Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Fran
I don’t know how to answer him. If I tell him everything I know, I’ll betray my best friend’s confidence.
But at the same time… dishonesty is what got me here in the first place. And I’m weary of holding that burden, so bloody weary. I want the wholeness of trust, the simplicity of honesty. But more importantly, I want my best friend to be safe. And she won’t listen to me.
I bite my lip, mulling it over, as he slides his way over to me. I can feel his warmth, like rays of sunshine, to my left, his presence somehow both soothing and nerve-wracking. I draw in a deep breath, then let it out again.
He tips his head to the side and gives a slight shrug to his shoulders, magnifying their breadth and width. Though his voice is soft, I’m not fooled. “Why are you so nervous?”
“Because I don’t know how to say this.”
He doesn’t reply at first, and I realize he’s in a difficult place, too.
He knows the truth about what I’ve done. He’s asked me to tell him what I know. But he hasn’t come clean to his family yet, and he’s likely torn between his allegiance to his family, and… what else?
I can’t say allegiance to me. He isn’t loyal to me like he is to them.
Is he? Does he have even the smallest measure of protectiveness for… me?
I start with a glimmer of truth, a sliver of honesty. “I got in trouble in the first place for lying, and I don’t want to make that mistake again.”
He nods, his hand coming to rest atop mine. His thumb brushes across the top of my hand. Thoughtful.
“That’s a good start.”
I open my mouth, and the words spill out without my consent, rushed and a bit choked.
“I grew up thinking lying was simply something one did when the time was right. I had no incentive to tell the truth, not when a lie would get me out of trouble in school, with the headmaster, with my mom.” I draw in a breath.
“My mom lied to me, and I lied right back.”
His eyes hold mine, and he doesn’t look surprised, he doesn’t judge. He just listens. And in that moment, it means everything to me. Silence hangs between us with the weight of emptiness until he finally nods, his voice rough when he says, “Go on.”
“That isn’t an excuse, though. As time went on, the consequences for dishonesty became apparent, and I knew that people who wanted to be trusted and respected had to be people who told the truth. And still… I lied.”
Only now, I did so much more cautiously. Selectively. Lying became a justifiable means to an end, rather than a habit or something to take lightly. I lied when I felt it appropriate, and somehow, in my mind anyway, that made it all better.
“Telling the truth doesn’t come easy for me, Tate.”
“You’re doing perfectly.”
My heart swells, and I quickly swallow a lump that rises in my throat. For the first time in my life, I want to be brutally, painfully honest. I don’t want to even sugarcoat the truth or tell a white lie. I don’t want anything but truth between me and Tate.
“But if I tell you everything I know,” I say gently, thinking before I say each carefully-picked word, “I… could betray the confidence of someone I love.”
Without a word, he reaches for my waist. He slings me over his lap, so my knees fall on either side of him, and I’m facing him.
I still have to look up to meet his eyes, those gorgeous shimmering blue, fragments of sapphire.
He slings his fingers together behind my back.
They settle there, with reassuring comfort, and even though I’m distraught, liquid heat races through me.
“Then let me make this easier on you.”
Easier on me? How? The only bloody way for him to make it easier for me would be to lay me out and—God, my mind.
I watch him warily, bringing myself back to the present, and nod.
“I’ll ask you yes or no questions. You can nod yes or shake your head no. I won’t ask you to tell me details, and you’ll give me just enough so I can figure out what I need to on my own.”
I hesitate, even while relief floods me.
When I don’t respond, I watch the muscles in his face tighten, and a shiver of fear coils in my belly. He may have a gentle side, but I must never forget how dangerous Tate Cowen truly is.
“Or,” he says, his voice hardening, “we can revisit punishment and interrogation, and I’ll get everything you know out of you and then some.”
“Tate…” My voice trails off, and I bite my lip.
He doesn’t reply, but holds my gaze, unblinking, and I know he means every word.
I sigh. “Right then. Okay. Let’s try it the easy way and see how that goes.”
He smiles, his eyes crinkling a bit around the edges, and it does funny little things to my heart. I stifle a sigh.
“Do you know things about the Welsh?”
Nod.
“Have you visited them?”
Nod.
He asks me a few more questions, obvious things, as if we’re warming up, and I’m just getting used to nodding yes when he throws me a zinger.
“Do you know anything to do with my immediate family involving the Welsh?”
I bite my lip, and he holds my gaze, his hands tightening ever so slightly on my lower back. I can almost see him tipping me over his lap or tying me up and punishing me, or worse, calling his brothers while they all take turns.
He tugs me closer to him. My pulse races.
“You smell good,” I whisper.
A corner of his lips quirks up.
“I didn’t ask you that,” he whispers back.
“I know, but they say it’s helpful to compliment people who threaten you. Supposedly makes them less likely to hurt you.”
“That so?”
“Oh, aye.”
A beat passes before he speaks again. “My sisters are your mates. Do you know anything that could endanger either one of them?”
I swallow hard.
I nod.
His brows draw together, and all humor leaves his face.
“Does it involve the Welsh?”
I hate myself for this, I hate myself for all of this.
I swallow and nod, and he curses under his breath.
“Does she have contact with any of the Welsh Clan?”
She’s been in touch with him for the past year, and though she hasn’t shared all the details of the contact, I know she’s come to have feelings for him. I know that he texts her, and once she even feigned a trip with mates and somehow managed to evade her bodyguards long enough to meet up with him.
She says he doesn’t know who she is.
Tate’s hands tighten on my waist.
“Fran.” The sound of his low voice saying my name sends shivers racing down my spine.
“Yes?”
“Answer the question. Does she have contact with the Welsh Clan?”
I don’t answer him at first.
There’s no going back from this. Not now, not ever. Islan will never forgive me.
He yanks me closer to him, my legs wrapped around his back while he holds me, and I swear when he talks, the timbre of his voice licks at my throbbing, aching need.
“Nod yes or no, Fran, or I’ll bend you over my knee and punish you until you do.”
He’ll bloody do it, and why does that make another thrum of need pulse in my belly?
Hot, fat tears fall down my cheeks as I give him what he demands and betray my best friend.
I nod yes.
He curses under his breath, and I break into fresh tears. “He doesn’t know who she is. She’s never told him she’s Cowen Clan. They met a year or so ago, and I know she’s had a crush on him. They’ve been in touch regularly, and I know she has plans to go to see him.”
I bury my face in my hands and sob.
He rubs a reassuring hand down my back. “You did the right thing. She’s in so much danger, Fran.”
I shake my head. “I hate myself,” I sob. “I hate myself. I’ve done nothing but bring terrible things to the only people who’ve ever cared about me.”
He pulls me to him, cradling my face in his hands, the grip slippery through the tears.
“You did the right thing.”
I shake my head, determined not to forgive the betrayal, when his mouth meets mine, and my thoughts come to a screeching halt.
Lips and teeth and tongue, salty tears and sultry moans, my eyes flutter closed as he erases my mind with his kiss.
There’s nothing in the world but my body in his hands, my very heartbeat at his command.
I’m drowning in sudden need and want, as he lays me back on the sofa and braces himself above me.
I’ve wondered what it would be like to yield to his power and strength, but nothing, literally nothing, could’ve prepared me for this.
I can’t think beyond the feel of his warmth against me.
I can’t breathe beyond our shared breaths and mingled kisses.
I can’t see beyond inked shoulders, a wall of muscle, and powerful thighs trapped in traitorous clothes I need off.
He unleashes a groan that’s so raw, so male I can only wrap my fingers at the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine as his body lowers to mine. He cradles me, even as one knee forces mine apart with savage insistence.
He tears his mouth off mine as he reaches for my clothes.
Silently, rapidly, my clothes are torn from me to lay in a heap, followed shortly by his.
I shiver in anticipation, just before strong fingers grip my wrists and pin them above my head, giving him full, terrifying, delicious access to every inch of me.
My head falls to the side as he licks his tongue along my neck, then suckles and nips along my collarbone.
“Oh, God,” I whisper, my body giving a tremulous shudder as he finds my nipple and sucks it between his lips.
Delicious tendrils curl through my body, my back arching as he kisses lower still.
I’ve spent a lifetime berating my body for its imperfections, yet somehow, under his ministrations I feel like a goddess.
My mind’s wiped clean in utter ecstasy when he presses a kiss lower, to the vee between my thighs, his rough hands spreading my legs.
He breathes hot air and presses a warm kiss where I ache. My eyes flutter closed, and he pulls me under. I’m drowning in ecstasy, washed in waves of bliss as he does perfect, delicious, sinful things with his tongue. My head falls back, my body writhes, and I fly into ecstasy.
I’ve barely come down from my high, still wrecked in the throes of pleasure, when he lines his cock up at my entrance.