Chapter 19
LOGAN
En route to Hayward, I avoid looking at the guys. Feels like I’m wearing what Killian did to me all over my face—stained it the way he stained my throat and belly that first time.
Once we arrive at the house, I rush to my room so my brothers won’t see me. I lock my door and scream, releasing all the tension knotted up inside me.
Why did he do that to me? Killian was supposed to be our friend, our ally, but now he’s using his beauty and charisma to play with my emotions and body.
And…oh fuck…when he played with my body…
I can still feel what it was like when he was swelling inside me as he came, see the look on his face when he lost control, just wanting to fill me with his seed.
The filthy words he said, the way he spoke to me, echo in my head.
“Admit you want to be dominated by me, Logan.” What it took to keep from saying it, from begging him to own me, like I wanted to be nothing more than his property, an object to be cherished by him.
This is his doing because I’ve never had a fucking thought like that in my entire life.
“Tell me you want me to come in your cunt. Tell me, or I won’t take you to the end.”
He called me a liar, but he lied too because he took me there even though I didn’t obey him.
I grab hold of my dresser and push it to the floor, the wood cracking as it hits.
What would Dad say if he knew what I did with Killian?
“You’re in charge of this family. That means you have to be a leader, which means you have to always be in control.”
I loved him, but I’m so mad he would tell me to marry Killian, then also tell me that I have to remain in control.
How can I have both when the very thing that feels so exciting with him is that he wants control?
And it’s so tempting to let him take that burden from me, to give him what he wants so I can have a moment of freedom from my responsibilities.
Assessing the mess I’ve made, I lean against the wall, closing my eyes, remembering what it felt like to have him dominating me, wishing that when he told me to submit, I could have betrayed my family and said those words.
I fantasize about how it would have felt to tell him, whispering the words out loud, “I surrender. Dominate me, Killian. Do whatever the fuck you want to me.”
I thought saying them out loud might give me some peace, but they only make it worse, leave me with this ache inside.
And a part of me fears Dad’s ghost heard me, knows my deep desire, but what difference does that make?
I know who I was born to be, and it never had anything to do with my own desires, otherwise I would be free from this family altogether.
But I have a duty, and while I will do what I must with Killian, I could never give myself to him fully, as he wants.
Even if it kills me.
*
I thought a few days might give me some peace of mind, get Killian out of my head, but what we did…
I’m learning that isn’t something I can pretend didn’t happen.
No, Killian Lorde haunts me. Every word, every move he made, as though they were designed to be burned into my memory.
More than that, knowing how he is about communicating with me, I’m constantly on edge, keeping my phone close in case he messages so he won’t barge in and start another fight.
Although, by the following Friday, I’m starting to wish he would.
No, that’s a wild thought! He’s a bastard!
That may be true, but it doesn’t change this attraction I feel toward him, something that’s still on my mind even as Wrath, Masters, and I are having a meeting in Dad’s study.
“You look like shit,” Wrath says.
Don’t I know it?
“You don’t look so great yourself,” I reply, since he’s not wearing bandages anymore, but he’s still pretty banged up.
“Eh, you know it’s sexy.”
He’s so full of himself, even when he’s black and blue.
I check my phone yet again for a text from Killian, but still nothing.
Maybe I was too severe when I told him I would never submit to him.
He seemed angered by that. The thought that I might have insulted him should bring me relief, but I worry he might not follow through with his end of the deal if I really angered him.
I know that’s not true, though. He will, and this worry is a lie I’m telling myself to mask the real reason I fear he might not be reaching out.
“Why do you keep checking your phone?” Masters asks.
“You have somewhere more important to be?” Wrath teases.
“Like with your future husband?” He snickers like this is all a big joke, but he has no idea what Killian’s done to my life the past couple of weeks, the way he’s stormed in, tearing apart every artificial construct in me to reveal the nature buried underneath. The dark part I try to deny exists.
I step toward Wrath, and Masters inserts himself between us. “Okay, okay. But we should discuss the situation with the Lordes.”
“What’s there to discuss?” I ask.
Masters’s brows rise as he looks at me like it’s obvious. “I assume you’re still planning to marry Killian.”
“Yes. I don’t have a choice.”
“So you’re gonna consummate with him and everything?” Wrath asks, chuckling.
If only he knew the things I’ve already done.
“Killian won’t need that,” Masters says. “I’m sure the marriage certificate is only a formality. This is all symbolic to represent the families coming together.” When I don’t confirm, Masters studies my expression. “Right?”
“Can we get on to other business matters? That’s all been settled, and we’re safe.”
Masters and Wrath exchange worried looks. If they caught on to how much I’m unraveling right now, I’m sure they’d be even more concerned.
“Um…okay,” Masters says. “We’ve been approached by the Dementes, who are interested in acting as distributor for us, with the O’Dells leaving town.”
“The O’Dells know about this?”
“No, but this will definitely increase business, be the kind of money we need to be bringing in.”
“Doing this behind their backs seems like a way to get a target on ours.”
“The O’Dells know we’re under the Lordes’ protection. That’s why they haven’t come to collect, so I think we can trust they’ll leave us alone even if they find out about this.”
“Do we really want to push our luck?” I say that, but I know the reality: that level of distribution is what we’ll need to continue to compete in the market.
I chew my bottom lip. Part of me wants to say fuck it, we’ll just do things the way we’ve always done them. It’s not worth the risk. But this isn’t an opportunity we can afford to pass up.
“What would Dad have said?” I ask the guys, and as expected, Wrath replies, “Take what’s ours.”
I nod. “I trust you both with this. Talk to the Dementes about their pricing and the details.”
“Someone should tell Killian,” Wrath says. I shoot him a look, and he raises his hands in a defensive stance. “What? I’m just saying they might be interested in knowing we’re stirring the pot and could wind up needing more protection.”
“I’ll handle Killian,” I say.
We discuss the details and some more business matters before wrapping up.
“Hey, you wanna head to the fight this weekend?” Wrath says. “Got a lot to prove, so figured I’d get back out there.”
I study him, hoping this is a joke, but his expression is stoic…until he cracks.
“Kidding. The look on your face.” He slaps my ass, which is still tender from how Killian fucked me, but I try not to let it show. “Don’t worry. I won’t be jumping into the cage again anytime soon.”
“Is that a promise?”
The way he avoids eye contact, I get the feeling it won’t be for as long as I’d prefer.
“You guys want to grab lunch?” Masters interjects.
“Nah, I’m meeting up with someone,” Wrath replies.
“You can just say you’re gonna fuck someone.”
“That’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to talk to brothers about.”
“Why? You worried I’ll get jealous? Okay, sure. Log?”
“Maybe another time. I want to be alone today.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all week?”
“See you guys later,” is my only reply before they head out.
I retrieve my phone, pulling up Killian’s contact information, staring at it the way I have other times since our last encounter.
I peruse the texts he sent me when he was harassing me before breaking into my bedroom and assaulting me.
One minute he was so enraged with me not taking his call, and now he won’t even reach out.
Why can’t that bastard make up his mind?
That said, I should be relieved he’s leaving me alone. Instead, I’m on edge.
At least now I have a reason to talk to him. As I hit the Call button, my ass cheeks tremble, my thoughts returning to the sensations he elicited when he was inside me, when I was begging for him to come. The way it felt when I exploded all over myself. It was so rough, violent even. Perfect.
When the phone trills a fourth time, my chest knots up. How dare he expect me to be available to take his call when he won’t answer?
“Hey, beautiful,” I finally hear from the other end.
His voice is a sedative. The knots in my chest relax as desire sweeps through me, as though every nerve has been brought to life by the timbre of his voice.
I notice I’m catching my breath, and before I have a chance to say anything, he asks, “Did you miss me already?”
As is his power, just as quickly as his answer brings me ease, this comment stabs at the issue I’ve been having all week.
“Apparently you didn’t miss me at all.” Why do I sound so damn mad about it?
“Who said that?”
“You didn’t even try to reach out.”
“Phone works both ways.”
I tense my jaw. “Maybe you just needed to fuck me and get it out of your system.”
There it is. My real fear. Now that he’s claimed my hole, not that he’ll need it all the time, but that he’ll never need it again.
“If you think what we did got you out of my system, you’re dead wrong.”
All my anxiety dissolves in an instant, heat rushing to my face, like some fucked-up delayed response to the things he did to me that night.
“You have a weird way of showing it,” I snap.
“You told me you didn’t want to talk to me for a long time, so I was giving you space.”
I hate him even more when he’s right.
I swallow the choice words I want to give him, knowing they’d reveal too much about how curious he’s made me. How I wouldn’t have minded if he’d torn down my door again to claim what he wants.
“Thank you for the space. So anyway, I was chatting with my brothers about our business plans, and I thought we should get together and review them.”
He snickers, like this is all a ploy to be near him again.
“Well?”
“Sure, you can come over, and I can fuck you again.”
“I didn’t say that’s what I wanted.”
“Well, I’m learning you don’t like to say what you want.”
My gaze skips around the room as if to make sure one of my brothers didn’t somehow come in and overhear what I’m talking to him about, or worse, what I need from him.
And maybe also like I’m waiting for Dad’s ghost to materialize and say, “You’re not the leader I thought you were.
” That should be enough to convince me to stop myself, but whatever’s going on between us is a moving train, hurtling toward a disastrous wreck I’m powerless to stop.
“No sex,” I spit out. “Just business.”
“Boring.”
“I’m serious, Killian.”
“Then I’ll respect your wishes.”
“Now who’s the liar?”
Again with his damn snickering.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just you, beautiful. Now how about tonight?”
It’s strange how much I enjoy hearing him say I’m beautiful. I shouldn’t like that as much as I do.
“Tonight? Why not now?”
“I have business matters.”
I must not be doing a good job disguising my frustration because he says, “Don’t worry, Log. I still want you as much as ever.”
Fuck, what it does to me to hear him say it.
“I’ll be available later,” he says. “And I’ll do my best to respect your no-sex rule.”
“What? I didn’t say anything about a rule.”
“Be here at eight.”
He’s hung up before I have a chance to object further.
I’m unsettled by the discussion. I shouldn’t be. He said exactly what I needed to hear, that he won’t make this about fucking me again. But now getting what I wanted feels like he’s trying to punish me, leaves an ache in my belly, my hands trembling.
That’s fine. It needs to be only business anyway.
It’s two in the afternoon now, which leaves six hours of doing fuck all other than stressing about seeing him again.
There’s this dread in me that he was serious about the no sex.
I wonder if it’s just that I like proving him wrong, like when I swallowed his load.
I don’t ever want to let him have things his way, but I find myself heading to the pharmacy, to the hygienics aisle, blushing when I see the enemas on the bottom shelf.
Some asshole is perusing the deodorant display nearby, and I wait for him to grab his product and leave before snatching a box of condoms and the enema.
I tell myself I have nothing to be embarrassed about, that the cashier wouldn’t know nor care what it’s really for.
Really, I’m not sure I understand because I know he’s not fucking me tonight. I tell myself I only want to make this ass so enticing, he won’t stand a chance in denying it. If he’s not going to fuck me, that’ll be on my terms, not his.