Chapter Thirteen
Lyra
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
That’s the only thing I can think as Killian cracks open the box, revealing a stunning diamond with blinding clarity, set in a platinum band that’s been beautifully shaped to look like a collection of vines. Little multicolored gems stud either side of diamond, haloing it.
It’s a beautiful ring. It’s one that might’ve caught my eye had I seen it in a window display. But I don’t pay attention to the beauty; I don’t see it as an offering. I see it as a tiny handcuff.
Why would Killian do this to me here? Except the answer is obvious; he wants to be seen, and he doesn’t have enough regard for my emotions and mental state to be more reasonable, or at least have the decency to forewarn me that I’d be dealing with this level of insanity tonight.
“Lyra,” Killian starts. It takes every bit of my strength to remain in place rather than crumple to a heap on the floor or sprint out of here. Only the knowledge that he’d chase me, catch me, and punish me beyond the bounds of my endurance keeps me frozen in place.
“Your travels in the last months have taught me something essential; I cannot be without you.” His voice is loud enough to be heard all around the ballroom, which promptly falls entirely silent.
You could hear a pin drop in the stillness.
“While I’m glad you got to see the world and pursue your passions, I don’t think I could let you go again.
I want to be the man you travel with, trust, and seek solace with.
I won’t be able to go on another day without knowing you’re irrevocably mine. ”
Tears swim in my eyes. This is wrong. This is all so, so wrong. I’d kill to hear a speech like this… from anyone who isn’t Killian King. My god, these words from a man who truly loved me, not just one who seeks to possess me, would exhilarate me. They’d make me happy beyond belief.
This… farce makes me miserable beyond comprehension.
“Will you do me the greatest honor of my life and marry me? Join our names, our families, our lives.”
I’m silent. The tears slowly drip down my face, smudging the mascara I threw on. My hand rises to cover my mouth, and I try desperately to play the part of the fiancée so happy she’s in tears rather than the trapped woman who’s crying from horror.
“Little Bird.” Killian’s voice has an edge now. “Please.” His tone is lower on his plea, and it conveys a dark threat.
“Y—” my voice cracks over my first attempt. Endure, Lyra. Get it over with.
Except endurance isn’t enough; I have to come to terms with it. Live with it. Until I find a way out, this is my lot. One public spectacle after another. Being a trophy. Being fucking breeding stock.
“Yes,” I sob.
The crowd erupts into whoops and cheers. Killian stands, slides the ring onto my finger, and takes me into his arms. I cry into his tuxedo, almost grateful that he’s inadvertently shielding my public meltdown.
I have to find a way out. I have to crawl out of my depression and start plotting, because I can’t live like this. I can’t live with him. I can never, ever be his.
Death would be the preferable option.
We leave the gala after receiving congratulations from countless people, none of whom I know or recognize. My meltdown drained me of all strength—when the car pulls up to Killian’s apartment, I can barely move.
So, playing the part of a dutiful fiancée, he carries me into the building. Cradles me to his chest during the elevator ride. Keeps a tight hold on me as he steps over the threshold.
My god, in another life, I might truly be the blushing bride-to-be. I might be thrilled, excited, flattered beyond words.
Right now, I’m just shocked beyond words. I can’t believe the depths of Killian’s cruelty. I don’t understand how he could do this to me.
Easily. His world revolves around his wants, needs, and plans. He might pretend that I’m a consideration—he might even convince himself of it—but he will always come first.
He sets me down on his bed, and slips off one of my shoes. Then the other. Then stands me up, turns me around, and unzips my dress.
I stare at the engagement ring in horror. It’s almost cruel in its beauty and uniqueness. It’s perfect for me, exactly to my tastes, and yet all I see is a life-sentence it represents.
“Deep breaths, Little Bird.” Killian’s tone is soft. “I know that was a lot.”
A derisive laugh escapes me. “It wasn’t a lot, Killian. It was too fucking much.” I consider myself to be a fairly strong person with a high tolerance for bullshit, but that blew past my limits. I think I might be in some sort of shock.
“I know,” he acknowledges softly. “And you did so well. I’m proud of you, and I truly cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Why would you do that?” My words come out as a mournful moan. “What have I ever done to deserve that? Why didn’t you at least warn me?”
“It wasn’t a punishment; it was a necessity.” He turns me back around and cups me cheeks. “If I’d warned you, would you have come?”
My silence is all the answer he requires.
“Precisely. I did what I had to—”
“You can’t always hide behind that excuse!
” I snap. “It doesn’t work like that. You didn’t do what you had to, Killian, you did what you fucking wanted to, like always.
It always comes down to your wants, your needs, and your plans.
You don’t actually think of me.” A crazed, almost hysterical laugh escapes me.
“You claim that I’ll always be first in your considerations—then you lock me in here and control everything about me, down to what I eat.
You pretend like you actually care about me, but all you do is hurt me and fuck me.
You claim to desire a family with me, but you’re not fit to be a father! ”
I pant after my sudden episode of word-vomit. Killian stares at me with a tight jaw and hard eyes. “Are you done?” he asks.
“No,” I snap.
“Yes, you are,” he counters. “Now it’s my turn.
Half of the people in that room tonight were plotting against me by plotting against you.
I have gone to quite extreme lengths to shield you from them while you were off flitting around the world, hiding from the one man who could protect you.
I have been trying for nearly half a year to contain the fallout of everything that happened. ”
“Everything that only happened because of you!” I screech.
“You blackmailed me. You coerced me. You made the sex tape that got leaked!” I’m so furious that tears of anger run down my cheeks.
“You could’ve left me alone. Or asked me out…
I don’t know… normally. You should’ve thought of my safety and wellbeing before you ruined my life!
I was respected, Killian. I had pride, dignity, a good job, and a bright future.
Now, I have… nothing.” A sob bubbles up my throat.
Killian looks away. For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks away, and something resembling regret passes through his expression. “I didn’t know I’d come to care for you,” he says after several long moments, staring at the wall. “I didn’t account for that variable.”
“You don’t care for me,” I shoot back. “You’re not capable of it. All you’re capable of is setting goals and meeting them. You wanted me isolated and ruined?” I spread my hands. “You got your wish. You wanted me publicly humiliated? You’ve gotten it, multiple times over.”
“I do care—”
“No you fucking don’t!” I shout. “If you did, your mission in life wouldn’t be knocking me up. We’d have conversations and an actual relationship instead of endless sex and stilted meals together.”
We pant angrily, each of us lost in our thoughts, glaring at each other. After several moments, Killian’s shoulders go lax. Regret doesn’t just touch his expression before flying away; it fills it.
“I’m sorry for tonight,” he finally says. “I suppose you deserved to be warned.”
Suppose. Suppose? And that’s what he apologizes for, amidst all the things I just threw at him?
“Fuck you,” I hiss.
I wrench the engagement ring off my finger and throw it aside, disgusted with it. Killian watches it clunk across the floor, before his eyes meet mine. Slowly, very slowly, he arches an eyebrow.
“You can’t even utter a decent apology.” I shake my head, baffled, even though I really shouldn’t be.
Killian isn’t a man built for relationships—this much has been obvious to me for a long time.
He doesn’t know how to communicate in any language aside from coercion and force.
“You have many things to be sorry for, Killian, and tonight is frankly the absolute least of them. Some sincerity and honesty wouldn’t be amiss.
Instead of issuing a half-assed I’m sorry, why don’t you tell me why you decided to put in that position?
What would either of us possibly have to gain from it? ”
“There were people in that room that needed to see me publicly claim you,” Killian says tersely, working his jaw. “That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”
The nerve of this asshole. I can scarcely believe it.
“Then here’s all I’ll say in the matter; I’m not marrying you, ever.
I’m not putting on that ring, ever. I’m going to find a way to get on birth control, because reproducing with you sounds like the end of a horror novel with no HEA. And I’m sleeping in a guest bedroom.”
I bypass him, fully prepared to storm out, but he bands an arm around my waist.
“Are you done?”
“No!” I snap.
“Yes, you are. Now it’s my turn. If you don’t wear that ring, I’ll fucking tattoo one onto your finger. If you try to take your pretty little ass to another bedroom, I’m going to fuck it. And there is no world that exists in which I’ll allow you to get on birth control.”
Allow. Allow? “You don’t have a fucking say in the matter! My body, my choi—”
“Incorrect. This isn’t just your body, it is also mine.
I have claimed almost every hole you have, licked every inch of you, and repeatedly made you mine.
I am going to put a baby inside you—you can fight it all you want, but I will.
I don’t care if there has to be IVF involved to make it happen.
It’s fucking happening. Now, hear me when I say that—beyond my personal desire to reproduce with you, which is no small thing—this is to protect you. ”
The urgency in the last two words gives me momentary pause. “How?”
“I’m a powerful man with a lot of enemies.
I operate within some very dark circles.
But there’s a code in my world, Lyra. Partners and children are strictly off-limits, and going after them is a death sentence.
People are already asking questions because of your little stint away from me; tonight helped abate some of them.
What will help much more is you wearing my ring and carrying my child.
You better fucking believe that I’m going to make sure that’s exactly what happens, because I would rather burn this world to the ground than see you harmed. ”
His angry breaths fan my ear, and his arm holds me so tightly it almost hurts. I frown, trying to connect the dots and put this puzzle together. Killian having enemies is a given—he’s a billionaire. But operating under some sort of code with certain peers of his sounds almost… organized.
“Are you mafia?” I demand.
He chuckles. “No, Little Bird. I’m something much, much worse. Don’t ask me what because I will not tell you. My corner of the world is, in some ways, far more ruthless than the mafia.”
“If you won’t tell me, then how can I trust you?” I ask, quieter.
There are many things he’s leaving unsaid, but there’s also a ring of truth to his words. Something’s afoot here that I don’t fully understand.
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, the investigative itch that used to live inside me returns. I want to acquire information, put the puzzle together, find the story. But this time around, it’s not for an expose to leverage, it’s literally for my safety.
“You don’t have much of a choice, do you? I’ll never, ever let you go. You can either live with that in misery, or give me a chance—”
I cut him off with a cruel laugh. “Give you a chance to what, Killian? Fuck me when I’m telling you not to? Threaten to lock me up in the equivalent of a psych ward? What?”
“Make you happy,” he finishes. “I think I can—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoff. “The only thing you’ve ever been capable is delivering misery.”
I’m alone, isolated from my former life.
Scared of public places because of the tape that leaked, scared in general because I’m being held captive by a tyrant.
I don’t even want to rekindle my friendship with Annalise, who I’ve always treasured, because I know anyone I get close to will turn into leverage.
“Not true. I’m also capable of making you come really hard.”
“I’ve said this once before, and I’ll say it again. That is not the same thing, at all.”
“Maybe not, but it’s a start.” His fingers move to the zipper of the dress, and I jerk away, stumbling a few steps back from him.
“Not tonight,” I say harshly. “You’ve put me through enough for one night. If you don’t give me space for one night, I will never speak to you again.”
He glares at me for several endlessly long moments. Finally, he nods. “You get one night off. Tomorrow morning, you will make it up to me. Then, you will go out in the world and do some shopping.”
That hits me out of left field. “What?”
“We have a dinner with associates of mine in a few days, and you’ll need a dress for it. You’ll also need to pick up a few other things for yourself—Locke will give you the details.”
I blink. “You don’t think I have enough ball gowns and clothes already here?”
“Nowhere near,” he confirms. “It’ll be a private booking, so your contact with the public will be fairly limited. Locke will be with you the whole time. Oh.” He snaps his fingers. “And you’ll wear exactly what I tell you to wear tomorrow. Got it?”
I fucking hate him, but I sense I’ve pushed him as far as I can for one night. “Fine.”