Chapter 17
ACHILLES
“So, Aunt Neve found out about your little cabin?” Lochlan asks me over the rim of his pint glass before he takes a sip.
But who knows.
This is still one of my favorite spots to escape reality whenever I’m in town.
It’s right on Commercial Street, across from the fisherman’s wharf and the piers that jut out over the harbor, so there’s always something interesting to look at through the dusty, wrought-iron windows.
It’s old, weathered, creaky, totally unpretentious, and most importantly, people leave you the fuck alone.
Hawthorne Hollow is small and quaint, but with a working waterfront. The bar is slow tonight: typically it's full of fisherman and lobsterman who want a cold beer, a hefty pour of whiskey, and no one to bother them at the end of their day.
Aka, my kind of place.
“She sure did,” I grunt as I take a gulp of beer.
“How’d that go?”
I give him a look. “How did Neve Kildare take it when she found out her darling son owned an off-grid murder cabin in the woods? Take a wild guess.”
He grimaces. “Fuck, sorry bro.” He shrugs. “Could have been worse, though.”
“Oh? How?”
Lochie cocks a brow. “It could have been my murder cabin in the woods. Then we'd really have something to worry about.”
I smile wryly and clink my glass to his as a dark look crosses his face. “If you'd inherited O’Conor's crazy, Loch, we’d know by now.”
He grimaces and takes a heavy pull from his beer.
We kid around about it from time to time, but I know it truly does worry him.
Lochlan and I’s great grandmother was Sheila O’Conor.
Aka, Seamus O’Conor’s sister.
Which means Lochlan and I, along with Ronan and Iris, are blood-related to the IRA commander turned hitman for the Irish mob, turned sociopathic mass murderer.
I’ve never really let it bother me, and I don’t think any part of who I am is because of any sort of latent “psychopath gene”. My sister and Ronan feel the same.
But Lochlan has this fixation on it. Maybe it’s because he’s the future head of the same family that Brendan, Seamus’ nephew, once helmed. It doesn’t help that he looks similar to photos of Seamus when he was our current age.
Whatever it is, though, I know sometimes it scares him to think he might have that monster lurking inside him.
“Can we please talk about something lighter?” he grunts. “Like 9/11 or the Hindenburg?”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, I got a subject change for you…”
“Literally anything else.”
“How’s your reading list going?” I grin. “You still on sexy billionaires, or have you moved on to werewolves and—”
“I’m going to shove this pint glass up your ass.”
I laugh. “Is that the latest trending BookTok kink?”
Lochie glares at me as he drains his beer and then lifts the glass eye-level. “Lube up, buddy. I’m going to go piss, then this is going in.”
I chuckle as he puts the glass down, claps me on the shoulder, then flips me off as he heads to the men’s room.
I’m debating grabbing one more beer for the road when Lochlan's phone, which he's left behind, dings on the bar next to me and a message pops up.
Smart-Tag Alert:
Tracker in motion.
The fuck?
The phone dings again.
Smart-Tag Alert:
Subject moving at walking speed within parameter zone.
I’d say I’m not one to snoop, but…well, who am I kidding.
Of course I'm one to snoop. I also know Lochlan’s password is 69420 because he’s Lochlan.
With the phone unlocked, I tap on the message again, which brings up the Smart-Tag Tracker App. I peer curiously at the screen as it loads a map of the Knightsblood campus, with a blinking blue dot moving across the quad toward Roche Lecture Hall.
A hand abruptly snatches the phone away.
“If you were looking for my nudes, you could just ask,” Lochlan smirks at me. “I mean, weird 'cause of the cousin thing, but I’m not gonna yuck anyone’s yum—”
“Who the fuck on campus are you tracking?”
Lochlan eyes me cooly. “You sure you want to go down that path? You sure you want to start casting stones when it comes to stalking people at school—”
“Loch—”
“Are we really going to sit here and pretend I don’t know who you’ve been shadowing on campus?”
I suck on my teeth.
“Pretty sure my dad and yours were very clear on the no reprisals thing,” he mutters.
“You’re not an idiot, and you're also not the type to ignore a direct request from Ares Drakos.” He exhales.
“So that means you’re not stalking Yelena De Luca because of any revenge angle.
Which only leaves one possible conclusion—”
“You’ve made your point.”
“Have I, though?” He grins at me.
Then he sighs when I glare at him.
“Achilles, the whole point was not to rock the boat with Nero as our families negotiate an outcome to this building shit. You don’t think it’s maybe going to rock that fucking boat if Nero psychopath De Luca figures out you’re fucking his sweet daughter?”
“I’m not fucking her,” I growl.
Not yet, anyway.
That’s not because I “want to take it slow”. I wasn’t lying when I told her exactly how I want her when I claim her virginity.
Panting. Breath ragged. Skin sweat-slicked and electrified. I want to inhale the fear pheromones off her skin and devour her screams before I bury my cock in her tight, wet pussy.
“Well, whatever you are doing with Yelena,” Lochie growls, “you’re tiptoeing on thin fucking ice. Forget the business aspect. Nero De Luca is a dangerous fucking lunatic.”
“I appreciate your concern for my well-being,” I say. “But do me a favor—”
Lochlan sighs. “And stay out of it?”
“Bingo.”
He shakes his head and then stands. “All right, I've said my piece. I’m heading out, I got something to do here in town. I’ll catch up with you back at Kingsward.”
I frown. “I thought I was your ride back to campus?”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s like a mile and a half, you bougie bitch. I can walk.” He claps me on the shoulder. “And…for real, amigo. Stay away from Yelena.”
“You ready to spill who you’re Smart-Tag stalking?”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
When he’s gone, I head to the men's room myself. It being such an old building, the bathrooms are all single occupancy. They also weren't always bathrooms, because, you know, outhouses. So there’s a window in this one, though it’s been heavily frosted over with stick-on glazing for privacy.
I’m just about done pissing when I hear a familiar female voice outside the bathroom window, in the alley behind the pub.
“I told you not to follow me,” the voice murmurs.
“And I told you,” a rough male voice growls back, “not to order me around.”
“That a fact?”
“Yeah.”
My brow furrows when I hear a sharp female gasp. The glazing on the window is peeled off a little in the top corner, so I lean closer and peer into the back alley.
The man I don’t recognize, especially since his back is to me and he’s wearing a black hoodie with the hood up. But I damn well recognize the much smaller girl he’s got pinned to the wall with a hand to her throat.
My cousin, Bella.
I bolt out of the bathroom and back into the pub. The bartender curses me as I shove behind the bar, then barge through the stockroom behind it before I finally go crashing out the back door into the alley itself.
Bella looks more than slightly surprised to see me.
She’s also alone.
“Where the fuck is he?” I snarl viciously, my hand reaching into my leather jacket for the knife I’ve got stashed inside.
Bella’s brow furrows. “What?”
“Where’s the fucking guy?”
She gives me a curious look, tucking a lock of dyed jet-black hair behind her ear. “What fucking guy?”
“The asshole you were trying to get away from.”
Her heavily shadowed eyes pull to furious slits.
“Were you fucking spying on me?”
“Bella, there was a man with his hand—”
She starts to laugh.
My jaw grinds. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
A pink stain creeps over her cheeks. “Ever heard of a private life, Achilles?”
“What the fuck are you—” I shake my head. “That motherfucker had his hand around your—”
“Well, cousin,” she sighs. “Sometimes, when a boy and girl like each other, they realize that the ways they might enjoy expressing that like for each other might involve something besides pink roses and butterfly kisses.”
She smiles at me, arching her brows significantly.
Fuck.
“Got it,” I growl quietly, grimacing.
Bella snickers, folding her arms over her chest. “Any other questions?”
She’s rocking her usual Wednesday Addams vibe, of course: black V-neck sweater over a high-collar white shirt, black skirt over black leggings, black boots.
Just as I’m about to apologize again for almost butting in on her and her mystery guy, a mark at the edge of her collar catches my eye.
“Bella.” My brow furrows. “You have blood on your neck.”
Her hand flies up to where I’m pointing. She runs a finger over her throat and pulls her hand back, examining the smear of red for a moment.
Then she starts to laugh.
“Fuck, Achilles,” she exhales. “You actually freaked me out for a second.” She grins as she raises her hand to my eyes. “It’s paint, you psycho. I do one of those paint your own pottery things here in town once a week.”
I’m fucking losing it.
Bella giggles as I hang my head and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Sorry, I…” I give her a sheepish look. “Just on edge, I guess.”
“Well, it must be exhausting be the King of Knightsblood,” she grins.
I roll my eyes. “You want a ride to campus? I’m about to head back.” I smirk. “You can even invite your mystery man, but I gotta see his face before he gets in the car.”
Bella giggles and shakes her head. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. I’ve got something to do here in town still.”
I tell her to be careful, then head to where I parked my Range Rover a few streets over.
I don't make it far before she catches my eye.
…My current fascination.
I can’t quite make out the expression on Yelena’s face as she stands alone in the small parking lot next to the closed Elvira’s Café, a single dim streetlight glowing down on her.
It’s times like this that I do worry about having the same kind of blood in me that Lochlan worries about.
Because when I look at her, standing there alone in the dark, lit only by the ghostly glow of a fading streetlight, I don't just see her as beautiful.
Or sexy. Or alluring. Or even interesting.
I see her as prey.
Sweet, delicious, blood-igniting, cock-swelling prey.
My prey, to be exact.
I slink into the shadows, my pulse quickening and senses sharpening as the hunter inside me comes alive. I creep across the street, moving against the side of another darkened building as I draw closer, ready to pounce.
To devour her.
To swallow her fucking whole and feast on her screams.
But just as I’m about to round the corner, I realize she’s talking to someone.
“Kyle—”
My blood turns cold.
“You know what I think, Yelena?”
God fucking dammit, it is Kyle.
“I think you like having this between us. It’s why you can’t let it go.”
Lethal violence erupts inside me, rampaging through my system like a barbarian horde.
We hooked up. She was okay, I guess. But then she got clingy, you know?
I didn’t know. Or maybe I wanted to pretend that was Kyle twisting the facts to make himself look like a stud.
But here I am, watching it play out in real time.
She’s talking to him, alone at night, in a quiet side street of a romantic little seaside town. Kyle has a reason to be in Hawthorne Hollow tonight. He fucking lives and has an office here.
Yelena, on the other hand, has no reason to be here.
Or maybe she does. Maybe I’m looking at it right the fuck now.
Maybe the whole time I’ve been obsessing over her, she’s been doing the same thing.
…But not to me.
Suddenly, I see the scene for what it is.
I see a girl who hooked up with a guy, who then moved on. And now she's pathetically trying to get him to look at her again.
I take a quick glance around the corner, my jaw cracking as it grinds tightly. Venom flows through my veins as I look at her facing Kyle, her back to me. I can't quite make out everything they're saying, but I clearly see the motherfucker sigh and shake his head, even though it's dark.
“You came that night. So eagerly, too.”
I don’t realize how hard I’ve been gripping the copper downspout of the building I’m lurking behind until it starts to bend beneath my fingers.
“I know you're still thinking about that night. About me. That's why you're still here talking to me.”
Kyle smiles coldly at her, shaking his head at her silence.
Her pathetic silence.
“Don’t come here looking for me again, Yelena,” he sighs. “You and I have nothing more to talk about, and this conversation is over.”
He turns and walks away.
She just stands there, her whole body caved in on itself.
A shadow under the dim glow of a lonely streetlight.
I stand there a moment longer, watching her.
Throbbing from the wrath swirling in my veins.
She still wants him.
For a fraction of a second, it’s almost enough to make me turn my back on whatever this is that I’ve started to engage in with her and walk away.
But then I remember I’m a motherfucking Drakos.
I don’t walk away. I don’t retreat.
I fucking conquer, pillage, burn, and subjugate, like a goddamn King.
Fuck Kyle. Fuck her, too. But mostly fuck whatever she thinks she still wants with that motherfucker.
It’s over between them.
She’s already unequivocally, irreparably, irredeemably mine.
And I think it’s time to show her again exactly what that fucking means.