Chapter 12
12
RAINE
I t’s hard to believe what just happened. I guess when you feel close to death, nothing matters. You break down and do the thing you’ve missed doing for a long time.
As the flush fades from my skin, I lick my tingling lips. I kissed his chest. I couldn’t stop myself. Killian is horrible, but touching each other in bed was the one thing that was always good between us.
If there was a way for him to be in my life only in a bedroom, I would do that again. We would pass each other on the paths at school and maybe lock eyes for a moment, but then, we’d keep walking, without ever speaking. He wouldn’t be allowed to make threats. His jealous rage would never slither into my world to hurt someone. Bedroom only. Nowhere else.
When Jamie taps on the door, he doesn’t wait for a response before he opens it.
We’re lucky he didn’t walk in while we were having hand sex. Hand sex , that’s what I used to call it in my mind when I was younger.
Jamie strolls over and unlocks my arm and then reaches across to unlock Killian’s. “Morning. Or afternoon, actually. ”
Killian sits up, and I grab the blanket to keep myself covered. The cum-stained t-shirt has ridden up and I’d rather not flash it or my panties.
“Just got word that your meeting’s moved to three o’clock,” Jamie says to Killian. “Check your phone. I’ll put some food on.”
Killian has a meeting outside the house? Am I going with him? My heartbeat kicks up a notch.
Killian clears his throat. “Is War up?”
“No. Figured I’d give you a warning that he’ll be coming to reclaim his room soon.” Jamie doesn’t look at me, and as he leaves, I wonder if that means something.
Killian rises from the bed and circles it to stand near me. “By the way, I took the post down. If you want to play out some fantasy, you do it with me.”
“What?”
“The mask didn’t fool me. I knew it was you. And yeah, I saw the picture. Don’t ever post on Side again.”
My brows crinkle, and I tilt my head. The words are in English, but I’m completely confused. “What’s Side? I don’t—what are you talking about?”
His eyes narrow, and his stare hardens. “Tell me the truth. Have you been sneaking around? Breaking the rules?”
I clench my teeth. Killian promised not to interfere in my life as along as I didn’t date anyone. He claimed he couldn’t stand to see it. I broke the rule once, and bloody mayhem ensued. But that can’t go on forever. Lately, I’ve been too preoccupied with school to think about other boys, but eventually I want to move on.
“High school is over, Killian.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. To me,” I say tersely. “My life was so much better during the summer while you were gone. Don’t I deserve to live a normal life?”
“You swear you don’t know what the WildSide app is? Because if I find out you’re lying?—”
“I don’t lie to you. I know better.”
Killian is brilliant with computers. Once he sets his mind to finding something out online, he does. I notice he didn’t answer my question about whether I deserve a normal life. Prick.
He grabs his phone from the dresser and brings it over. When he sits on my side of the bed, his leg touches my arm, and warmth spreads through me. He has such a beautiful body. And such a gorgeous face. It’s tragic that they’re attached to his black hole of a soul.
Even the light pressure of skin against skin twists me into knots. It makes me want to reach out and touch him. Which is so fucking stupid. I slide my arm closer to my side to break the contact.
There’s a tiny, secret ache between my legs. He didn’t even ask before he pushed his big fingers into me. It did feel really good, though. At the time.
He moves his phone to just above my face. There’s a picture on the screen of a girl in a black mask and underwear.
“That’s you,” he accuses.
It takes a couple of seconds for me to realize he’s right. And a couple more to figure out when the picture was taken.
“That’s part of my Cabaret costume. I did community theatre with one of the really small theaters over the summer. I got to be AD, which was awesome. There weren’t enough actors for the show, so I joined the cast to help out.”
Killian withdraws his phone and turns it to face him, so he can study the image. “I remember Marianne saying she and Peter were going to watch your play. Stonewall Theater. I couldn’t make it back for that.”
He’d wanted to come? Would he have sat with Marianne and my dad? Or would he have lurked in the shadows where no one could see him? Lurking is much more his style.
“ Cabaret ,” he murmurs. The wheels in his head are grinding.
I know he’ll dig until he confirms what I’m telling him, but I can see that, for now, he believes me. And there’s nothing to worry about because I’m telling the truth.
“I don’t know who would have taken a picture of me backstage and posted it on a dating app.”
“I’ll find out who did it.” He stands. “Grab your clothes. You’re coming downstairs to use my shower, not the one up here. ”
“About the play, it’s nice to know you read Marianne’s texts. She said you never reply, and she wonders if you even open them.”
He says nothing, and his expression never changes. I should be used to this granite hardness from him, but sometimes, it still gets to me.
I climb out of bed. The t-shirt is damp at the bottom. Ugh .
My gaze flicks to the bed. If we were at home, I’d change the sheets. For that brief time when he was visiting me in my room, I always changed them before anyone woke up. Killian and I had the same size bed, so if Marianne noticed anything on them when doing laundry, she wouldn’t have known they were from my bed and not his.
After I scoop up my clothes, I follow Killian out of the room. Now that daylight has taken over the sky, I have a chance to see the converted space properly. The exposed rafters have been stained a honey color and sealed with gloss. The original duct work was probably cleaned but not replaced because it has a dark patina that contrasts starkly with the wood. Because the rafters are at least thirty-feet above, the ceiling almost has a cathedral feel.
I wonder if this is where I’ll be entombed. A grim thought but, despite the sex, I’ve got no assurances I’m safe here now.
When we exit the hall, the space opens into a massive rectangle that runs the entire length of the building. There are wide windows that stretch from the floor to twenty-feet high. The view of the water is gorgeous.
There’s a galley kitchen and table and chairs to the left, a seating area with modern light-colored Scandinavian furniture, and a polished wood bench in front of one of the windows to sit and contemplate life or admire the view. It’s a serene space, which is unexpected for a bachelor pad. Especially this one.
We pass an exterior door to reach the inner staircase.
I hurry down the steps to catch up with Killian. At the bottom, I almost run into War. He grabs my arms, lifts me, and sets me on the floor out of his way and then continues upstairs.
Killian stares at War’s giant back as he ascends. Killian doesn’t like when other people touch me. Normally, I try to ignore it, but if he starts a fight with his dangerous friends and he’s the one who dies, they will definitely kill me, too.
I put my hand on Killian’s arm to distract him. “Which way?”
His gaze drops to my hand for a second. You wouldn’t know by his expression that he likes my touching him, but I know he does.
The distraction works. He doesn’t answer, but he leads me through a large kitchen with black cabinets and white stone counter tops. There are dozens of windows facing the water, and I’m sure some must have been added. They look almost liked framed pictures.
The main floor has an open concept, and there’s so much room they have two seating areas. I follow Killian past a living room to a back area where there are no windows. The dark windowless west side of the building is the opposite of the east.
He takes me into a large bathroom and nods at the massive shower. “Throw your clothes on the floor. I’ve got clean ones for you.”
My body stills, and it’s as if I can feel every molecule of air brushing across my skin like a million pinpricks. He’s had a girl here whose clothes will fit me? Is it someone he’s using to get over his obsession? That shouldn’t leave me breathless with shock, but it does.
I don’t want to wear her clothes. Even though it would be so much better if he moved on and found someone to have a normal relationship with, in the moment, the thought makes me feel uncomfortable. We were just in bed together… touching each other and having orgasms.
Killian doesn’t close the door when he walks out, which is standard for him. Apparently, some things haven’t changed because he never wanted me to shut doors at home, either, even before we started messing around.
It began as a battle between us. I locked my bedroom door at night but would wake to the feeling I wasn’t alone. At first, I didn’t catch him in the room. The only evidence would be snow falling in the snow globe. I always wondered why he shook it. That made it seem as if he wanted me to know he’d been there. Maybe he was testing me to see if I’d say something to Marianne or my dad. I never did.
Later, Killian became more brazen. I’d wake to find him standing at my dresser or—more unsettling—standing over me, watching me sleep. A locked door meant nothing. Warnings that he’d better stop, also accomplished nothing. He escalated to the point of getting into bed with me. And then… things went farther.
I push the bathroom door closed but don’t lock it. What would be the point?
As I pull off War’s graphic tee, I realize the letters aren’t part of our alphabet. There’s a logo in the middle, but I don’t recognize it. A souvenir from someplace like Russia, I guess.
When I step in the shower, I’m in for another shock. All the products we had in the bathroom shower at our parents’ home are in this shower. Killian’s Rebel’s Creed body wash and cedar-scented shampoo, my shower gel from Body Store, and the shampoo and conditioner I get from a hair salon in Boston. I stiffen. He bought my favorite products for his new girlfriend? Why? So she would smell like me? That feels gross to me. I kinda don’t want to use them now.
As I turn on the water, I try to coach myself out of feeling surly. It’s good that he’s trying to move on. I’ve told him tons of times we both need to. Except, maybe that’s why he said last night he wouldn’t have unlocked my cuff and taken me out of the house even if he could’ve. Does Killian consider me expendable now?
No. At least not completely , I tell myself. Or he wouldn’t have been angry about finding my picture on a hookup dating app.
Warm water blasts down at me. I step back and turn around, letting the water pound the tight muscles of my back. Gradually, the hot water helps ease some of the tension.
I step out and wrap a towel around me. When I emerge from the bathroom, Killian’s leaning against the wall right outside the door, checking his phone.
Standing in bare feet, I’m struck by his size. Even leaning in a casual posture, he’s tall and powerfully built. His biceps are like soft balls.
“This way,” he says.
I follow him into his bedroom. It’s a similar style to War’s but in a warmer color palette. With closer scrutiny, I’m sure the furniture must be from the same design line because of the way the wood is carved .
A glance at the king bed’s burgundy leather headboard reveals that at least it doesn’t have holes for chain restraints.
“What?” he asks.
I drag my gaze away from the bed. “Nothing. I guess you and War went furniture shopping together?”
“No,” he says with a small laugh. “Furniture came with the house. The bosses hired someone to decorate it, I guess.”
The bosses.
Everyone, even Marianne, has been vague about Killian’s new job. All she’s said is that he seems less reckless now that he’s working. He hasn’t been drag racing or getting into fights. She said she’s relieved.
I’ve been less sure about Killian’s work being a good thing. If everything were above board, why won’t anyone say exactly what he’s doing and who he works for? According to St. Seb’s and neighborhood gossip, two of Killian’s brothers are in the Irish Mafia. Now, he and his housemates are burning clothes in barrels in the middle of the night. And kidnapping me for witnessing it. That math adds up to one thing.
Killian takes something from the closet and rips off a white plastic garment cover. When he turns, he’s holding a long red sheath dress with a weird beige scarf around the neck. I step closer and freeze. It’s not a scarf. It’s a thong… and I recognize it.
The dress and the underwear are mine, but I never wore them. I’d bought the dress for a dance that Killian and I were going to low-key attend together, amongst a group of his friends. It would’ve been a kind of first date. Before the St. Seb’s dance however, the dark incident happened. After that, I was upset and furious. And scared of him. I packaged the dress and underwear into the return envelope and sent it back. Or thought I did.
Would I have noticed I never got a credit for the return? Probably not. My mind was so shattered around that time.
“Where did this come from?” I ask.
Killian starts to walk away without answering, but I grab his arm. He lets me stop him because he likes when I stand close.
“Killian, how are my clothes here?”
His expression doesn’t change. “It was in my closet when I packed my stuff to move. Found it when I unpacked. ”
Liar.
“You’re lucky it was.” He tugs his arm free. “I’ve gotta shower.”
As he walks out, I stare after him. Killian wants me to think Marianne hung my dress in his closet by mistake and that it accidentally got packed along with his clothes? There’s no way that’s what happened. She would not have ripped open a sealed shipping envelope and hung my dress under plastic in his room. I don’t think she ever even saw this dress. I’d been planning a whole reveal moment for the outfit on homecoming night. Marianne and my dad didn’t know a thing about our plans to go to a dance together. They would’ve been against it.
If Killian has the dress, it’s because he intercepted it from the bin of outgoing mail.
All of the sudden, I’m struck by another realization. All those full bottles of products in the shower aren’t being used by another girl. There is no other girl. They’ve been waiting here for me .
It hits me then that the reason I’m taking the threat of being killed so lightly isn’t because of Killian’s past advice on staying calm, or an exaggerated state of denial. It’s the bone deep knowledge that Killian would never let that happen.
Because no one else is allowed to interfere with me in any way. Only him.
His being gone all summer means nothing. He was willing to be chained to a wall all night for one reason. He was guarding me.
The rest of the world falls away as my mind drills down to these facts. Despite all my fury and all my efforts to distance myself from him, on Killian’s end, things are the same as they ever were.
Even though, he’s never said it out loud, I think in his mind, I belong to him.
And I’m afraid the only way I’ll ever truly escape Killian is if one or both of us are dead.