Chapter 14
Kaiser
“Good morning!”
I wake with a jolt. Bella leans over me, a big grin on her face.
I slept in. I never sleep this long. My body feels heavy, sluggish, like I slept too deeply.
That’s not like me. My twin brother says I sleep like a wolf, in ten-minute naps between long stretches of being alert.
I learned to sleep this way on the streets—it saved my life more than once—and the habit stuck.
Strange that I’d let down my guard so much with the Poisoner’s daughter. She’s not to be trusted. But my body felt otherwise.
Not only did I sleep, but I also spent the whole night in bed with her.
I’ve never spent the night with a woman.
I don’t share my bed with anyone. Ever. A woman is a warm hole I’ll use for a few hours, then never speak to again.
I don’t allow them to touch me, and I don’t cuddle. I’d rather be stabbed in my sleep.
But with Bella, it’s different.
It was a first for her, too. At first, she was restless, and it was obvious she’s used to having the big bed all to herself.
Every time she rolled over, her arm would fly out and her hand would smack me in the face.
I tucked her into my side, holding her until she settled.
I expected to hate being skin to skin, but instead, it felt right.
I didn’t even feel the urge to push her away after a while.
No, I pulled her closer, wanting more. Finally, I gave in and dragged her on top of me.
Her weight felt good. Too good. So I slept hard.
I haven’t slept so well since I was a small child. Or maybe ever. Jaeger and I didn’t feel safe in our home long before we ran away.
It’s dangerous to sleep so deeply. Bad things happen when you’re dead to the world, vulnerable. My heart is racing now, responding to the threat.
I need to get up fast. I’m supposed to be keeping tabs on my little bride, and who knows what sort of mayhem she can get up to in the quiet hours of the morning.
“I made you coffee.” She holds out a blue mug.
The coffee smells amazing, but there’s an oily sheen on the surface. Probably poison. She serves this to me while my arm is bright red from the rash that weed gave me last night. It probably hurts like a burn. Just because I can’t feel anything but numbness doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what she did.
And now she’s trying to do it again. I glare at her. How stupid does she think I am?
She chuckles and wriggles her shoulders. “YOLO.” She sips from the mug.
Is she really drinking poison? I watch her for signs of distress, but she only wrinkles her nose. “Needs sugar. I have some honey downstairs, but I noticed you took it black in the diner. A good spouse should know how you take your coffee.”
Now alarm bells are flashing in my head.
This would be a picture of domestic bliss—a loving wife brings her husband coffee in the morning so he can start his day—except I’m almost positive there’s poison in the cup.
A typical marriage doesn’t have two spouses plotting against each other, and make no mistake, we are both plotting against each other.
I intend to have absolute control over her.
I don’t know what she’s plotting, but it’s probably my death.
Or a way to hamstring me. She wants to test me, like she did last night.
She’s looking for weakness so she can free herself and her father from Fraternitas.
I will never let her go.
Last night was everything I ever dreamed of. My own little virgin, obeying all my commands. I didn’t even need to restrain her. She was so good for me, I’m hard just thinking about it. She talked a big game, but when I touched her, she melted. And she seems fascinated by my body.
Maybe it’s wrong to use her innocent curiosity against her, but it’s just the sort of depraved thing a man like me would do.
As inexperienced as she is in the bedroom, she’s that much more knowledgeable about poisonous plants. I guess she would be fascinated by them, given what her father does.
She seems to have no qualms about using what she knows against me. My arm feels tight and hot from the rash.
And now she’s offering me a poisoned cup of coffee. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” she asks, an innocent look on her face and tilt to her head.
I take the mug from her and sniff it. Smells like normal coffee. No trace of almonds, which can mean cyanide, or garlic, which would mean arsenic.
Bella blinks at me, acting clueless. I need to read up on my poisons if I’m going to survive being married to her.
I set the mug on the bedside table. I’m not going to drink it, but I need to keep it away from Bella. She’s perky like she’s already had a pot of caffeine.
“So, I was thinking.” She sits on the edge of the bed next to me, swinging her legs, like we’re a normal married couple chatting about our day. “My friends and I want to do a sleepover. It’d be good for me to have some companionship. What are the chances I can go without you hovering over me?”
Slim to none. But I can bug the room and listen in to any plans she might be making to escape.
“Let’s make another deal,” I say. “Be good for me the rest of the week, and you can go to your friends on Friday night.”
“Deal.” If she’s annoyed at having to ask permission, she doesn’t show it. She keeps chatting about her schedule while I get dressed in the jeans and a T-shirt I pull out of my duffel bag.
I go to her closet and choose an outfit I want to see her in. A white dress with yellow flowers.
I lay it on the bed next to her.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“Put it on.”
“But I’m already dressed.” She’s in black and pink hot pants and a matching top. If she thinks I’m going to let her out of the house looking like a wet dream, she’s gonna learn fast.
“All right.” She shrugs and bounces off to the bathroom to change.
When she emerges, the sight of her makes my muscles tighten.
My dick, which was already hard, presses more firmly against the zipper of my jeans.
I can feel that discomfort. Fuck, she still looks like a wet dream.
My wet dream. She’s let her hair down, and it brushes her collarbone.
“Do you like it?” She sways back and forth, letting the light fabric swirl around her knees. She looks ready for Sunday school.
I want to fist that hair and drag her to her knees. Jack off over her face, make her suck me with those pouty lips. Come all over her. Defile her, so everyone who sees her knows she’s owned.
She smiles like she knows what I’m thinking. That I’m close to losing control.
This is how she owns me. And I won’t allow that.
I need to put her on a leash. I’ve never been into collars, not like St. James and some of his acquaintances at that sex club he owns. I can see the appeal of having a sub in bondage, but I don’t just want to control her body. I want more.
Total ownership over her mind and soul.
I’m incapable of being loved—my fucktoys only ever felt awe mixed with fear, and then relief when the night was over—but I intend to train Bella and prime her body to always respond to me.
Soon I’ll be able to get her off with just a touch.
She’ll love the sensations I give her, even if she can’t love me.
Or she might resent the control I have over her. The things I do to her. She’ll hate me for making her like them.
But she’ll crave them. And because I’ll be the only one who touches her, she’ll crave me.
It won’t be love, but it’ll be close enough. She’ll be loyal and devoted to me, even though she’ll resent it. I can take the hate, as long as she accepts my control.
“Let’s go. We need food, and then you need to get to class. After that, I’m going to pick you up and we’re going on an errand.”
“An errand?” She perks up. “For Fraternitas?”
I don’t answer because it’s none of her business. I control her schedule, not the other way around.
“Are you murdering someone?” she asks.
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you were?”
“No.”
She wriggles in that way she does when she’s excited. “If you are going to murder someone, can I help?”
I give her a look that says I have a ball gag, and I’m not afraid to use it.
She giggles.
It’s going to be a long day.
Bella
My fiancé takes me to breakfast at the diner, where we sit in the same booth.
He makes me eat a veggie omelet before rewarding me with pancakes.
He eats the equivalent of half a cow and drinks a pot of coffee.
I notice he didn’t dare taste the coffee I gave him earlier.
That’s fine. Poisoning him that way would’ve been too easy.
What are the chances I can use baked goods? Or honey? I can’t wait to find out.
He drops me off at class. I was hoping to catch up with Honey, but she arrived late.
I texted her about sleepover plans, and she confirmed, so I’ll have a chance to tell her everything then.
At the end of class, Honey gets called up to the front to talk to the professor.
I wait for her, but Kaiser’s hovering in the classroom door.
He’s breaking the rules by roaming free on the campus.
Either that or he got special permission.
I want to linger to see if I can chat with Honey, but she’s still talking with the professor, so I catch her eye, give her a wave, and head over to Kaiser.
When Honey notices who I’m with, she visibly startles and pales.
I give her a thumbs up and indicate that I’m going to call her later. She nods, biting her lip.
Not exactly how I wanted to tell her about Kaiser, but at least she knows now. I’m hoping she’ll have more info about Fraternitas for me at our sleepover.
Kaiser puts his hand on the small of my back and escorts me all the way to his Jeep. He’s also brought me lunch: a portobello mushroom sandwich from Pane P’s and a peach iced tea.
“We have a few errands in New Rome,” he explains as he pulls away from the curb.
“Like what?”
“Like marriage counseling.”