Hundreds by Pepper Winters
Her face twisted into something ugly. “Don’t tell me who I loved, you little bitch.”
“That’s enough!” Elder shed his melancholy, an aggressor coming to my rescue. “Call me whatever you like but don’t ever go after Pim. Never. Do you hear me?”
“If she’s with you, she’s as bad as you are. I can call her whatever I want!”
“No.” He shook his head with deliberate calm. “You can’t. I won’t allow you to dishonour her.”
“You dishonour her by not telling her the truth!” His mother pounced on her new subject. “I’m right, aren’t I? This girlfriend of yours doesn’t know who you are. What you’re capable of. What you’re like.” She cackled at me. “Do you know about his ‘condition?’ Do you know how he killed his family? I’ll tell you. He set fire to the house. I still have the scent of my son’s burning body in my nose.”
Coming out from the kitchen, she continued, “Did he tell you where all his money came from? How he stole it from one unsuspecting person? How he took what wasn’t his and layered such thick, thick shame upon his soul? Mark my words—karma will get him. He will pay for his sins, and I suggest you get far away, girl, before that payment comes for him. He’s right that they’ll never stop hunting him. It’s only fair. He deserves to die.”
Goosebumps darted down my arms.
I glanced at Elder.
He merely crossed his arms as if expecting me to bolt out the door. His face hardened. “I did tell you I wasn’t the hero in this story, Pim. Whatever I’ve told you has been the truth. I just haven’t told you many things.”
“Always thought you were smarter than everyone!” His mum shook her head, black hair flailing, glittering with grey. “Even back when you bathed in compliments calling you a virtuoso, a prodigy. Ha! I knew the truth. I knew why you were the way you were. It wasn’t from some gift touched by heaven, but a curse brought upon you from hell.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elder said as cold and as delicate as snowflakes. “Dad understood. He helped me channel—”
“Yes, and just like I said before. You killed him!”
“I didn't kill him, okaasan. The Chinmoku did. You know this! And they’re hunting all of us. You’re stupid if you believe they’re not a threat to you too.”
“Don’t you say that name!” She slapped hands over her ears. “Blaming others for your evil is not going to work. You were responsible. They died because of you. I did nothing wrong.”
Elder stepped toward her. Grabbing her hands, he yanked them down. “I’ve respected your desire never to see me again. I’ve stayed away even though it fucking kills me to be an outcast from my own family. But I won’t let you believe such lies. I loved Kade and Otōsan just as much as you did. If I could turn back the clock and never get involved with the Chinmoku, I would. I didn’t know the price. I was naïve, but that doesn’t give me the right to beg for your forgiveness.” His voice turned sad, accepting that this fight had no winner or loser—they were both too stubborn to concede. “If you never want to see me again, then that’s you’re right, but, Okaasan, I love you—”
His mother let out another wail, struggling in his hold. He didn’t let go as if unable to part after so long. Her eyes fell onto Elder’s tattooed wrist. Such small ink compared to the artwork on his chest with the illusion of ribs and organs protected by a mythical beast. Most of the time, I forgot about the tiny characters ingrained into the thin skin of his arm.
I had no idea what it meant.
But his mother knew all too well.
Another sob escaped as she collapsed, dragging Elder to the floor with her as he tried to capture her weight without touching her more than necessary.
She struck him as her sob turned to howls.
Her hate turned to grotesque repugnance.
She shoved him away from her as if he was vile scum. “How could you! How could you?!”
I stood lost and unsure, but Elder sighed heavily, his face falling as he conceded defeat. “I could because they were mine too. I lost them too. Their names remind me every hour of every fucking day not to be that kid again. To harness it. To control it. To never ever forget.”
His mum crawled away, tears racing. “I hate you!”
“Too bad, I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.” Elder took a step back, letting her go physically and spiritually. “I’m sorry, Okaasan. For everything.”
Coming toward me, his body quaked, his hands balled and shaking. He kept his gaze on his mother writhing in agony on the carpet. “I’ll leave now, but you’re welcome to stay. Tell Raymond he has permission to stay as long as he likes—as I told all my uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews. Family you won’t permit me to see. Family who don’t even know I’m alive. But please, Okaasan, be careful.”
Rocking to her knees, his mother shut down. Her tears dried up. Her mouth thinned to a fierce line. Her emotions locked behind impenetrable gates. With a straight and true finger, she hissed, “Get out.”
“Goodbye, Mother.” Elder bowed low and sweeping like a prince paying homage to his sovereign before striking out for his own kingdom.
My heart broke for the disaster that’d happened. That I hadn’t helped more. That there was no way else for this to end.
With cold fingers, Elder captured my hand, took one last look at the woman who gave him life, and took me with him.
Far away from her.
Chapter Thirteen
______________________________
Elder
FUCK.
I threw the empty crystal glass at the wall, not caring if I dented the sleek perfection of paint and wallpaper. The tumbler was too thick to shatter, and it bounced off with an angry thud, rolling across the carpet.
It offered no satisfaction. No crash or splinter to soothe the rampaging agony and anger inside me.
“Goddammit,” I muttered, stalking to collect the glass to pour another shot of vodka.
I shouldn’t.
I really shouldn’t.
I’d had one. One was my limit. One taste to stave off the desire for the entire bottle. A trick I’d learned to allow a small sample of something before cutting it off entirely. Having that one taste made the removal easier rather than harder because at least I’d enjoyed some before being denied.
But it hadn’t worked tonight.
Tonight, the first shot wasn’t enough. The second shot wasn’t either. Perhaps, a third would help put out the fiery nerve endings and memories, and I could finally store away the bottle and calm the fuck down.
Splashing a generous amount into the glass, I threw it back. The alcohol burned my throat, granting discomfort before hitting my stomach in a wave of heat. Wincing, I cocked my arm and threw the tumbler again, pockmarking my wall with yet more anger-fuelled aggression.
Pacing, I dragged both hands through my hair. My eyes went to the vodka bottle again, craving something, anything to calm me, but knowing enough about myself not to have another.
My own family didn’t want me, but that didn’t mean I would destroy myself. I hadn’t when they’d banished me, and I wouldn’t now.
I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing their ostracizing had ruined me. I would never fall because they expected that of me. And I definitely wouldn’t screw myself over for when the Chinmoku found me. It wasn’t a matter of if but when. I was surprised it had taken this long.
How dare Raymond take my mother to my place without telling her? How dare he accept my offer of free accommodation without getting in touch? He’d willingly taken my gift but not offered thanks in return? He’d enjoyed my food, my home, my motherfucking hospitality, all without giving me something in return?
Asshole!
Not for the first time, I wondered why I held on to the past so hard. Why I craved the approval of so many who were no longer a part of my life. They’d left me to rot. They’d had no input into who I’d become. They didn’t know I had a guard watching them constantly—ready to a
I was the reason they were in danger. But they were the reason why they remained so vulnerable—because they didn’t take me up on the offer of sanctuary on the Phantom while I hunted and killed the threat to my entire lineage.
My mother had carved out what was left of my heart the day they’d unanimously agreed that I should leave and never return. Never listen to my warnings. Never forgive me.
“Stop thinking about it for God’s sake.” I pressed my temples, willing the alcohol to have some effect, but at the same time, fearing it. Marijuana was easier on my system. It only offered me quietness. It didn’t make the world a better place or give me false illusions like liquor did.
I didn’t get happy or sad or reckless or conniving. Pot made me slow down. It halted the thoughts and allowed me to just be. To hover in the moment.
I needed that.
I also needed to stand in one place, judging by the carpet track marks from where I’d paced. My feet didn’t listen and continued to stalk the suite, hunting for a reprieve.
On the thirtieth or so pass, when I approached the remaining vodka on the side table in its crystal bottle, I scooped it up and marched to the front of my room.
I couldn’t have it taunting me anymore.
My strength was waning.
I need it gone.
Strangling the silver labelled bottle, I flicked the button to head outside. The wraparound toughened glass opened, allowing me access to the main deck. Laying anchor a few kilometres from shore allowed the constant sea breeze to find us and blow away the cobwebs of the fight with my mother.
Inhaling deep, I cocked my arm back and tossed the bottle as far as I could. It arched up in a flash of crystal and liquid then tumbled over the side of the Phantom, breaking the brine and sinking to the depths below.
Eventually, barnacles and coral would cover the glass, starting a new existence as part of an ecological system rather than housing liquor to poison my mind and liver.
Unable to return inside just yet, I leaned on the balustrade and sighed. The pretty view sparkled and glitzed. Snatches of music made its way over the water, revealing the never-ending party Monte Carlo encouraged. The rich playground that never slept.
A few years ago, I’d partaken in the all-night affairs. I’d drunk and seduced and stolen.
Now, the thought of dancing with sweaty strangers, of sex in alleyways because libidos were jacked and morals were torn, appalled and intrigued me. I’d never been comfortable in crowds, but the allure of being no one for a while—of pretending to be someone other than myself—held more weight than normal.
What would it be like to be different? To have no sins or regrets? To have no blood beneath my nails or transgressions chasing me constantly? What would it be like to meet Pim across a crowded dance floor? To see a strong, untouched, unbroken woman and ask to share a drink with her? What would it be like to writhe together in song beat, jostled by other strangers, slowly getting more and more turned on, her body against my body. Her legs brushing my legs. Her eyes inviting me to take her.
What would it be like to take her to a private corner and fuck her with no baggage, no issues, no old pains to overcome? To just be us with no bullshit or history to ruin it all?
I knew what it would be like. It would be fucking heaven. Utmost bliss to sink inside her, knowing exactly what she wanted as she moaned in ecstasy.
I could finally switch off and let go. To no longer fight who I was. To be free…just for a second.
My head hung, wanting that more than anything. More than cellos or weed or forgiveness. My cock grew hard, locked on the fantasy of being inside Pimlico with her as a full participant. To feel something other than physical connection; to finally let whatever emotions I had toward her manifest into something I could label and not something I wanted to run the fuck away from.
I hated how weak I was where she was concerned. How angry she made me. How messed up. I’d refused to talk to her or even look in her direction since my mother threw me from my home.
The entire drive back to port, on the short speedboat ride, and boarding of my super yacht, I hadn’t touched, spoken, or looked at her.
I couldn’t.
I was so fucking embarrassed.
How could I look at her when she’d seen how unwanted I was? How I had everything society said we needed to be happy, yet I was miserable?
I knew what I would’ve seen in her eyes if I had looked at her.
Pity.
Motherfucking pity and I refused to see that.
I’d rather see her hatred and accusation like before.
She’d gone to her quarters, and I’d gone to mine, and I had no desire to seek her out. Yet here I was hard for her and deliberating taking a shower to give in to the desire in my blood. Of making myself come with a fist and then numbing my mind with a joint.
“Elder?”
My head shot upright as I spun to face an unwanted intruder.
I rubbed my eyes, wondering for a second if the vodka had affected me, after all. But no, she was still there. Still watching me with concern that pissed me right off.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
She flinched but held her ground. She’d changed into a grey dress with black cranes flying over the fabric. It made her seem wiser, braver, ready to fight rather than wanting to flee.
“I-I was worried about you.” She stepped out of my suite, her bare feet silent on the polished deck. The breeze snatched the bottom of her dress, flashing me glimpses of calves and ankles.
My cock twitched as lust drenched my system. Two innocuous places on a woman, yet on Pim, I’d never seen anything sexier. I wanted to run my fingers up her legs. I wanted to nip at her ankles. I wanted to touch every inch.
“I expected to hear music.” Her eyes glowed in the moonlight. “I almost didn’t come as I didn’t want to interrupt. But…you’re not playing your cello.” Her voice softened. “Why?”
Why?
Because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Because if I did, I’d probably do something I regret.
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t concern yourself.” My back stiffened as she stepped closer.
“It does concern me. You brought me into your life, and now your life concerns me. Do you want to talk about what happened today?”
I barked with displeasure. “Talk?” I backed away, putting space between us for my sake and hers. “No, I don’t want to talk.”
“But I’m worried—”
“Don’t be worried about me, little mouse. Be worried for yourself.”
Her face scrunched up, somehow making her even more beautiful. Her eyes narrowed in question, her lips tilted in curiosity. Her shiny brown hair licked around her shoulders, tempting me so fucking much to fist and yank her to me. To kiss her. To take her. To forget every rule and requirement.
She didn’t come closer, but she didn’t back away either. A few weeks ago, the girl I’d saved from horror would’ve dropped her gaze and probably buckled to her knees while shedding her dress for her master’s use of her body. Now, she held her ground; the slight tremor in her limbs was the only sign her stoic bravery was only borrowed and not common-place.
“Talk or not, I couldn’t sleep unless I came to see you.” She paused as if searching for words she’d long since ignored in favour of silence. “You didn’t have dinner. No one knew where you were. Selix told me you might have left.”
“You were asking about me?” My body tensed, not because she’d pried into my privacy but because she’d willingly spoken to others all because she was thinking about me.
My heart raced faster. “Why do you care? You should be grateful to be left alone. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
She frowned. “Why would I be grateful to be ignored?”
“Grateful to be unharasse
“That’s wrong.” She linked her fingers together like some seer about to reveal my future or the date of my death. “Your friendship has never been a harassment.”
I chuckled low. “Friendship? You call what we have a friendship?”
“You were the first to call me a friend.” Her neck rippled as she swallowed. “I’d like to be yours in return.”
I should’ve accepted her answer. I should’ve nodded and bid her good night. I should’ve done a lot of things.
But I did none of them.
Stalking forward, I didn’t stop until I towered over her; infiltrating her space, I made her gasp and shiver. “You’d like to be my friend? After everything I’ve done?”
She sucked in a breath; her eyes dancing over my face before settling on my lips. The one fucking place she should never look because it made me hard and angry and horny and so many fucking things I should never be around her. It reminded me that I wanted this woman. I’d wanted her for weeks, and I still hadn’t had her, and now I never would because I refused to let the awful things my mother said come true.
Pim deserved better than that.
“I want to be your friend because of everything you’ve done.” Her breath turned papery; her eyes never leaving my mouth. “I want to get to know you.”
My ears took her sentence and rearranged the letters into something I wanted to hear rather than what she’d said. I heard ‘I want you to kiss me’. Even as her true words echoed behind it. Even as my hands shot forward and captured her cheeks. Even as my mouth descended on hers and my tongue tore past the soft, sweet obstruction of her lips.
Her hands captured my wrists—the same way she’d done before. Already a habit where we were concerned. She held on. Her nails dug in. But she didn’t squirm or fight. She opened to my invasion. She turned from stiff to pliant. She moaned.
I fucking lost it.
My fingers turned to shackles, holding her tight as I pushed her backward. Faster and faster, neither looking nor caring where we were going. I just needed her against something. I needed her trapped. I needed to press and thrust and feel her against me with nowhere to run.