

  "Fuck knows, mami. New shipment of coke," he mumbled drowsily. "Check my cock."

  "Trig," I giggled, sliding a hand underneath him and snagging several rounds of ammo from his front jeans pocket. "Oh, baby," I breathed, mesmerized by his delinquent creativity.

  "I do good?"

  "So good," I coaxed, feeling empowered. "He's going to freak out when he notices it's gone." Grinning deviously, I purred, "And Yegor's in the firing line."

  "Yegor is prick," Trig grumbled. "He no cock."

  "No, that was Vas," I laughed.

  "Vas no cock, Yegor no cock, Anton no cock, Jet suck cock," Trig muttered. "No Crellids with cock. All pussies. Only cock is Trig's cock."

  "I fucking love you, Trig," I breathed, in awe of this boy. "And your cock."

  "Sí," he mumbled, slapping a hand around the mattress. "Te amo… it is the same for me."

  "Look at me, Trig," I said then, heart beating hard for this boy. "Right now."

  With a great deal of effort, he rolled onto his back. "Mi reina pleased with her Trig?"

  "Yes." Nodding slowly, I hitched a leg over his thighs and straddled his hips. "I'm very pleased with my Trig."

  Head lolling to one-side, he smiled up at me. "I make you happy." His hands moved to my hips. "For all the days."

  "Yeah." Placing the gun on his chest, I reached for the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head. "Now, let me make you happy."

  "No," he groaned, sounding pained, as he hardened between my legs. "Corderito is no ready. Grow the patience like Trig. "

  "Shh." Taking his big hand, I placed it on my bare breast. "Mi cuerpo pertenece a mi rey..."

  Shaking my head, I dragged my thoughts back to the present and switched off the water. Numb, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my body, unable to stop my limbs from shaking.

  I couldn't seem to shake the cold off.

  It was in my heart and tainting the rest of me.

  "Aplastaré tu coño, corderito."

  "Puta traidora."

  "Puta reina."

  Heaving, I lunged for the toilet bowl, barely making it in time as my body rejected both my thoughts and the contents of my stomach.

  His words.

  How he made me feel.

  His hatred.

  How he took me in front of those men.

  I couldn’t get it out of my head.

  Gasping for air, I wiped the back of my mouth and climbed unsteadily to my feet. Breathing hard, I leaned against the sink and forced myself to look in the mirror, hardly recognizing myself when I plucked up the courage.

  My gray eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them puffy and red. My full lips were cracked and also swollen.

  Purple bite marks littered my neck, chest, and arms, and I knew if I removed the towel, I would find plenty more.

  Arousal smacked me straight in the face and my pussy clenched.

  "Stop it," I hissed, furious with myself for pulsing. "This is not good."

  Clit throbbing, I clenched my thighs together and forced my mind to block out the feel of him as I reached for his toothbrush and cleaned my teeth.

  Finishing washing up, I made my way back to the bedroom, ready to tell Patrice and any of his cronies lurking nearby to fuck off, only to find Trig sitting on the edge of the bed.

  Stunned at the sight of him, I felt my feet falter in the doorway of the bathroom. The bed had been stripped, replaced with fresh sheets, while the old ones lay in a pile at his feet.

  My heart raced violently in my chest as I reluctantly soaked him in. He was shirtless, with a white bandage strapped to his shoulder and his head bent as he concentrated on rolling a joint.

  "Corderito," he acknowledged gruffly, not looking up from his task in hand.

  "Where were you?" I asked, voice breathy and weak, forcing my legs to move me forward.

  "Working," Trig replied, setting the weed tin on his nightstand and reaching for an ashtray and matches.

  Sparking up, he shook out the match, tossed it into the ashtray, took a deep hit, held his breath for several beats, before finally exhaling a cloud of smoke.

  Stepping around him, I moved for my side of the bed and then mentally checked myself for referring to it as my side. "Where's Patrice?"

  "Around," he replied, rolling the joint between his fingers absentmindedly.

  "I don’t have any clothes here," I told him, watching him warily. "Everything I own is back in my room." Shrugging, I added, "I don't have any clothes to change into."

  "I will have your stuff brought up here," he replied flatly before taking another deep drag, keeping his back to me. "Until then, you can have–" Exhaling slowly, he rasped, "whatever you like of mine to wear."

  "Okay." I swallowed deeply, pulse fluttering. "Thank you."

  He nodded once in response.

  "So…" I shifted in discomfort, unsure of what to do or say. "How is your shoulder?"

  "How is your pussy?" was his immediate response.

  "Tender," I whispered, cheeks flaming in heat.

  "Sí," he agreed with a sigh, exhaling another cloud of smoke. "It is the same for me."

  "Are you mad at me?" I asked then, unsure of what to make of his calmness when he was anything but calm with my body last night.

  "Are you mad at me?" he threw my question back at me.

  "Yes." I narrowed my eyes, irritated by his avoidance of answering a damn question. "I'm furious."

  "Sí," he repeated his earlier words. "Then it is the same for me."

  "Are you going to say anything?" I demanded then, huffing out a frustrated breath from his lack of…well, emotion.

  "What would you like me to say, corderito?" he replied in a flat, void tone.

  "Something," I hissed, overwhelmed with emotion. "Anything." Swallowing a pained groan, I squeezed out, "Just talk… about us? What happened? Your day? I don't know?"

  Tucking my damp hair behind my ear, I stared at the visible burn marks on his back – the ones the tattoos couldn’t cover.

  The ones that were my fault.

  "Just say something, Trig."

  "I had a very productive day at work, darling," he re
eled off dryly. "I took the lives of no less than four men and delivered a substantial shipment of chiva – Alemanni cartel. No doubt, it will be reaching the streets any day now. More lives to ruin. More whores on the corners to work. More mother's sons to put in the ground. Just another day in the office." Shaking his head, he exhaled a weary sigh. "Does that suffice as enough talking?" Taking another hit, he let his shoulders sag, elbows resting on his thighs. "Or should I continue?"

  "That's not funny, Trig," I whispered, unable to suppress the shiver that rolled through me.

  "I am not laughing, corderito," he replied, exhaling slowly.

  Feeling at a complete loss, I glanced around the room and said, "It wasn't supposed to be like this." Wrapping my arms around my knees, I dropped my head and whispered, "We weren't supposed to end up like this."

  "No," he agreed quietly. "We weren't."

  "Are you always going to stay with him?" I forced myself to ask, risking a peek. "Your father." I swallowed deeply. "Do you still plan to raise the army and –"

  "You do not get to ask me questions," he quickly cut me off. "I do not trust you." His shoulders slumped. "I will not make the same mistake twice."

  I withered inside. "Trig –"

  "Do you know that I can still smell it?" he continued, ignoring me. "In my nose. Every night. That fucking horrific smell is what I wake up to – if I am lucky enough to fall asleep in the first place. And the sounds? I can still hear their screams –"

  "Please don’t," I begged, forcing the memory from my mind.

  "I close my eyes and I see them, Ashton," he hissed, forcing me to hear his truth. "As if it was happening all over again." He shook his head. "Because of you." He tipped his head up to the ceiling and released a pained growl. "Because I trusted you."

  "I'm so sorry, Trig," I choked out.

  "I know," he confirmed gruffly. "I believe you."

  "I wish I could take it back," I wheezed out, feeling faint.

  "We cannot change what has come to pass," he replied. "But you do not get to ask me about my business again," he added. "I do not wish to treat you cruelly, corderito, it gives me no pleasure to see you in pain, but you are not my equal anymore. You are no longer my comrade."

  "Then what am I?" I strangled out, barely breathing from the agonizing pressure in my chest.

  "You know," he replied gruffly. "Do not make me say it."

  His whore.

  "Am I the only one?" I asked then, body trembling.

  Silence.

  "Trigger."

  "What do you want me to say to you?"

  "I want you to tell me that I'm the only one in your bed," I hissed, mind on emotional overdrive. "Tell me that, Trig. Fucking tell me!"

  He didn’t respond.

  "If you touch another girl, I will cut your cock off while you sleep," I warned him, enraged at the thought of him fucking other women. "I mean it," I added, consumed in a white-hot flood of jealously. "You don’t fuck other whores."

  Trig glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes finding mine. "Come here."

  Shifting onto my knees, I crawled over to where he was sitting and settled down facing him.

  "Promise me," I said, breathing hard and fast. "Say you won't touch other whores."

  "Hmm." His eyes took a long, drugging appraisal of my body and I grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me.

  "Say it," I hissed through clenched teeth. "Tell me you won't touch another woman."

  His dark eyes speared me holes through me as he watched me watch him. "Are you my wife, corderito?" he finally asked, tone soft. "Do you love me?"

  "Absolutely not," I spat, furious with him for toying with my frazzled emotions. "No way."

  "I see." Nodding slowly, Trig pulled his face from my grasp and took another drag. "Are you my whore?" he asked on a heavy exhale.

  "Never," I snarled, reaching up to snatch the joint from his fingers.

  "Then what are you to me?" he asked, moving the joint out of my reach. Holding it in front of my face, he snagged my chin between his fingers and guided my lips to his fingers. "Hmm?" he coaxed, smoothing my hair behind my ear when I placed my lips around the joint and took a hit. "Bad little lamb."

  Closing my eyes, I held my breath, reveling in the burn in my lungs, as a tingling, dizzy feeling slowly crept through me.

  "Well, corderito?" Trailing his cracked knuckles over my cheek, he leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Why would I make such a promise to you?"

  Flicking my eyes open, I cupped the back of his neck and dragged his face to mine, lips parted and touching.

  Looking deep into his dangerous eyes, I slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke from my lungs into his and whispered, "Because I'm your queen."

  "Sí." His eyes blazed with heat and his arms came around me, pulling me onto his lap "Mi reina."

  8

  Breaking all ranks, rules, and orders, I wandered down the corridor of the compound with Patrice trailing after me.

  "You must get back in room," he complained like a little bitch boy. "Jefe no like this."

  I rolled my eyes. "I already told you, Patrice; your jefe can kiss my ass."

  "You make mucho trouble for Patrice," he grumbled. "Perra loca."

  Crazy bitch.

  I grinned to myself.

  You have no idea.

  Maybe Patrice was right and I really was crazy, or maybe I was a product of my environment. Either way, some sort of masochistic madness possessed me and I found myself returning to the scene of the crime.

  Like a lamb to the slaughter…

  Something was wrong. I could sense it. I had no fucking idea what that something was, but my gut was screaming at me to keep going.

  Not bothering to knock, I pushed the door inwards and marched into the office that was adjoined to Fabio's lair.

  The room I had been reunited with Trigger in.

  The room that signalized the beginning of my end.

  I wasn't one bit surprised to find more than a dozen men all sitting around the table. Negotiations were in full swing and I had no doubt that the naked whore sprawled on top of the table was on the top of their agenda.

  Sick bastards.

  And unlike most of the other women that had crossed the threshold of this hellhole, this one seemed to be enjoying the men's attention.

  And they called me crazy…

  The moment the door swung shut behind me, every man in the room turned to look at me. I didn’t care about any of them. I was only interested in the man heading the negotiations. The one who was glowering at me with a look of pure murder etched on his face.

  Aw shit.

  "Fabio," one of the men at the table said in a deep Texan drawl. "You have been holding out on us. Who is this young beauty?"

  Trigger moved to stand, but before he could, Fabio barked out a laugh. "Forgive my son's intended, gentlemen. Like a wild horse, he has yet to break her spirit."

  "She is not for sale," Trigger said in a deathly cold tone of voice. His furious gaze flicked to a guilty-looking Patrice who was standing beside me. "We will speak later."

  Without a word, Patrice slipped quietly from the room.

  "Everyone is for sale, son," the Texan argued, eyes alight with keen interest.

  "His intended, huh?" one of the other men mused, stroking his jaw. "How much will it cost me to break her in?"

  Put out that she was not the one in the limelight anymore, the whore moaned erotically as she lay, spread eagle on the table, and masturbated for the world and its mother to see her.

  "Yeah, what's your poison, son?" the Texan asked, much to the whore's dismay, as he lit his cigar. "Name your price and you have it." His eyes trailed down my body and a shudder of repulsion racked through me.

  "There is not enough money in the world," was Trigger's cool response.

  Thank.

  Fucking.

  God.

  "Ashton." His furious gaze flicked to me and I knew I was in trouble. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"


  For once, I didn’t have an answer. I could hardly tell him that I had a horrible feeling and I had followed my gut into the wolves' den.

  Silly little lamb…

  "Ashton, huh?" One of the men smiled at me. "Pretty name for a pretty pus–"

  "Enough!" Slamming his fist down on the table and startling the whore, Trigger rose to his feet and stormed towards me.

  A tremor of fear rolled through me.

  You're in trouble, Ashton.

  You're dead fucking meat.

  "Excuse me, gentlemen," he bit out. Grabbing my arm with more force than was necessary, Trig dragged me towards the door. I could tell by the way he handled me that I was in for a rough fuck tonight. "My intended needs to learn a lesson on where she ranks in our world."

  Liar, I thought to myself and fought the urge to roll my eyes, come at me like that again and I'll stab you somewhere vital.

  "Why the rush, son? Where better to teach her a lesson on obedience than right here?" Fabio called out and my blood ran cold. "Or better still, have her watch you take the whore. That will put her in her place." He grinned darkly. "Ashton is a rarity," he said by way of explanation to the intrigued looking men around the table. "She is strangely devoted to my bastard, despite his public besmirching of her innocence."

  The men laughed and Trigger stiffened beside me.

  "Come along, son," Fabio chuckled. "Bring her to me. She can sit on my lap and watch the show."

  Trigger stiffened and the hand he was using to grip my arm trembled. "I do not think so."

  "I do not remember giving you an option," Fabio replied coolly.

  Trig's brown eyes flicked to me and I subtly shook my head.

  Don’t do it, mi rey, I silently warned him, you're cornered and outnumbered.

  After a tense stare down, Trigger released the kind of feral growl that came from a wounded lion unable to protect his lioness.

  Muttering a string of curse words in his native tongue, Trig released my arm and stalked back to the table, hands moving to the buckle of his belt.

  Quickly undoing his fly, he pushed his slacks down his hips.

  When he reached for the whore, panic and despair spiraled to life inside of me.

  Oh, hell fucking no!