Chapter 18 #2
I swallow the feeling down, steadying my breathing, trying to slow my galloping pulse before I exhale slowly.
I pop a Klonopin and splash some more water on my face.
“He was no son of mine.”
I close my eyes, gritting my teeth as I grip the edge of the sink tighter.
“But he was, Quentin.”
My eyes are still closed, but I can feel my grandfather shaking his head. “Biologically, sure. But we both know he was never strong enough to do what you have. He was weak. He gave in to poison. Neglected the two of you. Let your mother poison herself—”
“He hated you,” I mutter quietly.
“Of course he did. Mediocrity despises success.”
I nod, slowly inhaling and exhaling, my eyes still shut.
Finally, I return from the restroom. Val keeps his ass sitting. But Morgan stands from his chair as I approach the table again.
“I’m sorry, son—”
“Don’t ever fucking do that again.”
His brow knits. “Do what?”
“Touch me. Just don’t.”
“Vaughn,” Val hisses.
“And don’t call me that, either,” I growl, looking right at Morgan. “Son.”
We sit. We order some food. I deliberately order a drink I don’t intend to touch so I can watch the struggle behind the eyes of the pathetic, weak man at the table.
He and Val are chatting away about fuck knows what.
The Klonopin isn’t working. I can feel the darkness inside stretching awake.
I need to get the fuck out of here. Lock myself away until the episode passes.
And yet?
There’s a needy hunger in me, and only one thing will sate it.
One woman.
The one I’ve been claiming, bit by fucking bit.
Taking every innocence. Every first.
I looked into that Ethan motherfucker. Not out of any pathetic jealousy or anything. Just out of curiosity.
Okay, fuck it, jealousy too.
But the brief little romance between Evelina and that chuckle-fuck was about as steamy as an animated Disney princess movie. Ethan was very forthcoming after I fed him eight cocktails and half a dose of sodium pentothal.
The only reason he left the bar alive the other night was because he admitted he'd never fucked, gone down on, or had his dick sucked by my princess.
He did mention some hand stuff. Luckily for those hands and their fondness for remaining attached to his wrists, Ethan is engaged now, and apparently quite taken with his fiancée.
Plus, I was feeling generous that night.
But all this is to say that I know that every line I cross with her is the first time that line has been conquered.
We should go do some conquering right now, don’t you think?
Why not.
I stand abruptly. “Something’s come up with work. I have to run.”
Val glares at me. I give him a half shrug.
“Aww, c’mon.” Morgan tries to smile at me. “Stay. Please? I mean, you haven’t even touched your drink—”
“You thirsty, Morgan?”
“Such a fucking prick,” Val hisses as I smile tightly at them both. Then I turn and walk away, making sure to let the management know on my way out to run my card for whatever Val and Morgan order.
“Vaughn!”
I’m halfway down the block when I hear Morgan calling my name. My mouth twists as I turn to look at him expectantly.
He frowns, shaking his head and picking at his fingers before he looks at me. “I just…I… I wish I could start over with you.”
“I don’t believe in wishes, Morgan,” I growl. “I stopped doing that when I was five. What I do believe in is making things happen.”
Morgan sighs, shaking his head. “You sound just like your grandfather.”
“If you're saying I sound like him more than I do you, I’ll take the compliment.”
“Only because you didn’t know him, Vaughn,” Morgan says tightly.
But I do know him.
WE know him.
“Don’t keep meeting up with and talking to Val,” I spit.
He frowns. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t try and cultivate a fucking relationship with him. He’s been through enough. And it’s a cheap shot. You know damn well he doesn’t remember our childhood with you and Mom.”
The beauty of childhood amnesia, courtesy the DEA flash grenade.
“I know you both went through hell, Vaughn,” Morgan hisses. “And I know I wasn’t there to—”
“Yeah, I’m over it. Also, I don’t care,” I growl. Then I stab a finger at him. “Just stay the fuck away from Val.”
“Why?” he spits as I start to turn.
“You know damn well why.”
“Vaughn—”
“Do not push me on this, Morgan.”
My voice is quiet and even but laced with power as our eyes lock.
Morgan's head slowly shakes from side to side.
“You sound just like my father,” he murmurs.
“If that repels you, great.”
An hour later, I’m with Sebastian down in the basement under a Syndicate building in the Seaport, raining hell down on another of the would-be coup planners who is still loyal to étienne, my predecessor.
Gordon Stone and Jameson Beaumont were too important for me to kill.
…This poor fucker is a nobody, though. Tonight, that makes him a dead man.
But even after I’ve punched a gallon of blood out of his nose and mouth, let Sebastian have a turn, and then taken over myself again, the voices in my head are still screaming.
Demon and I both know he needs to come out. And it would appear there’s only one way for that to happen these days
God help her.