Chapter 9
Iran out of the woods. So fast, I felt like the fucking morons being hunted. It didn’t matter that I had the mask and stupid leather pants on.
I am his prey.
No. I would not be anyone’s fucking prey. Ever.
The maze spat me out into the night, but I swear I still felt him clinging to my body.
My skin buzzed with leftover adrenaline, and my jaw ached from the way I’d been grinding my teeth so damn hard.
Hell, my cock was still heavy, aching, like his mouth hadn’t fucking drained the hunger out of me, despite the pathetic rhythmic spasms traveling through me.
It should’ve been simple.
He was the one on his knees, choking until he turned blue, gagging on my thickness, and obeying every demand.
I should’ve felt like a king. Instead, it was just a fucking itch that I couldn’t relieve, no matter how hard I scratched.
No matter how much I bled. His eyes, that fucking delvish smirk, and the way he hadn’t broken…
it all rattled inside my brain, crawling like spiders under my ribs.
By the time I saw Xanthy waiting near the firelight, her face all sweet and glowing with that stupid trust in her dark eyes, I wanted to tear something apart. She didn’t deserve the storm inside me, but she was the only one dumb enough to step into it.
She was my shield.
I couldn’t lose my shield.
Somehow, Carrington saw me for me, but no matter the months together, Alexandra Harding was still as blind as I wanted her to be. Carrington was right about the reason he saw me.
We are the same.
“Shiloh!” Xanthy ran at me, her pliable body smashing into mine as she looped her arms around my neck like I was her hero.
Her perfume, the scent of flowers and sugar, wrapped around me. She was too damn pure, too soft. I needed something raw that would strip the taste of him off my tongue and body.
I kissed her hard, rough…enough to bruise.
“Oh. Did you miss me, Baby Boy?” She gasped, and that fucking pet name made me growl into her mouth.
My hands grabbed at her waist, her hips, dragging her closer like I could drown Carrington’s ghost in her warmth.
“Ow, Baby. Slower. We can’t do this here, silly.”
She whimpered when I bit her lip, but she didn’t pull away.
Loyal little Xanthy. Always eager to please me.
I should’ve softened like she’d asked. Obeyed her cries, knowing others were watching us. There was a heat in the room. The way the masked figures had their bodies turned, but no less still, watched.
I should’ve given her the boy she thought she loved. But Carrington had left a hole inside me, and now I was bleeding my darkness.
“Shiloh.” She breathed when I shoved her against the rough wood of the wall.
Her wide eyes searched mine, looking for the tenderness I couldn’t give her.
Instead, I dragged my mouth down her neck, biting harder than I meant to, doing my best not to fuck her. Abuse my aching cock again for the night. Wondering how I would even get an erection at this point.
Unless it’s for him.
Fuck no.
The demons in my head were ruthless, worse than my father. I couldn’t handle my thought patterns. I kept marking her like I could stake a claim that would blot out her arrogant asshole of a sibling. Her fingers trembled in my hair, her body torn between clinging and pushing me back.
It only pissed me off more.
Every gasp from her mouth reminded me of his silence. Every whimper reminded me of how eager he’d looked, taking me in his hot mouth. No matter how deep I pressed myself against her, my body remembered the slick, wet heat of him.
Of fucking Carrington.
I hated it.
I hated him.
I hated myself more.
I grabbed her thigh and hauled it up around my hip, grinding against her.
“Stop,” she cried out again.
Her nails raked my shoulders, her lips forming my name like a prayer, but my head was somewhere else. It was back in that fucking haunted house. I was back in the silence of the dark woods with Carrington’s eyes locked on me as he swallowed me down like it was his fucking choice.
Not mine. His.
He’d stayed in control that entire time.
I tore away from her, shaking. She looked at me with tears in her eyes, confusion, and fear lingering in the depths, but still reached for me like she could save me.
Ha. Good luck. You trying to be the hero will get you fucking killed.
I couldn’t meet her gaze. Not when the only face I saw behind my eyes was his. He was training my mind, leaving a decaying hold wherever he touched. It was like it was erasing me and replacing my brain with something I didn’t recognize.
Xanthy’s fingers hovered at my jaw, tentative, like she wasn’t sure if touching me would break me open further.
“Shiloh,” she whispered, her voice small in the dark space.
People had left us alone, wandering off to a different section of the house, likely assuming we were going to fuck.
Funny, the only thing fucked was my head.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?”
I let out a sharp laugh, though there wasn’t an ounce of humor in the hoarse sound.
“Nothing’s wrong.” My voice was too rough, too clipped, almost like barbed wire dragging a nasty weight against my tongue. “Why? You don’t like me kissing you now? I thought you missed me. Or did you just want me to be a fucking puppet for your stupid family hunt?”
“That’s not it, and you know it.” She shook her head quickly, tears shining in her eyes. “It’s just…you’re different. You’re angry and cold. I can feel it. I shouldn’t have made you come here. It was a mistake. I know that now, and I’m so sorry, Baby.”
Her guilt pressed against me like a blade, sharp and probably undeserved. She thought this was her fault.
Sweet, stupid girl.
If she only knew the truth. It wasn’t the hunt that had ruined me tonight, but what he did to me in the shadows.
“Just leave it alone,” I snapped, though my grip on her waist softened, betraying me. “I came for you. I did the hunt. I did what you wanted. You can’t take back what you did. Forcing me here.”
She searched my face like she was trying to read the lies bleeding out of me. “Then let’s just…let’s go upstairs, okay? To my old room. We don’t have to stay out here with everyone else. We can just…relax.”
Her thumb brushed my cheek, unknowingly smudging real blood. Her touch was soft, gentle, and coaxing, and it allowed me to find myself in the chaos. I could see the light again. See who I was meant to be, instead of acting on pure animal instinct.
I’m not my father.
Her words bounced around my head.
Relax.
Like I could ever relax after that fucking asshole touched me, not with Carrington’s ghost still slithering around my body like the snake tattoo on his throat.
My hands were stained.
I couldn’t find solace, not when every nerve in me still buzzed like I’d sold a piece of my soul to him and to my girlfriend’s fucking brother.
I nodded anyway, because I was too tired to fight her softness. And maybe, if I lay in her bed, wrapped in her arms, I could trick myself into believing it was enough, if not just to sleep.
Her lips curved in a relieved smile, shaky but hopeful, as she laced her fingers with mine and tugged me toward the looming Harding mansion. The windows glowed like watchful eyes, and the inside walls promised no peace at all.
As we crossed the threshold, I knew no matter how soft her sheets felt on my feverish skin, or how sweet her voice became to calm me, I wouldn’t find rest tonight.
Because he’s all I would see when I closed my eyes.
The Hardings’ mansion swallowed us whole. The halls were too polished and quiet, like the kind of place that made you whisper without realizing you were even doing so.
Xanthy’s hand was warm in mine, but I barely felt it.
My chest still burned, and my skin felt tight with the memories I couldn’t shake.
She led me up the wide staircase, her skirt brushing the steps with her movements, her perfume trailing faintly in the air.
It replaced his masculine pine, earthy scent, and for that I was grateful.
I stared at the sway of her curvy hips and her soft, golden hair. I tried to focus on the curve of her shoulders, needing to surround myself in her softness…Demanding I forget the taste of his sweat.
By the time we reached her room at the end of the hall, my jaw ached from how hard I’d been clenching it. She pushed the door open and ushered me inside. Her smile was bright and light as she shut us away from the world.
“See?” she said softly, turning to me in a little spin around the room. “It’s just us now. No crowds, no noise. Just us.”
Her old room looked like her. Filled with soft colors, little trinkets, and her favorite bands plastered on the walls.
It should’ve felt safe.
It should’ve calmed me.
Instead, I felt trapped, like the walls were closing in more, like Carrington’s smirk was carved into the paint, ready to destroy the gentleness here like boiling acid.
I sat on her bed, and she stepped closer, brushing her fingers over my exposed, sticky chest.
“You’re scaring me, Shiloh.” Her voice cracked. “You’re…so far away tonight. I don’t know where you are, or how I can bring you back to me.”
I grabbed her wrist before she could pull away, pressing her palm harder against my heart.
“I’m right here.” The words snapped out of me like a lie I wanted to believe in myself.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you come. I thought it would be fun. That it would help you to relax from all your studies, but I just feel like something happened, and it’s my fault.”
I should’ve let her words soften me, but all they did was twist the knife deeper. If she felt the wrongness of tonight, she had no fucking idea how deep it went.
She swallowed, voice trembling. “We can just…stay here. We’ll curl up in bed. You don’t have to pretend. You don’t have to…be anything. Just be with me. We can talk about it tomorrow, maybe.”
Her hand slid to my cheek again, gentle and grounding. For a second, I almost let her pull me into that warmth. Almost let myself believe she could scrape Carrington off me with nothing but her tenderness.
But as she looked at me like I was still hers while sinking to her knees in front of me…
All I saw was him kneeling. I saw his eyes locked on mine while his wicked fucking mouth stretched around me, owning me in the silence.
The memory made my throat burn, and my stomach twist.
I leaned forward and kissed her, hard and wrong, forcing her back toward the bed. She gasped against me, her body so pliant while her hands trembled against me.
She wanted to comfort me, but I twisted it into something harsh and selfish.
Like my father.
No matter how tightly I held her, no matter how much she whispered my name like a prayer, I couldn’t shake him out of my thoughts. It was fucked up. I didn’t even know him until tonight. But now, anytime I closed my eyes, there he was.
I pushed away from Xanthy and walked to the door, trying to catch my breath.
“I need to fucking shower.”
She looked hurt. Alone on the ground where I’d left her, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that she thought I meant to wash her away. I couldn’t tell her the truth.
That I couldn’t shake the reality that Carrington had gotten under my skin in a way she never had.