Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Eve
This whole thing is deranged. Is Christian seriously going through with this? Or is this just another game? Honestly, with Christian, it’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t.
The living room is large enough to hold everyone as they form a circle around Christian and Aidan. They square up, facing each other, Aidan punching the air to warm up.
Oh, God. Aidan is huge.
Okay, now I’m starting to get nervous. What happens if Aidan actually wins? Will Christian just hand me off to him? I mean, he did seem nice, but…
Jesus. I suddenly feel nauseous.
Jackson claps as he enters the circle. “The only rule…” he says, walking the perimeter. “...Is that there are no rules.”
Aidan circles Christian, sweat already beading on his temples. Christian flexes his hands, then curls them into fists. Ugh , I hate him. But I also don’t hate him, which has me all twisted up.
I hate his arrogant smirk, his harsh words, the way he looks at me like I’m his property…but what he does to my body—that’s not a guy who’s entirely self-absorbed. He sees me in a way no one ever has, and that’s confusing as fuuuck.
After circling each other for about thirty seconds like absolute barbarians, Jackson calls out, “Go!” and Aidan strikes out with his right fist so quickly that Christian barely dodges it. Everyone roars.
My God, I can’t watch this. Both guys are muscular, but Aidan is a beast. His muscles bulge under his t-shirt, biceps easily the size of my head. Just one well-placed punch from an arm like that could be deadly.
Another frenzy of punches, and Christian staggers back, his shoulder hitting the wall. My nails dig into my palms. “Fuck,” I whisper, feeling a little dizzy now. I really want to look away, but I can’t. It’s like watching a derailed train careening wildly over a cliff.
I’m horrified, but also oddly fascinated…
Aidan closes in, landing a brutal body shot. One hit, two, three, and suddenly Christian is doubled over, spitting blood onto the rug. I don’t realize I’m biting my own lip until I taste copper.
Time slows as Christian straightens. And when he does, there’s something in his eyes I’ve never seen before—something feral. He launches himself at Aidan, tackling all 300 pounds to the ground. They both hit the floor hard, the back of Aidan’s skull hitting the hardwood with a heavy thud . There’s a collective gasp.
A thick layer of blood coats the wood floor as Aidan tries to get up, but Christian punches him savagely, knocking him back down. Then he punches him again, and again. It takes both Jackson and Ash to pull him off.
Aidan is lying on the floor, so still that, for a second, I think he might be dead. Seconds tick by—ten, maybe—before he moans, and relief washes over me.
Thank God, he’s alive.
Christian is bloody, breathless, and he looks up at the stunned crowd, who have all taken a collective step back, afraid of being his next target. His gaze swings to me.
Holy fuck.
My own hand is curled around my throat now, heart pumping, as I watch Christian move toward me. There’s a cut across his left cheek, and blood is dripping from his bruised knuckles. I try to ignore the twinge between my thighs, but seeing him like this—bloodied, his pale eyes wild—I can’t deny how unbelievably hot it is.
Fuck if I’m admitting that to him, though.
As he moves closer, heat blooms in my cheeks, and there’s a distinct flutter in my stomach, like a million hummingbirds working overtime, and it confuses the hell out of me.
There’s something wrong with me. I mean, clinically. I just watched Christian beat the shit out of someone for no reason. The blood, the violence, the savagery…
It was intense.
And now all that savage energy is focused on me.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, stepping back as he approaches.
“He wanted what’s mine.” He runs a hand through his hair, the dampness causing his usual blond waves to curl. “I mean, fuck, he crossed a line.”
I blink at him. He crossed a line? Christian is the one who started all this.
“I thought that’s what this whole thing was about,” I say. “Offering me up to the guys.”
“Eh.” He glances away, and I catch something like confusion cross his face. Great, that makes two of us. “Things change.”
Um, okay?
“What things?”
His eyes lock with mine, and he searches my face for a second before saying, “Now no one touches you…except for me.”
There’s a shift in him. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
“Why do you care?” I ask, swallowing past the dryness in my throat.
“I don’t know,” he admits, the raw honesty in his voice catching me off guard. I’ve never heard him sound uncertain before. “I shouldn’t.”
The moment hangs in the air between us for a split second before something in his expression hardens, like he realizes he’s revealed too much. The mask slips back into place—that cold, calculating look I’ve come to recognize.
“But what I do know,” he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous tone that sends shivers down my spine, “is that I need to make sure everyone understands exactly who you belong to.”
He steps closer, and I can smell the metallic tang of blood mixed with his pine scent. His hand moves to my waist, his fingers digging in.
“And the best way to make a point in this place…” His eyes darken as they rake over my body. “Is to make sure they all see it.”
My pulse races when I realize what he’s planning. Part of me wants to run, to fight against whatever twisted demonstration he’s about to perform. But there’s another part—a part I’m desperately trying to ignore—that’s drawn to this darkness in him like a moth to flame.
“Christian—” I start, but he’s already grabbing my arm, pulling me toward the pool table.
“Spread your legs,” he orders.
I glance around the room. People are still watching us, curious to see what he’ll do next. Blinking up at him, I shake my head. “No.”
“No?” That smirk returns. “You don’t get to tell me no, Eve.”
The easiest thing to do would be to give him what he wants. But if I spread my legs now, he’ll know exactly how that disgusting display affected me.
Then what’s he going to do?
…if I catch you lying to me, I’ll have no choice but to punish you.
He reaches under my skirt, and before I can even ask myself what I’m doing, I place my hands on his bloodied shirt, fingers splayed, and shove him back. He only shifts about an inch, but it’s enough for me to get away.
With my pulse thundering in my ears, I pivot sharply to the right and burst through the French doors that lead out to the back yard, the cool night air stinging my hot skin.
“Hey!” a voice calls out. Not Christian’s. One of the security guys, maybe.
But I just keep running. Where? To the beach? I don’t know. All I know is that I need to get as far away from Christian as possible or I’ll do something I’ll really regret—like let him fuck me.
Legs pumping, I get halfway across the yard before I’m tackled by a gorilla from behind. Three hundred pounds of pure muscle knocks the air right out of my lungs and pins me down on the wet grass.
The gorilla rolls off me quickly and yanks me up by my arm. It’s one of the security guys. I’m gasping, trying to pull my arm out of his vice-like grip, but it only makes him clamp down harder.
Christian saunters up, like he has all the time in the world. “Thanks, Diaz. I’ve got it from here,” he says, gaze locked on me.
“You got it, Boss.”
I yank my arm out of his grip at the same time he releases me and walks away. “Asshole!” I call after him, even though I know he’s just doing his job. Still, was a full-on tackle really necessary? That takedown felt personal.
“Going somewhere?” Christian asks, and there’s a look in his eye. It’s the same feral gleam that was in his eyes when he was stalking Aidan earlier—a wolf circling its prey.
My breathing is heavy, and I swallow, taking a step back, then another, my bare feet sinking into the wet lawn. “Stay away from me,” I say.
Fear has me by the throat, and it’s squeezing—but not fear that he’ll hurt me. Somehow, I know he won’t. Not really. It’s the fear that I’m losing myself to Christian West. I already feel it—the crazy chemistry between us, that gravitational pull whenever I’m in his orbit.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Why am I feeling like this? And for a Sacred-fucking-Son, no less.
Every step I retreat, he advances. His bloodied face is hard, determined, and that predatory gaze is locked on me. “You think you can run from me, Eve?”
I consider that for a half-second. He has long, muscular legs, but I’m lighter…maybe faster. Where would I run to? It must be two in the morning. Every building on campus is locked up tight.
“I don’t—” Shaking my head, I take another step back, then another.
“Campus is that way,” he says, flicking his chin. “Lots of places to hide. You may actually have a chance of getting away from me.” He pauses. “Well, temporarily, anyway.”
I glance in that direction. Is it a trap? Knowing him, it probably is.
“If I get away, what happens to my brother?” I ask.
He shrugs one shoulder. “What happens, happens.”
“You’ll kill him,” I supply.
“What makes you think we wouldn’t kill him anyway?”
There it is. The truth, for once. And exactly why it’s so important, I find something on the Sacred Sons that I can use as leverage. Each day that goes by, that need gets more and more urgent.
His expression is blank, patiently waiting for my response.
I lift my chin. “I’m not running.”
Frowning, he almost looks disappointed. “That’s surprising. I would have put money on you booking it out of here.”
Does he want me to leave? Why do I feel hurt by that?
“We made a deal, right?” I answer.
“Well, then, I guess we have something we need to settle, don’t we?”
My clit twitches as he steps closer, but I don’t move this time. Shoulders back, spine straight, I endure the humiliation of his hand slipping under my skirt, pulling the crotch of my panties aside. His fingers tease my slit, stroking my pussy lips.
“Well, damn,” he drawls out, amusement infused in his tone. “You’re so wet, I’m not even sure I’d get traction.” He pushes one long finger past my folds, into my channel. “I guess I’ll just have to drive it in deeper.”
Another pulse from my dumb whore of a clit.
“Maybe it’s from the security guy tackling me,” I snap. I can’t let him think he’s won. “He is pretty hot.”
That amusement in his eyes is instantly chased away by anger. He glares down at me and pushes his finger in as far as it’ll go, cupping my pussy with the palm of his hand. “I see what you’re doing, Eve, and you’d better be careful. I’m not normally the jealous type, but with you...”
“What do you care?” I ask again, my voice catching. “You were just about to hand me over to some other guy, anyway…”
I wasn’t planning on bringing that up again, because in the end, what does it matter which one of these assholes “owns” me? I’m not sticking around long anyway. But I guess it does matter on some level, because when I said that just now, my voice caught and wobbled.
I’m beyond help at this point—because why is the thought of being discarded by Christian so upsetting to me? I shouldn’t care.
That amusement in his voice is back. “ Aw , were you scared, baby?” he says mockingly. He removes his finger from my slit and places it on his tongue, slowly and deliberately licking my juices off. “Don’t worry. Aidan wasn’t going to win.”
“You couldn’t have known you’d win,” I hiss.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Aidan is a big guy, but he’s also dumb as fuck. I knew I could take him.”
I scowl at him. “So, what, you just did all that for show?”
Tilting his head to the side, he pulls his teeth over his bottom lip, his gaze flicking over my face. “Everything is a show in this world, Eve. We’re all just players, acting out our parts.”
The statement makes me pause. What does he mean by that? But before I can ask, he continues, “And your part is doing what I say, when I say it.”
My ego bristles at that statement. I’ve always hated being bossed around—it’s one of the reasons my aunt and I never really got along. Only my brother has been able to do it with a small degree of success—and even then, not really. More often than not, I do what I want, regardless.
Right now, though, I don’t have much choice but to do what I’m told. For now. “Fine.”
With a self-satisfied smile, he hauls me back through the French doors and into the living room. Most of the guests are enjoying the party, but there are still several people watching us closely as we walk in.
Christian doesn’t seem to notice as he pushes me against the pool table and yanks my shirt up, exposing my breasts. I stiffen, fighting the urge to cover myself. But his earlier words echo in my head— You do what I say, when I say it.
This is a test, I realize.
And fighting him would give him an excuse to kick me out, which can’t happen. I have to do what I came here to do, no matter the cost to my pride.
“How should I punish you for lying to me earlier, hm?” he asks, his thumbs brushing over my sensitive nipples, causing them to tighten into hard peaks. “Would spanking get the message across, you think?”
It’s an impossible question to answer—because if I say yes , then he may actually do it, and if I say no, then he might choose something even more humiliating. So I reach for the safe answer. “I’ve learned my lesson,” I mumble.
“Really?” He slaps my left breast, making me wince. “Because I don’t think you have.”
I open my mouth to say something—I don’t even know what—but my words are cut off when he flips me around and pins me down so I’m bent over the pool table, my left cheek pressed against the green felt.
Humiliation burns hot in my chest, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. He’s doing this in front of everyone , and all I can do is bite my tongue and pray it ends quickly. If I say anything, or fight back in any way, I know he’ll use it as an excuse to prolong this…
It takes literally every ounce of determination I have, but I don’t respond as he shoves my skirt up over my hips and exposes my ass to the room. I’m still wearing panties, thank God, so I’m not completely vulnerable—unless he decides to remove those, too.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch from my peripheral vision as Christian approaches a guy holding a cue, who’s watching this whole thing with stunned curiosity, just like everyone else.
“I need that,” Christian says, holding his hand out. The guy hands the cue over without even a beat of hesitation. “Thanks.”
Smoothing one hand over the globes of my ass, Christian grips the pool cue with the other. From the corner of my eye, I can see his bicep flex as he repositions his grip on the polished wooden cue. “Why are you receiving this punishment, Eve? Tell the people.”
The music has been turned off, so the room is oddly silent, like everyone here is collectively holding their breath, waiting to see what happens next.
“For lying to you,” I choke out, trying hard not to cry.
“I couldn’t hear you.”
“For lying to you,” I say, just a fraction louder.
“That’s right,” he replies, and without a word of warning, he brings the stick down hard, causing white-hot pain to explode across my skin. The thin barrier of my panties does absolutely nothing to dampen the blow, and a sob is ripped from my throat before I can stop it.
Squeezing my eyelids shut, I only have a few seconds to adjust to the searing pain before another blow, then another in quick succession. Three in total.
When it’s all over, my hands are gripping the thick wooden frame of the pool table, tears flowing freely down my face. My ass is on fire, but it’s my pride that’s suffered the most painful blow. Humiliated doesn’t even begin to touch what I’m feeling right now…
I’m lying there like that for several seconds, trying to catch my breath, when Christian grabs my arm and flips me back around, so I’m standing, but leaning back against the pool table, facing him. The wood against my ass makes me wince, but he doesn’t seem to care. I pull my shirt down to cover my breasts, preserving the microscopic amount of pride I still have left.
Reaching up, he brushes the pad of his thumb across my cheek, smoothing my tears away. “There, now I’m convinced you’ve learned your lesson.”
Judging by the bulge in the crotch of his designer jeans, he’s turned on by this power-play. Fucking lunatic.
“I hate you,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I know, baby,” he says with a smile. “But I’m going to fuck you anyway…”