Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Maeve
Present day
O n the eve of a clan member’s twenty-first birthday, they’re given a decree.
I was given my decree at thirteen.
Now, I stand in my room, staring at the white wedding dress hanging in my closet, fear and rage holding on with an icy claw into my chest.
I’m to be married on my twenty-first birthday. Tomorrow.
I don’t bother to plead to my father to change his mind. He and I have very little in common but our stubbornness is the same. He won’t bend and he won’t yield. But neither will I.
So, I’ll show him the daughter he created. The monster I became to survive the hell he put me in.
Dressed in a short red leather skirt, I tug the black corset top into place. My full lips are painted a deep burgundy, and my dark locks are curled down my back.
I even stole a pair of Sloane’s designer red heels, the arches so sharp I have to pray to whatever God will listen not to let me fall on my ass.
Ferguson might have sold me to Michael, but I’m not going without a fight.
This is my life, my clan, my power.
Slipping a knife into my thigh holster, I put another between my breasts. A gun would attract attention, but a knife I can hide.
There’s a brief moment of pause. Doing this, going through with this, would be close to clan suicide. I would put a target on my back, risk the wrath of my father in exchange for my freedom.
I’ll gladly risk it.
Exiting my bedroom, I turn to the grand staircase. My sisters each have a wing on the second floor, whereas I have one on the third. Even now, I realize my father has been separating me from the family, so as not to allow me the opportunity to lead. My sisters were allowed to be children, allowed to experience love whereas I was stuck in serving his second. My only existence was to populate the next generation of the clan because of when I was born.
I’m not going to be that person. That is not my future.
What I don't expect to find is Killian.
He takes in my appearance, all the way down to the sharp heels, and dark rage contorts his handsome face. His sharp features are twisted, the blacks of his eyes so dark, not one flicker of light enters them. He looks possessed.
This is the face of the infamous killer. This is the man everyone is afraid of.
“Where are you going, Princess?” He rakes his eyes over me again. It feels like a physical touch, making my nipples pebble, my nerves stand on end.
The entire house is empty, save for me, Michael, and now the reaper. I didn’t expect him home, not after traveling so many days this month.
The air crackles with tension. It’s also been there between us. This need pulsates and throbs whenever we’re alone. It simmers just under the surface, begging to be released.
Shifting, I move to the hallway. “Somewhere.”
Killian is on my heels. “Anyone I know?” There’s an edge to his words. I ignore it. If I think too hard, I’ll lose my focus.
I can only focus on my plan. My revenge. My freedom.
“Not now, Killian.” I stop at the hallway, facing where Michael’s room lies. “Feel free to go. I forgot something.”
Killian steps into my space. I inhale, breasts pushing into his chest, his body heat scorching me.
He’s death in human form—dark tight sweater, dark jeans that hang low on his hips, a pair of black combat books that make him even taller. His inked hands clench at his sides, as if trying to halt the urge to grab me.
Under his collar, there's more ink, just asking for a touch.
I want him. I want to feel him close, his skin against mine, his hands in my hair, kissing his lips. Every single inch of his body I want pressed to mine in the most intimate of ways. I need it like I need air.
At some point, my annoyance and anger at the reaper turned into something hotter, more wicked. It could have been the many times he healed me and stitched me back together. It could have been when he left me gifts before leaving the mansion—simple treasures like drawings he would doodle in a notepad before departing in the night.
Or it could be because I see that inner darkness in him. The same one that lives inside my chest, that’s festered and grown with every day I ignore it. The darkness that begs me to release it onto my enemies, to scorch the earth for anyone daring to hurt me.
I feel the same urge inside Killian, an unhinged deadly presence that he can barely control. Control that seems to snap and break in my presence.
Licking my lips, I see his attention on my mouth.
“Killian.”
Slowly, he drags his black eyes up, and what I see steals my breath.
So many emotions. Lust, rage, possession. Everything I’ve ever wanted from him shines at me in those endless depths.
“Who is it, Maeve?” His words are rough, pained. “Give me a name.”
I swallow. “There’s no one.”
“No one,” he echoes.
He looks down again, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb.
“If you were mine, I’d never let you out of the house like this,” he whispers, a hand curling around my throat, as if to hold me closer.
My stomach drops.
Another restriction. Another man who thinks he can control me.
I long for freedom, for the power, for my control of this clan. This is what I’m fighting for, what I survived for. Another man is not going to keep me from achieving it.
“Because you don’t want others to see me like this?” I sound bitter.
He smirks, and it’s positively devilish. “Because I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you long enough to let you leave.” His lips brush mine, and sparks ignite over my skin. I almost whimper. “Let them look, Princess. I’ll pluck out their eyes, rip out their throats, and then fuck you on top of their corpses. Because you’d be mine .”
Wetness coats my panties, causing me to shift uncomfortably. Killian’s words should not be turning me on, but it figures his dark unhinged fantasies would stir something in me.
I live in the dark, embracing the evil that thrives there. Killian does the same. We are two broken souls who took the dark and made it ours.
I wish I could forget my plans and climb into that fantasy, cling to Killian’s bones and make my home in his heart.
But I have a plan and I need to follow it through.
“Killian…”
“Whoever it is, will pale in comparison to me, Maeve. I promise you that.” His fingers flex at my neck, pulling me close.
Without warning, we shift, and he wraps a lean arm around my back, slamming us into the wall. The force pushes me against him, and he cages me to the wall, one long leg parting my thighs to hold me captive.
This is the first time I’ve ever felt happy to be caught. Killian’s weight feels too good to fight, his knee sending waves of friction all over my body. I gasp as he leans closer, rubbing just enough to heat my skin.
He inhales at my neck, scenting me. “Fuck, Maeve. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Your legs wrapped around my hips. I bet you are a fucking sight when you come.”
“I don’t—” He bites my neck, making me moan at the spike of pain, even as his knee moves to offset the sting. This is escalating fast, and I don’t want it to stop. “I’ve never done that.”
He chuckles and licks at his bite mark. Ownership—that’s what this is. He’s marking me as his. “Then you’re fucking a boy. If you were mine, you’d be screaming my name all night.”
I want to give in. My body has always belonged to someone, and now, I want to give it to him. I want him to bring me the pleasure I’ve fantasized about, wished for. With him. By him.
But I can’t. Not yet.
“No, Killian.” I push lightly at his chest. “I can’t.”
He stills, pulling away. Dark eyes are clouded with lust, but more than that, he looks wounded. “No?”
“No.” I sigh, chest heaving.
There’s a brief pause, and he pulls away. Without him, my body goes cold.
My legs tremble as I stand, leaning against the wall for support, nails digging into the wood. Killian looks ready to say something, to argue, but instead, he just runs a hand through his hair and turns on his heel. He’s down the stairs before I can call him back.
I want to. But I can’t.
Blowing out a deep breath, I turn right to walk to Michael’s room. Right now, the only thing I can do is finish my plan. I can’t marry Michael tomorrow, and I will never be a good obedient wife. Never.
I walk the distance to the far room with a singular light. Knocking once, Michael pulls open the door, smiling wickedly.
My body goes cold.
“Well, well, it seems it’s my lucky night. Hello, fiancée .”
I ignore the nausea and enter his Godforsaken room.