Chapter 22 Mara #2
The world expects the congressman’s daughter to be composed. Perfect. Unbreakable.
I glance left, toward the library where I’m supposed to meet Jasper. Something my father can’t reject since it’s a part of my class. He can’t control who my classmates are.
Then I look right.
The Omega Chi Kappa house sits at the far end of Greek Row, half-shrouded by oaks. Its brick is older, darker, the wrought-iron crest on the door catching the light like a dare.
I remember how alive I felt in Talon’s lap. How amazing it was to be wanted for everything I am, not what is expected of me.
Then I think of Father’s disgust. Milo’s fury.
Chase’s name is like a leash tightening around my throat.
They want me caged. Controlled. Chosen for. Promised to.
Fuck that.
Before I can hesitate, I pull out my phone and text Jasper.
Me:
Change of plans. I’ll meet you at the OCK house in five.
His reply is instant.
Jasper:
Are you sure?
Me:
Yes. See you soon.
No second-guessing. I square my shoulders and turn right, toward Omega Chi. Every step feels like peeling off another layer of suffocation, and my breaths come easier.
A black door carved with ivy and griffins waits at the top of the stairs, a coiled serpent for a knocker.
I knock twice with the serpent.
No turning back now.
Before I can second-guess myself, the door swings open.
I jolt, eyes wide as I suddenly find myself face to face with Dredyn.
Of course it’s him. He stands there, one arm braced against the doorframe, dark hair falling in disarray over his forehead.
There’s a familiar cocky glint in his eyes, as if my presence is both amusing and expected.
“Well, well,” Dredyn drawls, one corner of his mouth lifting in that maddening smirk. “Guess you just couldn’t stay away. Showed up on my doorstep and everything.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for Jasper, not you.”
He steps aside, letting me slip past him into the entryway. “He got held up by his professor. But come on in before Milo sees you.” He looks out the door and closes it behind me.
Inside, the light is low, thanks to a few amber sconces on dark wood walls.
To my left, a living room sprawls with worn leather couches and a rug that’s seen better decades.
The fireplace mantel is crowded with mismatched books and empty liquor bottles.
Old photos of grinning frat boys line the walls, placed in mismatched photo albums.
One cracked wooden plaque catches my eye—the emblem of a Hydra. The Omega Chi symbol.
I’ve stopped just inside the door without realizing it, gripping my bag strap tight. Dredyn moves in behind me, close enough that the hair on my neck lifts. His hands hover over my hips, not quite touching me.
“Careful—” he murmurs, his breath grazing my ear.
A sharp, high-pitched meow cuts him off.
I turn toward the sound, my pulse skipping. Perched on the arm of a battered velvet chair is a tiny black kitten, head cocked, yellow eyes fixed on me.
“Cosmo?” I breathe, taking a tentative step closer.
At the sound of the name, the kitten cocks its head. It is him—the same scrawny black kitten I found in a bush a couple weeks ago. “Hey, baby,” I whisper, reaching out a hand.
Before I can touch the kitten, Dredyn’s voice rumbles softly behind me. “I call him Ghost,” he says. “Cosmo was a shit name.”
The kitten—Ghost—leans into my hand as I stroke his head, purring like a tiny engine. I blink rapidly, because of course I’m not about to cry in front of him.
Ghost is here.
He’s safe.
He’s not rotting in a shelter cage like I’ve imagined every night since I left him.
“You… adopted him…”
“Yeah.” He’s still behind me, still close, but there’s no humor in him now. “You wanted him.”
“So, you do have a heart after all?” I ask, trying for sarcasm to keep my balance.
His jaw flexes, but his voice stays steady. “No. I decided what’s yours doesn’t end up in a cage. I don’t care about him. I care that you cared about the furball… He stinks, by the way.”
My grip tightens on the kitten, his tiny heartbeat fluttering against my palm. Ghost squirms, and I crouch to set him gently back on the chair, my hand lingering between his ears. “Guess I should say thank you.”
“You should, but that would mean you don’t hate me as much as you want to.”
I finally stand and face him. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t hide behind that smug armor he wears like skin. And somehow, that unsettles me more than any of his usual games.
“Kitchen’s this way,” he says at last, turning toward the archway without waiting to see if I’ll follow.
With a lingering glance at Ghost, who has curled into a tiny black ball on the chair, I follow Dredyn down the hall.
I hover by the doorway, not sure what to do with myself. Dredyn strolls to an old fridge plastered with faded band stickers. He pulls out a couple of water bottles and nods toward the table. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I perch on the edge of one of the wooden chairs, setting my bag down. My posture is rigid, knees pressed together, hands folded tightly in my lap. I can’t help it; every cell in my body is on high alert.
After a moment, he steps over and sets the second bottle of water on the table in front of me. Instead of walking away, he pulls out the chair opposite me and drops into it, stretching out his long legs.
Dredyn sprawls across from me. “So, how’s Daddy Dearest?”
I twist the cap off my water bottle just to have something to do. “He’s furious. But fine.”
“Furious, huh? I wonder why.”
“You know… I can’t stand you.”
“You could stand me just fine were choking down beer for me. Then you went and ground on Talon like our goddamn whore.”
My stomach lurches, heat crawling up my neck. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” His smirk widens. “Don’t remind myself how much it pissed me off to watch you on his lap? You think I don’t know how fucking wet you were for him?”
“Stop it.” I shove my chair back, the legs screeching. “That wasn’t me. You forced that drink on me, Dredyn. And Talon—”
“And Talon, what?” He rises, closing the space between us until the table presses into my hips. “Talon got a taste of what I already knew—that you’re not Daddy’s perfect little princess. You’re ours. You’ve been ours since the second you let me touch you.”
My heart hammers. “My father told me to end it, with all of you. He said I’m done.”
Dredyn cages me in with his arms on either side of me, mouth just shy of mine. His voice is a low growl. “End it? Hellcat, you’re not ending a damn thing. We’re corrupting you, and you get off on it. You’re already too far gone to crawl back into that cage he built for you.”
My throat works, but no words come.
He dips his head closer, his breath hot against my ear. “You hate us for it, you hate yourself for it, but your pussy craves it.”
His eyes lock on mine, sharp and burning. “You’re ours, Mara. And no campaign, no Daddy, no golden-boy fiancé is going to want you after we’re through with you”
I open my mouth to tell him to back off, to shove him away, but my body moves slower than my thoughts. His hand slides up my thigh, heat searing through the fabric of my skirt, and my breath stutters.
“Dredyn—”
“Shh.” His palm presses higher, thumb dragging over the crease where thigh meets hip, and my breath stutters like a traitor.
“Get up on this table and spread those legs so I can see that sweet little cunt you’ve been hiding from me.”
I should slap him.
Instead, my body obeys before my brain catches up, hips sliding back until my ass hits the edge of the table, the cold wood shocking through my skirt. I hoist myself up, heart slamming against my ribs so hard I swear he can see it.
“Feet up, legs wide. Show me what Daddy’s perfect princess keeps under these good girl skirts.”
My face is on fire, but my thighs part like they’ve been waiting for his command their whole life. Skirt bunched at my waist, black lace panties soaked and clinging, I plant my heels on the table edge—spread obscenely, just like he ordered.
Why am I doing this? Why is the shame making me wetter?
Dredyn’s eyes go black. He steps between my knees, big hands locking around my thighs and yanking them wider until the muscles burn.
He steps closer, his fingers sliding up my inner thigh.
“You know what your daddy and golden-boy brother hate about us, Hellcat?” He places his hand on my thigh, dragging my skirt up higher on my thigh.
“It’s not the fights, or the arrests, or the Syndicate.
It’s that we take whatever the fuck we want. And right now, I want this.”
My knees twitch inward, but his hands are already there, gripping them, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh until I ease them apart again.
“You could walk away right now—go back to your dorm, go play the good little daughter until Daddy marries you off. Or I can show you a whole new world.”
He hooks two fingers in the crotch of my panties and rips them to the side. Cool air hits slick, swollen skin and I jolt, a broken sound slipping out.
“Look at that pretty virgin pussy,” he says. His fingertips trace lazily over the outside of my pussy, not quite touching my clit, making my hips shift in silent pleas.
“You wet for me, Hellcat?”
“No,” I breathe, even as his fingers slide through the proof.
He chuckles, the sound dark and satisfied. “Liar.”
One thick finger drags through my folds, collecting the mess I’ve made, and he brings it to my lips. “Open.”
I do. God help me, I do. He shoves it into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue so I taste myself.
“Suck it clean, Hellcat. Taste how fucking filthy you are for me.”
He pulls out with a wet pop and immediately wraps that same hand around my throat, his thumb pressing right over my pulse. Not enough to cut off my air, just enough to remind me who’s in control.
My pussy clenches around nothing and I hate myself for it.
“You confused, baby?” he taunts, reading my face like a book.
“Wondering why your innocent little body is creaming for the guy you swear you hate?” He squeezes my throat harder, forcing my eyes to his.
“Because you were made for this—made to be our dirty secret. Made to take Omega Chi cock until the only thing left of Daddy’s good girl is how good you take my cum. ”
He smirks, pushing his fingers inside me without warning. The stretch burns so good my back arches off the table.
“Look at you.” He laughs, dark and cruel. “Choking on my hand while your pussy tries to milk my fingers. You’re not a Black anymore, Mara, you’re OCK’s needy little cumslut and you’re gonna come just from being told what you are.”
I shake my head before I can stop myself, heat flooding my cheeks.
He works me harder, faster, the sound of my slick filling the air. My thighs try to close, but his shoulders block me, his hand on my neck keeping me exactly where he wants me.
“You feel that? That’s OCK, sweetheart. That’s what they’re so scared of. We get inside, we stay there, and we don’t give you back.”
“Please—” I don’t even know what I’m begging for.
“Please what, whore?” He presses his thumb to my clit, circling hard. “Please choke me harder? Please don’t stop? Please remind me I’m nothing but a wet hole for you and your brothers?”
Another broken cry. My hips buck shamelessly into his hand.
“That’s it,” he growls, squeezing my throat until black spots dance in my vision. “Come all over the fingers that own you. Do it right here where Jasper eats his fucking cereal, so every time you sit at this table you remember how easily you spread for me.”
The orgasm barrels through me like a freight train. My whole body locks, pussy spasming around his fingers, a gush of wet soaking his hand and the table beneath me. He doesn’t let up, dragging it out until I’m sobbing.
When he finally releases my throat I suck in air like I’ve been drowning. He pulls his fingers free, glistening with me, and paints my own release across my swollen lips.
I’m ruined.
And the worst part?
I’ve never felt more alive.