Chapter 2
TWO
MADS
"How do I want ya?" he asks, his brogue coming out as he growls the words, low and angry. And then he bends down and lifts me by my waist until I'm standing again. "On your feet and not on your knees at me feet like a feckin' dog."
I stand in front of him but get right in his face. "But you do want me. Say it again. Say it again!" I demand.
Because his words—I want you—are still ringing in my ears.
Each syllable is like a shard of glass, cutting through my carefully constructed armor.
I meant to bring him here and fuck as dirty as we ever did so he'd remember how he needs his pet.
But then everything got twisted around in my head, and I demanded what I really wanted—no, needed—to hear. And he gave it to me.
I want you. For a moment, I can't breathe. He said it. He actually said it.
He wants me, not her.
But the way he's looking at me now—steady, unflinching, like he's trying to see through my skin—threatens to unravel everything.
"Say it again," I whisper, because I need to hear it one more time. A thousand more times. I need to look in his eyes and know he's not just placating me so I'll go home like a good girl and switch back into her.
I reach a hand forward to caress his face, and he snatches my wrist out of the air before I can make contact.
For a moment, neither of us moves, his hand still locked on my wrist, but his thumb brushes against my pulse, deliberate and maddening.
"You heard me." His voice is a rasp.
This is the boy I've always loved, turned into the man who stands before me now. I ache for him more than I ever did before because I'm so close to having him. His touch sets everything inside me on fire.
But he's as elusive as that flickering flame, isn't he? Mine for a moment's heat in the darkness, and then I'm dragged back to the abyss, and he's gone. I'm… gone.
"Then show me," I demand.
I don't care if I'm forcing his hand. He's here in front of me now, and I'll hold on to him for however long it takes to lasso his soul to mine.
His brow furrows, just slightly, and I feel the shift, the hesitation. Domhnall is always in control. He's supposed to be the one pulling the strings, and now I've gone and tipped the scales.
The realization sends a heady rush through me.
But beneath the rush is something darker, something I don't want to name. Fear? No, not fear. Not exactly.
"What is this about, Mads?" he asks, his voice gentler now, probing. He's still searching, still trying to find her—the softer, sweeter version of me. The version he thinks he understands.
My throat tightens, and for a fleeting moment, I want to give him what he's looking for. I could smile and tilt my head. Let my voice soften.
I could be her, just for tonight. I've done it often enough over the last few months.
He'd hold me and make me feel whole in a way that nothing else can.
But then what? When the night ends and daylight creeps in, I'll still slip away as she takes back control. Because I'm the one he thinks is too much. Too dangerous. Too broken.
So I don't fucking care. I can't let him pull me into his world unless it's on my terms.
Not Anna's. Not his. Mine.
Even if I have to wrestle control away from both of them, inch by inch.
"She's a coward who can't face me or the darkness in you. You're living a charade, and it will crack in time. I'm trying to help you both."
I step closer, tilting my chin up, so there's barely a breath between us.
"You want me?" I murmur, my voice steady now.
There's no tremor or hesitation now. "Then take me.
I've missed the pain. You take it so easy on us when you think it might be her.
And she plays so coy, doesn't she, wanting you to think it's her taking that fat cock of yours sometimes? But it's always me."
I see the frown he tries to quickly hide.
"Every time?"
"Every single time." I annunciate each word and enjoy watching the realization land.
"You're lying."
"I hear denial is a lovely little land to live in. How's the weather there?"
His features harden. "Since when do you do gentle?"
"Oh, honey." I arch an eyebrow. "Any cock is better than no cock. So I pretended to be Little Miss Demure if it meant I got your shaft pumping me full. After all, role play is hot."
His nostrils flare. There he is.
I tip my head down and flip my eyelashes at him. "Do you want to punish me, Daddy?"
"Don't ever call me that," he bites out.
I smile. I'm getting underneath his skin. Breaking through the facade. He's already on the edge. I felt the need in his kiss moments ago, and I've seen the darkness he's barely holding at bay for months now.
Then, just when I think I've got him, when he's about to drag me over his knee or order me to the spanking bench—
His features soften, and he tilts his head at me.
"Mads," he whispers, all the bite gone from his voice. He reaches out a hand and caresses it down my face, calling on the connection that has zinged between us since the first time I saw him in that internet café in Dublin back when we were both children. "What are you doing?"
Suddenly, the tables have turned on me again, and all the control I felt in my hands just moments ago is gone. Damn him! I feel like a stupid girl, not a confident woman.
I laugh, but it comes out jagged. "What I always do, Domhnall. Trying to survive."
It's the truth, and more than I meant to give him. God, the weight of it feels like a tether tightening around my throat. It would be so much better if it were his leash. I want his control over me even as I need to steal it from him.
I take a step back, then another, needing the distance, needing to breathe.
"Survive what?" he asks, his tone sharper now, like he's trying to catch me before I retreat too far.
Everything. Myself. You.
I open my mouth to answer, but the words stick. I realize I can't do this—not here, not now. The truth is a weapon, and there's so much he and the girl still don't know. Can never know.
"I have to go," I say instead, turning toward the door even as my chest aches with the need to stay.
His voice stops me before I can take another step. "Don't run from me, Mads. Not this time. I love you."
His voice stops me cold. Don't run from me, Mads. Not this time.
The words pierce through me. I keep my back to him, my fingers curling into fists at my sides to keep them from trembling. He's always known how to see me—really see me—and that's the most dangerous thing of all.
I take a slow, shaky breath, willing my heart to stop racing. "I'm not running," I say, though my voice cracks on the lie. "I'm just… leaving."
"Leaving just for now, though, right? Will ya be back by mornin', love?" he asks, and there he is again, the vulnerable boy shining through the features of the grown man.
I love him so much it hurts. I want to beg him to put me in chains at his bedside again. I'm afraid of all that's bubbling and boiling in this cauldron inside me.
Leash me. Handcuff me. Tie me in knots but never, ever let me go.
I want you, he said, and I saw in his eyes he meant it.
And I want him. He's the only thing I've ever wanted. Wanting him taught me the meaning of the word. Even without manacles, I know I'll be chained to him for all time.
But the girl.
The girl could ruin everything.
If I don't put her back in the box, lock it, and throw the key deep in the abyss where it can never, ever be found, ruin could come for us all.
So, in that moment, I decide to do what has to be done.
"Yes, I'll be back by morning."
And then I sprint away from him, shoving through the back door of the club and out into the night.