Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
LAUREL
I hadn’t slept much last night, haunted by dreams of beautiful scents, of teeth in my neck, of reassuring whispers.
Then fear shooting through me as gunshots rang in the air.
The helpless feeling of desperately wanting to go back, of screaming at them to run, but being bound, tied, dragged onto the ground that was soaked with blood.
Then Jason’s body had changed, and instead, it was Ocean bleeding out on the ground, dead because of me.
I’d woken in a cold sweat, nausea swirling in my stomach. And my scent…it was burned and rough, out of control.
It wouldn’t settle.
I took deep, juddering breaths, sinking to the floor and hugging my knees, thinking of the alpha with the bright smile.
Ocean.
It took a long time before I regained my control and finally stood to brush my teeth and get ready for the day.
As I strolled through the topiary garden, I looked like I did every day. Hair brushed and tamed, clothes tidy and spotless, makeup covering up all my cracks.
When I walked into my dressing room, I froze as I saw the empty basket the housekeepers had returned to me. The baskets were always returned; they were custom-made for my favours. I swallowed as I sat down, fingers playing with the wire embedded within the rim.
For the first time, I felt a lingering wisp of guilt as I transferred the recording to my laptop. But this was only common sense. I had to make sure Ocean wasn’t hiding anything.
Perhaps I’d find out he was a horrible person, and I could stop feeling so awful.
It wasn’t because I wanted to hear his voice again.
I locked the door to my dressing room and sat back in my chair, sliding my headphones on. My finger hovered nervously over the play button.
I started at the beginning, hearing my own breathing and footfalls as I made my way to his suite, then sped up the playback and listened to the whole conversation again.
“Don’t go... Do you want to come in?”
“…all right.”
A single step and a pause.
The sound of our bodies connecting, of that beautiful, desperate kiss. Of the bedsprings creaking as Ocean landed heavily, and my groan as I settled on top of him. Then my gasp. Footsteps on the floor, running, before leaving a heavy silence.
My heart ached as I relived that moment again. That wasn’t how our evening should have ended. In a different world, I would have gladly seen what would have come next.
“Fuck,” Ocean muttered, and then he repeated the curse, closing the door. There was the sound of the basket being put down, and some shuffling around the room.
I imagined that I’d stayed with him instead, with that fire lit in my veins.
Our bodies would press together, his hand sliding down to caress my curves.
I could take my time and explore the muscles that lined his body.
Trace the path of the water droplets down his pecs and over the ridges of his abs.
Silence.
The sink running in the bathroom.
Footsteps, getting louder and stopping.
I couldn’t stop my fantasy. I’d push him back onto the bed, and he’d watch with hooded eyes as I stripped off my clothes, each falling to a pile on the floor before I straddled him, reclaiming his mouth.
Then the sound of him rummaging through the basket. Another muffled curse, but this time in a reverent tone.
A deep breath.
He was picking things up, setting them to the side. Fabric sliding through his fingers. The crinkle of paper.
I found I couldn’t breathe. What had he been looking at? Was it the picture of me? The oil? The blindfold?
Another deep inhale, then a sensual groan.
My core throbbed as heat spread from my cheeks down my neck. He had wanted me; he’d surely found my scent in the basket.
Soft noises, fabric on skin, the rustling of sheets, and the slight protest of springs as he settled on the bed. The pop of the oil lid opening.
That was the sound of rustling fabric as he took his pants off, I surmised. Was he naked now, oil in hand, blindfold pressed to his face? Had he, too, been fantasizing about what would have happened if I’d stayed?
Another deep inhale. The slick sound of a hand rubbing against skin. A broken groan, a heady exhale.
I shivered, heat prickling down my spine, pooling in my throbbing core. My nipples had tightened and felt sensitive, rubbing against my bra.
I squeezed my thighs together, picturing him beneath me, nude, his cock standing, swollen and dark and starting to drip in anticipation.
It was my hands wrapping around his cock and watching as his head tipped back in pleasure.
I wanted to see his face as he made the erotic, unsteady breaths that my recording had caught.
Settling for the next best thing, which was pressing my hand between my legs to catch some friction against my aching core, I let out a whimper.
I could hear him speeding up, the slick sound of oil, and matched his pace as he let out another moan of pleasure.
He was trying to hold back his cries, mostly heavy panting coming through the headphones, but he sounded like he was starting to break.
He was doing this to my scent, my picture, imagining me over him, of his cock sinking into my waiting heat.
I brought my fingers to circle around my clit, seeking that delicious pleasure in this stolen moment.
He cried out, and the bed creaked, then stilled.
I imagined his back arching, his face tense as he came.
I didn’t know if I was imagining the sound of ropes of cum hitting his skin, but I could picture it painting his stomach, his chest, perhaps even hitting his face, and some would slip into my hand as I worked him until he couldn’t take it anymore.
While I imagined crawling on him, licking up every drop that had spilled onto his dusky skin, I came. I felt like my body was melting with pleasure as it gripped me, like I was helpless to do anything but writhe and enjoy it.
In my fantasy, he laughed and tugged us to the bathroom to clean up. And after, he’d lend me his shirt and pull me down onto the bed. Wrap his arms around me and press a kiss to my hair.
No, that was too dangerous to imagine.
I hit the stop button, wrenching off my headphones and throwing them onto the desk. My face was burning hot, and despite the blissed-out cloud that had claimed my body, the reality of guilt and shame slammed me back to earth.
Fuck.
I’d never done that before.
But it might be all I ever got of him.
I scanned the rest of the recording for moments of noise, but there were no conversations to overhear. I listened to him getting ready in the morning, humming to himself, then the room was quiet until the maids came in to clean.
I needed to find him. I needed to warn him to stay away from me forever.
My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see a message from Lyra, Soren’s secretary. He’d agreed to meet with me tomorrow.
My fingers tightened around my phone as I read the message.
This was what was important.
I’d go meet Soren tomorrow and pray he didn’t think I was crazy when I asked him to dig up the truth about my not-dead brother.
I looked up at a knock on the door, shoving my equipment out of sight.
A short woman with close-cropped black hair entered my dressing room and slipped the door closed.
“Jade?” I asked, and she raised a dark brow.
Her mouth twitched in a small smile. As usual, whenever I saw her, my heart squeezed painfully.
“You know, I come on the same day every month,” she said, perching on my counter.
“Right. Sorry, it’s been a morning,” I said, shaking my head and rising to my feet.
“Right. Thought Daddy’s tantrum was yesterday?” she said, her eyes darkening with sympathy.
“It wasn’t that,” I replied, turning away from her to my dresser and unlocking the top drawer. I pulled out the pieces of jewelry, passing them back to her. She examined each one before carefully bagging them.
“The black diamonds?” she asked when I turned back to her.
I hesitated. “I’m sorry. I forgot to bring them up with me this morning.”
“Ugh, babe, I had a buyer lined up for those,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“My apologies,” I said, folding my hands together. “It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t go all duchess on my ass now,” she said. “Just bring them next time. I’m lowering the buying price by five K, though.”
“Of course you are,” I said dryly, and her lip twitched again.
She pulled a slip of paper from her bag and laid it on the table. It’d have the rest of her requests for next month marked in the pages, and I’d pass it to my aunt Rosalind to get the jewelry for me.
She left her hand resting on it and looked up at me. “So, I’ve been wondering. How much longer are we doing this? Surely you have more than enough stashed away to make a clean break from Daddy Dearest.”
My heart sank at the question. She’d been dancing around it for ages but never outright asked until now.
“I still have unfinished business,” I said, my voice tight.
She gave me a long look, her mouth twisting in concern. “Jule is dead, babe,” she said softly, still eliciting a flinch from me. “No, listen. If there’s one thing that shithead cared about, it was you.”
Her voice wavered a bit.
We’d never talked about him.
We’d never talked about anything after she’d left us.
“You know he was trying to get you out of here. He—”
“Don’t. Just don’t,” I snapped.
She looked at me, mouth open, like I’d slapped her. The pain was rising again, years of feeling alone and confused and abandoned welling up in me in a tide of anger.
“Don’t look at me like that. You don’t get to abandon me like that and then pretend you care.”
“I needed space—”
“Yeah, from him.” I cut her off, my voice trembling. “But what about me, Jade? You couldn’t have stayed around for me? Did you even actually like me, or was our friendship all so you could get with Jule?”
“It wasn’t like that,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
“You just fucked off after your fight with him,” I said, my hands balling into tight fists.
“Just left me that stupid note, which didn’t explain anything.
And then you pop up a few years later, wanting to resell my jewelry for money.
Pretending like none of it had happened.
You didn’t even apologize, Jade! So what am I supposed to think? ”
“I just—”
“What? You just showed up to use me like everyone else does,” I snapped.
“I was trying to help,” she said quietly.
I snorted. “Sure. You did. I’ve got my money. So, how about we’re done? Don’t come here again.”
She hesitated, and for a moment, I hoped she’d dig in her heels and stay. Or yell back or something other than grab her jewelry and head for the door.
Great.
At least she wasn’t still pretending to care.