Heartless Villains (Ruthless Villains Book 3)

I was shivering violently by the time we reached the promised safe haven. Rain hit me in the face with a force that stung, and the winds were so strong that they seemed to blow straight through my body. Keeping my arms wrapped tightly around me, I staggered the final step to the door.

Our horses were already in the stable, getting warm, and now I couldn’t wait to do the same. I glanced over at Paige. We needed to take a look at the cut in her arm too.

Raising his fist, Henry pounded it against the door. But the winds snatched the sound away almost before I could register it. Hopefully, the people inside had heard it at least.

“Who is…” a man’s voice began as the door was pushed open a little bit.

The wind yanked the door open, making it bang against the outer wall on the other side. It revealed a tall, muscular man with brown hair that was speckled with gray. His blue eyes were wide as he stared out at us. Or not at us. At Henry.

“Henry,” the man blurted out while staggering a step back.

Raising a hand, Henry pushed his wet hair out of his face before replying, “Hey, Dad.”

Shock clanged through me. Dad? This was Henry’s parents’ farm?

“We need your help,” Henry continued. “Can we come in?”

Blinking repeatedly, the older man stepped back and wordlessly motioned for us to enter. Thunder rolled over the trembling fields around the house while the five of us made our way across the threshold.

A sigh of relief escaped me as the wind and rain finally stopped pelting my body.

Callan closed the door behind us.

For a moment, we all just stood there, staring between Henry and his father. Muted dripping from our soaked clothes and hair filled the tense silence.

“Jack?” a woman’s voice called from somewhere close by. “Who was it?”

No one answered.

“Jack?” she called again.

Footsteps sounded from the room on our left.

“Did you—” She sucked in a gasp and slapped a hand in front of her mouth right as she came into view.

She was shorter than Henry and Jack, and slimmer too, but she still had a strong build that hinted at a life spent working on the farm. Her eyes were gray, and so was most of the hair she had woven into a long braid. Based on the similarities in their facial features, this was Henry’s mother. Shock bounced across her face as she stared at her son.

“Henry?” she pressed out as she took her hand from her mouth.

“Hi, Mom.”

Snatching up a boot from the floor next to her, she hurled it at him. Surprise flickered across Henry’s face, and he wasn’t fast enough to dodge the projectile so it hit him straight in the chest.

“Twelve years!” she yelled. “Twelve years. And all you have to say for yourself is ‘hi, Mom’?”

“I… uhm. I’ve been writing you letters.”

“Letters.” She practically spat the word before grabbing another boot and throwing it at him. “To hell with your bloody letters, boy!”

This time, Henry managed to block the flying footwear before it struck. But she just hurled another one at him.

“I haven’t seen you in twelve years!” she yelled as she advanced on him. “Why did you never come back to at least visit us?”

“Hanna, please,” Jack said as he took a step towards them.

Henry just stood there, rooted to the floor while she closed the final distance. For a moment, it looked like she might hit him with another boot. But then she wrapped her arms around him and choked out a sob.

A tired smile spread across Henry’s mouth as he hugged her back. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Yeah,” she pressed out between sobs. “You’d better be.”

“We’ll give you some space,” Callan said while shifting his gaze to Jack. “Our friend is injured. Is there somewhere we can…?”

Jack tore his gaze from his son and blinked at us before waving towards the doorway that Hanna had come from. “There’s a kitchen through there.”

After giving him a nod in acknowledgement, Callan motioned for the rest of us to follow. I glanced at Henry’s parents as we walked past and disappeared into the kitchen. I wondered what had happened between them.

Henry began speaking again while we left, but their voices faded as we made it into the next room. Pushing my curiosity aside, I instead turned to Paige.

“I’m fine,” she said before I could even open my mouth.

“Good,” I answered as I moved towards her. “I’m still going to check that wound.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “You were always an overachieving, perfectionistic control freak. But when did you get this bossy?”

From somewhere to my right, Callan snorted.

I stabbed a hand in his direction. “Shut up.”

He just flashed me a wolfish grin.

The kitchen was small and cozy. A table for four waited by the inner wall, and the outer one was made up of wooden counters. Pots and pans hung from a rack in the ceiling while an open cabinet on the opposite wall held plates and cups.

Paige was leaning her hip against the wooden counter next to the sink, so I walked over until I was standing right in front of her. The sleeve on her left arm was torn, and the pale fabric was stained with red.

“Can you get your arm out of the sleeve?” I asked.

“Of course I can,” she replied. “I told you. I’m fine.”

“Paige. Please.”

Heaving a sigh, she rolled her eyes again. But then she maneuvered her arm out of the sleeve and let the rest of her shirt hang down in front of her chest.

There was a cut in her upper arm, and bits of dirt and gravel stuck to the wound. I didn’t know if there were any towels we could use so I just turned on the tap and moved Paige’s arm to the water instead.

“And you,” Callan began somewhere behind me. “Don’t even think about making a run for it. In this storm, you wouldn’t even make it to the next farm.”

“I know,” Lance muttered.

Once Paige’s wound was clean, I released her wrist and straightened while I looked for something that could be used as a bandage. However, before I could find anything, footsteps sounded from the doorway.

“Two grown men just standing there like a pair of curious deer?” Hanna said as she walked into the kitchen. Her gray eyes glittered as she tutted and shook her head at Callan and Lance. “Not very resourceful, are you?”

“Uhm…” Lance began.

“And you look like a drowned kitten,” she continued as she shifted her gaze to me. “Emphasis on the drowned part. Henry has gone to take a shower in the bathroom downstairs, but there’s a bathtub in the upstairs one too. Why don’t you take those two useless men with you and go and have a warm bath? That wound needs stitching, and I can tell you right now that I’m better than all of you with a needle.”

Amusement swirled through my chest, and I found that I rather liked this bossy woman. I turned to Paige.

“Will you be okay?”

“Of course.” She waved a hand in front of her face and then flashed me a grin. “Also, I really don’t trust you with a needle.”

“Rude.”

“Yep. Doesn’t make it any less true.”

I chuckled and gave her uninjured arm a squeeze. “We’ll be right down.”

“Alright, stop fussing,” Hanna said as she shooed us towards the doorway. “Bathtub. Now. Upstairs. Second door on the right.”

Leaving her and Paige in the kitchen, we made our way towards the stairs. Henry and Jack were nowhere to be seen, but the sounds of splashing water came from one of the doors we passed.

Almost every single step creaked as we made our way up the wooden stairwell and towards the second floor. When we reached the top, we were met by a hallway and four doors. Only one of them was closed. I glanced into the other rooms as we passed, and found that they were all bedrooms.

“You can wait out here,” I said as the three of us reached the door to the bathroom.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” Callan replied while pushing down the handle.

“Oh no, you do not get—”

“You could always fight me for it.” His muscular body blocked the whole doorway as he turned back around. There was a smirk playing over his lips when he locked eyes with me while arching an eyebrow. “Or join me.”

Since this house was the only thing standing between us and a violent storm, I didn’t want to jeopardize our stay here by destroying things in a fight. My magic would leave the walls and furniture untouched. Callan’s, however, would not. And I got the distinct feeling that Hanna preferred her house intact, which meant that a fight was out of the question.

“Just hurry the fuck up,” I snapped at the damn force mage instead.

He flashed me a victorious grin and then let the door swing shut in my face.

Crossing my arms, I spun around and glared at Lance instead. “And you are definitely going last.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” he grumbled.

While he walked over to sulk by another wall, I turned back towards the door and stared at it in the hopes that Callan would feel my impatience radiating through it. The muted dripping of my clothes and hair was quickly drowned out by the sound of water rushing into a metal container.

I suppressed a shiver.

My clothes were so completely soaked that I didn’t think there was a single dry part on my entire body. Uncrossing my arms, I rubbed my hands together in an effort to get some heat back. It didn’t work. I was chilled all the way to my bones.

At last, the sound of rushing water stopped. It was followed by sloshing that signaled that Callan had gotten into the tub. I could just imagine the feeling of warm water wrapping around my whole body.

Hell, I needed that. And I needed it now.

Making a decision, I shoved the door open and stalked inside.

The room was rather small, but the copper bathtub was large enough that Callan could sit comfortably in it and probably stretch out his legs fully too. Steam rose in lazy patterns above the tub. My chilled body sighed at just the sight of it.

Callan’s dark brown eyes glinted as he turned his head towards me. “Changed your mind?”

“Yes.”

“About fighting me or joining me?”

The door clicked shut behind me while I held his gaze. I really shouldn’t be initiating any more intimate activities with Callan, or he might figure out how I really felt about him. But if I stayed in these wet clothes much longer, I might get pneumonia. Which would be incredibly inconvenient when Sam wasn’t around. And besides, it wasn’t as if Callan had never seen me naked before.

“You’re taking too long,” I answered while pulling my shirt over my head.

Satisfaction shone on his face as he watched me strip out of the rest of my clothes too. It was quickly replaced by longing. The fact that I still blushed when he looked at me like that was absolutely ridiculous, and I really did try to smother the smug happiness swirling inside me as I strolled over to the bathtub while swishing my hips a bit more than I normally would. The intense gaze that tracked my every move made that very difficult, though.

Lifting my legs carefully, I stepped over the side and into the bathtub. Pleasure curled around my spine as the warm water enveloped my legs. Bracing my palms on the copper edge, I lowered myself into the water until I was submerged all the way to my chest. The move left me straddling Callan’s thighs. A contented sigh rolled from my throat as I let my arms drop down into the water too.

“Comfortable?” Callan asked.

I studied him. He was leaning back against the sloping edge of the tub, and the warm water reached all the way up to his throat. Since I was sitting upright, it only reached halfway up my chest.

“I would be much more comfortable if I had it all to myself and could lean back like that too,” I said, and quirked an expectant eyebrow at him.

He chuckled. When I only continued glaring at him, he blew out a sigh and jerked his chin at me. “Turn around.” Before I could protest, he finished with, “Just do it.”

Bracing my hands on the sides again, I maneuvered myself around so that I sat with my back to him instead. It did nothing to increase the water level, and I was just about to tell him as much when two strong hands appeared on my hips.

Callan spread his legs and then drew me towards him a bit more before tipping my body back so that I was lying against his chest. Warm water washed over me, covering me all the way up to my throat as well. I shifted my body slightly against him and then let out a satisfied sigh.

Pleasure skittered across my skin as Callan slid his hands from my hips and wrapped his arms around me so that his palms rested on the opposite sides of my stomach instead. His firm chest expanded against my back as he drew in a deep breath.

What I wouldn’t give to have him hold me like that every day.

The thought was so pathetic that it almost made me angry. Why had this damn bastard made me fall for him? It had made me weak.

But as I felt his muscular body against mine like that, like a steady weight that I could truly lean on, I couldn’t help but want more. More of that. More of us. Though deep in my heart, I knew that I couldn’t actually lean on him. After all the blood and betrayal, there would never be any real trust between us. So pretend moments like this was all it would ever be. All we would ever be.

His hands moved back across my stomach. I wiggled my hips as he drew his fingers up my ribs and towards my breasts. The slight shift positioned me between his legs where I could feel his hard length pressing against my back. Satisfaction rose inside me. I still affected him just as much as he affected me.

He traced gentle fingers along the curve of my tits. The feeling of his hands on my body was like a drug. Every time I told myself that doing things like this was too dangerous, I still found myself craving just one more touch. One more time.

My skin prickled as he teased my nipples.

Leaning forward, he kissed my neck while he drew one hand down from my tit and along my stomach. A pleasant shudder rolled through my body. His hand moved over my hip and then caressed the top of my thigh while his lips brushed the crook of my neck.

“You’re going to have to stay really quiet this time,” he breathed against the shell of my ear.

His hot breath danced over my wet skin, sending lightning flickering in its wake.

Before I could answer, he traced light fingers over my pussy. A small gasp escaped my throat. Drawing his hand up from my breast, he wrapped it around my throat and pressed me tighter against him.

“I said, you’re going to have to stay quiet this time,” he whispered into my ear. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Good girl.”

Desire burned through my soul.

Releasing my throat, he moved his hand back down to my tit while his other teased my pussy. I leaned back and rested my head against his shoulder and expelled a deep sigh. His fingers circled my clit.

I swore I could almost feel his heart slamming against my back as he traced his hand over the side of my ribs before slowly making his way back towards my nipple. My skin tingled with every brush of his fingers.

Then his other hand reached my clit and he started up a steady rhythm.

Closing my eyes, I just lay there against his chest, relishing in the feeling of his strong arms around me and his steady hands on my naked skin.

He flicked my nipple.

I sat up straighter and sucked in a gasp.

His dark laugh caressed my skin as he leaned forward and kissed the side of my neck. “What did I say, sweetheart?”

Instead of answering, I ground my ass against his cock. A low groan rumbled from his chest. It was followed by a huff of amusement that made his breath dance over my skin again.

While his fingers teased my entrance, he drew his other hand around my breasts again while also kissing his way up my neck.

Pleasure built inside me as he rolled my clit between his thumb and forefinger.

I forced out slow and silent breaths as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge. His lips on my throat made it difficult to think, and it took all of my willpower to stop myself from moaning his name.

He traced his hand slowly around my tit while the other one made my clit throb with need. My body begged for release. Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on pushing air in and out of my lungs as the edge of the cliff drew closer.

Right as he reached my nipple, he kissed that sensitive spot below my ear.

Release crashed through me.

Clenching my jaw, I tried desperately to keep from making a sound as the orgasm washed through my limbs. My legs shook and my toes curled, but I kept biting down hard.

The water in the tub sloshed against the sides as my body trembled.

When the final tremors had died down, I slumped back against Callan’s chest while sucking in deep breaths. He chuckled, making his body shake underneath me. Wrapping his hands around me, he pulled my body firmly against his once more and then tilted his head to the side to brush a kiss against my temple.

“Well, would you look at that,” he said, amusement lacing his voice. “Maybe I won’t need to gag you after all.”

Despite myself, I laughed.

Even though these moments were only pretend, I had to admit that they were at least very convincing fakes.

And for now, that would have to be enough.