20. Twenty
TWENTY
WRENLY
I tried to speak, wanting to ask him what the hell was going on, but every time I glanced in his direction, his knuckles were white on the steering wheel and his jaw was clenched in frustration. The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional whoosh of a passing car. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, but I could tell his mind was racing, grappling with whoever this Igor creep was. I was desperate for answers but too afraid to break his concentration. His stony expression made it clear he wasn’t ready to talk about it.
As the miles ticked by and the New York skyline came into view, the tension in the car grew thicker. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to say something, anything to break the suffocating silence.
“What’s going on? Who was that Igor guy?”
Theo didn’t respond. His eyes remained glued to the road, his grip on the wheel unwavering.
“Theo, please,” I pleaded.
Just when I thought he wasn’t going to answer, he let out a heavy sigh. “He’s a ghost from my past. Someone I never thought I’d have to deal with again.”
I waited for him to continue, but he fell silent once more. The cryptic response only fueled my curiosity and fear .
“What does he want from me ?” I pressed.
His jaw clenched tighter, and for a second, I figured he was done with the conversation. But then he spoke, his words measured and careful.
“It’s complicated,” he said, his eyes flicking to mine briefly before returning to the road. “Let’s just say that Igor and I have some unfinished business. Business that, I thought, died with him.”
The way he said it sent a chill down my spine.
“Unfinished business?”
“Died with him?”
What does this have to do with me?
The car lurched as Theo swerved to avoid a pothole, the sudden movement jolting me out of my thoughts. I gripped the edge of my seat, my heart racing. The city loomed ahead, the bright lights a stark contrast to the darkness that seemed to envelop us.
“‘Died with him?’” I repeated, my voice barely audible. “What do you mean?”
Theo’s green eyes met mine, and I saw a flicker of something in their depths. Fear? Regret? Sadness? I wasn’t sure. But then he looked away, focusing on the road once more.
“I thought he was dead,” he said. His voice was low and rough. “I saw him die years ago. I watched him disappear under the water.”
The car slowed as he exited the highway, the tires crunching over gravel as he pulled into a dimly lit gas station. He turned off the engine and sat there momentarily, staring straight ahead. Then he turned to face me, his expression grim.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said. “Igor is a monster. He’s the rabid dog loyal to some of the most dangerous individuals in New York that they unleash when they want someone to suffer. He’s the judge, jury, and executioner for The Collectors—the epitome of evil. He thrives on torture and violence, a twisted version of justice in the eyes of The Collectors. He is the one they send in when they need information. He won’t stop until he gets the information he needs, and then he will still torture you because he gets off on it.”
I felt my blood run cold. The Collectors? Torture? I was just a normal girl living a normal life. At least, I’d thought I was .
“I-I don’t understand,” I stuttered. “What does any of this have to do with me? What could Igor or The Collectors want with me? I’m not important.”
Theo ran a hand through his hair. “You’re important to me.” His words hung in the air between us. He must have sensed my confusion because he sighed deeply as his shoulders sagged, as if the weight of the world rested upon them, then reached over to take my hand. His touch was warm and reassuring, but I could feel the tension thrumming through his body. “I can’t say for sure, but it’s probably not you they’re after, not directly at least. It’s me. They want something from me. He wants something from me.”
“What could you possibly have that they want so badly?”
He stared at me like he was deep in thought, contemplating what words to speak next. “My life.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What? I’m sorry, but I’m either way too drunk, or I swear you just said your life.”
He turned away, and his gaze became distant. “No one ever escaped Igor . . . until me.”
“Oh my god.” I gasped. The horrifying truth sank in as I pieced together the broken fragments of Theo’s declaration. The scars that adorned his body, the ones I’d traced with gentle fingers in the intimate moments we’d shared, suddenly took on a new, sinister meaning. I understood why they were covered by tattoos of gothic architecture and scenes of ensuing battles between angels and demons—they were a testament to the unspeakable horrors he had endured at the hands of Igor and The Collectors. My mind reeled with questions, but I couldn’t find the words to voice them.
“Theo . . .” I whispered as my voice trembled. “I didn’t know.”
He shook his head as a rueful smile tugged at his lips. “Not many do. It’s a part of my life I’ve tried to bury. To forget. But it seems the past has a way of catching up with you, no matter how far you run. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw with emotion.
I nodded; my throat was too tight to speak. Theo reached over and gently cupped my face in his hand, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen down my cheek. Swallowing hard, I leaned into his touch, suddenly feeling nauseous and exhausted. The exhaustion seeped into my bones and settled there like a lead weight, dragging me down into a dark abyss of fear and uncertainty.
“Please take me home, Theo,” I said, unsure how I felt. I just wanted to go home.
He hesitated for a second, his eyes searching mine with a pained expression. Then he nodded slowly and started the car back up, pulling out of the gas station and onto the empty street.
The drive to my townhouse was a blur, with city lights streaking past the windows in a dizzying kaleidoscope. My mind reeled as I tried to process everything Theo had revealed and everything I knew about him and his life. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, one where the monsters were all too real.
When we finally arrived at my house, he walked me to the door without a word. It was only as I fumbled with my keys that he gently touched my shoulder.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said, his voice calm. “Lock your door and don’t let anyone in, no matter what. If you need me, call me.”
I nodded mutely, my throat too tight to speak. He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly before turning to leave. “I won’t let anything else happen to you, Wrenly. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. “I know.”
“I’ll be outside for a bit while I wait for someone to come pick me up. Double-check that all the windows and doors are locked and the alarm is set.”
I watched him walk away, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. I quickly unlocked my door and stepped inside, checking the locks and setting the alarm with trembling fingers. The soft beep as it engaged sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness.
The silence of my townhouse was oppressive, broken only by the pounding of my heart in my ears. I leaned against the door, trying desperately to steady my breathing and calm my thoughts. But staring into the dark, I was scared. Every creak and groan swirled together in a dizzying, terrifying blur.
And then it hit me.
Theo was my safe place .
I didn’t know when it had happened, but it had. Did it really matter that he had put cameras in my house to watch me? Was I upset that he’d done it, or was I more upset that he’d watched me instead of coming and touching me the way I’d needed to be touched? Deep down, I loved every corner of his dark heart. In a twisted way, it thrilled me to know he’d been watching—that he wanted me so badly, he couldn’t stay away. I loved knowing he craved me in the shadows, that I was the one thing that kept him tethered to the light. I needed him now more than ever.
I rushed back to the door, fumbling with the alarm and the locks in haste. I flung it open and ran outside, scanning the street for him. He was there, leaning against my car, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked up, startled as I stood there on the porch.
“Wren? What’s wrong?” He flicked the cigarette away, and his thick, dark brow furrowed with concern.
I stood frozen, my heart hammering in my chest as his beautiful green eyes bored into mine, searching for an answer. The cool night air swirled around us, and with it, the faint scent of his cigarette. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat.
How could I tell him that I needed him and craved his touch and all-consuming presence, even in the face of everything he’d told me? How could I admit that the thought of being without him was more frightening than any threat from Igor or The Collectors?
He took a step toward me. His movements were slow and cautious, as if he were approaching a skittish animal. “Wren, talk to me. What’s going on?”
I shook my head, biting my lip as tears tumbled down my cheeks.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a deep understanding. He closed the distance between us, his strong arms enveloping me, pulling me tight against his solid chest. I breathed in his familiar scent—cigarette smoke, leather, and something else uniquely him. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his leather jacket as I buried my face in the crook of his neck. His hand cradled the back of my head as his fingers tangled in my hair.
“I’m here,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. “I’ve got you. ”
I pulled back just enough to look up, and my tear-filled eyes met his. “Don’t leave me,” I whispered.
His eyes softened. “Never,” he vowed. “Not as long as there’s breath in my body.”
His lips found mine in a searing kiss filled with desperation, threatening to consume us both. I melted into him, my hands sliding under his jacket, seeking the warmth of his skin. He groaned into my mouth as his grip on me tightened. He slid his hands under my butt and lifted me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me back into the house, kicking the door shut behind us without breaking our kiss.
He gently set me on my feet in the entryway as he let his fingers gently touch my body, as if to reassure himself that I was real, that I was here with him. I fumbled with the alarm while he reached behind himself and locked the door. Picking me back up, he navigated through the dark living room, his lips never leaving mine as he made his way up the stairs and to my bedroom. Gently, he laid me down on my bed, his body covering mine as his hands roamed over my curves with a desperate hunger.
I tugged at his jacket, needing to feel his skin against mine. He shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor before his hands found the hem of my shirt. In one swift motion, he pulled it over my head and tossed it aside. His lips trailed hot kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing at my collarbone, making me gasp.
I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, my fingers trembling with need. Finally, I pushed it off his shoulders, revealing the tattoos that covered his scarred skin. I traced them with my fingertips, marveling at the beauty born from pain.
Theo’s hands skimmed over my bare stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He unclasped my bra with deft fingers, freeing my breasts. His mouth closed over one peak as his tongue swirled around the sensitive flesh, making me arch into him with a soft moan. I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him close as his mouth showered attention on my breasts, his teeth grazing and tongue soothing until I writhed beneath him.
I needed more .
I needed all of him.
My hands slid down his back when he stood up, my nails scratching his skin as they reached the waistband of his jeans. I tugged at his belt, desperate to remove the last barrier between us. He helped me, kicking off his boots and shedding his jeans and boxers in record time.
Then he was back. His naked body pressed against mine as his lips claimed my mouth in a searing kiss. I could feel his hardness pressing insistently against my thigh, and I reached down to stroke him, reveling in the velvety steel of his length. He groaned into my mouth, his hips rocking into my touch.
“Wren,” he rasped, breaking the kiss to gaze down at me with lust-darkened eyes. “I need you.”
“Then take me,” I breathed, spreading my legs in invitation.
He settled between my thighs, the blunt head of his cock nudging at my slick entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside me, stretching and filling me so perfectly that it took my breath away. I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as he moved, his hips snapping against mine in a primal rhythm.
The world fell away until there was nothing but this—the slide of his skin against mine, the mingling of our breath, the building pressure where we were joined. I met him thrust for thrust, my hips rising to take him deeper, my inner walls clenching around his length.
“Look at me,” he commanded. His voice was rough with need.
I opened my eyes, not realizing I had closed them, and I met his gaze. At that moment, with him moving inside me, his face a mask of pure ecstasy, I had never felt more connected to another human being. It was as if our very souls were intertwined, two broken halves made whole.
“I love you,” I gasped out, the words tumbling from my lips unbidden. And I did. I loved the way he chose me. I loved the way he looked at me, like I was the only girl in the world for him. I loved how he protected me in his way, fiercely and with everything he had. “I love you, Theo.”
His rhythm faltered for a moment as his eyes widened in surprise. Then a slow, beautiful smile spread across his face, transforming his usually stern features into something breathtaking.
“I love you too, Wren,” he whispered against my lips. “More than anything in this world.”
He captured my mouth in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, pouring all his love and passion into it. His thrusts became more urgent, more demanding, driving me higher and higher toward that peak of pleasure. I could feel it building, coiling tighter and tighter in my core until it finally snapped. I cried out, my body arching off the bed as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over me. He followed me over the edge, my name a hoarse shout on his lips as he spilled himself inside me.
We clung to each other as the aftershocks of our climaxes rippled through our bodies, our chests heaving and skin slick with sweat. He rolled onto his back, pulling me with him so that I lay draped across his chest, my head tucked under his chin. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, as if he never wanted to let go. Something had shifted between us, some final barrier crumbling away to reveal the raw, vulnerable truth of our feelings.
I traced idle patterns on his chest with my fingertip, marveling at the contrast of my pale skin against his darker, ink-covered flesh. Each scar, each tattoo told a story, a piece of his past and present etched into his very being. I wanted to know them all, to unravel the mysteries of the man I loved.
“Theo?” I whispered, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Hmm?” He sounded sleepy and content, his fingers lazily threading through my hair.
I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him. In the dim light filtering through the curtains, his green eyes were soft and warm as they met mine.
“What you said earlier about Igor and The Collectors . . .” I hesitated, biting my lip. “I need you to promise me something.”
He frowned slightly, his hand stilling in my hair as he sensed the seriousness in my tone. “Anything, little bird. What is it?”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Promise me that you won’t shut me out. No more secrets, no more hiding. I’m in this with you. All the way. Whatever happens, whatever we face, we do it together.”
His eyes searched mine, a mix of emotions playing across his face—love, fear, protectiveness, and a deep, aching vulnerability. His hand came up to cup my cheek as his thumb brushed over my skin with a featherlight touch.
“Wren, I . . .” He trailed off as he struggled to find the words.
“I would burn for you if you’d just let me in,” I told him.
And I meant every word.
His eyes widened at my words, and I saw fear flicker across his face—fear for me. For what loving him could mean.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
I held his gaze, unwavering in my conviction. “I do.” I leaned down, pressing my forehead against his. “Let me love you. All of you. Every scar, every shadow, every broken piece— especially the broken pieces.”
His arms tightened around me, crushing me to his chest as if he could absorb me into himself. “I’ll try,” he whispered against my hair. “For you, I’ll try. But if it ever becomes too much . . . if my darkness threatens to swallow you whole . . . promise me you’ll walk away. Promise me you’ll save yourself.”
“I’m not afraid,” I said softly but firmly.
He closed his eyes as if my words caused him physical pain. “You should be,” he whispered hoarsely. “You have no idea the things I’ve done. The monster I can be.”
I placed my hand on his cheek and gently turned his face back to mine. “Then show me. Let me see all of you. Show me your sin, Devil.”
He stared at me for a long moment as his green eyes searched mine, searching for any hint of hesitation or fear. When he found none, he let out a shaky breath.
“Okay,” he said finally. “No more secrets, little bird. If we burn, we burn together.”