Moth to a Flame

18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Regan

Silent. Other than the soft sounds of the ocean, Landon’s house is silent.

That’s the first thing I noticed about it when I moved in here a week ago.

No traffic sounds or cars honking. No neighbors partying at night or over the weekend. Or maybe they do, and I just haven’t heard any of it. The walls here are thick. His land expands further than the mansion he lives in, so a few yards are separating them and us.

I don’t see them, either. It’s like Landon and I are alone in the world as we walk on the beach each morning.

He grumbles about not liking it still. I have no idea what that means, and I don’t push him.

I’m curious and I care.

And I love him enough to wait.

He’s been patient with me, so I offer him the same in return.

I get up from one of the armchairs, standing tall in one of the rooms overlooking the ocean. Stretch my arms over my head. I’ve been sitting here for the past hour, staring outside into the darkness while Landon’s worked in the den.

My limbs are sore. The space between my legs is more so. A smile tugs at my lips.

That’s why I’m here instead of there, where Landon is. This delicious soreness. How he can’t take his hands off me when he should be working.

Since he has free use over my body, I’m not allowed to deny him anything.

Except for meeting my parents.

Until Lester’s parole hearing is behind us, I don’t think I can be in the right headspace to tell them about my relationship with Landon. To anyone, really.

It’s hard to explain how one man—practically a stranger—can be controlling and wonderful all at once.

It’s even harder to explain why I never bothered with a background check. Why I trusted him blindly.

It’s hard, but not impossible.

When the time is right.

Until then, I don’t want them to worry about me living with this new man they haven’t even met.

But when they do eventually meet him, they’ll fall for him.

Just like I have.

As I stroll across the house, I reminisce about how all this started.

It’s crazy to think that a month ago, I was an entirely different person. There was this barrier that I couldn’t figure out how to take down. I had no idea what I’d find on the other side.

I certainly didn’t expect to find love. To fall headfirst for a man who brought me eyeballs. Who wakes me up with his head between my thighs and his tongue licking me to multiple orgasms.

Then again, I wasn’t supposed to get assaulted when I was fifteen. I wasn’t supposed to lose my uterus as a result of that brutal rape.

Regardless of how depressing that thought is, my lips remain curled up as I walk into the kitchen.

Landon has that effect on me.

He turns his head from where he’s standing near the oven. Looks over his shoulder, pinning me with his dark gaze.

He’s so beautiful, with his hair half up, half down, in nothing but gray sweatpants.

He’s mine.

My lips tear at my cheeks.

He cocks an eyebrow. “That smile for me?”

“Yes.” It’s definitely not for Lester’s parole hearing.

Though I keep that part to myself, a scowl tugs at Landon’s lips. He sees through me. I’m bare to him, even now, as I’m clothed in his black T-shirt. He has an X-ray vision when it comes to me.

“Come here.”

“What are we having?” I need to change the subject. I need him to be playful and fun like he was a second ago.

“Come. Here.” His hand slams on the heavy wood kitchen island next to him. His light eyebrows furrow. Black eyes grow impossibly darker. “I know I just belted your ass this morning, so I won’t touch you there. There are, however, other punishments. And don’t give me that look. They won’t be fun.”

I twist my lips and do what he says.

When I’m within reach, he grips my chin, tipping my face up. “Talk to me.”

Lying is useless. “He could get out. They…Maybe I should go to the hearing. I could make my case. They’ll be hearing my side again, not just his.”

“You will do no such thing.” His grip on my chin is tighter. The intense look he’s giving me could make anyone run and hide. There’s murder in his eyes. “He’s not going to look at you or be anywhere near you. No fucking way. I said it’s not going to happen, and it’s not going to happen, damn it.”

“I’m not looking forward to it, either.” Honestly, the thought gives me the worst anxiety. Looking at his severed body and imagining his pain was one thing. Facing him is a whole other horrifying idea. “But it could be the only way to keep him there. If they’re crazy enough to let this… thing out, he’d have won.”

“For an hour or two, he might.” Venom drips from his voice. “We discussed what I plan to do to him.”

Landon transforms into a harsh, scary monster before my eyes. He’s the man who brought me eyeballs and a toe all over again. The ones we keep in jars in his den. No one can get inside his fortress and find the evidence. No one.

“Whatever sense of victory he might have, it wouldn’t last.”

“What if they let him out and he takes a bus somewhere else, instead of the address he’ll provide them? What if you can’t find him and he brutalizes another girl?”

“You’re not going and that’s fucking final.” Landon wraps me with his free arm, hauling me to him. “You won’t, because I said so. Your life and your health are my responsibility. I don’t take that shit lightly. I don’t take that shit lightly at all, little lamb.”

Delicious aromas of meat and pastries rise in the kitchen. I have a good idea of what he’s heating up for us. After the first night here, when I moaned over the Beef Wellington he ordered in, Landon had had a whole shipment of frozen ones brought in.

My mouth doesn’t water, though. I’m too ensnared in his gaze. I’m melting from the inside out from how he looks at me. How he takes care of me.

The intercom buzzes, and I scream. Since it’s so quiet, I’m not used to the random delivery person buzzing the gates.

“Shh.” Landon presses his lips to mine and I feel the jolt of electricity racing through me. His kiss is as intense and commanding as his voice is. “I’ve been expecting them. Don’t worry.”

“Them?” I look down at my bare legs, heat burning my cheeks. “Who’s Them?”

Can’t be Vince and Beverly. He promised we’d meet them after the hearing. Landon never lies. Never breaks his promises to me.

“Surprise.” His hand slides to my cheek, and his black eyes bore into mine. “It was supposed to be here tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

Landon doesn’t kiss me. Oh, no. As his lips bruise mine, my knees buckle. He twists my long locks in his other hand, groaning into my mouth when I whimper into his.

“Needy little slut.” His tongue traces the seam of my lips, slow and sensual. As if there’s no one out there, buzzing for the third time. “Do that whimper again.”

When I hesitate, he bites my lip, pulling me closer to him. I whimper then.

“What about dinner?”

“Later.” Without looking back, he reaches into the oven, clicking the button to turn it off. “We’re doing this now.”

“What did you get me?” He’s being mysterious and I have to know. “Books?”

“I thought you said you were going to finish the one we started for your book club before you get another one?”

My eyes widen, my mouth gaping dramatically. “This isn’t how it works. You saw my bookshelves.”

“I did.” A glint makes his dark eyes light up. “I saw your wish list too. Your currently empty wish list.”

He’s tricked me. Maybe it is books. “Landon.”

The fourth buzz causes a wall to slam over his amusement. He’s cold and scary and so very serious. “Upstairs. I’m not telling you again.”

He walks toward the door as I climb the stairs. I listen to him mumbling something and a man answering him, before the door slams shut with a loud bang.

His footsteps echo in the hallway of the second floor. Each one thunders, and I jump on the bed, lifting the covers higher over my body. On an impulse, my eyes scan the room for Jigsaw. It’s not here. I left it on the armchair where I was watching the ocean.

I’m so stupid. I’m so, very stupid.

“Regan.” Landon’s large frame looms in the doorway. He takes up the entire space with his size and energy and his harsh, probing gaze. “Take your shirt off.”

Most nights, when I wake up to his hot mouth on me or his cock inside of me, he offers reassurance. He tells me not to worry. That I shouldn’t be afraid.

He hasn’t said any of it so far.

“Take your shirt off.”

My gaze darts all over the room, and it’s then that I see there’s something in his hand.

“What’s in the box?” I’m too scared to hear what I’m saying until I do.

Brad Pitt’s famous line from the movie Seven .

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Landon. “I haven’t ordered a severed head, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ll be the one removing that part of him personally.” He cocks his head, his blond hair falling to the side. “You’re being a very bad girl, disobeying me like that. Should I tie you up?”

“Landon.” I back up, taking the sheets with me. As if that’d help. Nothing comes between this man and what he wants. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“Shirt. Off.” He stalks toward the bed, dumping the box on it unceremoniously.

Not waiting for me to obey him, he turns and retreats to the bathroom, returning with his hands full of one pair of scissors, sterile gauze pads box, rubbing alcohol, and antiseptic cream.

And our black nail polish bottle.

Why?

Asking will only anger him further, so I don’t. In fact, I don’t move a muscle as he places them on the bed, next to the box.

“My love,” he growls, his voice rough. Commanding. My body heats and freezes as he comes over to my side of the bed, where I sit and look up at him like a prey would. Terrified. “I remember telling you to do something.”

When he reaches for the hem of my shirt, I finally submit to him. I raise my arms, letting him whip it off my body and throw it on the floor.

There’s a reason why he’s being like this. This dark. This aggressive.

There’s a reason, and I have to trust him.

I do trust him.

“Too long.” His hungry gaze roams down my bare breasts, to my lace underwear, then back up to my stomach. To the area above my navel. “You’ve been carrying these scars around for too fucking long.”

“I’m sor—”

“Quiet.” His hand slices through the air. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. Don’t you dare tell me about the laser treatments and how you tried. Any excuse you make, you make for him, and that’s not happening. I won’t have it.”

“Then?”

“Stay where you are.”

My nipples harden at his command. His cock jerks when I do as he says, yet instead of touching me, he drags the things he’s brought over toward us.

We’re silent as he shoves his sweats down. He’s gone commando today, and my mouth waters for him. For his throbbing cock and leaking head. Landon acts as though he isn’t hard, pushes his dick down, and sterilizes the area above the base.

None of us utters a single word as he cuts through the duct tape and rips the box open. I’m the most curious I’ve ever been, and I lean forward to see what’s in it.

“It’s ready to use. I made sure of that.” A tattoo gun. Holy shit. “Let’s start. You and me. Give me your hand.”

“You didn’t tell me you knew how to use this.” I offer my hand to him. “I…I don’t know how. I’ll mess it up.”

“You could never. Here, let me show you. Hold still.” The tattoo machine vibrates once he’s turned it on, and he aims it at the area he had wiped clean.

The gun buzzes in our grip.

I can hardly breathe.

Landon cuts his eyes to mine. “We’re going to tattoo your initials on me, Regan.”

“There?” My voice shakes. I refuse to let my hand tremble, holding on to Landon for dear life. “Landon…”

“Right fucking there,” he grits out. “In capital letters. You’re going to help me tattoo RS on the base of my cock.”

My jaw drops when I realize what RS stands for. “Regan Sterling?”

“These are your initials, so yes.” Possessiveness turns his features sharp, and his gaze unhinged. “You will be my wife. You will take my name. Next week, no matter what happens, I’m marrying you.”

A volcano erupts from somewhere deep within me. Lava washes over my body. Fire burns inside me. But they don’t ruin anything.

They build me back up.

I’m alive, a phoenix rising from the ashes.

I was raped and tortured and mutilated. I’d spent years being buried under the memories of the worst night of my life.

I’m not there anymore. I let someone else love me. I let myself love him back.

I’m going to be that someone’s wife.

“Do I have a say in this?” I’m toying with him. Of course, the answer is yes.

“As I mentioned.” He drags the tattoo machine closer to his body. “I’m not opposed to binding you and forcing you. So no, you do not get a say in this, wife. Fucking mark me, Regan Sterling. Do it now.”

Regan Sterling. Regan Sterling. Regan Sterling.

His.

He instructs me on how to do it. Puts the pads next to me for when he’ll bleed.

Together, with the sound of the gun and my labored breaths as our soundtrack, we write RS on the base of his cock. Landon is a strong, resilient man who stays put the entire time. It has to hurt. I have no doubt it’s painful as fuck.

Yet he’s there, still as a statue. For me.

“Good girl.” Our attention is fixed on his cock. On the R first. On wiping the blood off him. On writing an S. “Good fucking girl. Look at you. At what you do to me. How yours I am. Fuck, I love that.”

When we’re done, he turns the machine off.

“I’ll sterilize it later.” I’ve never seen Landon smile like this. Teeth and all. The way it reaches his eyes. “You’re up, little lamb.”

Everything happens so fast from there. He tucks himself in, then manhandles me to a lying down position, kneels before me, and sterilizes my scar. He rubs the pad with the alcohol along the large X the laser couldn’t remove.

The mark I loathed and cried over for so many nights.

Tears rise and I blink them away. I will no longer cry for my past. It’s not worth it.

I smile instead, stroke my lover’s arm, and remain focused on my present and future.

“Are you going to tell me what I’m getting?”

“Me.” His whisper is a whip. His smile turns into a maniacal, sexy as fuck grin. “You’re getting me. Always.”

“Always.”

The buzzing starts again. I’m drawn to his strong hand gripping the tattoo machine. To the veins cording his forearm. His special, twisted kind of love emanates from him to me.

He writes words in his elegant handwriting, sentences that start at one end of a line and end in the center. I’ve never been inked before. I’m shocked at how turned on I am by it.

I’m wet and moaning. For long minutes that feel like forever, I fist the sheets so I won’t arch my back. So I won’t slide lower to Landon.

Maybe it’s his hand on my stomach that makes me this needy. How he touches me so I won’t move. Maybe it’s the delicious pain that my mind has learned to turn into pleasure.

Or maybe it’s the four declarations that Landon writes on my flesh.

My wife.

My property.

My good girl.

Mine.

Not once do I tell him to stop. Not once do I ask him what the fuck he’s doing. Even when he pauses every so often to wipe off the blood.

I will be his wife. I am his property, good girl, his.

I’d be lying if I said otherwise.

Landon doesn’t like it when I lie.

“Thank you.” I’ve only ever been high on painkillers after—never mind. Anyway, that’s what it feels like. High and delirium and happy.

So ridiculously happy.

“I’m not done, little one.”

Since he’s put the tattoo machine on the bed beside me, I’m confused. My tongue is too heavy to ask what more is there, so I watch him.

He unscrews the black nail polish bottle we share, painting the pad of his left thumb with a healthy coat.

“Your new ink says you’re mine.”

Wetness presses to my skin, right there where one line crosses the other. The nail polish. It’s cold when he lowers his face to my stomach and blows on it.

“But without my fingerprint on it, how would anyone know who you belong to?”

I nod. Really, it’s all I can do.

“You’re being so good.” His intensity is there, in his voice. I hear it as he inks my skin, over the buzz of the machine. “Letting me brand you. Letting me mark you. Not like I’ll stop marking you with my cum. I’ll keep fucking you every day for the rest of my life. Keep telling you what a good slut you are for taking it. This…”

He darts his tongue out to lick his lips, raising his dark eyes to meet mine. “This is forever. This is another step of wiping away whatever came before me. It’s almost gone, love. It’s almost gone.”

And I almost believe him.