Chapter 32
“You okay?”
Mac’s hand comes to my lap as my head hits the backrest in the passenger seat of his car.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in this seat but the tension I used to feel isn”t there. Comfort replaces horror, the trauma from that night so far away from everything else that it feels like a dream.
“No one else will ever touch you again,” he says, glancing at me from behind the wheel. “Understand?” His hand tightens around mine, a wash of warmth filling me.
Is it weird to say we left that place with a good memory, the red light swaying above us as he gave me his all?
“Do you think we deserved this?” I ask, my voice soft as Mac’s blazer engulfs me. “After what we did to Beau?”
“Is that why you shot me?” His words hit me as I sink into my seat, but his grip tightens. “If you think another bullet is enough for me to leave you alone, you don’t know me like you think you do, Butterfly.”
A box of fast food sits on the dashboard. Fries and a burger. I’ve only been able to eat a bite. And that bite made me want to hurl. It’s funny how your body rejects something you haven’t had in a while. Food. Love. But my body doesn’t reject him. Even when I wanted it to.
“We still don’t know each other,” I remind him. “At all.”
“You know that’s not true. I know you inside and out. I know every inch of that body because it’s mine,” he says. “I know how you’ll react when I call you a good girl. I know how you’ll react when you give in to my touches and demands. I know that I bring out a darkness inside you. One I always saw. That’s all I need to know.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything else. You’re beautifully deadly, Ember. I was always going to succumb to it. And you were always going to succumb to me.”
My mind flashes back to years ago when I stood behind that door. “We wouldn’t be here if you didn’t shoot my uncle.”
“You gonna bolt on me if I say I’m happy I did?” A smirk tugs at my face and I hate that it does. But Mac catches it. “Didn’t think so.”
“We are so fucked up,” I groan, sinking into my seat.
He chuckles. “You need to be more self-aware, Butterfly. We’re all the way fucked up. That’s why we fit. That’s why you fit. With me.” This car feels like a puddle of warmth, a contrast to Picasso’s lair. “Understand?” When I nod, he smirks. “Good girl.” A burst of fire ignites within me, but it fades as quickly as it comes when my mind settles on one thing.
”He”s gone,” I say, my throat closing in before I finally let the tears swell in my eyes. ”Uncle Jake.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“He’s so fucking stupid.” A cannon of emotions fill me, everything from the last week and a half finally crashing together. “Alcohol poisoning?” Tears fill my eyes, that tightness in my throat coming back. “I knew it would fucking kill him. I fucking knew it.” My sniffling nose is the only sound to fill the car, but Mac’s hand doesn’t leave my skin. “He left me.” I choke on my last words, my hand coming to my mouth.
”I got you now, Ember.” The warmth from his words and his grip on my hand spreads through me until I feel like I’m sitting on the sun. “That won’t change.” Wiping my tears, I look at him through blurry eyes. Comfortable and confident behind the wheel of his car. “I promise. And I’m just as stubborn as you are. I’m not going anywhere.”
His words make something release in my chest. I still feel the heavy pain from the loss of Uncle Jake, but with Mac, it’s bearable.
I squeeze back, settling into my seat as I let that wave of grief crash against my heart and settle within me. He doesn’t turn on the music, he doesn’t tease me. He just sits there, the two of us together as he brings us away from my nightmare.
For once, I don’t want this drive to end, my eyes closing as sleep chases me. But something familiar catches my eye from the window, telling me where we are.
Sitting up, I watch the scenery going by. “What are we doing in The Valley?” We pass our old home before I turn to him. “Mac?”
“You reminded me there’s something I need to show you.” It’s not long before we’re pulling next to another familiar space. The same space we met. It looks different, most of this side of The Valley does. Cleaned up? Yeah. Gentrified? For sure.
Modern buildings, condos, and fancy bars line the streets where weathered signs and faded facades once stood. If it wasn”t for the street sign at the end, I wouldn”t know where he stops.
Cara’s Thrift Shop.
Mac doesn’t say anything when he parks the car and gets out. But he waits for me to follow, lighting up a cigarette.
Once I’m out of the car, I stand in front of the place we once called home. It looks so different. Large windows replace weathered brick. A glass door and golden handles replace the creaky wooden one on flimsy hinges. I can only imagine what the inside looks like but I can”t see it beyond the covered glass.
“The McKinsleys really did a number on this place, huh?” I say, my eyes darting around the new fixtures. Golden sconces sit on each side of the entrance, casting a glow on what was once broken concrete. “Mac, I really don’t want to be here right now. Not after?—”
“Come on,” he cuts me off, heading towards the door.
With one last glance around the new street, I move inside with him.
“There she is!” Gray greets me as my feet enter the space I no longer recognize.
“Wh—what are you doing here?” He’s not who I expected to see.
“Welcoming you back, Rookie.”
I’m still in a daze as I look around the space. Fresh paint blends with the earthy aroma of exposed brick, the space the cleanest I’ve ever seen it. White walls complement brick ones while brass lanterns hang from the beamed ceiling. Mismatched armchairs sit throughout and a scatter of ornate rugs makes the space feel welcoming and vibrant.
But that’s not what floors me.
My art covers half the room. Some are copies of the paste-ups I saw on social media. Some are new. Different. Moving to a hanging emerald velvet curtain in the middle of the space, my fingers trail the burnt edges of the art hanging in front of it.
“This is from my sketchpad,” I say, the image of Mac’s face darker with burn marks. “You saved it.” Turning to Mac, he stands at the door, his iron eyes on me.
“I’d hope so after the hell this asshole put me through.” Gray’s voice comes from behind the curtain before he wheels a wooden chair to where I stand. “Wanna see the best part?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, instead, he sits me on the chair and wheels me back to our old storage room. His hands cover my eyes. “Hope you’re ready because if I touch you longer than this, I’ll need a new nose.” When his hands disappear, I gasp.
A bed hangs from four thick ropes at one end, swaying with the bit of air moving through the room. Easels and supplies sit on the other end, a long white desk separating the space. One wall has a giant mirror, another has more artwork from my sketchpad. A giant window reveals a wall of green beyond it like a garden. It”s so much bigger than it ever was before.
“What is all this?” I ask.
Mac’s voice comes from behind me. “I’m giving back what’s yours.” Turning around, he leans against the doorframe, his hands in his slacks like when I first laid eyes on him. Except he’s not careless at all.
“Does your dad know about this?” I ask.
“My father’s taken care of.”
My eyes narrow at his words, but Gray shakes me out of my dark thoughts. “So? What do you think? It was Mac’s idea to turn your old digs into a gallery space. Your gallery space. You’ll need one now that you’re some crazy famous artist.”
My hand comes to my neck, reaching for my locket but I’m reminded it isn’t there.
“I hear artists need a roof over their heads,” Mac’s voice comes behind me before something cold slips into my hand. “Now they have it.” My locket. When I open it, my mother’s face is gone. But Uncle Jake’s is there. I’m not sure where he got the photo, but looking into those brown eyes brings tears to mine again. “They’d be proud of you.”
“Damn, Mac, you used to be ice cold,” Gray chuckles. “Now look at you.” A paintbrush flies at Gray but he ducks as it hits the glass wall.
“And… you guys are okay?” I ask, choking back more tears. “I was worried about you, Gray.”
“Oh?” Mac asks, a bite to his tone that I’ve missed. “Were you?”
Gray laughs, “We’re always okay.”
“I thought you were missing,” I glance between them. “Where did you go?”
Gray glances at Mac and when I follow his eyes, Mac shrugs, leaning against the wall as he stares at me the same way he always has. With the intensity of a psychopath.
“Let’s just say Mac sent me on a vacation I didn’t know I needed,” Gray says.
“That’s ominous,” I respond.
“That’s Malcolm McKinsley. The only fucker to get me black-out drunk so he can put me on a flight to Mexico. He won. Again. And I learned not to touch his girl.”
“Mac…” I say, hearing his unconventional, manipulative ways again.
“At least I didn’t shoot him,” Mac says.
Silence overtakes us as my head whips towards Mac, those iron eyes heating my insides. Then laughter breaks between us as quickly as silence came.
“You two? Fucked up,” Gray says, but he laughs along with us. “But hey, the best people are.”
Mac reaches into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. “You can stay at The Emerald to get to class if that’s easier. But this place is yours, Ember.”
“To get to class?” Gray pipes up. “Have you not heard? With your powers combined, she’s an internet sensation.”
So much is happening.
“Look at me, Ember,” Mac’s fingers come to my chin, moving my gaze to him. “You will go to class, understand? Don’t pass up on an opportunity like that.”
Is he serious? “Mac, I can’t go back there.”
“You will.”
“Are you insane?”
Mac’s hand comes to my throat.
A surge of heat rips through me. “Get your hand off me, Mac.” My teeth grit as Mac’s eyes narrow like I’m the problem.
Gray whistles, his hands in the air like we have weaponry. “That’s my cue.” He moves towards the door. “You know, Valley girls aren’t so bad after all. I’ll be at a bar finding one for myself.” Gray’s words warble in and out of my head, my eyes on Mac’s, my attention on his hand around my neck.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m one of those assholes at Red’s, you know who I am, Everett.” Red. Picasso. A joke, just like his name. The flashes of that room flicker in my head before my hands come to Mac’s arms, pulling them down. He tightens his grip so I scratch at his skin. He growls, “Calm the fuck down, Ember.”
“I won’t let you hurt me.” Pounding against his chest, there’s little fight in me, the heaviness of everything weighing me down. A tightness in my chest spills out in tears on my face. “Don’t hurt me.”
I don’t even realize he’s moved his hand from my neck until he catches both of my wrists. That’s all I have before I fall against his warm chest, a soaking pad for my tears. It all comes out. Right on him, the images from the last weeks rolling through my mind. Beau, Uncle Jake, Picasso, my mom, Hannah…
My sobs fill the room, the darkness from my last days filling me up until flashes of light flicker between. My scholarship. My artwork. Mac.
Then his words roll through me, “I won’t.”
A soft flickerlights up the room when I open my eyes. There’s no darkness. There’s no cold draft. Red doesn’t fill the space. Instead, candles sit around us, a high-piled rug underneath me as pillows and sheets surround me.
“Welcome back.”
Mac.
“Did you light all this?” I ask. It’s like a scene from a romance, a soft glow filling the space. Old gothic rock plays from his phone, tobacco filling the air.
“Thought I’d shed some light on our darkness.” It’s only when his voice feels like it”s on my insides that I realize my head is in his lap. A softer gesture from Mac. “And I forgot to extend the electricity contract.”
“Thought you were a businessman.” Looking up, his eyes meet mine. While I know that face well, it’s like something shifted. There’s a gentleness to it, something I’ve only seen flickers of before but now, it lingers.
“My father thought I was a businessman. Hockey was always my thing.” His voice trails as a tightness comes to my stomach, as if he’s realizing the same thing I am.
“Is that dream gone?” I wince, knowing I’m the reason that he might never achieve his dreams “Like… forever?”
“Yes,” he says. “Your mom came back to town, asking if there’s anything she could do about solidifying the contract. But I told her to leave. She abandoned you. So I abandoned her. Now, I have my mind on other things.”
“Mac…” When I sit up, his hand grips to my thigh, as if leaving isn’t an option. “I’m so?—”
“Don’t,” he cuts off my apology. “It’s worth it. I always looked for an escape from this life. You’re it, Everett.”
“Not Hannah?” I hate that I still sound bitter. After all this.
His eyes narrow on mine. “You still think I gave her Beau’s phone.”
“You didn’t?” My head pops up, a release in my chest. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“You didn’t trust me,” he says. “But you do now.”
“You know you can use your words, right? You don’t always have to be so dramatic.”
“You know better, Butterfly.” He pulls me further into his lap, between his legs. “Where’s the fun in that?” He pulls the blazer hanging over my shoulders down, his lips landing on my neck. His fingers move to my chin, tilting my head back to his. And when his lips press to mine, everything feels right.
Mac’s lips fit like the perfect colours on a canvas. They always have. His fingers trail down my neck, tingles sparking with every inch as they travel over my tits. I don’t squirm, I don’t pull away. I let him explore me. Despite how vulnerable I feel, I need him to.
That rush fills me when one hand pinches my nipple, the other moving between my legs. My back relaxes against his chest as Mac finds my centre, a soft moan escaping on his lips before his mouth releases me.
“You’ve had a rough go, Everett.” He sticks his fingers into my wetness before pulling it out, rubbing it over my most sensitive button. The way Mac touches me always feels intuitive, not calculated like he is. He doesn’t follow steps. He listens to the way my body responds to him, and he knows when it”s time to dominate and when it”s time to spoil me. When my back arches against him, he stops, his chuckle in my ear making me want more. “Sssh. Settle your wings, Butterfly and let me take care of you.”
“Mac,” I murmur, a spark coming as his hands caress my breasts, teasing and tickling my nipples in the same fluttery way he toys with my clit.
“Do you want me to take care of you?” I can feel his hardness against my ass as candles flicker around us. My body feels as soft as the glow in the room.
“Yes,” I moan, my hips grinding against his fingers, rocking back and forth again before he stops.
“Greedy,” he groans.
“Please,” I beg, his touch the softest I’ve felt in a while.
“Tell me what I want to hear, Butterfly,” he groans, patting his fingers against my clit in a way that makes my entire body shudder.
“Take me,” I moan as his fingers tighten around my nipple. He’s playing me in a way only he knows how. Skilled. Experienced. Like he’s known me forever. “Have me.”
His fingers run circles around my clit, my body bucking against him again. The heat between us is enough to set this entire room ablaze. “What else?”
“Please…” I beg, feeling my body at the edge again. “Please, Mac.”
“I love it when you beg.” His hand comes to my throat, leaving my nipples aching for more. “Say it.” He rubs me faster, my body filling with tingles. That ache in my stomach begs for a release, for that quiet in the storm, for my body to give in to him.
Then he stops again.
My words are the only thing to fill the room as the song stops. “I’m yours.”
He growls, my back hitting the soft blanket against the floor as he climbs on top of me. Then he devours me. His tongue runs over mine, his hand coming to my hair, gripping it in that possessive way that makes me feel special. Wanted.
“Oh god,” I moan, his lips quieting me before he enters me. My eyes roll back in my head, feeling the way he hits my spot. When his hand comes to my throat, the mix of passion and pain takes me to the fucking stars.
“Look at me,” he groans, his hips working in overtime, the quickness of his pace taking my breath away. My eyes open to him, his grip on my throat tightening. “Good fucking girl.”
My legs wrap around him, wanting his body as close as I can get it. The heat from his skin matches mine as my hips rock against him. “I want your all,” I moan against his lips. His eyes narrow but I beg for it. “I want everything. Make me yours. Be mine.” His grip around my throat tightens, his cock throbbing against my walls. His thickness threatens to burst inside of me as his thrusts get harder, his breaths heavier.
“I am,” his teeth sink into my lip, his body stiffening on top of me as he fills me with everything he has, connecting me to him in the way I crave. He pulses into me with a passion I’ve always mistaken for hostility but our bodies were sure about this all along. “Don’t forget it.”
When my eyes open again,a few candles still flickering around us.
When I reach for Mac’s body, he’s right there. Right where I left him. Next to me.
Mine.
He’s awake, the screen on his phone the brightest thing in the room. My body still aches when I push up to where his head is. I can’t tell whether that’s from Picasso’s or the onslaught Mac let loose on my body. I focus on the latter, telling myself he’s erased the pain.
“Do I have to put you back to sleep?” he asks, noticing me awake.
“I should eat first,” I murmur, my stomach grumbling as I find my appetite. I want to stay in this state forever. Just Mac and I. No one else. Nothing else.
“Me too,” he groans, a twitch beneath the blanket covering us and I know he isn’t talking about food.
His phone comes to his chest, next to my head, but when my eyes land on the words on the screen, my breath hitches.
Newhaven Sex Trafficking Ring Leader Found Dead
My eyes slowly move to Mac’s.
His eyes slowly move to mine.
“Mac, what did you do?”
His arm comes around me, his voice a whisper but it’s loud in my ear. “Beau was an accident. This wasn’t.”