Page 70 of Redemption (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #4)

Aly

Present....

Taking a deep breath, I give a tiny nod of confirmation and get to work.

Twisting in his arms, my feet dig into the asphalt as he drags and frog-marches me across the street.

The outrageously loud windbreaker covering my body does its best to enhance the mood, drawing every bit of attention straight to us—and away from the newly unconscious guys we left behind—as we audibly swish here and there with every unwanted step.

I growl, screech, scream, and wail, making sure my performance is worthy of every Oscar, Emmy, and Tony category out there.

“Hands up! Announce yourselves!” a man yells from the mass gathering, pointing his weapon, along with the ten others, directly at us.

“At ease! It’s Drone!” Darius calls out, causing the crowd to settle a tiny bit and slow their progression.

He leans down, a sadistic smile covering his face, keeping with the facade as his lips whisper against my ear. “That’s a good girl. Keep it up. You’re doing such a good job.”

Oh. My. GOD.

Between this and what he just did to those guys back there, I feel like I’m going to combust. While nothing has actually changed between Darius and me, it seems like EVERYTHING has changed.

He saved me. Continues to save me. Is about to save the guys I love, for me.

Remembers my favorite treats and provides for me in my lowest moments.

Regularly sings me to sleep each night. Kissed me!

And I...

Fucking hell, I kissed him back.

We might have been on the same page about this going no further than what it already has, but now it just feels.

.. different. Everything he says, the way he moves around me, the way he takes my hand or holds me in his arms—even though we’re playing a role in order to convince people I’m an unwilling captive—it all has me on edge.

So, even though we’re slowly progressing closer and closer to the large gathering we’ve apparently drawn for our welcoming party, when he says things like that , his unexpected praise goes right to my knees, almost buckling them in half.

Thankfully, my astute brain stifles the moaning gasp my inner praise whore wants to gift his compliment, turning it into a growl instead as I fully immerse myself back in my role as reluctant captive .

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be squawking nearly as effectively if you hadn’t cranked the zip ties so tight, asshole! ”

My absolutely ludicrous and also highly annoying imaginary twin chooses this exact moment to saunter over to us, wearing Harley Quinn style pigtails today and a full mask of scary clown war paint.

She bends down just far enough to get her heavily decorated face right next to mine, her smile growing exponentially as she takes in my. .. predicament.

“Ahem, girl... Wouldn’t be too sure about that. You know how much we like to get tied up. In a different setting you’d be squawking all damn night and loving every second of it. You know it, you twisted slut!”

I mentally shake my head in defiance of my delusional ramblings, swearing to all that is holy that I certainly would not, but then I feel his smile as he brushes his cheek against mine. “You know, I love it when you fight. Gets me right in the pants.”

My eyes practically bug out of my skull.

“Oh... God ,” he whispers disgustedly. “I’m so sorry.

That even made me cringe. Totally got a little too carried away there.

” He frog-marches me a few more steps, our breaths coordinating with each uncoordinated lunge as we slowly progress the distance.

“You know, not for nothing, but this is kind of fun. This whole abductor vs. struggling-yet-willing victim. You used to read books that had that concept in them, right?”

Oh, fluffernutter.... I know he’s probably just saying this shit so I don’t freak out at the wall of fucknuts lining up in front of us, but I didn’t think he ever realized I read at the time, let alone remembered what tropes I was drawn to after so many years.

With the smallest, most humiliating bit of acknowledgement, I wince and respond, “Yup.”

“Huh...,” he says, as if surprising himself. “I think I get the allure, now.”

Aw, fuck...

“Uh, I think you mean, FUCK YES!” my psychotic twin announces from the side of the road, proceeding to dynamically thrust her hips against absolutely nothing.

Loud, raucous grunting is included absolutely free of charge in the obscene show currently underway.

I just frown and huff out a sigh through my nostrils, shaking my head slightly at my own embarrassment.

It’s not every day your inner hindbrain presents its own live and in-person analysis of how obscenely kinky you actually are. And in full Pennywise makeup, to boot!

“Can it, whore!” I say under my breath, hoping to dear God and all that is holy that Darius doesn’t hear me verbally sparring with my unhinged—and extremely horny—psychosis. “We already have three guys, so shut the hell up and let me concentrate!”

“But he was the OG! The cherry picker! The Bangarang! Your very own Ponce De Leon sticking his gigantic flag into your uncharted territory!”

Shut. Up. It’s never gonna happen!

Dare, bless his fucking heart, decides to choose that moment to really amp up his immersive acting skills and groans into my ear. It’s probably because I’m squirming around more than a worm on a hook, but the sound instantly stirs the growing inferno within me.

Him being this close? It’s doing its job when it comes to our little charade, but when it comes to me??? It’s a bit too effective, doing things I was not prepared for. And after that kiss against the tree? I’m officially the conductor of the hot mess express.

“All aboard!!!! TOOT TOOT!!!”

Ignoring my hallucination for just a gosh darn second, I retrain my thoughts back to Darius.

I know he doesn’t mean it. At least half my mind is pretty confident he’s just playing the role we discussed, but he’s playing right into my pants, and he probably doesn’t even know it!

It also doesn’t help when he arches over me to get a better grip and his hips inadvertently press closer against my backside.

Is that...? Is he hard right now?

... Seriously?!

My inner/outer self doesn’t help matters as she starts singing the words to “Get Low” by Lil John and the Eastside Boys.

More specifically, the back it up hook. The visual she presents in front of me—a fantastically imaginary Darius bending over her while she eagerly presses her (MY!) ass back into his junk—has me biting my lip and pressing my thighs together.

I shouldn’t be thinking this.

“Aww, come on...,” she croons like a recent escapee from the mental hospital.

I shouldn’t be thinking this.

“He’s the one you gave your virginity to....”

I shouldn’t be fucking thinking about this.

“You and I both know you still loved Darius when the world threatened to end and even went looking for him, walking the length of the east coast for months just to tell him so, right up until the moment you found out he was dead. But hey! Loooook.” She points animatedly to Darius’ oblivious face.

“He’s here now! And, by the looks of it, VERY much alive, if you know what I mean.

” She winks like the thundercunt she is. As if I can’t feel it myself .

“Oh my God, the guys are already going to kill me for kissing him. What do you think will happen if they find out I’m fantasizing about him also?!” I grind out, accidentally voicing one of my recent concerns out loud. Thankfully, Darius doesn’t notice. Or... at least he doesn’t seem to.

Me-two, however...

“Or... and hear me out... they might be A.O.K. with it.” She nods like a bobblehead.

I’m almost concerned her head might just pop off.

.. But, then again, that might also be for the best. Who am I to test what fate might decide for my little trauma-induced doppelg?nger?

“Yeah. Think about it. They might even encourage it. Can you imagine? FOUR. GUYS!”

Oh.... My.... God...!

And now I have THAT in my head.

The option to not have to separate my past from my present and future.

The four of them agreeing to my desires and then worshiping me, taking turns, throwing me into all kinds of different positions that would make even the most seasoned of why choose readers blush, making me submit and bend to their will, taking what they offer with a smile on my face and a “ Thank you, Sir. May I have another?” on my lips.

Holy fucking bajeebus , that’s hot.

And then, right on time, cue Darius... making things even worse.

In a lower, more subdued tone, he says, “Seriously, though. I am sorry, Alessandra. I’ll get the restraints off as soon as I can.

Just hang in there a little while longer.

You’re doing such a good job for me, Al.

Such a good girl.” As if the delicious heat searing into my back and the side of praise weren’t enough to open more floodgates in my already wrecked panties, he kisses me!

Just a small peck of encouragement right on the sensitive point behind my ear. But, oh my fucknuts.

“There’s those shivers!” Me-two moans... loudly, beside me. And I think she might be having a seizure. But that’s not important right now.

I’m screwed.

I am so screwed.

Thankfully, my delusional twin shuts the hell up before I literally have to start walking around in a puddle of my own reckoning when we reach the next intersection and the town residents surround us.

“Drone!” says a walking, talking, brick shithouse of a man as he stows his rifle at his side. “We were wondering when you’d make it back.” His leering gaze turns down to me fighting in Darius’ hold. “Caught yourself a live one, there! Good on ya!”

Dare’s arm squeezes across the front of my shoulders, holding me to his chest as he regards the residents. “Hell yeah, I did. I told you I’d bring her in. She’s a wild one but you boys know I can handle that.”