40
WESLEY
I stare in the bathroom mirror, running a brush through my hair. I missed a spot and scrape a speck of paint off my forearm. It’s been a busy day. Adrian and I spent all morning at the tattoo shop working on the final design aspects and painting the base layer of the walls before the muralist adds the artwork.
Hours spent with my brother and still, I feel like he’s a complete mystery. We didn’t talk much, aside from the shop aesthetics, but I saw the pain in his eyes every once in a while. It’s hard to keep that mask up all the time—it’s a struggle I know well.
I’m not sure how to get through to Adrian. We’ve all tried drilling into him that he shouldn’t feel guilty for killing the only family he had left after his mother died. However, he still doesn’t fully believe that he was justified. And if he doesn’t believe it, there’s nothing we can say to convince him. That kind of forgiveness has to come from within.
Worrying about my brother is a welcome distraction from my own problems. Front and center being my mom. She’s been great, but I’ve invited her to Thanksgiving dinner tonight and haven’t told anyone she’s coming.
Thea’s the only one who knows that we’ve reconnected. I’m not sure what my brothers will think, mainly Damian. He always has an opinion and coming face to face with the woman who abandoned me is not likely to go without some criticism.
I’ve warned my mom that it might be a tough crowd. She didn’t seem to share my worries and even joked that she’ll likely agree with anything negative they might have to say.
I figured Thanksgiving might be the best time to introduce her to everyone. Spirits should be high and it’s a day to be grateful, especially for family. Even I can’t convince myself of that logic. It’s probably going to be a shit show.
There’s a knock at my door. “Hey, you almost ready? We’re all going to help with cooking since none of us really knows what we’re doing,” Sutton laughs as he says it.
My brother’s been in a much better mood since getting back on his bike and putting down the bottle. I’m happy for him. A part of me feels like I should tell him about my mom coming, warn him. But I can’t. Maybe she won’t show. I feel guilty for thinking it and for kind of wishing she wouldn’t.
“Yeah, I just need to throw some clothes on and I’ll be up.”
I expect Sutton to leave. Instead he leans against the doorway. “How’d it go today at the shop?” I wonder if he really wants to know about the progress or if he’s wanting to know about Adrian. Admittedly, we’ve all been busy and he’s been holed away, adjusting to life outside of prison.
“It went as well as expected. Got a lot done. Didn’t talk much, though.” I see the disappointment in my brother’s eyes. “It’s going to take time. He’s hurting and all we can do is be here to support him in whatever way he needs. If that means spending hours in silence painting walls, then so be it. That still matters, even if we can’t see the progress today. We’ll see it, eventually.” That seems to ease Sutton’s tension. “I’ll be up in a few.”
This time he leaves. I rummage through my closet for something to wear. Nothing seems good enough and I don’t know why. I shouldn’t feel the need to impress her, but for some reason, I want to.
I’m heading upstairs when my phone dings. I glance at it and see my mom’s name. It makes my chest tighten. She’s here. This is a bad idea. The thought doesn’t matter, it’s too late to take back the invitation. I race up the rest of the steps to meet her at the door before anyone else does.
Everyone’s busy in the kitchen helping Thea, well everyone except Adrian. No one notices my mom approaching the front door, but through the window I see her pale blonde hair. Before she can knock, I pull the door open and immediately feel all eyes on the back of my head.
I welcome her in. Thankfully, her hands are full with a pie and a case of beer, so I don’t feel obligated to give her a hug. Considering Sutton just quit drinking, I should’ve told her not to bring alcohol. The thought didn’t cross my mind.
Turning, I face Thea and my brothers, who all look confused, Thea a little less than the others. “Everyone…” I hesitate.
“Hey, I’m the mom who abandoned Wes when he was a baby,” my mom chimes in. Their faces twist from confusion to shock. Even my jaw hits the floor. “Oh, c’mon. Let’s call it like it is. No sense in beating around the bush. I was a shitty mom and now I’m trying to make up for it.”
Her candidness actually seems to ease some of the tension. “This is my mom, Linda. Mom, this is Damian, Sutton, Wes, and Thea. Adrian’s in his room, but you’ll meet him later.”
I watch as she confidently places the pie and drinks on the counter, then shakes each person’s hand. That melts away more of the tension, although Damian still looks uneasy and that prevents me from feeling completely relaxed. He’s going to be the tough one to crack.
“Here, let me put the beers in the fridge,” Thea offers kindly. She throws me a quick smile. It’s a small gesture, yet it helps so much—more than she’ll ever know.
My mom chimes in, “I made sure the pie was gluten-free. Wes told me about that.” Thea looks over her shoulder at me. “Never knew anyone could be allergic to wheat. It’s in almost everything.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” Thea says, turning her attention back to my mom and grinning at her comment.
“Wes, can I talk to you?” Damian asks curtly. I meet his icy eyes and know that I’m about to get a lecture. It’s not a surprise. We’re supposed to share everything and I haven’t been. But I needed to know if this was worth telling him.
He takes me to the side without waiting for my answer. “I know,” I say preemptively.
“Do you?” He levels his gaze at me. “We don’t know anything about her. You didn’t give me a heads up to look into her, to make sure she’s not a criminal.”
Red flushes my face at his accusation. It doesn’t matter that he’s right, that’s my mom. Still, it’s Thanksgiving—I don’t want to fight with him. I run my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, I should’ve said something. Won’t happen again.”
He isn’t satisfied, his face says that much, however, he knows this is a matter best solved in private. “Fine.” He turns, looking at Thea. “Let’s get dinner on the table.”
Thea takes over, directing each of us to what we can do to help. I glance up every once in a while to see her flitting around the kitchen, showing someone how to do something or taste testing. Admittedly, she told us she isn’t someone who’s comfortable in a kitchen, but somehow she looks completely in her element—utterly focused. For a moment, she reminds me of Cole. I shake the comparison from my mind.
A half hour later, the table’s set with a beautiful spread of plates, fancy napkins, and a feast fit for triple the amount of people we have here. I sit between my mom and Thea. Sutton and Damian sit across from us. Adrian still hasn’t emerged from his room.
“Dig in,” Thea encourages after a few minutes of polite chatter and no one serving themselves.
That’s all that’s needed for everyone’s hands to grab bowls, fork slices of turkey, and pile food high on their plates. With mouths full, I’m hopeful that we can get through dinner without any issues. That’s a short-lived optimism.
“So why exactly did you leave Wes on your sister’s doorstep?” The question cuts through the soft laughter of Thea and my mom. We all turn to look at Damian. He doesn’t show any remorse for the out of line inquiry.
“Damian,” I snap before she can answer.
His cutting eyes shift from her to me. “Wes, you can’t spring this on us and not expect me to want answers.” My jaw clenches tightly. I’m torn between the loyalty I owe Damian and the need to protect my mom.
Thea taps my arm. “I’m going to check on the food in the oven.” I watch her scurry off into the kitchen, half believing her and half knowing that she doesn’t want to be part of this conversation. I don’t blame her.
I turn my attention back to my brother. “This isn’t the time. We can talk about this later.”
“No. You brought her here. I think she can answer some of my questions.”
I’m about to protest when a hand rests on mine. I look over at my mom, who’s smiling gently. “It’s okay. He’s right. They deserve answers, too.”
THEA
I’m vaguely able to make out the conversation from the dining room. Honestly, I don’t even want to listen. I have too much going on to add any more drama to my plate. They’ve got this.
Aimlessly, I pretend to check on a pie in the oven. It’s been turned off for an hour, but I don’t know what else to do. Going downstairs isn’t an option—I’d have to walk right past them. I hear Damian’s voice get louder and sharper. Then Wes’.
My eyes dart around, looking for an exit that isn’t too noticeable. Damian’s room is the only real option. It’s tempting, however, just as I’m about to decide the door opens. Adrian’s face appears.
Simultaneously, we roll our eyes, which pulls an annoyed sigh from me, and a scowl from him. Dressed in all black, he looks like a bad omen as he opens the fridge. Glancing over his shoulder, he checks out what’s going on at the table before turning back to whatever he’s searching for.
“What the fuck?” he mutters under his breath. I watch him pull out one of the beers that Linda brought. “What’s this?”
“Beer,” I answer snidely. “It’s been around a long time, even before you went to prison.”
I expect some smart ass remark in return. “What the fuck is this?” He says louder, turning to face the dining room table. “Who brought this shit into the house?”
What the hell is going on? I look at Wes, Sutton, and Damian. For a moment, they’re just as confused as me. Then I watch their faces shift to horror. Wes’ mom looks just as perplexed as me.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize there were drink preferences,” she half-heartedly jokes.
“You?” He says it, but almost immediately realizes he doesn’t know who she is. “Who the fuck are you?”
Wes stands. “Hey, watch your mouth.”
“See, she’s causing problems already,” Damian interjects. I want to tell him to stop being dramatic. Wes beats me to it. The two of them are facing off across the table, no longer paying attention to Adrian or me.
Adrian chucks the can to the floor and storms off. And I’m still standing in the kitchen, completely confused by what just happened. Is he pissed that she brought beer when Sutton’s not drinking anymore? I look to the dining room table, then toward Damian’s door. Fuck it.
I head toward the bedroom. Adrian seems like the lesser of two evils, surprisingly. I close Damian’s door behind me and make my way through the closet to Adrian’s room. This is a bad idea, Thea. I hear cursing and then a smash. Despite knowing that I shouldn’t investigate, I still do.
Quietly, I peer around the edge of the door frame and find Adrian stomping around, muttering under his breath. Then his fist connects with the wall. Next to the hole he’s just made, there’s a matching one.
I should be terrified of him and his anger. I shouldn’t care that he’s upset, especially because the reason seems so irrational. I should walk away.
“Hey.” I step inside and close the door behind me.
He turns to look at me, rage flashing in his eyes. “Get out,” he growls.
I fold my arms across my chest. “And listen to them argue out there? No thanks,” I say stubbornly.
“Get out, Thea.” Him using my name instead of calling me Havoc throws me a bit. But I stand my ground, although I avert my gaze.
I search for anything to focus on. That’s when I see the cartridges on his dresser. Vapes? I remember mentioning that to him. I told him that if he was going to kill himself by smoking, he might smell good doing it. My eyes flick back to him and I notice his signature cigarette that he keeps behind his ear is missing.
I’ve been quiet for too long. And I don’t want to think anymore about the fact that it appears Adrian has switched to vaping. That’s probably why I noticed the lack of disgusting cigarette smell right before we fucked last time.
“No. Something happened in there with the beer. Care to explain?” My eyes search his face. I find tension, then pain, I think. What the hell is going on with him?
Adrian huffs and points a finger at me. “I said get the fuck out, you annoying bitch.”
“Is that all you’ve got? I think you can do better.” The words come out casually. Then I realize I have the perfect opportunity to distract both of us. I walk toward him so that his finger is nearly touching my chest. “C’mon Adrian, do what you do best. Get all worked up over some stupid shit and make horrible decisions.”
Rage flares in his onyx eyes. I’ve hit a sore spot. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to use it to my advantage. “You’re such an attention whore. It doesn’t even matter if it’s good or bad. You’ll take whatever you can get, won’t you?”
My eyes narrow. His words hurt. They shouldn’t, but they do. Mostly because he’s right. I’ve always been an attention whore. “You’re just pissed that I don’t want your attention.”
This time Adrian steps closer to me until there’s nearly no room between us. With every deep breath, he lightly brushes against my tits and his breath tickles my lips. Heat pools between my legs at the thought of how he could destroy me this time.
“Then what do you call this, Havoc? This isn’t you begging for my attention?” he asks condescendingly. “You’re pathetic and desperate.”
This time, his words don’t hurt me. He’s right again. I am pathetic and desperate. I’m getting turned on by the disgust he has for me. I’m so fucking horny for his brand of hate sex. “Yeah, and what does that make you? You haven’t exactly been fighting me off. I guess that makes you weak and needy.”
We stare daggers into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Then, without warning, Adrian’s hand shoots out and grasps my throat hard. A little too hard. I struggle to catch my breath. Suddenly, I realize he’s pushing me backwards until I slam into the wall he damaged. I hit it hard enough that the air whooshes out of my lungs just as he loosens his grip.
Between gasps and coughs, I insult him. “You’re a fucking psycho with anger issues. You should be in therapy or a case study for murderers.”
Adrian’s hand slides up the back of my neck and he yanks my hair hard. I think he’s pulled some of it out. My yelp draws a smirk from him. “Yeah? Well, maybe I’ll make you victim number two before they start their experiments on me.”
What the fuck? Fear courses through me. He just threatened to kill me, so why am I pushing my thighs together as pleasure aches low? Why do I want those lips all over me? Why do I want him to force himself into me without caring if my body is ready or if I come? Why does being with him not only feel so damn good but also has me feeling incredibly empowered?
It can’t be as simple as me taking charge of my body and my decisions. There has to be some other explanation. Maybe the darkness in me is seeking out the darkness in him. Maybe they call to each other despite my head and my heart screaming in protest.
I shove all the questions and reasoning away. I push it out so that all I have in me is another insult—more fuel for Adrian’s fire.
“You want to be back in prison that bad? Life’s easier in there, isn’t it? You don’t have to actually prove to your brothers that you’re worth a damn. Isn’t that right?”
Something wilder than anger flashes in his eyes this time—I expect a slap or another yank on my hair. Instead, Adrian pushes his hand between my legs. I’m wearing a thin pair of leggings and I already know what he’s going to find.
His lip tugs up on one side. “Someone’s all worked up.” Adrian’s gaze drops to where his hand is. “In more ways than one.” Sliding his fingers back and forth, I can’t help the low moan that escapes. I can’t argue with him, especially because I’m sure he’s feeling my wetness and if he can’t, I can’t deny my desire as my body involuntarily presses into his touch. “Need me to go get some sleeping meds or you going to stay awake to be fucked this time?”
I freeze at his words. I mean, I didn’t exactly hide that I had taken something the last time we were together, but saying it out loud is shocking all the same. I should leave. This is taking a bad turn and I’m getting sloppy. But I can’t bring myself to walk away. I need him right now. Also, I don’t want to go back into the dining room. So I egg him on more.
“Are you stalling or something? Need time to get your dick hard?”
His hand stops. He pulls it from my pussy and I groan in disappointment. Then he grabs my hand to rest on the hard bulge in his pants. “Does it feel like I need time to get hard, Havoc?” I don’t answer as he forces me to stroke him through his clothes.
Vaguely, I sense my lips part as I try to think of a comeback, but nothing formulates. I’m too distracted by how good it feels to be made to touch him against my will. Suddenly, I want nothing more than to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. I try, but the hand that’s still in my hair prevents me from doing it as it grips me harder.
“Let me,” I whimper.
The resolve on his face cracks a little before it returns full force. “As much as I’d love to see you beg like a whore to suck me off, we don’t have time for that right now. They’ll come looking for us soon.”
He’s right. That puts a sense of urgency in me. I pull my pants down quickly. Adrian does the same. When we’re both half undressed, he picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist.
Pushing me against the wall hard, he guides his cock to my entrance. In that moment, as I wait for him to enter me, my whole body coils tight with anticipation. My breath catches in my throat and my heart pounds in my ears. Then, he slips in and there’s nothing aside from the feel of him.
It’s not the first time we’ve fucked. Still, the piercing sliding in surprises me—it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It feels more prominent this time.
“Your piercing…” I don’t ask him why it feels different. He’s seems to understand.
“I changed it out for a bigger one,” he replies.
Oh fuck.
He barely lets me adjust to the feel of him before he’s thrusting hard and fast. Adrian’s fingers dig into my ass as he bounces me up and down on his cock. I try to muffle my gasps, moans, and whimpers, but it’s difficult.
Holding me up with one arm, his other snakes around the back of my head, fisting my hair again. He guides my mouth to his shoulder, where I’m engulfed in his sweet, smokey scent. “Bite down,” he commands. “I don’t want to have to explain because you can’t keep it down.” He’s right. I sink my teeth into his cotton shirt and muscle beneath it.
He lets out a groan and his grip tightens on me as he fucks me furiously. His now larger piercing brushes against that sensitive spot inside me in a way I’ve never felt before. My eyes roll and I have to focus hard on keeping my mouth on him when all I want to do is throw my head back and howl like a wild animal.
“Play with yourself,” he growls. “We need to make this fast.”
I don’t disagree. Pushing my hand between us, I circle my clit, making my release build quickly. My body tightens so intensely I think I might explode, literally. With the growing tension comes a wave of emotions. Not joy or shame or excitement. I feel rage. Rage for so many things. I try to push those thoughts out of my head and I do, for the most part. But something bubbles up that I can’t control. Mid-thrust, I unlatch my jaw, lock eyes with Adrian, and snarl, “I hate you.”
The bitter words make me feel better. It feels good to be hurtful. At least to him. It feels good to take it out on someone without caring if they deserve it or not.
He leans in close, bites my lip hard, then pulls away. “The feeling’s mutual.” Blood coats my tongue and just as I’m about to force him to taste the damage he’s caused, a knock at the door makes us freeze.
“You in there?” It’s Sutton. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I try to push away from Adrian, but he holds me tighter.
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a few,” he calls through the door while resuming fucking me even rougher than before.
Pressing my lips together, I try to keep in the noises that want to break free. The throbbing of my split lip makes my eyes water. Adrian sees me struggling, rolls his eyes as if I’m an amateur, and then clamps a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.
“Everything okay in there?” Sutton asks, likely hearing the sounds of us going at it.
Adrian leans in close to my ear and whispers, “Is everything okay, Havoc?” I nod against his grip. “Yeah, just finishing up my workout. I’ll be out soon.”
We wait for a reply, but nothing comes. I expect Adrian to remove his hand—he doesn’t. Instead, he shifts it so that it covers my nose and my mouth. I’m hardly able to pull in a breath. I protest in mumbles against his palm.
“The sooner you come, the sooner you can breathe,” he says with a sinister grin. Something about him controlling my breathing makes me moan and my clit throb desperately against my touch. I’m so fucked up.
Adrian picks up his rhythm, pumping into me while my fingers frantically work to find my release before I run out of air and pass out. The fear pushes me so close to the edge. Another brush of his piercing. And another. Then, my legs shake and tighten around him as I scream out the last of my air and I explode around him in waves of pleasure that slam into me relentlessly.
I expect him to take his hand away now that I’ve come, but it stays put. My fingers claw at it, trying to pull it away. It’s useless. He keeps fucking me as I get lightheaded and my vision doubles. Then, just as darkness fuzzes the edges of my mind, Adrian’s body jerks and slows. Finally, he drops his hand and pushes back his dark hair off of his sweat pricked forehead.
I pull fresh air in so violently that my lungs ache and my mouth dries out. When clarity hits, I do too. My palm comes across Adrian’s cheek, making his skin bloom redder than it already is. Normally, I might regret it or at least fear retaliation. But I can’t muster it. I hate him. I hate what he does to me. I hate that I love it.
He pulls out and drops me to the ground. We both clumsily put our clothes back on. We don’t speak. What could we possibly say to one another after that?
I walk out of his room, hoping to avoid running into anyone. But honestly, I don’t care enough right now to take the proper precautions. Maybe staying in the dining room was the better option.