53. Kaos
I’m fucking seething as I storm out of Crew’s office.
I’ve had enough of this bullshit.
I thought shit was bad when we were all pussy whipped last time, but this is fucking hell. They’re so obsessed with Camilla and her virgin cunt that they can’t see past their own fucking dicks.
I need to show them her true colors. I need to prove to them that she’s not a good fit for us, that she needs to go before she really is the reason for our demise.
My feet carry me toward her room, and I burst in without bothering to knock. The door is unlocked, which has my entire body trembling with barely contained rage.
They trust too fucking easily for a bunch of criminals who pride themselves on not letting anyone into their inner sanctum.
The door ricochets off the wall, the sound of drywall crunching under the force, making Camilla jump up from where she was perched on the bed.
Her cheeks are damp, her eyes are red, and it’s obvious she’s been crying, but the question is, why do I give a fuck?
“You scared me,” she whispers, folding her arms over her chest as if it will do anything to protect her from me.
I don’t respond, instead advancing on her without missing a step.
“Kaos?” Camilla says quietly, her eyes flaring with something akin to fear, but she’s not scared. If she was, she’d be trying to retreat. She’d be searching for an escape route. But she’s not. She’s watching my every step with keen interest. Her eyes search my face and fall on the blood leaking from my lip, her brows furrowing. “Are you okay? Do you want me to get you some ice for your cheek?”
Perhaps I would have been able to continue my tirade of anger. To yell and demand she get the fuck out of our lives, to tell me what her plans are to ensure our demise the moment she steps out of the complex. But the way her gray eyes stare up at me, vulnerable and full of worry for me, a man who has done little else but yell at her and make her feel unwelcome.
It’s not until her brow furrows and my name falls from her pretty pink lips that I realize I’ve been staring at her for God knows how long.
Camilla steps around me, moving into the small bathroom adjoining her room, and comes back a moment later with a damp washcloth.
She only hesitates for a second before she steps toward me and reaches up, carefully dabbing the blood from the corner of my lip, her eyes locked on the task at hand.
This is the first time I’ve noticed our obvious size difference. I’m six foot seven and built like a linebacker, while she’s tiny. Maybe five foot four and perfectly petite. Her full tits and perky ass are the perfect proportion to her frame, and I don’t know how I haven’t noticed it before.
Why the fuck am I noticing it now?
“Are you going to tell me why you burst in here, broke the wall, and then proceeded to not say a word?” she asks, a small smile tipping up the corners of her lips. Has she always looked so pretty when she smiles? Have I even seen her smile?
“Why are you still here?” I ask, the bitterness of my own tone taking me off guard, but she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she stares up at me, considering the question I’ve asked her.
“I’m not sure,” she replies, and I know to my fucking core she’s telling the truth. “It’s occurred to me to run. I’m sure I could if I wanted to. Bishop and Kovu aren’t very thorough with keeping me locked in this room anymore.” She dabs the last of the blood away and pulls the cloth from my face, dropping her hands between us. “But I guess I don’t want to. I should.” She half-laughs. “I should have been running for the hills as soon as I realized who you all were. I know at any time, one of you could hand me over to Charles or that you’ll use me once I become the head of the De Marco family, but…” She pauses and releases a breath. “I don’t know. Being here, being around all of you, it’s the most at home I’ve ever felt, and I guess I’m not ready to give that up just yet.”
The honest words hang between us, and I can’t help but stare at her like I’m seeing her for the first time.
She shrugs and turns away from me, her eyes flashing with dejection, before she can turn her back on me. I don’t like that. Why don’t I like that?
Haven’t I made it my mission to make her life as miserable as possible since she arrived?
Haven’t I been spouting about how much I despise her presence to literally anyone who will listen?
Before I can stop myself, I reach for her, dragging her back against me until she’s pressed against me and her wide eyes are staring up at me with surprise.
“Kaos, what are you?—”
I crash my lips down on hers, desperate to taste the sweetness of her, and fuck, it doesn’t disappoint. My tongue demands entry, and she has no choice but to give me exactly what I want as I devour her, savoring every taste like it’ll be my last. Because fuck, it might be.
At any moment, she could push me away and deprive me of her, and I would deserve it. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to her, and kissing her like this isn’t exactly winning me any favors.
Camilla’s hands weave their way between us and try to push me back, but I don’t let her go. I back her up until the backs of her legs hit the bedside table, and then I lift her onto it without ever prying my lips from hers.
As soon as she’s settled, I step between her thighs and move one of my hands to the nape of her neck, positioning her exactly where I want her. Where I need her.
I’ve never felt so fucking desperate for a woman before, like I’ll stop breathing if her lips are no longer fused to mine.
It’s a ridiculous thought, seeing as I burst in here to force her out of my home, away from my family, but now that I’ve tasted her, now that she’s allowed me to see beneath the ice queen exterior she’s been trained to show the world, I’m addicted.
I shove my hand up the front of her shirt, one of Kovu’s she seems to have commandeered, desperate to feel her soft skin beneath my palm.
She jolts at the sudden intrusion, but she doesn’t attempt to escape me again. Instead, she wraps both arms around my neck, pulling me farther into her as if she’s just as desperate for me as I am for her.
I push my hand higher and pinch her nipple through her lacy bra. Have the others seen her like this? Am I the one who’s late to the party? Probably.
I don’t think any of them have fucked her yet. It’s something they would have spoken about. Unless they left me out of the loop. Unless they didn’t want me included because I’ve been such an asshole to her.
The thought is like a cold bucket of water, and I take a step back, watching as Camilla drags in greedy breaths, her chest heaving as she stares at me.
Her hair is a little mussed from where my hands were, her face flushed with desire as she stares back at me. There’s a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, and I watch as she builds her walls between us. I’m not surprised, and I don’t blame her. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to her, why would she put herself at risk of me hurting her?
I take a step toward her, and her eyes widen as I approach. This time when I take her lips, I’m gentle, or at least as gentle as I can be. I’m not known for my softness, and although I’m trying not to scare her, there’s nothing I want more than to mark her, than for her to wear the evidence of my touch for the others to see.
Her tongue swipes across my bottom lip, and a strangled groan escapes my throat. Has it ever felt like this before?
That’s the answer I’m equally desperate for and terrified of.