Endgame

Chapter 32 Aurora

AURORA

Before Everett forced me to marry him, I’d always wake up alone.

Whenever I had nightmares as a child, my parents refused to let me squeeze between them in their bed.

They made sure to stay away when I came down with the flu. One of the nannies would check on me every few hours while I stayed in my bed. By myself.

Sleepovers? With who? I had no friends.

An empty bed had been a constant in my life.

Some days, it was my safe haven. The longer I went without seeing or hearing from Molly and Winston, the better.

Then, I’d been ripped away from my lonely life. Everett made me his.

I’ve grown attached to his presence, his cock, his warm body beneath the sheets.

So it’s no wonder that even with my eyes closed, I can sense when he’s here.

And when he’s gone.

His possessive arm isn’t wrapped around me.

The blankets don’t warm me nearly half as much as they usually do. It’s as if ice clings to my bones.

I slide my hand over to the other side of the bed anyway.

I’m met with expensive, empty sheets. No sculpted abs. No hard chest.

No furiously beating heart.

I miss it.

Sigh.

My eyes flutter open. A few blinks and several moments later, they adjust to the darkness of the room.

It’s still night out, the moonlight filtering through the large windows.

The light it’s offering is offensive. Because when I turn to the other side of the bed, I see just how empty it is.

After Everett’s I love you tonight, after how he claimed me in front of everyone, I’d hoped for…

I’m not sure what.

I’d hoped for him. And he isn’t here.

“Well, guess what?” I proclaim to the empty room as I throw my feet off the bed. With my fists on my hips, I must look as determined as I feel. “I’m going to get him.”

Once I’ve brushed my teeth and washed my face, I go to the door and open it.

Before I take a step out of the room, I let air filter into my lungs. Swallow around the lump in my throat. Rub my hand over my silly, hopeful heart.

Hope was what had kept me alive for over two decades. I could just tell that being the Clarkes’ prisoner wasn’t the end for me.

I lived in order to spite them and bide my time.

I was waiting for something better to come along.

Someone better.

Ironically, that someone is the stuff nightmares are made of, not dreams.

He doesn’t scare me though. I’m strong enough to love him.

It’ll be easier to do both once I unveil his secrets.

Ours.

That’s it. I’ve decided he has to talk to me. We have to join forces.

He has to stop pushing me away.

Another deep breath in, and oxygen fills my lungs. I wipe my clammy hands on my black nightgown, which Everett must have put on me while I was out.

I smell nice too, so he must’ve showered me.

Time for me to return the favor. Time for me to take care of him, by letting him know he’ll never be alone again.

On my way to the library—where I’m sure he’s waiting for me—my footsteps are the only sound echoing in the ample space. I pass by the impressive living room as I walk along the dimly lit hallway.

Then I reach the library’s door, push it open, and step inside.

Sitting in one of the armchairs with his profile to me, Everett is the definition of regal.

His sculpted jaw, the perfect, strong nose. Even the jeans and T-shirt he’s wearing don’t make him seem any less powerful than he is.

His eyes are locked on a thick album in his lap.

Heat floods me, as if his intense gaze isn’t on the photos. As if he’s looking at me.

And…wow. I don’t want to ask him anything. There’ll be time for my questions later, after I satisfy this fiery need to obey him.

The collar is a welcome weight around my neck.

Hands clasped in front of me. Chin dipped.

I wait for him.

Without sparing a glance my way, he says, “Crawl to me.”

Relief floods me so hard that it knocks the air out of my lungs.

My knees bend. I’m about to reach the floor and—

A painful shock shakes me to my core. I’m not lowering to the floor, I’m crashing. Fast.

My hands slam onto the wood, catching me before I faceplant into it.

“Ow!” My head is tipped down, my hair draping over my face. My lungs struggle to take in air. “Everett, why?”

The second time he zaps me, it feels harsher. Like he’s upped the voltage.

I’m this close to blacking out.

“Why?” I growl, staring at him.

A sick, wicked smirk grazes his lips. His dark gaze lands on me. “Because I want to.”

“But—”

“I’m not a good person. I warned you.” Thick eyebrows lower over narrowed eyes.

“Life has hardened me. Has changed me into a harsh and cruel man. Loving you won’t turn back time.

Nothing will. Not because I love you any less than the people in my past. You’re fucking perfect.

So loved. I’m the flawed one. The broken. The ugly. That’s me. Your husband.”

Though tremors still run through me, my heart gallops. Wetness pools between my thighs, and my breasts swell.

This isn’t right. This is all kinds of messed up. Another proof of how broken I am.

How unwell the two of us are.

“You can hate me. Curse me. Try to change me.” Every word is deliberate. “It won’t make any difference. I won’t be any less of a bastard. But you’ll love me through it all, just as much as I love you.”

Relief floods me. He isn’t upset over something I’ve done wrong.

He’s just being himself.

That means the next step is going to be what I’m aching for. “Do you want me to climb on top of you? Or maybe you want to—”

“Aurora.”

His eyes close. His chest expands.

When he stares at me again, I see amusement in his eyes. A glimmer that gives away his thoughts before they materialize on his lips. “There won’t be a day that I won’t want to fuck you. But sometimes I’d enjoy other things.”

“Like what?” I lick my parched lips. That gets me even more of his attention. More of his heated stares.

“Like controlling you.” He places his hand on the arm of his chair, the remote gripped between his long, elegant fingers. “Now, stop being a brat and wasting my time. Come. Here.”

Embarrassment and arousal shouldn’t mix. Ever. But with him, they do. So sharp it’s overwhelming.

I crawl toward him, my belly tightening, low and insistent. Can’t be my period. I’ve got a few days before it starts. Maybe this is what it feels like to love a dark, dangerous man, twisted in all the best ways.

Everett is the force that runs through me. He’s the man who controls my body. My emotions.

My bleeding heart belongs to him.

Same as I do when he feeds me, I stop right here, between his spread legs.

“That’s my good girl.” God, my obsession with his praise, I can’t help it. He presses a finger beneath my chin, tipping my face up. “Tell me. What rattled you back there at the meeting?”

Emotion curls around me. Warm and overwhelming. When Everett folds me into his arms, it reminds me of what his care feels like.

That’s when I feel the safest to talk to him about what happened before he saved me from my father. I tell him what Winston said. How he said her. Like he knew my mom. The one part I skip is what Ivy told me. She can keep her judgmental attitude to herself.

When I’m done, Everett’s expression hardens. His features freeze. His gaze is unreadable.

“Everett?”

At the sound of my voice, he blinks. Curiosity flashes over him.

“Hmm.” He places two fingers beneath my chin, turning my head left, then right.

Being touched like this, watched like this, it’s so depraved. I’m reduced to being a property he’s appraising.

Although…that’s what I am, isn’t it? His property. He has every right to examine me like one.

What is he looking for, anyway?

The answers are essential. But he’s so withdrawn that he won’t let me have them.

“Impossible. I don’t see it,” he concludes.

“Impossible?”

“Yes. Impossible. You’re different. Unique.” A sliver of warmth slips into his gaze. I’m no longer a property. I’m a person. “And I’m done withholding secrets from you.”

My lungs squeeze. “Really?”

“Yes.” His thumb strokes small circles around my jaw. “You’re the other half of me. You’re entitled to know.”

By granting me access to his world, he’s asking me to carry the burden of the truth with him. He might not say it in so many words, and yet there’s no doubt in my mind that’s what he means by it.

The pressure on my ribs… Is this what it feels like when your heart’s too big for your chest?

Is this what it’s like to be needed by someone else?

“Everett.” My voice is thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

He won’t acknowledge my gratitude. Everett closes the album in his lap, and sets it aside on the end table next to him.

Eyes locked on mine, he bends to lift me off the floor.

I’m weightless, letting him manhandle me. He does just that, rearranging me on his lap, turning me so my back is to his front. Folding his arms around me.

“There you go,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

His cock is steel against my ass, and heat blooms low in my belly.

This is fucked up. So fucking wrong. I shouldn’t be wishing that he’d take himself out and shove it in me at a time like this.

At the very least, I shouldn’t be thinking about how I’m dying to have him in my ass. I’m still sore. Still sensitive. It would probably hurt.

Fuck. I bite my tongue to silence the voices. They have no place here.

“You remember the photos I told you were off-limits?”

The closed album is on my lap now. The leather is smooth beneath my fingertips.

“I remember.” I could never forget. I have a feeling that from this point on, these pictures will be forever imprinted on my memory.

“I also told you they weren’t off-limits anymore.” He curls his fingers around the cover, and I move my hands in time to let him flip it open to reveal the contents of the album. “Neither are these.”

Silence takes over as he turns the pages one by one. He’s being slow. Deliberately so, if I had to guess.

He means for me to look. To absorb what I’m seeing.

Everett’s there, a much younger version of himself. Then there are the people who have to be his parents.

And that girl.