17. Kael
Early sunlight slanted through the blinds over my window, striping the hardwood floor with bars. Like a prison. Sighing, I turned on my stomach and pressed my face into the down pillow. “Fuck this place,” I said into the stuffing.
I’d skipped the gym this morning. I never skipped the gym. But two weeks with Matilda Thorne had worn me down to a shadow of what I had once been; I barely slept, and if I did, I dreamed of her soft body between my sheets. And it had only gotten worse after the “closet incident” the day before last. After that, Mattie had stayed in her room, only exiting to grab sodas and shitty junk food before disappearing inside her locked door. I knew she was alive, and that was pretty much it.
I had to fight the urge to break down her door, unearth her from the stupid blanket hoodie she wore everywhere, and take out my frustrations on her lithe body. Dangerous, stupid thoughts. Mostly because it wasn’t just her body I craved—it was her. I wanted her acerbic wit. I wanted her twinkling, brown eyes and teasing smile.
Groaning again, I bounced my face against the pillow. “What am I?” I groaned.
My phone buzzed on the walnut bedside table, and without lifting my face from the smothering heat of my own breath against the cotton pillowcase, I fumbled around to find it. When I had it in my hand, I tapped the screen without looking and brought it to my ear. “What.”
“Wow,” Tabitha droned. “You know people quit their bosses, not their jobs, right?”
“What,” I growled.
“How’s the assignment?” she asked congenially, her tone full of false lightness.
I sighed, and it came out like a sound a disgruntled animal would make. I rolled over and stared at the smooth, drywall ceiling. “There was this one time I went to a Siberian tundra to rescue a group of refugees for the UN.”
“Oh good, he’s telling resume stories,” she muttered.
“I had to cross twenty-two miles of frozen, barren wasteland before we even made it to the encampment,” I charged on, my voice growing more agitated as I spoke. “And when I got there, they were all dead.”
“Mother of Christ,” Tabitha muttered.
“I would rather do that again,” I said vehemently, “than do this.”
Silence stretched on for a few seconds. Then Tabitha asked, “Right, but how’s it going?”
Exhaling with irritation, I rolled myself to a sitting position and stood off the bed. “It’s great,” I replied with heavy sarcasm. I shuffled into the bathroom in my shorts and no shirt. “You know, I slept with a sultan’s daughter once?” I flicked on the faucet over the smooth bowl sink. “I fought over diamonds the size of ping pong balls in Sierra Leone, and three months later, I stabbed a guy through his nose to defend a Congolese emissary.” I grabbed my toothbrush and waved it around. “I’ve done some seriously crazy shit.”
“We’re all very impressed,” she drawled.
“I can swim through freezing water for miles with nothing but a compass and a headlamp to find a buddy,” I ranted, spreading toothpaste on the bristles. “And despite surviving all of that, a fucking heiress is breaking me.”
I heard the smile in Tabitha’s voice as she said, “So, a willowy socialite is taking down a hitman, huh?”
“I’m not a hitman.” I paused with the toothbrush halfway to my mouth. “Have you been talking to her?”
“Obviously. We’re like BFFs now.”
I shoved the toothbrush in my mouth. “I thought we were BFFs.”
Tabitha laughed, hollow and totally lacking empathy. “You’re not worried about me being your BFF. You’re worried about me being her BFF. You’ve got it bad.”
I scrubbed my molars, and around the mouthful of paste and bristles, I asked, “Is there a point to this call?”
“Besides letting you rant like a little bitch? Yes. Your ‘employer’ called to ask that we bring Mattie down to go over napkin selections for her party. They’re back from France, apparently.”
I scrubbed harder. “Great.”
“I’m still in favor of extraction,” she said, her voice taking on a serious edge.
I was in danger of lighting a fire on my molars with how aggressively I brushed in response to that. “Don’t remind me,” I said with a mouthful of spit and toothpaste.
“Just stating for the record,” she sighed. “Good luck.”
I finished getting ready, showering first, and then dressing in my dumbass “bodyguard” uniform. A T-shirt and athletic joggers would make a hell of a lot more sense if I was actually guarding an heiress with a penchant for running. But, of course, that wouldn’t look the part. When I was dressed, and I’d combed my silver-streaked hair away from my haggard face, I went to knock on Mattie’s door.
No answer.
I knocked harder. “Mattie,” I shouted through the door. “Your parents want you downstairs.”
A muffled thump was followed by a fluid string of curses, and then a few seconds later, Mattie cracked open her door. Her silky, blond hair tumbled down her face and shoulders from a messy bun on its last legs, and she had a gum wrapper stuck to her cheek. She yawned, leaning her head on the doorpost. “What?”
I plucked the wrapper off her face. “Your parents have summoned you.”
She blinked up at me with sleepy eyes, her rosy lips parting on a sigh. “Oh.”
She was so fucking cute, I wanted to stab myself in the eyes to put myself out of my misery. “I’ll make you some coffee.”
She gave me a wary glance. “For real?”
I brushed a long strand of her hair away from her flushed cheek. “And then we can meet Tabitha at the airport.”
She glared. “Coffee sounds great.”
We met Mrs. Thorne downstairs in the dining area after Mattie had finished two cups of coffee and given herself a crazed pep talk that made me roll my eyes so many times, I had a headache. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep. In BUD/S, I’d gone almost a week with no sleep once, but this felt more manic. Uncontrolled. Like I was doing it to myself rather than having it done to me for a purpose.
Mattie had put on a pair of tight, white jeans that hugged her diminutive curves, and her dark, floral blouse had a heart-shaped cutout over her breasts and up to a tied choker around her neck. Then she’d softly curled her hair and pulled it off to one side, so it cascaded down her breasts and bounced as she walked. She looked stunning, and I wanted to tear it all off like birthday wrapping paper.
Mrs. Thorne looked up as we approached, her eyes dipping over Mattie in appreciation, and then lingering on me for an uncomfortably long moment. I couldn’t decide what was worse, the fact that she found me attractive, or the fact that she liked what a monster I was. It made my stomach turn.
She gestured to the long, glass dining table that had been covered with napkins folded in an array of options. “You said napkins,” she said with a point of her manicured finger.
Mattie’s gaze scanned the napkins. “That’s… a lot of options.”
“Now, don’t be deceived,” Alicia said, moving to her daughter’s side in her six-inch heels. She took Mattie’s shoulders in a light grip, and the way Mattie flinched had me tightening my fists at my sides. “There’s so much more than just pointing and choosing.”
“Of course,” Mattie sighed.
“Let’s start with fabric choices, and then we can move on to color.”
Mattie rolled her head back in annoyance. “Is there a theme for this shindig?”
“Gold harvest, of course,” Alicia said, like that was the obvious choice.
“Right. So,” Mattie pointed to a gold napkin that had been tucked and folded into the shape of a pumpkin. “That fits.”
“Matilda,” her mother snapped sharply. “I just said you can’t point and choose.”
Come on, Mattie, I pleaded silently from behind her. Pull it together. You said you wanted this. Don’t make me play the bad guy.
“Right,” Mattie sighed, long and slow. “Okay. Show me the fabric.”
My shoulders relaxed some of the tension they’d been holding. Alicia moved forward, pointing out the differences between the linen napkins and the linen-cotton, and then moved on to bamboo, cotton, silk, jacquard, damask, and a cotton-silk blend. Mattie looked like she would rather have the napkin rings shoved up her ass than continue listening, but she persevered. At the end of Alicia’s lengthy discourse on the merits of each one, Mattie pointed to the gold pumpkin. “I like the cotton-silk blend.”
Alicia hesitated, her hard blue eyes fixing on her daughter with dagger-point penetration. “I do like cotton-silk blends.”
“Good,” Mattie said with a disingenuous smile. But her low simmering anger showed through as she bobbed a look to me.
Alicia followed the motion, her gaze settling on me, and suspicion suddenly tinted her expression.
Fuck.
“Colors,” Alicia went on.
“Gold,” Mattie said automatically. “It matches the theme. Next?”
Alicia propped her thin hands on her soft waist. She had on a pressed, black pencil skirt, and it gave her an unforgiving appearance. “You said you would help.”
“I’m helping,” Mattie protested. “What’s next?”
“The shape,” Alicia said with narrowed eyes.
Oh fuck. I tried to catch Mattie’s gaze, but she was lost in her rage. I didn’t know how many years she had done this with her mother. I didn’t know how long she had endured lectures and impossible standards, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would go with… too long.
Mattie gestured to the gold pumpkin. ”As I already pointed out, this one. It”s gold. It”s a fucking pumpkin, and it matches your stupid theme.”
“How dare you,” Alicia seethed. “You know, the guards told me you tried to escape.” She swung an accusatory glare my way. “And do you know what I think?”
Mattie winced, probably finally realizing she’d fucked it up. Was that a new record? I wasn’t sure. Mattie had a way of fucking up plans so fast, she beat her own records. She smoothed out her features. “I’m sorry. I’m just… nervous. About the party.”
Alicia didn’t buy it. “I think you’re lying, you little brat. I think you’re trying to con your way out of being a decent daughter and a helpful member of this family.”
Mattie’s features fell into dull acceptance. “Is that what you think?” She flicked a glance to me. Almost imperceptibly, she nodded once.
Fuck no.Mattie could screw this up for all I cared. I’d have the perfect excuse to cart her away from these psychopaths, anyway. I wasn’t going to make a demonstration of her, no matter what I had promised.
“Tell me you didn’t try to escape,” Alicia demanded. She took Mattie’s face between her bony fingers, her long nails digging into her soft cheeks. “Say it straight to my face.” Fury washed over me, painting the world red and causing me to take a half-step forward. Alicia noticed. She rotated an incredulous glare my way.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Are you kidding me right now, Kael? Stop blaming Mattie for messing up your plans. She lights the match, you pour the gas. Idiot.
Mattie closed her eyes in resignation. I clenched my teeth together so hard, I thought I heard a crack. Alicia glared at me, widening her eyes in a clear invitation to take control of the situation. “Outbursts, you said?”
I can’t keep running.
I released a silent, slow breath. Mattie was right, in a way. She needed to extricate herself from Alicia and Augustus in a permanent way. Which meant I needed to play my part. Siberia was looking really good right now. Come to think of it, I’d take Mattie with me, too. After I was done traumatizing her.
I’d thought about this a lot in the last twenty-four hours. After we’d been caught at the bottom of the stairs, I knew there would be a measure of distrust created, and it would be up to me to fix it. I had tossed around idea after idea. In the end, the only thing I could land on that wouldn’t truly cause her any harm was something I’d noticed only briefly. A flash of fear I couldn’t unsee.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the butterfly knife I’d kept put away since that first morning Mattie had been in my safe house because I’d seen the haunted fear in her eyes when I’d played with it. If I could pull a genuine reaction of fear from her, then it might be enough to propel her through the rest of this stupid plan she insisted on carrying out.
Mattie’s eyes fastened on the knife the second I pulled it out. I flicked it open, playing with it casually like I hadn’t even noticed Alicia’s silent demand for action. Tink, tink, click. I flashed the blade open, spun it around my fingers in a way that put my digits in direct danger, and then flipped it back around to close it again. I cut a stray thread off one of the napkins, like the entire purpose of pulling out my knife had been to trim the sewing. “Mattie.” Her name rang through the open room like a warning.
Mattie went so stiff, her collarbone stood out. Alicia surveyed her daughter’s reaction, and slowly, she released her face. “Matilda. I’m asking for your cooperation. Are you, or are you not, willing to help?”
I flicked the blade again, opening it, letting the blade flash wickedly through the air, and then closing it. “Mattie?” I prompted.
Mattie’s bottom lip quivered, and my composure almost broke. “I am,” she breathed out.
“Good.” Alicia smiled with smug appreciation. “Now, I was thinking damask burgundy. Over here. What do you think?”
Mattie followed her mother, her movements wooden. Her eyes flashed to me several times, and I closed the knife in my fist. Such a simple thing, and she cinched up tighter than a bowline knot. I hadn’t hurt her. I hadn’t even directly threatened her. But I hated myself for doing it anyway. My stomach roiled, and only years of training kept me away from her with my arms folded and gaze shielded.
Mattie managed to turn off every switch and dial that made her who she was. I watched her shut down, her mechanical instincts taking over and forcing, “yes,” and “no,” answers from her tight lips. When they had chosen the napkins, and my urge to stab something with the knife had reached a fever pitch, they moved on to tablecloths. Mattie nodded and demurred for two hours until finally, Alicia promised to take her to the decorator’s and have her help with centerpieces.
I frowned. Why did this feel like a wedding?
Finally, Mattie was excused, and I followed her back up the staircase to her apartment in the left wing. When she reached the keypad, she waited for me to put in the code. I opened the door for her, and she went in without glancing at me. I bit the inside of my lip, worry and anger spiraling together in a chaotic vortex that threatened to tear out of me in an unforgivably violent display.
Mattie crossed her arms in front of her, holding her middle tight, and I closed the door firmly. “Mattie—” I started.
She turned on her heel suddenly, and with her usually warm, chocolate eyes flashing cold with anger and hurt, she reached for my hand. Her fingers dug into my palm, excavating the butterfly knife from my grip, and with her lips pressed hard together, she turned and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the TV screen, cracking the display and spiderwebbing cracks along the dead screen.
“Mattie, what the hell?” I asked, just short of shouting.
She shoved me against the door, her small palms barely even noticeable on my chest. But I was so taken aback, I slammed into the closed door and stared at her with raised eyebrows. She took the collar of my shirt in her fists and pulled me down harshly. “Kiss me,” she whispered with a ghost of a breath over my mouth. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and in the set of her face, I read a whole tome of hurt.
“Mattie,” I repeated, more gently and cupping her face. “I’m not goi—”
“Kiss me,” she gritted out, shoving me into the door again. Her voice caught as she added, “I want to feel.”
I searched her expression, jumping from her quivering lips to her pleading eyes. I tightened my hold on her face. Not stopping to think, I bent my face to hers and claimed her lips with mine. She whimpered into me, her arms raising to wrap around my neck. She clung to me, and I kissed her hard, demanding all of her. She gave it.
I turned her, slamming her against the door, and she sighed in relief, mingling her breath with mine and slanting her mouth over mine with hungry need. Her hands tore at my shirt, popping buttons away from the fabric and ripping it open down to my navel. Without breaking our kiss, I loosened my tie, yanking it down until it slipped free of its knot, and I could pull it away from my collar. Then I grasped the choker of her shirt around her throat and ripped it. She let out a breathy laugh just before I trapped her to my body and deepened our kiss. She shoved my shirt aside, smoothing her palms over my chest. Her tongue plunged into my mouth, battling with mine for dominance, and I moaned into her mouth as she pressed her hips against mine.
I knew this was reckless. I knew it was a trauma response, and there was a chance Mattie would both resent me and blame me when this was over. There was a good chance this was the least healthy thing either of us could do.
But I didn’t care. I’d never made a habit of choosing the morally sound path, and I wasn’t going to start now. I yanked her ruined blouse out of her jeans, and ripping the fabric at the seams, I tore it off her torso and over her head. She pushed my open shirt down my arms, and then we were skin-to-skin. She took a moment to look me up and down, and her eyes traced the ink on my skin going down my chest, over my abdominal muscles, and disappearing into my belt. Then she unclasped her bra, eyes soldered to mine with feverish intensity, and it fell away. My breath hooked my soul and left my body.
She was stunning. Perfect. Every milky white inch of her body glowed, and I followed a line from her pink lips to her rosy nipples, tracing the generous curve of her breasts and down the dip and flare of her waist. I wanted to worship her on my knees. I wanted to taste her and savor her until she melted in my mouth and found safety in her satiation.
But Mattie didn’t want that. She wanted to feel. She wanted me to handle her and push her until her fears were shoved into the background and every intense sensation took over her thoughts. She wanted me to swirl the blackened ink from my soul all over her body until her pearly skin and my sooty past made a morally gray pattern on her skin. And I realized, in that moment, that I would do it for her. I would be the devil himself if it allowed her to breathe. I’d be the angel of death if it brought her back to life, and no matter how desperately I wanted to worship her, I would sink into the flames of Hell instead if that’s what she needed.
I was lost in her, and I didn’t want to be found.
I undid the clips on the utility belt, making fast work of it and tossing it aside. Mattie glared with a mixture of hate and desire, her gaze hot, and then she unbuttoned her jeans. I hooked a finger in her waistband and tugged her hard against me. “Touch yourself without my permission, and I’ll spank your ass pink.” I threatened.
Her mouth opened, and then her eyes hooded with desire. “Okay.”
“You want to feel, little rabbit?” I asked, bending down to tease my lips up the column of her throat. I realized suddenly why she’d worn a shirt with a collar around her neck. The bruise from my bite the day before had turned a delicate shade of blue and purple. I pressed my thumb against it and brought my lips to hover over hers. “I’ll make you feel so much, you’ll scream senseless.”