Chapter 28 - Mara
TWENTY-EIGHT
MARA
Too much. Everything is too much. The dinner, the speeches, my father, my mother, the cameras, the eyes, everyone watching, everyone judging, everyone expecting me to be perfect …
And the questions. God, the questions.
Where’s Chase? When’s the wedding? Have you heard from him? Are you worried? Does the President know where his future son-in-law is?
Question after question. Smile after smile. Lie after lie.
“He’s traveling for business.”
“We weren’t the best match after all.”
“No, I’m not worried.”
“Everything’s fine.”
Everything is not fine. Chase Harrington is dead—frozen in pieces in the OCK basement. Killed by the man I love because Chase murdered his sister, and I’m supposed to stand here in this emerald dress and smile and pretend we broke up amicably.
And I can’t tell anyone—can’t break character. Can’t let the mask slip even for a second because if I do, if anyone sees the truth, it’s over.
But the questions keep coming, and my answers keep getting thinner, and I can feel myself cracking under the weight of maintaining this lie.
Mrs. Porter cornered me by the dessert table. “Dear, you must be so worried about Chase. It’s been weeks since anyone’s seen him.”
“He’s very private about his business dealings,” I said.
“But surely he’d want to be here tonight, for your father’s inauguration.”
“He sent his regrets. Prior commitments.”
“How strange. I heard his father doesn’t know where he is either.”
And that’s when it hit me. They’re not just making small talk, they’re fishing. Trying to figure out if I know something—if the President’s daughter is somehow involved in Chase Harrington’s disappearance.
I excused myself, mumbled something about the ladies room, and fled down the service corridor before anyone could stop me.
Now I’m here, in this dark room, hands shaking, thoughts racing, and I can’t make it stop. Can’t slow down. Can’t catch my breath.
The door opens behind me.
“Mara? It’s Talon. Are you okay?”
No. I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay in months, maybe years. Maybe ever.
“Go away,” I manage.
“Not happening. Let me in.”
“I said go away, Talon.”
“And I said not happening.”
Part of me wants to scream at him to leave, to let me fall apart in private. But a bigger part needs him here. Needs the reminder that I’m not alone in this.
He slips inside, closing the door behind him, and the room plunges into near-darkness until there’s just the thin line of light from under the door. Enough to see outlines but not details.
“Who am I killing tonight?”
“I can’t—” I start, then stop because the words won’t come. My thoughts are racing too fast, jumping from topic to topic, and I can’t hold onto any of them long enough to form coherent sentences.
The questions about Chase.
The lies I had to tell.
The cameras.
The performance.
The mask that’s slipping.
The spiral.
The—
“Mara.” Talon’s hands are on my shoulders now, grounding me. “Breathe with me. In for four, hold for four, out for four.”
“I can’t—My brain won’t—It’s going too fast—”
“I know; I can see it. You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not—”
But I am. God, I am.
The manic edge—the one they medicated me for. The one I’ve been managing without the pills.
But right now, in this dark room, with Talon’s hands on my shoulders and my heart trying to beat out of my chest, I’m not managing anything.
“You are, and that’s okay, but I need you to come back to me.” His hands slide from my shoulders to cup my face, forcing me to look at him even in the darkness. “Can you do that? Can you come back?”
“They keep asking about Chase,” I blurt out, words tumbling over each other.
“Everyone. Where is he? When’s the wedding?
Have I heard from him? Am I worried? And I have to lie.
I have to keep lying and smiling and pretending I’m waiting for him when he’s dead, Talon.
He’s dead and I helped and I don’t regret it but I can’t—I can’t keep—”
“Shh. I know. I know, Princess.” He pulls me against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head. “You’re doing so good. So fucking good. But right now, I need you to stop thinking about them and focus on me.”
“I can’t stop—”
“Yes, you can. You’re going to focus on me, Mara. Just me. Nothing else exists right now except you and me in this room.”
“Talon—”
“Get on your knees for me, Princess. Right now.”
The command is so unexpected, so perfectly timed, that it shocks my racing thoughts into momentary silence.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
He steps back, and I can see the outline of him in the darkness, see the way he’s looking at me with absolute certainty.
My breath catches. “We’re at my father’s inaugural dinner—”
“I don’t give a fuck where we are.” His hand moves to his belt, fingers resting on the buckle. “You need to get out of your head. You need something to focus on that isn’t the spiral, so I’m going to give you that. Now, crawl to me, Princess.”
“Someone could walk in—”
“Door’s locked. And even if it wasn’t, I’d let them watch. Now, stop arguing and crawl to me before I drag you here myself.”
The authority in his voice, the absolute confidence that he knows exactly what I need right now, cuts through the last of my resistance.
I drop to my hands and knees on the plush carpet.
The carpet is soft under my palms as I crawl toward him, feeling the emerald silk of my dress pull tight across my thighs with each movement. The physical act of submission, of moving toward him on my hands and knees, forces me into my body and out of my spiraling mind.
“That’s it, look at you—the President’s daughter—crawling for me in her designer dress. Fucking perfect.”
Talon’s hand slides into my hair when I reach him. “Eyes on me, Mara. Nothing else matters right now except making me feel good. Can you do that for me?”
I nod, throat too tight for words.
“Use your words, Princess.”
“Yes, I can do that.”
“That’s my perfect girl.” His free hand works his zipper down, and even in the dim light, I can see he’s already hard.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, and you’re going to focus on nothing but the taste of me, the weight of me, the way I feel sliding down your throat.
And every time your brain tries to spiral, tries to think about anything else, you’re going to refocus on me. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
The honorific slips out before I can stop it, and I feel him go impossibly harder in his hand.
“Fuck, I love when you call me that.” He guides himself to my lips. “Open.”
I part my lips, and he slides inside slowly, giving me time to adjust.
His hand tightens slightly in my hair. “That’s it. Just like that. Focus on me, Princess. Feel how hard I am for you. Taste me.”
I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, and the spiral in my head quiets another degree. Here, on my knees, with Talon’s hand in my hair and his cock in my mouth, I don’t have to think about the questions or the lies.
“Breathe through your nose,” he instructs.
I moan around him, the vibration making him groan, and his praise washes over me like warm water.
“You’re so fucking beautiful like this—on your knees for me, letting me use this perfect mouth. This is where you belong, Princess. Not out there, pretending to be someone you’re not. You belong right here, being exactly who you are.”
He lets out a groan. “Gonna come down your throat and you’re going to swallow every drop like the good girl you are. Aren’t you?”
I can’t answer with him in my mouth, but I look up at him through my lashes and nod as much as I can, and that’s apparently all the permission he needs.
He comes with a muffled curse, hips jerking as he spills hot and thick down my throat. I swallow reflexively, taking everything he gives me, and the mess of thoughts in my head goes completely, blissfully quiet.
When he finally pulls out, I’m boneless, centered, and breathing normally for the first time in hours.
Talon immediately drops to his knees in front of me, hands cupping my face, thumbs wiping away tears. I didn’t realize I was crying.
“You with me?” he asks softly.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m with you.”
He kisses my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. “You did so good, Princess. So fucking good.”
“I needed that.”
“I know. I could see it.” He pulls back slightly, studying my face. “Better?”
“Yeah. Better.”
He stands, helping me to my feet, and immediately starts fixing my dress and smoothing my hair, making sure I look presentable. “Think you can go back out there?”
I consider it. The questions will still be there, the lies will still be necessary. But the spiral has quieted, and I feel like I can handle it now.
“Yeah. I can do it.”
“That’s my girl.” He kisses me again, deeper this time, “And if you start spiraling again, you find me or Dredyn or Jasper immediately. We’ll take care of you.”
“Let’s go back before someone notices we’re both missing.”
“You go first. I’ll follow in a minute.”
Dinner is winding down, dessert has been served, coffee is being poured, and clusters of guests have started breaking off into smaller groups.
I slip back into my seat beside my mother, who barely glances at me.
“Where were you?” she asks.
“Ladies room—needed a moment.”
“You were gone for fifteen minutes.”
“It’s been a long day.”
She studies me for a beat, and I can see her cataloging every detail—my slightly flushed cheeks, the way my hands aren’t shaking anymore, the fact that I seem calmer than I was an hour ago.
“Indeed,” she says finally, then turns back to her conversation with the Secretary of State’s wife.
I exhale slowly.
Across the room, Talon has rejoined Dredyn and Jasper at their table. Our eyes meet, and he touches two fingers to his chest briefly. You okay?
I nod slightly. Better.
Finally, mercifully, the dinner begins to break up. Guests start filtering toward the exits, heading to after-parties and private receptions scattered across D.C.