Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
When I saw Ava, her perfect ass parked on a barstool in a shitty dive bar, I was simultaneously elated and furious.
When she texted me, I ignored every word she said.
Soft, gushy emotions that I couldn't identify churned in my chest as I saw them for what they really meant—she missed me. She didn’t know where I’d been.
She didn’t know that I was doing what I had to do to keep her safe, to keep the shitstorm Bianca started from ever touching her.
All she knew is that I wasn’t there and it was eating her up inside.
Something inside me cracked a little at the fact that she thought I would leave her, throw her away like she was nothing. She doesn’t understand that she’s everything to me. She doesn’t realize the lengths I would go to keep her, the horrible things I would do to ensure she’s by my side.
When some fucker put his hand on her shoulder, my blood went cold.
It took every ounce of my self-control to keep myself from removing his head from his shoulders.
His assumption about me being her husband earned him a small sliver of grace.
His fingers may be broken, but he’s alive.
Though, if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my wayward, drunk pet, he probably wouldn’t be.
The way she blushed when I called her my wife made my head swim, likely because all of the blood left it to rush to my dick.
I’ve never considered the possibility of marriage before.
I never cared for a woman enough to want it.
I’m not even sure I wanted it before it was mentioned tonight.
Now that it’s in my head, I can’t see any other future for me.
A ring is just another piece of the beautiful cage I'll craft to keep my little bird.
Ava groans as I place her in my car. She shoves at me. Her heels scrape against my shins as she kicks her feet out awkwardly in an attempt to get out. I press my hand against her sternum and force the seat belt around her. Her fingers fumble to unlock it after it clicks into place.
“Little bird,” I warn, letting my voice drop to a threatening tone. Her eyes dart to mine before they settle back into her lap. “You can either sit here in the front like a good girl or you will ride tied up in the trunk.”
Her body stills, frozen in the seat. Her shoulders quiver with fear, but the wide eyes that look up with me are filled with heat. Movement in her lap catches my eye and I watch her thighs rub together. Oh, yeah, she definitely missed me.
When I round the car and get into the driver's seat, a memory flashes in my mind. One of Ava diving out of my car and sprinting into the woods. This time, I lock the goddamned doors. Her eyes flash with anger when the locks click into place, but she keeps her mouth shut. Smart girl.
I press a bottle of water into her hands.
I know she's thirsty. Her tongue darts out, rolling over her bottom lip, but she pulls her hands back like the bottle is red hot.
Rolling my eyes, I open the bottle and take a sip before handing it back to her.
She snatches it from me and immediately gulps down half of it.
Ava sits silently beside me, her fingers fidgeting in her lap and her eyes turned away from me, staring out into the dark. Her face is pink and I suspect it's not just the flush of inebriation. Is she still upset that I was away? Does she not realize that I'll never leave her alone again?
She puffs out a loud sigh and mumbles something under her breath.
“I can practically hear the gears turning in your head,” I say. “Tell me what's on your mind, little bird.”
“I bet,” she slurs, her words blending together while still holding an angry bite, “you do this shit with every woman you're stalking. Fucking pervert creep.”
I clench my jaw, trying to keep myself from smiling. Is that what she thinks? She's angry with me because she thinks I was with other women instead of her?
“Is my little bird jealous?”
She exaggerates her denial, thrashing her head from side to side, but her eyes betray her.
She blinks rapidly, her eyes becoming glossy and wet.
My chest tightens at what I see in her face.
There's a sadness that pinches her features.
Does she really believe I would have any woman that isn't her?
What happened to her that would make her think she's anything other than perfect?
“There’s only you for me, Ava.”
She stills in her seat, her soft gasp audible in the quiet car.
“The truth is, since the day I first saw you, I haven't been able to look at another woman.
You can fight this all you want, but you can't escape me.
I'll follow you until the day I die, then I’ll haunt you in the afterlife.
Whether you want it or not, I'm yours, body and black, broken soul. And you are mine.”
Ava hiccups a giggle, a fucking adorable giggle.
I glance at her, finding her chewing on her bottom lip, smothering a smile.
I've never been concerned about showing the full breadth of my obsession to her.
There's no purpose in hiding it, given she couldn't get away from me if she tried.
I'd hunt her to the ends of the Earth if she ever ran from me.
But based on her reaction to my confession, I'm now fully motivated to show her every facet of my need for her.
I open my mouth, ready to tell her more about my demented devotion, until I hear her mumble sleepily.
She breathes heavily, her head resting against the window.
I glance over at her sleeping form, my lips twitching into a smile.
Does she realize that she’s so unafraid of me that she’s sleeping in my car?
When I saw her at the bar, I immediately noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the paleness of her skin.
Did she struggle to sleep without me? Did she keep herself up at night, waiting for me?
The thought that pops into my head makes my dick stiffen.
My little bird, waiting obediently for her master to come home.
I’d open the door to find her on the couch, a silky negligee wrapped around her curves, her creamy thighs outstretched.
A delicate leather collar around her neck, a golden o-ring at the center, glinting in the glow of the lamp.
She’d look up from her book and smile at me.
Shaking my head, I force my mind back into the car.
Why the fuck haven’t I moved her into my house yet?
My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I try to will patience into my veins.
I don’t yet know all that she’s been through, all that’s broken her spirit.
I’ve been trying to move at her pace, to keep her from falling off the edge.
Well, significantly faster than her pace, but as slow as I’m capable of taking it with her.
I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.
* * *
I carry Ava to my bed, her head resting against my chest, her breath gliding over my neck.
When I lay her down, she mumbles sleepily, curling herself into my blankets.
I peel off her shoes, letting my fingers trace the lines of her delicate feet.
My fingers grasp the edge of her dress, pulling it over her head and watching the way it clings to her soft body.
I unclasp her bra and groan as her breasts tumble out.
They taunt me, their size perfectly fitted for my hands, begging for my touch.
I run my finger over her nipple, watching it harden into a tight bud.
My hands trail down her waist until they reach the edge of her panties.
As I peel them down her legs, her thighs fall open.
Staring down at my little bird, naked on my bed, is testing the strength of my willpower. I imagine shoving my cock inside her, listening to her sleepy moans. Would she be dreaming of me? Would she cry out my name when she falls apart?
I rip my t-shirt off and pull it over her head and arms, trying to rid myself of some of the temptation.
It falls to the middle of her thighs, effectively hiding the most tempting part of her.
At least it does until she grips the fabric in her fingers and drags it up to her face.
She inhales deeply and curls her legs up to her stomach, cuddling into my bed.
She’s the only woman I’ve ever allowed into my home, into my bed.
She fits perfectly in my space, in my clothes.
I clench my fists at my side to keep myself from ravaging her exhausted body.
I remind myself of my promise to her, that I won’t fuck her until she begs for it.
Seeing her in my bed, I almost regret telling her that.
The way I feel about her is consuming, filling every part of me with a sense of possession. Mine, the word screams through me.
“Gray.” My name whispered under her breath pulls me out of my trance. Ava reaches her arms out to me, her eyes half-lidded and sleepy.
I reach my hand out, placing my palm against her cheek. “I’m here, precious.”
“Stay with me,” she mumbles. She drags her fingers over my stomach. “Kiss me.”
Her unexpected demand crashes into me, nearing knocking the wind out of me.
Every cell in my body is yanking me toward her.
I press my heels into the floor, keeping myself still.
I can’t kiss her now. I won't. It’s not that she might not remember the kiss that bothers me.
I don't give a fuck about that. What bothers me is that she might not remember that she asked for it.
I need her to recognize that she wants this. I need her to accept it.
“Shh,” I quiet her with a soft sound, “lay down. I'm not leaving you.”
She lays back on the bed, her hair fanning out around her face like soft waves of warm earth. Those pale, green eyes, still glazed from the alcohol, remain fixed on me. They drift slowly, perusing my chest and abdomen. My chest involuntarily puffs under her heated gaze.
I unbuckle my belt, pulling it through my belt loops until it's free.
The moment my belt is in my hands, something changes in her.
She suddenly jumps up, her eyes exploding open.
Her uncoordinated legs scramble underneath her, leaving her tumbling off the bed.
She crab walks backward until her back bumps the wall, where she tucks her knees into her chest.
Confused by her reaction, I rush toward her until my shins bump hers. A frightened whimper rattles in her throat as her wide eyes flit from my face to the belt in my hands. Tears stream down her cheeks, painting her face with mascara.
I've seen Ava afraid. I've watched her cower in fear before me, her lips quivering as she waits to see what my sick obsession will make me do to her.
But this is different. There's no arousal hiding in the depths of her fear.
There's no spark inside her glossy eyes, no fight.
She's a cornered animal, frozen in fright.
“Okay, baby,” I say softly. “It's okay.”
My chest clenches as I watch those terrified eyes hone in on my belt. Keeping my movements slow, I put the belt down on the floor behind me and kick it away. I hold my hands up, showing her that I'm not a threat as I kneel in front of her.
Watching my little bird shy away from me, my mind flashes back to the file Shawn made on her after I first saw her in that coffee shop.
The medical records. The visits to the emergency room.
The injuries that went uninvestigated. I recall the way she flinched when I first touched her face. What happened to her?
I reach my hand out, running my knuckles along her cheek. Her shoulders shake with soft sobs.
“I-I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I'm so broken.”
I sit down and pull her into my lap, pressing her head into my chest and running my hand through her hair.
“Why are you afraid of my belt, precious?”
The only sound that escapes her lips is her wheezing breaths and stifled sobs.
“Who hurt you, Ava?”
Her voice is muffled against my chest as she curls her body into me, making herself small. “My father,” she says.
I freeze at her admission, at the familiarity. “Tell me what happened.”
Through her sobs, she recounts an all too familiar story, one I know well from my own past. She tells me about her alcoholic father, the man who beat her and her mother.
She tells me about the death of her mother, the only shining light in the darkness of her childhood.
After she was gone, the full weight of her father's anger fell onto Ava's shoulders.
For years, he hurt her, whipping her skin with his belt until it was bruised and bleeding.
I try to hide my anger from her, the way my hands shake with rage at how she's suffered. I try to force myself to be calm when I feel anything but. Carrying her shuddering body to my bed, I force my fury into a cage for her, to give her a moment of calm.
“I will never let anyone hurt you ever again,” I whisper the promise into her hair.
I've never comforted anyone before. It pulls on feelings that are foreign to me.
They crawl and scrape inside my chest, making me ache to smother them with my anger.
Anger is all I know; anger, and death, and revenge.
She needs my comfort right now, but she deserves my revenge.
Her pain belongs to me and me alone. I will make sure everyone who's ever touched her learns this.
No one will ever hurt her again, no one but me.
Her tears dry into salty, pink lines and she falls asleep in my arms. When she stirs, the shirt lifts above her hips and I finally see them, the white, streaking scars that blend almost seamlessly into the porcelain skin of her back.
At the sight of her scarred skin, my anger becomes a living, breathing creature lurking inside me.
It demands to be set free, to seek vengeance for her, to free her from the demons that haunt her.
I punch Shawn's contact on my phone, not letting him utter a word before I bark out an order. “Get me everything you can on Ava Moore's father. Now.”