Moth to a Flame

22. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Regan

“Age.”

On the outside, this nightmare feels identical to the rest of them. As real as they all were.

Looks exactly like that night that forever changed the course of my life.

On the inside, it’s the polar opposite.

I’m not afraid. My blood doesn’t run cold. No chill runs up my spine.

The monster can’t hurt me.

It can’t get to me.

He won’t let it.

“Age.” Lester’s demand does nothing to me this time.

Landon is here.

“Motherfucker.” With a machete—yes, a machete!—in his hand, Landon impales Lester’s throat from behind.

The blade glints in front of me in the dim lights from the lampposts scattered along Central Park.

“You saved me?” It’s a question. A wonder. “You’re here?”

I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it. My avenging angel, his nearly white hair, his long black coat. He looks like an assassin.

He looks like mine .

“Little lamb. Where else would I be?”

Woosh and the blade is out. Blood sprays out of Lester’s throat. His hands flail around in a desperate attempt to reach the open, gory wound.

He fails, crumpling to the ground, gurgling like the pathetic piece of shit he is.

I’m not the first girl he raped.

I will be the last.

Landon’s boots make his footsteps loud. More ominous as he rounds Lester’s body and stalks toward me.

I’m not afraid. Each step he takes has my spine straightening and my head tipping up. I’m waiting for him. Anxiously expecting my dark prince to come to me.

“You’re here,” I whisper when he’s right there, in front of me, disposing of his machete.

I’ve aged during the thirty seconds that I’ve watched him walking in my direction. I’m twenty-five instead of fifteen. The hips Landon is gripping are those of a woman. The girl who’s looking at him isn’t na?ve or shy or confused.

I know what I want. And that’s him.

“That’s right,” he growls, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m here to protect my wife. Here to love her. Here to worship the ground she walks on.”

“We’re not married yet.” A laugh slips past my lips as I grip the lapels of his coat. A nervous laugh. Like he might take it all back.

“Not yet, Regan. Any day now, though.” My head spins from his kiss. “Any day. You’re mine.”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

I wake up from my dream, hearing the same words. Except they’re not really words, are they?

The ocean is talking to me. Water laps at the shore. They whisper as quietly as they did yesterday when I woke up alone in bed.

Last night, they whispered my name.

Regan. Regan. Regan.

Landon needed me. I could tell as soon as I put my phone on silent. When the chanting of my name started, I dropped the phone on the bed, leaving my family and our brainstorming group chat in the bedroom as I rushed to pull on clothes.

I couldn’t get to the beach fast enough. I had to see him. I had to…

No. No one helps a man like Landon. I had to be there for him.

The ocean stopped repeating my name once I stepped outside our home. Once I saw him with his back to me, his shoulders pulled back and his gaze aimed at the dark horizon.

The ocean didn’t need to keep calling me. I found my home, and I rushed to it.

Tonight is different.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Over and over and over.

As if this isn’t the ocean talking to me. This is Landon, sending a message through the waves. Through the salty air and the wind.

Shirt. Sweatpants. I brush my teeth and rush down the spiral stairs, not even bothering to run my fingers through my tangled hair.

He likes me messy.

The closer I get to him, the darker everything gets. The air I breathe. The feelings that swarm through me.

My thoughts.

I hope he’s not completely naked out there.

I so wish he is.

Not surprisingly, the large doors leading to the ocean are open. I rush down, noticing the moment the slick marble floors turn to the wooden deck and then…sand.

Something tells me to hold still before I run to the man in the water. I listen to the voice, plant my feet in the sand, and watch Landon.

He stands in the same place he did yesterday. The water reaches just above his ankles, darkening the hem of his gray sweatpants.

He’s left his hair down like he did before we went to bed, and the wind whips at it and it dances around his shoulders.

Under the silver moon light, his nearly white hair looks like a field of dandelions when you blow on them, only thicker. Hotter.

Though, truthfully, I’m not as focused on his hair. Landon is shirtless and glorious. A God. When he rolls his shoulders, his back muscles ripple, lean and strong, and accentuated.

“Little lamb,” he calls without looking at me. With no affection in his voice.

Somehow, that turns everything more sinister. My nipples pull tight. Heat spreads from my belly all across my body like vines.

“Come here.”

Of course I do. The lights in the houses near us are out and I tread forward in the dark.

Landon is my beacon. Scary and intimidating and calling for me.

I stop less than a foot behind him. The water is like ice closing around my feet. My legs. The night air bites at my skin.

None of it registers.

Being in Landon’s orbit has me burning up. Bursting into flames.

He’s silent as the air crackles around us.

My pussy is wet with anticipation. With fear. With a want so strong that it becomes a part of my personality.

“Landon?”

“Clothes off.” His eyes remain fixed on the horizon. “If you’re worried about the neighbors, don’t be. I’ve had dinners delivered throughout the neighborhood tonight. Laced with sleeping pills.”

I wasn’t worried. I never am when I’m around him.

However, I am hotter. A million times more than before. Hearing his criminal master plan is such a turn-on.

“How did you know I’d come here?”

“What makes you think this is a conversation?”

God, it’s humiliating and sexy, talking to his back. Obscenely so. “Tell me.”

“I don’t hear you taking your clothes off.”

“Tell me and I’ll do it.” My heart flutters at his threatening growl. The fear he tries to instill in me is better than any foreplay. Mainly because it works. I am kind of scared. “Please?”

“You really have to ask?” He’s a warrior. A protector. My man, seducing me with his low, gravelly voice. “We both know the answer to that. But I’ll tell you anyway. Our bond is like no other. Wherever you go, Regan, I’ll find you. When I call, you’ll come to me.”

Silence. Except for my heartbeats.

“Is that all?” he asks.

“It is. Yeah.” I had no idea how badly I needed him to say it until I heard the words. “Thank you.”

My shirt and pants and panties go flying behind me. Maybe they’re on the shore. Maybe they’re soaked in salt water.

Can’t bring myself to care.

“Everything’s off?” His voice is meant to come off as detached, but I hear it. The barely contained lust.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” He motions for me to come to the space before him. “Come here. Let me look at you.”

We’ve been naked around each other more times than I could count. In bed, in the shower, on every available surface around the house. This is unlike any other time.

He’s debasing me.

All I can think of is more .

I tread through the water until I’m facing him.

His eyes are darker tonight, the black nearly eating out the whites. Every line on his face is as sharp as a knife. His hands are clasped in front of him.

Landon pins me with a heated glare, but it’s also so cold.

So creepy and so silent and so…

Wow.

I’m melting under his inspection. From the outline of his very hard cock.

He owns my body. My curves and soft breasts. The goosebumps raking my skin and the tattoo he marked me with. I’m not sure if he can see the dampness between my thighs. I hope he does.

That, like everything else, belongs to him.

My hands mimic his posture, folding in front of me. My arms press my breasts together for him.

“Hmm.” His fathomless gaze is fixed on my face. He watches, staring into my eyes. Sending shock after shock of electricity throughout my body. “Very good.”

A relieved exhale rushes past my lips.

After long, stretched-out minutes of this game, I’ve been craving his praise like a drug.

In two, large steps, Landon is in my space, pressing his body to mine. He wraps an arm around my back and walks deeper into the ocean, forcing me to walk backward.

We’re almost at knee level when he stops. My knee, obviously, since he’s so tall.

His cock is hard against my stomach. His gaze is harder. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” Very much fucking yes.

“Such a pretty liar.” He lets go of me. Before I stumble back, Landon rakes his hand in my hair and shoves me to the ground. To my knees, facing him.

I gasp as the icy water envelops me up to my lower back.

“How about now?” He’s a dark shadow towering over me. His face betrays nothing.

“I’m cold.” I am. I also want to keep playing. I’ll go wherever Landon takes me. Anywhere at all.

“That’s not the answer I was looking for, brat.” His lips quirk to the side, his smirk is devious. “You should be afraid. You should be crying in terror. In fact…”

The words hang in the air around us as Landon’s expression changes. I can’t place it. I can’t describe it. He’s just…different.

The man I love isn’t there.

“You should’ve never come here.”

At that, I try to escape for the first time tonight. I claw at his thighs. I try to shake my head. I fail.

“Landon. Stop. I mean it. Let me go.”

“Snake. Repeat that for me.”

Another silence, this one is louder than thunder. It also gives me a minute to think.

Snake. The safeword he’s offered me.

It’s another rape scene that he’s orchestrating. Only before, he held back. We couldn’t be too loud. Had to stay quiet.

This time, he looks serious. Like he’s not going to hold back.

Like he’s going to bring the old memories to the surface and vanquish them.

I should be excited.

But the way he’s staring at me. He’s the coldest night of the year. He’s a snowstorm and hailstone. Unrecognizable.

He’s the man who’ll hurt me.

He’s the man who’ll fix me.

And I trust him.