Jeyne Hex, a name that follows her no matter how many times she tries to change it. People say she's almost an exact copy of Jonah, but she and her brother couldn't be more different. Sure, they both have similar coloring and a rebellious side, but he's full of vengeance and she couldn't care about anything even if she tried. In short, she's a whore. Nothing more, nothing less.
She's been on the run ever since her older brother was made a soldier, not able to handle the attacks from others that were made even worse when Jonah killed Jeb, the man she'd admired most of her life. She'd loved Jeb and he'd held a fondness for her, offering up his mother's old wedding ring the week of his murder.
Finally, she found a town miles away from where she was born and a brothel took her in, beginning to train her in exchange for quarters. She was bought at eighteen by a rich man, been with him ever since. He'd wanted a virgin, so he was given her. Back then she went by Sibylla Lockheart and the name seemed to stick with him.
Adleman Lusk is a handsome man by even high standards with his dark hair, bright blue eyes, and southern accent. He was sweet and attentive the first week she was with him, after that she was treated as what she was behind closed doors (and sometimes behind a tree if he couldn't wait), and in public she was simply a child he'd taken in.
He taught her to read and write, how to act like a proper woman her age should so that the people he introduced her to wouldn't think her stupid. That's his reasoning anyway, she's sure it's so she didn't embarrass him. She's twenty-two now, still living in his home, still fighting to forget all that her brother had caused to happen.
Adleman traces her jaw line with a single finger before taking a lock of her wet hair and twirling it about. They're in his favorite place besides his bed, the bathtub filled to the brim with warm water that turned her fair skin a light pink. The arm wrapped around her waist pulls her closer to him, forcing her to lie against his toned chest. His free hand travels over her stomach and to her right breast, caressing it gently at first, then rougher. She arches into his touch, the only one she's ever known. Lips attach themselves to her neck, looking for the certain spot that makes her scream. Tonight is not about her, she knows, feeling his arousal swell as it presses against her bottom.
Moaning, she turns her head to meet his lips in a desperate kiss. The hand on her breast travels lower to her closed thighs, lightly touching them with the tips of his fingers. She can feel his quiet chuckle vibrating in his chest, a blush coloring her cheeks.
"Still shy after all these years?" His voice is low, filled with lust. She smirks, turning to face him and grabbing his hard member. His groan of approval spurs her on and she strokes hard and fast just as he likes. Sapphire eyes close, strong hands grip the edge of the porcelain tub so hard that his knuckles turn white, his hips begin to buck, and his every breath comes out as a groan. This is what he loved the best, the feeling of dainty hands wrapped around him that had never touched another man like this. Innocent, he liked to imagine, just as she'd been the first time he felt her. White teeth sink into a full lip as his release courses through him, muscles going lax as he sinks an inch lower in the tub. Her hands and his chest are covered in a sticky substance that she learned long ago she hated the taste of.
His eyes slowly open, darkened with his apparent desire, hard once again. It was like a secret talent, his stamina, always ready for another tumble even when she was sore and barely able to move.
"Mmm, you have learned much since I brought you here." Learn or be kicked to the streets, the choice was easy for her.
"Anything to please you," she says in the seductive tone he'd taught her. He smirks as she bites her bottom lip, brown eyes clashing with blue. Lusk leans forward, capturing her lips in another kiss that would leave her lips swollen and bruised. He shifts beneath her without breaking contact, bucking his hips forward so that he could slide into her without warning or much preparation. It hurts, of course it does, but she's nothing if not a damn good actress and she forces herself to stay relaxed. Knowing it would feel better in a moment, she throws her head back with a forced cry of pleasure. Lusk is definitely not a small man, not particularly large either mind you, but he was the perfect size for her to take.
As she rides him, he takes one dusky pink nipple into his warm mouth, sucking as a babe would. She lets out a loud moan, gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. His hands find her hips, raising her up and crushing her back down meet his thrusts faster.
"Jesus," he cries, grip on her hips tightening. There would be bruises there later, there always was; the rougher for him, the better climax he would have. She has done things that would make most women green, but you get used to it, she supposes. She collapses against him, gasping for breath as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, still coming down from his high. "We have a meeting to attend tonight." She tenses immediately, hoping they'll not be seeing who she thinks it is. "Turnbull has something important to tell me." He notices how anxious she has become, how she doesn't speak for a moment.
"That's…." She trails off, unsure what he wanted to hear as a million thoughts shoot through her mind.
"You don't like him?" She shakes her head, bottom lip trembling slightly. "Why?" She doesn't respond, getting out of the tub instead and beginning to dry. Please drop it. One of his hands land on her shoulder and turns her to face him with a rough jerk. "I asked you a question and I expect an answer."
"He's from my past," she says softly, eyes downcast. He doesn't talk about it after that, he doesn't care about his whore's past so long as it doesn't interfere with their nightly sessions. "Do I still have to attend?" His eyes are hard as he looks at her, the business man beginning to come back to him, taking over the lover.
"Of course." She never thought that two words, not even a real sentence, would set something so unexpected in motion. Brown eyes close as her towel is taken away and replaced with a robe of silk. "Dress nicely, we'll be leaving soon." Nicely meaning corset, low-cut dress, hair pinned in a not-so-intricate style, and face painted so as to enhance some of her natural features. She was to draw Turnbull's gaze so that it may encourage him to be on Lusk's side.
Act like a whore, dress like a lady, don't mess up or it's my head.
They climb into a carriage and should be there later tonight, her thoughts moving faster than she could grasp them. Inside, safe from the howling winds, is filled with silence as he stares at her and she stares at her gloved hands, fidgeting slightly. "You know what you're supposed to do?" A nod, brown eyes never looking up. "Good."
The carriage stops, they get out and are greeted by Burke, an Irishman who has a love of dynamite. He was handsome and he was always grinning, those blue eyes of his filled with madness. "Right this way," he says, leading the pair into the dark building and to a back room. Turnbull rises from his place at a small table, sitting again when they are seated. She can feel eyes on her, eyes that do not belong to Adleman Lusk.
"Well, Mr. Turnbull, it appears the bells are finally ready to toll on Washington," Lusk says happily with a smile. At this she adjusts herself in the seat so that she is facing Turnbull, ample cleavage showing.
"And I hear them, Mr. Lusk, because I've heard them for six long years. We appreciate the services that you have rendered to us." He's up, walking around the room as if just wanting to stretch his legs, and her gaze is following him cautiously even with her head bent demurely. Turnbull fiddles with his cane, standing a few feet behind Lusk's chair.
"I can only hope you succeed. I'll most certainly hang if you don't, an outcome I most sincerely hope to avoid." A nervous smile replaces Lusk's confident one, showing he doesn't exactly have trust in the plan. His third mistake tonight; the first was showing up, the second allowing the enemy behind his back.
The sound of gunfire makes her eyes widen and her head shoot up. Lusk lays face down on the table, the wound in the back of his head bleeding profusely over the pristine white of his shirt collar. Part of her that's been with him for four years fears that the stain would never come out, the other part relishes in never feeling his touch on her again.
"Consider it avoided." Now Turnbull turns to face her, tilting her head back to look up at him. "Never thought I'd see you again, Jeyne. How has my almost daughter-in-law been?" His kindness is fake, she can see it in the way he looks at her. She puts on her most charming smile all the same.
"'Bout as good as you, I suppose."
"Excuse me miss, do I know you," a scar-faced man asks a young woman. She flashes him a smile, brown eyes showing wisdom and mistrust. He remembers that smile from somewhere, but he cannot place it.
"I'm sorry, sir, I don't think we've met." That voice, he knows that voice, but from where? There weren't very many people from his past that were still alive, but he'd traveled a lot since he joined the army.
"Jonah Hex." The woman smiles again, holding out a white-gloved hand for him to shake.
"Sibylla Lockheart." A boy with a head of brown hair runs over, pulling on the woman's skirts. "Andrew, calm down." The child blushes when he sees Jonah, moving further away from him.
"Momma, can we go now," the boy asks in a whisper, clutching at his mother's skirts.
"Good day, Mister Hex, my son here wishes to pick some new flowers to put in his book." As the woman turned away and was lost in the crowd Jonah realized why she looked so familiar. He had taught his little sister how to press flowers when they were younger, something she had taken to like a duck to water. The child seemed familiar as well, sapphire eyes shining with curiosity.
The child's eyes so unfamiliar, not belonging to Jeyne and no father in sight.
