Tall, Silent & Lethal (Pyte/Sentinel 4) - Page 108

“But then we’d miss all the good parts,” he pointed out, looking around the large office for another drink.

“Chris re-stocked the fridge this morning,” Izzy murmured, shoving another handful of peanut butter cups in her mouth even as she cringed when Cloe managed to break free and go for Christofer’s balls once again.

He pushed his chair back and leaned down, opening the mini fridge that Chris had installed a few months ago when it became obvious that Izzy wasn’t able to handle the short walk to the refrigerator by the door, and pulled out two bottles of water. He handed one to Izzy as he looked up just in time to see Christofer tackle his mate to the ground when she went for his balls again.

“How long do you think they’ll hunt them?” Izzy asked just as his phone went off.

With a reluctant sigh, he looked away from the monitor and looked down at his phone. “Probably not for long,” he said, replying to the text with a counteroffer that was quickly accepted.

“Where are you going?” Izzy asked, still watching the monitor as he stood up.

“I have to take this job,” he said, leaning over to press a kiss against her head and place his hand over her stomach where his godchildren slept. “I’ll be back before the babies start popping out.”

“Bring me back fudge?” she asked, absently as she cringed at whatever was happening on the monitor.

He didn’t bother making her any promises that he couldn’t keep and they both knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep a promise about fudge.

*-*-*-*

“You bastard!”

“Calm down, mein Schatz,” he said, trying not to vomit when sharp pain shot through his balls, making him wish that he’d been born a eunuch.

“You don’t get to call me that ever again!” she snarled, trying to get free so that she could go for his balls again.

“Can we talk about this?” he asked, the effort costing him as the pain shot through the tip of his c**k and as much as he’d love to bitch about the abuse to his poor balls and cock, he couldn’t. He’d more than had this one coming to him.

“Talk?” she repeated, laughing bitterly as she struggled to break free. “You want to talk? Now?”

“Yes!” he hissed, his stomach rolling as he struggled not to pass out.

“It’s a little too late for that, ass**le!”

“We’re going to leave you two to handle this,” Ephraim said, gesturing for the other men to leave.

“Cowards,” he muttered, keeping his eyes locked on the furious woman beneath him as the other three men made their escape.

“Damn straight,” Chris said, walking past them.

“Get off me, Christofer!”

“Are you going to take another shot at my balls?” he asked, even as he loosened his hold on her.

“No,” she bit out, shaking her head firmly and as much as he wanted to believe her, he didn’t, but he still rolled off her anyway, terrified that he was hurting the baby by keeping her pinned to the ground.

As soon as he rolled off her, he expected her to go for his balls or to storm off, but she didn’t do either of those things. When he looked over at her, he realized that she was crying. The realization that he’d made her cry hurt a hell of a lot more than his balls at the moment and had him reaching for her.

“Leave me alone,” she whispered, absently wiping at her face as she got to her feet.

“I can’t do that,” he said hoarsely, coming to his feet.

She shook her head, laughing without humor as she said, “That’s kind of funny since you were about to do just that.”

“Mein Schatz-” he said, reaching for her, but she pulled her arm away as she stepped away from him.

“It’s over, Christofer. I’m sick and tired of your secretive bullshit!” she said, delivering the final blow that knocked him on his ass before she turned around and walked away.

*-*-*-*

“Cloe, please-”

“Just leave me alone, Christofer,” she said, too exhausted to play this game with him.

Falling in love with him had been a mistake, something that she’d tried to stop herself from doing, but clearly she was an idiot because-

“They came for us in 1941,” he announced as he closed the bedroom door behind them.

“What?” she asked, turning around to face him only to find him by the window, bathed in moonlight as he stared off into the distance.

“It was a cool night, much like tonight when they came for us. My father thought, hoped really that we had a few more weeks, but someone must have tipped off the SS because they’d showed up at our door, armed and looking for me.”

“Why were they looking for you?” she asked, her anger pushed aside as her curiosity got the better of her and she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting to hear the rest of his story.

“Because I was an oddity,” he said with a sad smile. “I was sixteen years old, on the cusp of manhood, but trapped in the body of a child. Someone in the village had talked, someone that my father had helped, had kept safe, had decided that a few dollars was worth betraying my father’s kindness. They came with orders to find the boy that wouldn’t age and bring him to one of the labs that the Nazis were so fond of.”

“My father refused to let them take me. He screamed for me to take Marta and run, but I couldn’t force my legs to listen. I stood there like a fool while a soldier pulled out a gun and placed it against my father’s temple as he struggled to get to us. I remember screaming his name as his body fell to the ground, but nothing much after that.”

“A few days later I woke up in a cage being held in a large white lab. I had no idea how I got there or where I was. I just remember being hungry, really hungry, which was odd since my appetite had waned over the last few years.”

“What happened after you woke up?” she found herself asking once he’d grown quiet.

“The guards told the doctors that I was awake. They started asking me a million questions, but once they’d realized that I wouldn’t talk they brought Marta out, fresh from surgery.”

“What did they do to her?” she asked, immediately wishing that she hadn’t.

“They performed an autopsy of sorts on her, the first of many,” he said, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the wall. “When I fought to get to her, one of the doctors placed the sharp edge of a scalpel to her throat and just like that they owned us. I couldn’t do anything without risking Marta’s life.”

Tags: R.L. Mathewson Pyte/Sentinel Fantasy
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