Chapter 8 Aurora
AURORA
Heat prickled at the back of my neck. The unnerving sensation made my heart pound faster, louder.
Someone was staring at me while I was waiting for my drink. My whiskey.
At the Royalty’s mansion, age and rules never mattered. I could drink because my parents said so, but only one glass, so I wouldn’t embarrass them. Of course.
The main gathering hall was gorgeous, but the aesthetics had never been my problem. High ceilings, soft light, heavy wood, and leather furniture arranged in an effortlessly elegant way.
Stunning.
The people, though… I couldn’t stand them.
Underhanded deals were conducted behind closed doors down the hall. Respectful men and women from all across the country revealed their true character—thieves, liars, and manipulators.
All in the name of power. Of wealth.
Of greed.
What made me hate them the most was that they acted as if my situation were perfectly normal. A girl who hardly ever left her home. Who hadn’t attended college. Who’d done time, for fuck’s sake.
Not one of them had ever asked me why. I wasn’t allowed to tell them, anyway.
Nevertheless. Being noticed as more than the daughter of would’ve been nice.
Even Stafford, who always seemed kind, never bothered to ask.
He wasn’t the one watching me now though. Nothing about Stafford screamed intense.
“Thank you.” Numb as ever, I accepted the drink from the gray-haired bartender.
“You’re very welcome.” Quickly, he moved on to Susanna Hale, Stafford’s mom. A blonde woman with feline-looking gray eyes. She was about my parents’ age and wouldn’t spare a glance my way.
No surprise there.
I took a sip of my whiskey, refusing to wallow. The expensive drink tasted rancid on my tongue. Burned down my throat.
And the eyes at my back were still there.
The feeling of being watched, I couldn’t shake it off.
The person staring at me did so intently. I knew without seeing them that they did.
Their glare was like hands running over my pale blue gown. Like having someone fist my chignon and pull.
I let the whiskey roll on my tongue again.
Not their hands. His.
The only person who hadn’t approached me with a polite hello before dismissing me—or a hey there! like Ivy Bernard would greet me with—was Everett Alder.
Judge Everett Alder, as Mom mocked his title behind closed doors. She’d thought he was being ridiculous. That there was more power and prestige in running his multi-million-dollar law firm than being a so-called public servant.
As if locking me up hadn’t been the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever done.
There was no point in telling her that.
No point in mentioning that at least Everett wasn’t hurting his children, since he didn’t have any.
But the differences between them didn’t end there.
As cold and sullen as he was over the few times I’d seen him, I could tell he was a better man than she and Dad could ever be.
My stomach fluttered whenever his name was mentioned. My pulse skittered.
He wasn’t as bad as the rest of them. The man who must’ve been staring at me that day.
I let my eyes close as I imagined what he looked like, then and there.
His thick eyebrows lowered. Sculpted jaw clenched. Skin taut over high, mouthwatering cheekbones.
Hate must have bled from his gray eyes. Same hate he’d always aimed at me and my parents.
That intensity had made me wet between my legs. Every year without exception.
The need to see, rather than just feel, the weight of his gaze was a pressure in my chest. Too big to be contained inside my body.
He’d never approached me.
What difference would it have made if I’d turned around to stare back at him?
None.
Or so I believed when I spun to meet his stare.
Our eyes clashed. Locked.
The air drained out of the room.
It hurt everywhere, the fury and maybe-lust that he unleashed on me.
The dark magic was broken when Stafford walked up to him.
Everett turned away from me.
Leaving me alone. Again.
I might have been disappointed back then.
Now, my bones tremble with fear. He won’t ever turn from me.
I’m bound to this man. Forever subjected to his wrath. His sick desires.
While I’ve been trying to regain control of my breath, he’s moved in front of me. To where I can see him.
Every ounce of his razor-sharp attention cuts straight through me. I have to swallow a scream. Have to catch myself before clenching my thighs. He’ll see it, even if the bubbles cover most of my body.
I can’t let him.
He can never find out that I’m this close to breaking down and just letting him have his way with me.
He’s the devil. A very attractive, tempting devil.
Gray slacks fall over lean thighs. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up over muscular forearms. Tattoos I’ve never seen before. Initials, vines, and roses are etched over accentuated veins and muscles.
My God, and his hand, his long, elegant fingers, it’s hard to look away.
Only until he clears his throat, reminding me of what those fingers did to me.
They were on me after he’d knocked me out. They put the butt plug in my ass. Pressed the button to send electricity through my body.
“What’s the matter, future hubby?” My voice is choked out as I return my gaze to his face.
My two captives remain locked in my unrelenting grip. “Pissed that you can’t zap me to death?”
He raises an eyebrow, completing the hot jerk look he has going on.
I won’t be intimidated by him. I won’t get wet for him either.
“I have other ways to hurt you.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
Another threat. It’s always a threat with him. I gulp, hoping he doesn’t notice.
“Creative ways. With or without electricity, you could be out cold in seconds.”
Though my collar is off, I feel his warning on my throat. Imagine his hands on either side of my neck, using just enough pressure. He’d deprive me of just enough air.
I’d faint.
I’d be at his mercy.
Sure, he’s obscenely handsome. Commanding. Hot.
My body reacts to him, despite the danger he poses. But it’d be really dumb of me to give him so much power over me again.
At least when I’m up, I have a fighting chance.
“Fine.” I release both women.
They exhale in relief, their feet shuffling behind me.
“Oh!”
I turn in time to see Rylee slipping.
“I’ve got you.” Elena catches her by her waist, steadying her.
“Are you two done here?” How the fuck can he manage that? Sounding authoritative and nonchalant when I’m burning up inside?
“Yes, sir.” Elena’s voice is meek.
Both women have their hands clasped in front of them, waiting for his orders. When I look at my future husband, I find him staring right at me. “We waxed her first.”
“You what?” I whisper-shout.
As I push away bubbles, my eyes cut downward.
Sure enough, my pussy is smooth. My armpits are too. My nails, they’re—
“We gave her both a manicure and pedicure, per your orders,” Elena says. Her apologetic tone reveals her uncertainty about this situation.
Everett’s face is bare of any emotion whatsoever.
His rage is gone. Expression shuttered.
Well, guess what?
I’m not over this. Over being humiliated while naked and defenseless. Over getting married to someone who hates me.
I refuse to take it.
I slap a wet hand on the rim of the tub. Water droplets splash on the floor. My nipples float above water.
Nothing new for anyone in the room, apparently.
Twisting to Elena, I snarl. “Were you the one who removed the plug out of my ass?”
At my blunt question, she chokes. Coughs. Nearly trips over herself.
One more step, and she’d be in the tub with me.
Sadly, her friend returns the favor and saves her.
“Get out.” Everett’s harsh command sends both women running off.
A soft click, and we’re alone.
Goosebumps race up my spine. My teeth chatter. I grind them. Hard.
Everett, ever menacing and forever annoying, stays right where he is.
His presence alone feels like a loaded gun aimed at my heart.
A sexy, unreadable gun.
“What do you want?” A tiny slice of dignity is all I have left in this world. I latch onto it. Cling to it like a life raft. “You obviously hate me. Would you please tell me, once and for all, why go through with this?”
“Up.” He jerks his chin. “We’re getting married in two hours.”
I’ve been out for two hours, then. Fuck.
“No.” I shake my head. “No.”
In the quiet room, the sound of his dress shoes meeting the marble tiles is loud. Ominous.
“No, stay away. Don’t come near me.”
“Life in prison it is, Aurora.” He looms over me. I refuse to cower.
“Double jeopardy it is, Everett.” One of the women in prison taught me about that once. I can’t believe I forgot the trick that could save my life.
“Oh?” Arms crossed, his tone’s mocking.
I get up. Water sluices down my body, droplets catching on my nipples, tumbling down my waist.
Everett’s checking me out shamelessly. His heated gaze makes me feel so small. So turned on.
Then he groans, casting his menacing glare on my face.
I have to fight him. Spine straight. Arms mirroring his, crossed over my chest. Chin held high.
“Yes, oh.” My frown tugs at my lips. “I can’t be prosecuted for the same offense twice.”
The words are barely out of my mouth, and there he is. Everett, in all his menacing glory, scooping me up into his arms. I scream and kick.
He won’t let me go.
“Clever little thief,” he says over my screeching howls. His elegant clothes are soaked in water and suds. I’m punching his chest. Nothing bothers him as he carries me over to the other side of the bathroom. “Clever, but not trained. A shame, really.”
“Stop treating me like a dog, you motherfucker.” I kick my feet higher up in the air, hoping that if I wiggle enough, he’ll drop me.
“Of course you aren’t. A dog would’ve realized what’s best for him by now. You’re a spoiled brat. But don’t worry. I’ll discipline you. Better than your daddy ever did.” His gaze is fixed straight ahead. “It won’t be long before you obey. Before you behave.”
“Like hell,” I growl, slapping his face. “Double. Jeopardy. Double jeopardy! Let me out! I want out of here!”
“You can kiss that idea goodbye.”