Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Peach
I love it - Croixx
I accidentally spill some of the drink Elijah got me as I throw my head back laughing and bump into whoever is behind me at the bar. My friend is still waiting for his, so I'm standing right next to him.
"Sorry," I mumble before turning back to my friend. This bar is always so busy, full of only SFU students.
"How about sorry to me?" Elijah laughs. "I've got beer all over me."
"Oops. Don’t make me laugh so hard next time."
"I like to make sure the little time you can escape and be with me is time you enjoy."
I roll my eyes, taking a few large gulps of my drink. "Come on, you talk about him like he kidnapped me or something. He's not that bad."
His mouth twists, and he shrugs. "As I said before, we don't get the same version of him. The problem is, I think the one he uses on you is purely to manipulate you into thinking he's not dangerous." He puts a hand on my shoulder. His platonic version of a protective gesture.
"I know he's dangerous. I just know he's not dangerous to me." I look down at my phone, and my brain freezes for a second.
"Shit," I hiss, wiping my mouth. "It's past six. Wren was meant to pick me up from my house."
For a second, he looks like the mere mention of his brother's name scares him, but as his eyes widen and his hand drops, I understand what's happening.
My jaw tightens. "He walked in, didn't he—" I don’t have time to finish my sentence.
Right here, in front of everyone, Wren slips a hand in my hair, pulls, and forces me to turn around. I don't get a second to complain because his lips crash against mine, his tongue forcing its way inside my mouth.
I whimper when he bites my lower lip, my back curving as I go onto my toes to alleviate the tension on my hair. All it does is give him more access. He holds me in place as he ravages my mouth, and I'm helpless to do anything about it.
Worse. I'm enjoying it.
I can feel it in my chest, the weight lifting as my muscles relax. The tightness against my skull is almost like a relief, canceling any thoughts that attempt to form in my brain. I'm putty in his hands when he grips my waist to bring me even closer.
All I can feel is him. His tongue caressing mine, his hard chest against my body, his hands owning me. All I can smell is his scent that has been following me around all my life. And just like that, my entire resolve turns off as I give in to him.
It wasn't supposed to feel this good to give him exactly what he wants.
But I'm not actually giving anything, am I? He's taking.
Taking all my sanity.
So much so that I'm dizzy when he finally lets me go. I blink up at him, swaying on the spot, and he keeps a hand on my waist to make sure I don't lose my balance.
I only come back down from my Wren cloud when I hear someone whistling, someone else claps like a fucking idiot, and some guys I recognize from the lacrosse team start shouting toward us.
Finally!
It's happening, guys.
He got her.
"No." I shake my head. My lips are tingling from the kiss as I realized what just happened. "You said you wouldn't," I murmur. "Not in front of everyone."
The corner of his mouth tips up smugly, and he pulls me closer. He presses his lips to the side of my head, right above my ear.
"I also said to do what you're told. You didn't. Your actions have consequences."
He lets me go, but not for me. Not to give me time to process anything. Taking a step past me, he forces me to turn around in his direction to see what he's doing.
"Wren…" I call out in warning as he approaches his trembling brother, who had taken a few steps back during our kiss, it seems.
Towering over him, he says, "Do you understand who she belongs to?"
Elijah only answers with the tiniest nod.
"Who?" Wren asks.
"That's enough," I hiss and grab him by the arm. "Leave him alone."
Instead of letting me pull him away, he slaps him condescendingly. It's not hard. More like a harsh tap, as if to wake him up. But it's humiliating, showing Elijah couldn't take a real fight with his bigger, stronger, older brother.
"Who, Elijah?" he insists.
He gulps, looking all around at the people watching the interaction, laughing at him, until his shoulders scrunch together and his eyes drop. "You."
"That's right. So, keep your fucking hands off her if you don't want to lose them."
Not waiting another second, he grabs my wrist and pulls me through the crowd. People are still talking about what they just saw, and my glares don't even stop them.
Fucking harpies feeding on everyone's drama, as long as it's not theirs.
"I can't believe you." I'm panting as he strides across the Acropolis, struggling to follow with his long legs. "I can't… You couldn't keep your word. All I asked was for you to keep this private?—"
He stops so suddenly, I bump into him. And there he is again, on me, his hands wrapping around my waist, so tightly I can't think straight.
"Look at me." I do without a second thought. My body doesn't feel like mine when he's holding it. "I'm done. Done taking it easy on you. I warned you, and you didn't want to listen. That's it."
"What is it?" I ask tentatively, hating how I’ve gone from ripping pissed to hesitant.
It's back, that feral smile he hid until this year. That side of him that makes it seem like he could lose control at any second.
"You've lived a life of privilege because I was so desperate to have you. I was too nice. Too caring. Too scared of pushing you away and blowing up my chances." His head tilts to the side. "I have you now. I don't need to be so nice anymore. I could fucking ruin you ."
There's something in his voice that stirs anticipation within me. This is worrying.
Because I think there's something I'm enjoying more than the men I can control and put into submission. And that's the only man who can fight back.
"If you force me to do anything with you," I rasp, "you will lose me forever."
His chilling smile sends goosebumps down my spine as he shakes his head. "Oh no. That's not my kind of thing at all."
"What's your thing?" I find myself asking the question before I can even form the thought in my mind.
"You've seen what I like, Peach. You experienced it firsthand. What is it?"
One of his hands comes to my face, his fingertips caressing my cheekbone and then the corner of my eye before he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Control," I answer, swallowing roughly.
"You learn so quickly. I'm never going to force anything on you, Peach. See, I'm going to have so much control over you, you're going to be begging for me to touch you. You're going to beg me to sink my cock deep inside you and ruin you." His fingers go to my neck, tracing a new line all the way to my collarbone.
"You're going to be so desperate, you won't only ask how high when I say jump, but also how low it is I want you to bow when you're at my feet. And, believe me"—his soft caresses turn into a hand around my throat—"after everything you put me through for all these years, after all the yearning to have you while you were having fun turning me down, I will make you go through every. Single. Hoop. Before I give you any sort of release."
His hand doesn't stop me from breathing, but it stops the blood flowing to my head, and the second he releases me, the lightheadedness mixes with a need he created deep in my core.
Speechless, I blink up at him, completely lost, and he taps the top of my head like I'm a puppy who just did a trick.
"Atta girl. Let's go to dinner now."
What is it?
What is it he saw, or I did, that satisfied him so much?
I'm wearing a dress, but not the dress he wanted, and he sure doesn't miss that detail once we're walking side-by-side.
"Are you color blind?" he asks as he looks down at my dress. "Because I could swear that's a mini black dress you're wearing, and not the lavender one I texted you about."
"Are you dumb?" I bounce back without hesitation. "Because I could swear you just picked me up from a bar instead of my house, so it should tell you how much I care about doing what you tell me."
I cross my arms over my chest, the cold evening making me shiver. Or maybe it's the anger. Or the excitement of still feeling my lips tingling from his claiming. The hand I can still feel around my throat. Maybe it's all of it.
His coat is on my shoulders before I can finish my thought. I'm not alone in my head; Wren is there too, reading everything like all my thoughts are breaking news, worthy of stopping his own.
"Is there a reason you went out in an outfit to catch pneumonia?" he asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
"Yes, to piss you off. So you'd have to give me your coat and freeze to death."
"Knew it," he whispers playfully.
He winks at me, smiling, and his dimples make me want to smile back. It's a conscious effort to keep my mouth in a straight line. That's until I realize where we're heading.
"Wait…why aren’t we leaving the Acropolis?"
His arm tightens around me, as if making sure I won't bolt. "We were supposed to go to that tapas place you love, but someone made us miss our reservation."
I try to slow down, but his momentum forces me to keep walking. "Wait, wait. I'll call. I don't want to go to a campus restaurant."
"Is that so?" he says knowingly.
"Don't do that. I don't want to be on a date with you where all the other students can see us."
"I guess you should have thought of that before being a brat, huh?"
"I'll call them," I plead. "Drop my dad's name. They'll give us a table right away."
He shakes his head, looking ahead to show he doesn't care about what I'm saying. "The issue isn't that we can't get another table. The issue is, when you're training someone to listen to orders, you have to force them to put up with the consequences of their actions. That's the only way you'll learn."
My ears burn as my blood boils. "I'm not a fucking puppy. Stop saying you’re training me."
He keeps walking as he brings his free hand to mess with my hair. His eyes are shining with arrogance.
"You're no puppy, Trouble. If anything, you're a mean, full-grown rottweiler. But you are my new little pet, aren't you? So, when you misbehave, I punish you. And when you behave, you'll get a little treat." He pats the top of my head. "That's how I plan on training you."
I know he's exaggerating, mockery dripping from his tone, but I want to kill him, nonetheless.
"You should be careful. I could easily kill you in your sleep."
"And I would love nothing else but to see you try." His arm slides off my shoulders, and he grabs my wrist. "I imagine you'd straddle me, bring a knife to my throat. But I'd wake up just before and take hold of your wrist." He tightens his grip. "And then I'd flip you around, pin you to the bed, and?—"
"When in this little fantasy do you go back to looking for my parents?"
My cold tone doesn't only bring him back to earth, but it also helps me keep sane before I let myself fantasize some more about Wren Hunter pinning me to a bed.
He scratches his throat, but his grip on my wrist doesn't relent. "I want to be discreet about it. Going further into searching for them is going to take time."
"Why?" I snap, remembering Elijah's words. "Just get everyone on it. If the Circle has access to so much, then everyone should know, and everyone should help, and then we'll find them quicker. I want to talk to them. I have questions for them . "
My face is burning by the time I finish my rant, and Wren's eyes are on me. "Breathe."
It's not a calm query. If anything, it's a strict order. But I understand why when I let air into my lungs and realize I was in apnea.
I'm panting now, trying to catch up with my own stupidity of not knowing how to breathe.
"You're looking at this as if the Circle is our ally. They're not. They're selfish, and they'll hold everything over our heads, ready to drop the guillotine at any point. Knowledge is power, and the less the Circle knows, the better."
Is this true? Or is that an excuse? If Elijah is able to find my parents quickly with the Circle's help, why would Wren want to keep this to himself?
"Peach," he insists. "I have to go about this carefully, ask the right people. I don't want anyone, least of all my dad or Duval, to know what we truly want."
I look at him, and I should have things to say. But only one word registered. "We?"
"Yes, we. I'm here, in your corner, wanting nothing but for you to get the answers you so desperately need. You and I have always been a 'we,' Trouble. We're just changing the dynamics of it."
I’m losing count of the times my heart somersaults when Wren shows me how much he truly cares. Why do I like this idea so much? That feeling of safety and fulfillment is back, but I shove it down.
"Without my consent," I add, trying to surface that resentment I have toward him. It’s so faint, though. Like it never even existed in the first place, and I’m just trying to force it out of me.
Because the truth is, I liked that kiss. And I like when he takes care of me. And I love that everyone saw how he can’t keep his lips off me.
So what am I even fighting against?
"That's the fun part." He winks and finally grabs my hand rather than my wrist. "We're here."