Chapter 16
Zane
The heat of Mercy’s body is overwhelming.
My thighs twitch as she settles deeper into my lap, making herself right at home.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, clenching my fists uselessly.
I’ve tried breaking out, but Kane zipped me in tight and left zero room for me to slip my wrists free.
Of all the fucked up things he’s done, this has to be the worst. The good news, if you can call it that, is that Kane might be able to pull the truth out of me, but Mercy stands no chance.
Not even when she wiggles in my lap like that.
“Stop it.” My voice snaps, making her flinch. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, determined to keep her out of my head. “Get the hell off me.”
“No.” Her voice is soft as satin, and her skin—I can’t feel it, but I can see it, and that’s damning enough.
The scarf she wore this afternoon has disappeared, along with the sweater and long sleeves.
There are bruises covering her body everywhere I look.
Each one burns like a brand, searing into my mind.
A handprint on her arm. Fingerprints dotting her neck.
A hickey just above her collarbone. I keep my eyes closed, but it doesn’t matter.
It’s too late to unsee them. The moment she walked into the room, I realized that I was doomed to suffer for my transgressions.
Those marks aren’t love bites and bruises. They were made with hate.
Hate that I put into the world.
“Look at me,” Mercy whispers, cupping my cheek.
“No,” I parrot back, nearly laughing at how ridiculous this is. God, if I’d known what Kane was planning, I would have never come to this godforsaken cabin. A vacation, he’d said. Something fun and stress free. Like anything involving Mercy is stress free.
The desire to kill her and end my suffering wars with the trembling of my heart as she brushes her knuckles over the bruise forming around my eye, courtesy of her guard dog baring his fangs.
He thinks that I’m encroaching on his territory—or he knows about the video I sent to his fraternity president—or both.
Either way, I don’t blame him for punching me.
I’d do the same—or worse—if he pulled the same stunt on Kane.
Revenge is always sweeter than the initial attack.
Even with my eyes closed, I can sense the knife in Mercy’s left hand.
She’s barely holding onto it, like she’s afraid of its power.
But if she were smart, she’d hold it to my throat and take revenge for every wicked thing I’ve done to her.
Slice right through my carotid and bathe in my blood.
I don’t think that’s Mercy’s style, though.
A pity.
If I’d had a knife last night, I could have ended things. Sadly, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I wasn’t exactly sober enough to come up with a plan. I acted on instinct, and look where it’s gotten me.
Between her thighs again.
Mercy wiggles her hips, applying pressure to my groin.
Heat builds between us, and thoughts of death quickly fly out the window.
I choke on my next breath. “Stop. It,” I grind out, clenching my teeth.
I don’t want to feel this way, like every cell in my body is boiling.
I swallow through the discomfort and finally open my eyes to glare at her for being such a—
My breath hitches as I tumble into endless amber fields, suddenly lost in the fathomless depths of her eyes. What— A choked sound catches in my throat. What is she doing?
So close.
She’s so goddamn close to me.
Her voice echoes in my head, repeating what she said last night.
Stay the fuck away from me.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
Look who can’t stay away now.
Gently cupping my cheek, Mercy removes what little distance remains between us. “Why did you do it?” she whispers, brushing the tip of her nose against mine. Her breath is soft and sweet as I breathe in, needing oxygen but tasting her instead.
Speaking pulls at my vocal cords, but I manage to rasp a response. “You’ll have to be more specific, Kitten.”
She hesitates for only a moment as she weaves her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck. “Why did you try to rape me?”
Dread coils in my gut like a serpent. “I didn’t.”
“You did.” She yanks my head back until my throat burns. “Even if it wasn’t you with your dick out, you’re the mastermind. You—” Her nails scrape my scalp. “Fucking—” Saliva flecks onto my face. “Coward.”
I stare into Mercy’s eyes, unable to look away as her anger crackles like golden lightning.
This is what I was afraid of. Her magnetism.
It latches on and pulls me in deeper despite the risk.
Despite the pain. Kane’s already addicted to her poison, and if I’m not careful, I’ll bleed to death alongside him.
“Tell me why you did it.”
I grind my teeth and wait for this nightmare to end. This is worse than what happened last night. At least then, I had the excuse of alcohol. Now, there is no barrier between my brain and my body, and it’s reacting to her touch in ways that it shouldn’t.
She frowns and digs her hips in. “Zane.”
Warmth pools in my groin. I wish she would stop saying my name.
“Zane. Tell me.”
Her body molds to mine on a sharp exhale that might as well be a moan for the shock it sends through my system.
Electrified, I tremble beneath her as she purrs in my ear and pretends that this is what she wants.
Me. I’m the last person on earth that she should be getting close to.
Sitting in my lap must be some kind of game to her.
A twisted tactic to make me reveal my secrets.
I’m sure that on the inside, she must be revolted by me.
As sick to her stomach as I am. My gaze latches onto a dark bruise on the side of her neck; a hickey, I think, and bile rises to the back of my throat.
Did Kane put it there, or was it Sam? Does it even matter which one’s at fault anymore?
A voice screams inside my head. Why do I care?
I don’t know. I don’t know! Tearing my gaze away from her, I stare blankly over her shoulder as she makes herself comfortable, pressing her tits into my chest and damn near melting in my lap. On the inside, I’m burning alive.
“Go away, Mercy,” I whisper. My body quivers like it recognizes that this is it: the end.
She’s barely touched me, and I feel like I’m dying—tearing apart at the seams so that she can take a peek at what’s inside.
If any one of us should be dubbed cruel, it’s her.
She toys with all three of us like we’re nothing but playthings for her entertainment.
To be fair, I guess we toyed with her first.
Wincing, I can’t stop the truth from tumbling out.
“I’m not good for you.” My breath hitches on the word I.
Surely, I meant we. We’re not good for her.
Kane or me or Sam. We pretend to have her best interests at heart, but the reality is that every one of us is selfish.
It doesn’t matter who the bottle lands on when Mercy spins it—her only options are men who can’t wait to sink their teeth into her.
I draw in a ragged breath as a harsh tremor courses through my body. This entire time, I’ve thought that I’m better than Sam or Kane for giving into their baser desires. But… maybe I’m just like them, after all. That’s why she should run. I’m not good for her, and she’s not good for me.
She entices every one of my demons to come out and play.
Mercy falls silent for a single, blissful moment. If my arms were free, I’d snap them closed and catch her, the two of us tumbling to the floor and knocking our bones together, breathless and free to do whatever we want with the other.
My fingers itch for the knife.
One deep cut, and I’d break free from her bonds.
I could move out of the city and pretend that none of this ever happened.
In a matter of weeks, I’d forget all about Mercy Morningstar and her ethereal beauty, haunting gaze, and broken heart.
If we had to, Kane and I could run forever to be free from her memory.
I’d do it for him. I’d do anything for him.
But that’s precisely the problem. He’s the reason we’re trapped in Mercy’s web, each of us dying for a taste of her ruby red lips.
Right?
The lines of blame criss-cross in my mind as Kane comes into focus across the room.
It’s his fault that we’re in this mess to begin with.
Then it’s mine. Or it’s Sam’s. I’ve spent so long blaming Mercy that even that doesn’t feel right anymore, with her weight on my lap and her breath in my lungs.
The poison of her lips hovering so close to mine, making me see things. Feel things. Fuck.
My vision blurs as my frustration mounts. Maybe we’re all a little fucked up, and this is our punishment—circling the drain together as we fall to pieces one agonizing rotation at a time.
Mercy’s delicate eyebrows furrow. “Okay, so you’re not good for me. What else?”
Exasperated, I toss my head back and laugh.
A twisted torrent of emotions swirl in my chest, each one darker than the last. Self-loathing clings to me like a second skin.
“What do you want me to say?” Baring my teeth, I feel that hatred sink its fangs into the walls of my heart and rip it open. “That I hate myself? That I hate you?”
“I don’t believe you.” Mercy slides her palm between us and presses it flat against my chest, directly over my heart. It trills beneath her touch, aching and raw.
Kane never does this to me. He doesn’t tear me apart to figure out why I do what I do, and I’d never dream of doing that to him, either.
We work because we accept each other as we are, no questions asked.
No questions needed. I love him exactly as he is.
Why can’t Mercy leave me alone if she doesn’t like what she sees?
If she’s digging into my psyche for a redeeming quality, she’s not going to find one.
“I think you’re scared.”