Chapter 25 No More Lies #2
Still, there are moments when grief sneaks up on me.
Grief for the childhood I thought I had, when Tony was the only parent I had, long before I discovered that was because he killed my mom.
Grief for the years that were stolen from me because he chose loyalty to the Order—to Jack Collins—over standing up for his daughter.
Grief for the version of me I might’ve been, and for what happened to Dallas after my leaving so soon after his mother’s death broke him.
He’s tough. He’s strong. But that’s on the outside. On the inside, he’s one blow away from splintering like cracks in a mirror. He’d shatter into a millions pieces, and I absolutely refuse to let that happen.
Because I love him.
Because I finally am free to do so. No hiding.
No worrying about what the Order thinks.
He made a promise to me that he’ll never let them interfere with our relationship again, and though I’ve heard murmurings—from Loni, mainly, who had her own reasons to hate the Owed/Offering dynamics and the idea of arranged marriages where the Owed get to Claim their brides—that the high-ranking Owed members who want Dallas out of the top spot think he must still take a bride…
and that, as an experienced widow living in sin with their King, I don’t count.
Now that? I tried asking Dallas about that, and all he did was tell me that, as far as he’s concerned, I’m wearing his ring that he slipped onto my finger while I was sleeping my first night at the penthouse, I’m his wife, and there isn’t anything the old guard can do about it.
And then, to prove his point, he guided me against the mound of pillows he keeps on his bed, licked and sucked and fingerfucked my pussy until I could barely remember my name, let alone anything that might still try to come between me and my husband.
Because he’s mine, too. I’ve claimed Dallas Collins right back, whether I’ve been able to tell him with my words or not.
In the Order, for all its wealth and power and ostentatiousness, married couples all receive the same simple golden wedding band after an Owed-approved wedding.
When I asked Dallas about his, he obviously didn’t have one.
That’s when he panicked and made up the story about working at Bas’s garage, about taking it off because it was a safety hazard.
Of course, that one lie snowballed into countless others, but it was all because he took advantage during the spur of the moment to call himself my husband.
After I had time to reflect on Julian, on what he did to me, on what Dallas did to him, I wanted to throw his ring in the trash.
That’s when Dallas admitted that he swapped them out because it burned him to know I was wearing another man’s ring; it was for the same reason that he lost his shit when I called him by Julian’s name during sex.
So I kept it, though I did mention that I wasn’t sure if I should since we weren’t technically married.
Dallas immediately said that we were, that he considered us to be, that, as the current King, he could do that. Then, the next time I saw him, he was wearing a matching band on his left hand and, well, that was that.
As I sit next to him on the couch, curled up into his side, watching some action film from the 1990s that he insists was a favorite of mine—though my bullshit meter goes right off, and his slight smirk tells me that he knows that I know he’s full of it—I lift up his hand.
He has it slung comfortably over my shoulder so it doesn’t take much for me to hold it between both of mine.
I twist the ring absently, enjoying the way the light from the television reflects off the metal.
Dallas looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “You okay, Luce? Not trying to take my ring off me, are you? ‘Cause that’s staying on.”
His ring is staying on, just like I’m staying with him.
“I know,” I say simply. “It makes me happy to see you wearing it.” I peek up at him. “To know that you’re letting everyone in Harmony Heights know you’re taken.”
He laughs under his breath. “Jealous, baby?”
If he had any idea what my feelings were like the day I thought I might lose him to Heather… “A little.”
“Don’t be.” He uses my grip on his hand to lead my fingers up to his mouth. He brushes a featherlight kiss over my knuckles. “I told you. It’s only ever been you for me.”
I know he doesn’t mean that literally. There had to be flings here or there, but I refuse to think about it.
I mean, if he can deal with the fact that my husband sexually abused me over five years, I can make myself ignore how many women there must’ve been during our separation.
He never married one. He never had a serious relationship.
When he says it’s only ever been me, he’s one hundred percent telling the truth.
Just like I’ve only ever loved Dallas.
I haven’t told him. I’m sure it’s obvious.
But… I don’t know. I thought, if I said so right away, he would tell me to take my time, to wait for my memories to return, that I didn’t have to love him just because he told me that he was my husband and that he loved me.
But it’s been six weeks since he walked into St. Luke’s, and after everything that’s happened…
I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.
Turning my head, I press a quick kiss to his left pec, right over his heart. “I love you.”
The look on his face is something I’ll never forget, even if I fall out of a hundred windows and my brain never quite heals rights. It’s the shock, the fear, the hope… all of it tangled together in a way that tells me that, okay, maybe it wasn’t as obvious as I thought.
“Luce— I… you don’t have to say that. Not yet. Not if you mean it.”
“I know.”
“Remember, you might just feel that way because—”
“Because I think I’m supposed to? Yeah. That would’ve stopped working when I realized that you were lying to me about… well… everything.”
He has the decency to look ashamed. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be. Babe? Don’t be. We’ve worked past that. Okay? But that’s what I mean. If I couldn’t stop after that… if my feelings for you have only grown… I have to call it. I fucking love you, Dallas Collins, and I don’t think anything’s going to change that.”
I can see how desperately he wants to believe that. He’s still holding back, though, as if, this time, I’m the one who’s lying.
“What if… what if you get your memories all the way back and you change your mind?”
His voice is nearly drowned out by the explosions on the television, that’s how quiet he is.
I shake my head. “It won’t happen.”
“But—”
“Are you trying to talk me out of loving you?”
“What? No!”
“Good.” I pat his chest. “Just making sure. Because if I can still love you after learning
His expression shadows over. “That’s who I am, Lucy.
For good or for bad, that’s what my old man made of me.
I’m a killer, not a King. You know how me and Adrian have been working on something?
He’s taking over as King as soon as we can make sure we have the numbers on our side to change leadership without any more bloodshed. ”
“But if there has to be any, you’ll be doing the bloodshedding?”
I wait for him to deny it, but he doesn’t. He can’t. Not when we said no more lies…
“Can you still love me if I go back to being an enforcer?”
“Depends. Were you an enforcer when we first met?”
He hesitates for a moment before… “Yes.”
“And I knew about it?”
He nods.
“And did I ever give you any sign that I was only with you because you were supposed to be the King one day?”
“No,” he grates out. “In fact, my continued loyalty to the Order… to Jack… when you knew how much I fucking hated the way things were was the only hitch in our whole relationship. The skulking around, the hiding… you wanted to say fuck the Order and let everyone know we were in love, but I knew that would only put you in danger so I couldn’t it.
I…” Turning to face me fully, his expression cracks.
“It’s all my fault. I tried so hard to save you and lost you anyway.
Because of the Order. I thought, it might be worth it, if I could make it better for the Owed that come after me, but… ”
“Adrian would do a better job of it?”
Dallas huffs out a breath. “Better than me, that’s for sure.”
“Okay.”
He blinks. “Okay?”
“Yeah. You don’t want to be King. I want my husband to be happy. If you want to stick it out in the Order, working for your cousin… well, I already thought he was your boss. Just make sure to tell him that if anything happens to you, he has to deal with me.”
Dallas laughs. It’s first real, joyous laugh that I’ve heard from him… well, ever, I think… and it goes straight to my head… to my heart… to my pussy.
I glance at the screen. I have no fucking idea what’s going on, and no interest in watching the rest of it. But it’s me and it’s Dallas and, other than the television, it’s dark…
And I’m suddenly so fucking horny, it hurts.
“Hey. This is one of your favorite movies, isn’t it?”
His grin is cheeky and warm as he runs his fingers through my loose hair. “Guilty as charged.”
“How much longer until the end?”
Dallas looks up. As soon as he recognizes what part of the movie we’re at, he shrugs. “Another twenty minutes?”
I shift my position, moving so I can lay out on the couch—and put my head in his lap. As I reach for the button on his jeans, flicking it open, then unzipping him… I give him my most innocent grin as I look up at him through the fringe of my lashes.
“Sounds good. Now let’s see who can finish first…”