45. “You don’t want love.” I narrow my eyes. “You want more
45
“You don’t want love.” I narrow my eyes. “You want more
Chapter Playlist:
“On My Own” – Ashes Remain
“My Demons” – Starset
“Nothing Else Matters” - Metallica
CALLUM
Donning a new mask, I carry the dinner tray into Everleigh’s room.
The past few weeks have been a careful balance—keeping her close, monitoring her every move, and controlling the environment around her. But tonight, something feels different. Her energy is off, a palpable tension hanging in the air, like the quiet before a storm. She’s been on edge all day, fidgeting restlessly.
I’ve given her space, allowing her time to process whatever’s brewing inside her. But I’m done waiting. I intend to get answers, even if I must drag them out of her.
When I step inside, a vintage pillow harmlessly bounces off a glass wall. I lower my brows and inspect my muse. Everleigh is standing in the center of the room, dressed in nothing more than my shirt—one I gave her after I fucked her last night. Top two buttons undone. The cuffed sleeves drown her wrists, and the hem only reaches her lower thighs, making her seem more petite.
Her hands tremble, her eyes wide with panic. She’s throwing things, trying to release some inner chaos. Her breathing is shallow, her body stiff with fear. She’s breaking down.
“Everleigh,” I call out, moving toward her slowly, setting the tray down on the nearby table. “What’s going on?”
She doesn’t answer. She throws a bath mat at the table this time, and I avoid the urge to smile since some subconscious part of her doesn’t want permanent damage since she’s hurling the softest things possible.
I step forward, but she turns on me suddenly, her eyes wild with terror. One split second passes before she attacks me, limbs thrashing, nails raking across my face. She gets one weak attempt before I arrest her wrists and jerk her to me, fury wreathing my eyes beyond my mask.
“I can’t—” she gasps, her voice cracking. “I can’t—I can’t breathe.” Her knees give out,
She’s catatonic now, her body shaking uncontrollably as the weight of fear consumes her. The room is a mess, but all I can focus on is her. Those unfocused eyes, her body rigid and spine locked with her terror. I know I need to do something before she hurts herself or loses herself completely.
Without hesitation, I carry her to the bed and tie her down. I’m quick and efficient, securing her wrists and ankles to the bed before she can resist. She’s still in a state of shock, but I can feel her body start to relax as I restrain her.
Our time in the crypt wasn’t enough to reverse the damage from her trauma, but it’s proven how much she needs the entrapment. It’s why her limbs go lax whenever I do this. Her tremors fade to a soft tremble. And her breaths slow to a manageable rhythm.
“Talk to me, Everleigh,” I say, my voice a low, calming presence while I mount her, my cock hardening from her raw vulnerability. “What’s happening?”
She stares at me, her chest heaving as she struggles to find her voice. “I’m late,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I feel it. I’m pregnant, Cal. I know it.”
The words hit me, but I don’t flinch. I’ve been waiting for this moment, watching for the signs. I let the truth sink in like a heated wave, savoring the feeling. Everything is falling into place. I smile down at her, showing her my approval while my dick throbs at the possibility.
Steadying myself for her sake, I take a deep breath, touch my lips to her brow, and say calmly, firmly, “Let’s find out for sure.”
Before she can say anything, I retrieve a needle from my jacket pocket—always prepared—and draw her blood quickly. Once the sample is secured, I kiss her deeply, fiercely, assuring her I will return with the results. After blindfolding her, I leave her bound and depart from the room, heading to the testing area.
It doesn’t take long to confirm the results.
I return a half hour later, closing the door quietly behind me. She’s sleeping, worn out after her panic attack.
I wake her in the way I love most…head between her legs, fucking her feminine center with my tongue. Not just fucking this time. I make love to that gorgeous, exquisite cunt.
“Uhn! Cal, what are you?—”
I slice my tongue from her cleft to her ass like a blade, cutting off all her speech unless she’s moaning, whining, begging. I kiss her, drink her, eat her out so long, I know how every drop of fluid tastes from her labia minora to the majora, from the rim of her opening to her plump clit glistening with her arousal. She shudders beneath my tongue, and when I slide a single finger inside her, bearing down on her G-Spot, Everleigh shatters. Hips lifting, back arching. whole body shaking, she climaxes, giving me her pleasure.
While she’s still unraveling, I sink into her, groaning from the hot haven of her pussy, the suction of her body clamping around me, taking me to the hilt. I fuck her every day, multiple times a day. It’s never enough. It will never be enough. Because it’s not just fucking.
When I remove her blindfold, I’m greeted by soft silver. Not a flaring storm as I expected but a snowfall. The color I would use to paint an early winter morning following the storm…when the trees are crystalized by its signature.
She’s not fighting anymore.
It has me pounding stronger as her flesh stretches to fit me, to hold me. One kiss. She tastes like sin and purity. All my muscles bulge with my release, and I erupt inside her, my release firing through every nerve ending.
Falling against her, whole body trembling, I brush a lock of hair from her face. Her eyes are wide, expressions conflicted.
“It’s true,” I say, my voice steady despite my racing pulse. “You’re pregnant, Everleigh.”
She stares at me, her gaze distant, as if she’s trying to process the words. And then, without warning, the tears start to fall. They stream down her face, the weight of it crashes down on her. It’s too much for her to handle. Too much for her to process. But not for me,
Untying her, I pull her into my arms. She doesn’t resist—she never does when it comes to this. She collapses against me, her sobs shaking her frame, and I hold her tightly as if my arms can protect her from the world.
I stroke her hair, my fingers gentle but possessive. “It’s okay. This is how it’s supposed to be, Everleigh. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”
Her sobs quiet down, but I can feel her heart still pounding, her fear still clawing at her. I pull her closer, my lips brushing the top of her head. “I won’t let any harm come to you. Or to our child. Yes, ours .” I roam my hand to her stomach, hoping she understands how much this is a part of her despite how I set it in order.
She doesn’t admit it yet. But she feels it. If she were in denial, she wouldn’t respond with tears. She would bury herself in her work. Or curse me. I internally chuckle, considering how she would likely try and stab me again.
At her core, Everleigh Lennox feels our dark, mad bond.
No matter what she may believe, how much she denies on the surface, she is just as twisted and obsessed as me. She knows it with every whisper of her inner erotic romance reader. Not just a coping mechanism. In all her sensibilities, her rationalities of how the real world should operate, Cherry is how she feels it.
I pull back slightly, my hands still on her, my eyes searching hers. “You’re deeper to me than my scars, Everleigh. You don’t just get to walk away from this. Not now. Not ever.”
Her breathing hitches, and I know she’s not ready to hear this, but I don’t care. She knows I am not her undoing. I am her redoing. As she is mine.
“I’ve shed your blood,” I tell her, brushing my knuckles along the raised, silver heart on her chest. “You’ve shed mine.” I take her hand and press the tips of her fingers to the scar on my shoulder and the one on my right chest. “You’ve carved your signature into my flesh as I have yours. It’s not just some fleeting thing, not just some passing moment. It’s raw. It’s real. It’s forever. It’s us .
“Stop.” Her voice cracks. “You’re messing with my mind. I can’t think when you say things like that.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Because you know you don’t need to fucking think. You feel it with every bone in your beautiful body. In the fabric of your heart. In the moving and shaking of your soul.”
“This isn’t…love.”
“You don’t want love.” I narrow my eyes. “You want more. It’s why you’ve spent your life searching for more, seeking the next high of deep emotions in all your travels, with every artifact. You want to touch something real, something immortal. And I’ve given you more.” I capture her chin, forcing her gaze to mine. “I’ve immortalized you, Little Quill.”
She lifts her chin higher, those silver eyes burning. “And what about freedom?”
I snort. “Freedom is overrated.”
“Says the one who holds the chains.”
My jaw clenches, but no guilt twists in my chest. I strengthen my hold and lean in until my breath arrests her. “You were chained long before me, Everleigh. Chained to your work, to your trauma, and the life of safety you believed would protect you, even as you suppressed the desires screaming to be let free. Because true freedom gives you the ability to unleash anything you could possibly desire. I’ve given you everything.”
“And that makes you what? A savior?” she spits.
I chuff a laugh. “I’ve never claimed to be. No, I am the worst of sinners. A devil in the flesh of a human God of Art. But real love is possession, passion, obsession. And obsession is an art form I have spent all my life mastering. It isn’t safe. You can’t hide from it or run from it. Because I won’t let you run. Because if you love something, you never set it free. You fight for it. And I will fight for you.”
I kiss her, tasting her tears before taking her trembling hands, trapping them between our chests. “Believe I will fucking fight for you, Everleigh,” I murmur, my voice a low growl. “With every drop of blood in my body, I’ll fight for you. I will spend every moment in pure and impure devotion to making your wildest dreams come true. You are my darkest and deepest dream. Mine.”
“Yours.”
Her fragile whisper of submission is the loveliest ruin in my heart.
“If you want me to stay?—”
“You have no choice.”
— “No more killing, Cal. No more torture. No more shows . You want to fight for me. Then fight for us.” She squeezes my fingers. “No more them. Only us.”
My chest tightens with the knowledge of what she’s asking. The gravity of my dark hunger.
She heaves a sigh, her dark waves fracturing her face. “I am not…I’d never ask you to give up your very alchemy. The art doesn’t stop. But they do. Let me be for you and you alone, Cal.”
My nostrils flare with my disbelief. “Now, you’re messing with my mind.”
“Let me fight for you, too.” Everleigh touches her palm to my chest, and it feels like a cruel blade digging in.
“Okay. No more exhibits. Including tonight’s. I don’t give a fuck about the fallout. I’ll let you fight for me, Everleigh…Callum.”
Her brows lift, her eyes widening at the proclamation I’ve just made. I also don’t give a fuck for any legally binding paperwork. She’s closer than a wife. She may as well bear my name.
And just as I think the moment is finally calming, the alarm blares.
The sound cuts through the room like a lightning strike. She gasps. My body tenses, my mind racing as I pull away from her, my focus narrowing.
I look at her, trying to calm her with a steady gaze. “Stay here,” I order, my voice low but firm. “Do not leave this room.”
She looks at me with a snide expression, her eyes still red from crying. “Where am I supposed to go?” she snaps.
I don’t answer her. I don’t need to. I turn quickly, exiting the room with urgency ripping through me.
I move swiftly through the corridors, the alarm brewing in my chest. The decoy exhibit is just ahead, and I know something’s gone wrong. Someone has triggered the trap.
When I enter the decoy room, I find Jonathan “Roulette” Rippers there, his eyes wide with confusion. The setup is perfect. But something doesn’t sit right. Rippers is a fool, but he’s not the one who left the brooch.
Security quickly takes him into custody, but I’m not convinced. I know he isn’t responsible. There’s something deeper at play here, and I need to get to the bottom of it.
Just as I’m about to head back to the exhibit, the explosion hits.
The ground shakes violently, and the walls tremble as if the very foundation of the building is being torn apart. A thousand hammers thunder in my chest from the impact. The sound is deafening, a relentless ringing in my ears, followed by the shrill scream of alarms. The lights flicker, and then darkness envelops the space, emergency lights casting an eerie red glow.
Gunshots ring out, echoing through the tunnels. My men scramble to respond, their voices lost in the chaos.
But none of that matters.
All I can think about is her.
I race back toward the exhibit, the sound of explosions and gunfire growing louder with each step. The tunnel ahead of me has partially collapsed, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
She’s in danger.
I push forward, my heart pounding in my chest, the only thought in my mind: Everleigh.
And just as I stagger into the hall leading to the exhibit, something hard collides with my skull, sending crippling pain howling through my head. I crumple to the floor.
Everything turns black.