Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Peach
Burn – Davis Kushner
M y feet hurt from slapping against the marble. They didn't give me back my shoes, and the disadvantage is striking. I don't get very far before someone pushes me to the side and slams me against a wall.
There are two of them. Fuck.
It's crazy how I'd never realized two men big enough to be hired as security guards can look deadly threatening when they're cornering you against a wall. I'd like to say my survival instinct drives me to cower and admit defeat. But what I actually do is throw my leg up to kick one of them in the balls. And I succeed, which earns me the other one slapping my face so hard it connects with the wall.
The bang resonates in my skull, and my legs wobble as I attempt to look forward again. For a few seconds, I see four of them as dizziness submerges me, and I blink a few times before being able to see straight again. But I can't think, and I can't move.
"Looks to me like she still wants to run." One of them chuckles.
I try to shake my head, but the pain is still resonating, ringing in my ears and stiffening my neck.
"No," I mumble, tasting blood in my mouth for the second time tonight. "Am not runnin'..."
The second strike brings me to the floor, a whimper bursting out of my mouth at the same time as my lip cuts open again.
"There you go. Now she's not going anywhere."
They laugh together, both taking a step closer, making sure I don't get it in my head to stand up, to defend myself, to even let the thought of running cross my mind.
I hear steps. People arriving behind them. My stomach twists at my vulnerable position, never mind the fact that I’m wearing next to nothing.
There are more of them. Guards, Shadows—new and old ones—but there's only one face I'm searching for.
They all part for him, and my heart drops as he appears. Tall as a god, wide as a beast, and evil in his eyes.
"I have a joke," I mumble, tasting blood so clearly on my tongue. "The devil walks into a room..."
"Stand up," Wren says sternly.
"…and he's very hot. Get it? Because we're in hell. And because you’re the hottest man who ever walked this planet."
Shit, I can't think straight. Did I say that out loud?
I can hardly breathe. It's one thing to learn all those new facts about my best friend, but it hits different to feel the physical pain from the betrayal. The throbbing in my jaw, the stinging sensation in my cheek, the cut on my inner cheek and lip.
And it hurts some more when Wren repeats, with a freezing cold voice, "Stand up, Penelope."
I am not weak. And my strength lies in my mental fight. Because men are too weak to take us on.
So I make sure I channel all my hate for these men in my gaze and aim it at Wren as I use the wall to help me stand up.
When I'm finally on my two feet again, the guards step away so he can get closer to me. Nothing. There's nothing I find in him that could show a hint of reassurance. That he's putting on a mask in front of those men, maybe?
No. The truth is, I'm the one who was fooled for years. The mask he was wearing was the one of a caring friend. It's fallen off now. This is Wren Hunter in his purest form. It's clear as day.
There's no violence in his movement when he wraps a hand at the back of my neck, sending a chill down my spine. The knot in my throat is getting harder and harder to swallow, but I school my features and stand tall.
"Unbreakable little thing," he murmurs, only for me to hear as he starts walking, inevitably having me follow along.
I only feel slightly better being away from the men who cornered me. It doesn't last, anyway. How can it when Wren walks me down another hallway and opens a door to a room empty of anyone else.
It's a simple room with a few red velvet sofas, wood flooring rather than the cold marble in the hallways, and dark green walls covered with paintings of scenes from ancient Greece. Oh, and there's a murderer in it.
I don't sit down. Wren doesn't make me, and he stays standing too.
He observes my face for a second, his as impassive as I've ever seen on anyone. His only gesture is to push my hair over both my shoulders. Just with one hand, over one shoulder, then the other.
"Did you learn your lesson?" he asks with more coldness I can't take.
I don't want to talk. I don't even want to breathe, my chest too tight to take a full breath.
"There’s no escaping the Circle, Peach. Not for me, not for you. Not for anyone. You came to the initiations, you're aware of their existence, and they do not let anyone walk away once there's a risk they could talk. You've now proven to them you're strong-headed, disagree with their practices, and could expose them to the outside world."
I just want to hear a hint of emotion in his voice. Any. Anger if it has to be, but he needs to give me something.
He doesn't.
"Now that you understand that, I need you to get it in that stubborn head of yours that you are my Hera, and you must obey me."
I close my shaking hands into fists, or as much as I can with my splint, then take a shallow breath, and exhale, "I can't."
He doesn't miss a beat. "I can make you. Now tell me you'll obey."
Feeling strength coming back the more he insists, I shake my head. "I'll take the violence. I'll take a beating. Torture me. But I will not obey a secret society who uses women as objects."
His jaw ticks, but I don't miss the impressed glint in his eyes.
"I would never hit you. Don't ever insinuate that again." He takes a step back, and I know what's coming next is worse than a hit. "But I can still make you, Peach. I don't want to be horrible to you. I don't want to blackmail the woman I spent most of my life chasing."
"How kind of you," I snarl.
"Give up. You're part of this now. Duval is waiting for us in his office. You'll complete your initiation, and the worst of this will be over. Please, don't make me pull out my last card. This is not the example I want to set for our relationship."
"Then don't!"
"You're not giving me a choice. You won't do what you're told." He shakes his head. "Peach, you have to let go of your pride and accept this."
I'm shaking. Shaking with rage and fear. Shaking with the need to fight back harder than this. But I'm in pain, and I'm stuck. So I stick to one word. "No."
He pauses for so long, it's like he's waiting for me to change my mind. Like he doesn't know who I truly am deep down.
He gives up with a dejected sigh. "If you initiate…I'll find your biological parents for you."
My heart stops. My brain stops. The whole. World. Stops.
A sickness like never before digs into my stomach and slithers through my senses. I stumble back a few steps before my ass falls onto one of the sofas.
"I—I—" Nothing comes out. I keep being cut off by the feeling that my heart is going to be expelled out of my body through my mouth. It's stuck in my throat, stopping me from breathing.
The room is spinning, and I don't even see Wren move. He's just suddenly on his haunches in front of me.
"You're okay. Breathe."
"I told you about this in confidence. Because I trusted you," I pant. "You can't…can you? You can't find them…right? You're just messing with my head."
Putting a hand on my cheek, he rubs his thumb against my forehead.
"It's not just what you told me at the ER the other day, Peach. I already knew."
"How?" The word feels like swallowing a knife.
"I know a lot of things about you. That you help at the women's shelter on the North Shore because you somehow found out that it’s where you were dropped before being sent to an orphanage. But that when you asked them about your parents, they weren't allowed to give you any information. And I know you made no progress with finding them since that."
"How?" I hear myself repeat, but nothing feels real anymore. The colors in the room have dulled, and a vertigo has taken over me, making my head spin like I'm falling backward down an infinite well. "Wren, how do you know all that?"
"Because I might follow you to the shelter from time to time. I might ask people about you and they don't ring the alarm because I'm just your charming best friend." How can he look into my eyes while saying these things? "Maybe…maybe because I sometimes slip into your room and see those letters you write to them."
"Oh my god," I gasp, letting my head hit the back of the couch. "No. No, fuck no." I squeeze my eyes shut.
Those letters are my most vulnerable thoughts.
"Look, it doesn't even matter how I know all that. What matters is if you initiate with me, I will use the Circle's resources to find your biological parents. You have my word."
His voice is barely audible when he admits, "With their help, I can find them, Peach. And yes, the most selfish part of me has waited for this opportunity my entire life, but if it can also bring you anything good, then let's do it. But you have to initiate with me. Or I won't be a Shadow."
"Reality." Pain burns my throat as I swallow thickly. "Reality is painful."
He nods, agreeing fully. "It is, but I know there's nothing you want more in the world than to find answers. And there's nothing I want more than for you to be mine. This is the deal I'm offering you."
His face hardens again. “So tell me you'll obey."
I squeeze my eyes shut. It's the only thing I can do to stop the tears from falling.
"We've known each other since we were kids," I rasp.
"I know."
"You're my best friend."
"I am."
"Please," I plead as I open my eyes again and lock onto his. "Wren, please, don't do this to me. Don't use my past…my…my weaknesses against me." My head drops forward, knowing there's nothing else I can do.
I feel his fingers on my chin, and he pulls my head up.
"Tell me you'll obey."
I inhale a shaking breath, and it comes out as a sob. "I hate you."
"And I understand why. Now say it."
"Do you promise? To find my parents?"
He shifts, letting go of me to pull out the marker from his pocket. I hate him for keeping it on him at all times like he truly cares about our friendship. He clearly doesn't.
He uncaps it and writes on his own arm. I promise.
Putting the pen back in his pocket, he says, "Now say it ."
I hate myself more for the tears that flow down my face, than for the words that come out.
"I'll obey."
That agreeance is as dead as the soul in my being. But the hope of finally finding some answers, finally knowing why they didn't want me. What happened to them? What did I do? It's everything I've ever wanted to feel complete. To have some closure.
"Let's get this bullshit over with," I finally say. "I'll hold my part of the deal, so you have no choice but to hold yours."
"Let's." His voice is different now. He's finally giving me something. There's an excitement in it that's barely restrained. "Kneel." And the order is so softly spoken, it barely feels like one.
"You've got to be joking." I sniffle as I wipe the tears off my face.
He repeats, "Kneel. Like you'll have to in front of others to finish your initiation."
"Remember one thing," I say, my heart accelerating. "No one who’s forced to kneel can ever be truly loyal."
"Oh, Peach, baby." He chuckles. "This isn't about loyalty. It's about submission. Now show me how pretty you are looking up at me on your knees. And get used to the position."
I'm trembling as I slide down from the sofa until my knees hit the wooden floor.
"Atta girl," he whispers, his hand threading into my hair and grabbing it softly. "Look up."
Trembling from an anger I can't control, I do. I've never felt so stuck in my life. He has nothing to truly hold against me, but he has something to offer, and that's more tempting than any threat I've ever heard.
He smiles fondly, appreciating the moment until I see a line creasing between his eyebrows.
"Now that this is out of the way. Tell me, which one was it?"
I lick my lips, struggling to swallow with my neck craning back.
"W-what?"
"Of those two men who cornered you in the hallway, which one hit you? Hudson is the one with the ponytail. And Lane is the brunet with the short hair."
I blink, my eyes feeling swollen from the tears. It's with sudden clarity that the pain in my cheek and mouth come back, along with the taste of blood. Is it visible on my face? How did he notice? Because he wasn't there when they hit me.
"Both?" he insists.
"No. It was—the—I'm not sure. It happened too quickly."
"Huh," he says to himself. "That's rather unfortunate for one of them."
I want to ask what he means, but I've taken too many hits tonight. My brain can't process one more bit of information.
Wren leans down, pressing his lips on my forehead, and I want to tear out my own heart and stomp on it for its stupid reaction. How can it suddenly beat to a calm rhythm? How can my body relax when the man kissing my forehead just blackmailed me into getting on my knees for him?
He helps me up, his hands settling on my waist as he looks down at me. His beautiful blues search for something in my eyes, and I cut the moment short.
"You won't find it," I say with a strength he didn't expect. "The submission you want so badly."
His eyebrows raise with surprise.
"Don’t tempt me to show you exactly how I can make it happen. You only know the nice side of me, Penelope baby."
I narrow my eyes at him. "This deal," I purr, "is the worst decision you've ever made. I will make your life a living hell, and you know I'm capable of it."
A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, so light I could have missed it if we weren’t so close. With his hands still on my waist, he turns me around, and with one knee, pushes the back of my legs until I’m kneeling on the sofa, my back to him.
He brings a hand between my shoulders blades and pushes until my arms fly to the back of the sofa. Making sure I’m not straightening up again, he keeps his hand there.
"Don’t–"
His free hand is already pulling up my dress.
"I have no doubt you can make my life a living hell, Peach. I strongly believe that’s what you’ve been doing for sixteen years, but that I was too lovesick to realize that."
Pausing, he pushes my knees apart with his hand.
"Mm, how gorgeous."
"If you think I’m going to have sex with you after what you did...think again." But I’m already hot, my pulse pounding in my stomach and my core liquifying.
"What I think," he explains slowly, "is that we just signed a deal, and I believe you obeying was your half of it. How unfortunate would it be to not start by setting an example?"
My thighs shake as I sense his hand approaching.
"See, your first mistake was sleeping with me. Because now you know how well we fit together. Your body remembers. Your body"—a thick finger drags along my seam, making me realize I’m already wet—"recognizes who it belongs to."
"Someone could come in," I panic, tensing.
"Good, I hope they see you bent over and coming on my cock."
"I won’t come on your co– Aah…"
The man has no mercy, pushing two fingers inside me. And my body does nothing but betray me, welcoming him easily.
My eyelids fall, my heart sinking as the pleasure spreads through my veins. As I try to stay in the position he put me in, my arms feel weak.
"From now on, there’s no more refusing me anything. Do you understand that?" He thrusts in and out quickly, cutting my breath as I try to keep up. "I have complete control over you. And you’re smart enough to know that if you want me to hold my part of the deal, you’re going to behave."
When my moans are my only answer, he pulls his fingers out and slaps my clit. "Answer. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I squeak. "Fuck…yes."
I hear him unzip behind me, and he presses at my entrance, making me whimper as he stretches me.
"This is the cock you’re going to worship for the rest of your life. Now, hold on tightly to the back of the sofa, Penelope baby."
He thrusts so hard, my fingers tighten around the soft material of the sofa out of necessity. My wrist should hurt, my lips should sting, but all I feel is the pleasure spreading to my toes. The heat in my being. The spark that’s lighting me up.
He holds my hips in a bruising grip, making me hiss from his strength.
"I’m going to take so much pleasure destroying that friendship you tried so hard to preserve." Thrust. "I’m going to fuck you so hard, put you at my mercy, have a hold on you so tight, that the word friend will never cross your mind again when you think of me."
And with that, he proves his words truthful by pushing in and out of me so fiercely, I feel lightheaded when I come around him with an aching cry. I lose sense of anything that happened tonight as he finishes inside me and caresses my hair as he pulls out.
He barely gives me a minute before holding me by the waist and putting me back on my feet.
"Breathe, baby. You look flushed."
Do I, fucker?
I don’t even have the strength to snap back at him.
He presses a chaste kiss to my mouth before looking down at my dress.
And with my head still spinning, I hear him say, "Let’s go. I want you to feel my cum running down your legs when you officially become my Hera."