CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TY
T he sloped roof of Eternal Night vibrates beneath me. I’m perched here.
Seething. Distressed. Alarmed.
Exhausted after weeks of very little sleep.
My heart is thudding so vehemently to the cadence of what if she falls that no other sound exists. Except perhaps the chorus of they’re all going to die . No breath remains in my lungs. No patience prevails in my bones.
My self-control and empathy feel like distant armor. Cracked and broken and left for some other misguided fool to don.
And every second beneath the post-midnight canopy of clouds intensifies those sentiments. Each taking root so deep inside my cells that I can’t see past them. I am them.
The embers of my fueled ire yearn to be stoked.
This is one of the more ridiculous predicaments I’ve found myself in. That’s unsurprising, considering the source who lured me here. I’m guessing mayhem is the shadow she can’t shake .
With the blade of my knife, I quickly remove the four screws from the outside vent and pry it off. Hopefully, Rena’s pops off easily, so she doesn’t need to maneuver much on the beam. Bile shoots up my esophagus with that imagery, but thirty seconds later, my Little Moon peeks her head out.
“Fancy meeting you here, sailor.”
“Don’t be fucking cute,” I hiss. “Get your ass out here.”
She giggles as though we’re out having a good time—gambling at a Vegas casino or taking in a show—not on the roof of a nightclub because she played me, fled the safe house, and is on the run from men who undoubtedly want to rape and kill her.
After tossing her backpack at my feet, she gracefully slithers out, dropping beside me and waggling her index finger in my face. “Don’t you glare at me with your irritated big-brother scowl.”
If she only knew how comments like that spear me. The last thing I want is to have any sort of kin relationship—fictitious or not—hinted at. The fact that she’s eight years younger than me, younger than Ella and Audrey would be, and the little sister of my closest friends is hard enough to reconcile.
“Do not say another word right now, Little Moon,” I order, heaving her backpack over my shoulder and grabbing her hand to guide her to the fire escape ladder, which is thankfully on a deserted side of the building.
Predictably, she ignores my demand and spews her nonsensical logic. “You’re sexy when you’re brooding. Not that your little sis should tell you that, but regardless, this is uncalled for. I did you a favor by making it easy. I could’ve gone anywhere.”
“Stop talking and watch your footing.” I turn around and step onto the first rung, moving down a few more to make room for her to place herself in front of me, between my arms. “Swift and steady.”
“Yeah.” She cackles, the sound echoing off the roof and parked cars and glowing light poles to enwrap us in her carefree spirit, which is utterly misplaced in this situation. “I think I can manage a ladder. You know, since I just shimmied up a two-story wall and crawled across a beam and through duct work to reach you.”
My veins are on fire as that vision reenters my mind. I groan. “Let’s not discuss that now. I am barely keeping it together. And lower your voice. You climbed up that wall because you were escaping homicidal assholes. Remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” She balks, glancing over her shoulder at me with a dubious gape while we hang on the side of the building, taking one rung at a time. “This fuming thing you’ve got going on is insulting. You should be thanking me. Not only did I flee those pricks seamlessly, but I also gave you an easy out if you wanted to get rid of me. That was a dose of freedom, Ty. A gift. A spoonful of sugar.”
Fucking hell, if she breaks into a Mary Poppins song, I’m going to become seriously unhinged. Ivy would, no doubt, mention how ironic it is that we’re on a roof—or leaving one—while I’m entertaining that thought. She’d probably grace us with a rendition of “Step in Time.” At any other moment, that would bring a smile to my face. Not now.
“Rena …” My jaw locks, teeth clenched over the hole I’ve gnawed in my bottom lip.
“Are you afraid of heights?” Her words are laced with mirth as she flicks some dust off her shoulder and heckles me with a tap of her foot against the metal ladder. “Is that why you’re freaking out?”
Jesus, she’s cute. Too bad I’m ready to whip her ass into submission and can’t relish her quirks at the moment. I’m also perplexed by her fearlessness. Growing up as a Noire has certainly colored her scope of reality. I’m just not sure if that’s a detriment or an attribute.
Without indulging her snark, I guide us onto the last set of rungs as drunken voices blare through our brief period of silence. Smashing her against the ladder with my hips and chest, I issue a warning, my lips moving against her ear. “Do not move or speak.”
Her body stiffens, and I can feel her heart pounding through her back. So, the fearlessness she exhibits is somewhat of a show. The thought of her terrified enough to scale the wall of the club ignites fresh fury inside me. Every last one of those motherfuckers will pay.
We wait several long beats for the commotion to fade—our chests heaving in unison, her berries-and-butterscotch scent curling around me, adrenaline and desire crackling between us—and then we hurry down the last set of rungs. Before her feet even touch the ground, I lift her into my arms and dash for the car, tucking her into the passenger seat.
Once I jump in and accelerate, I tear off my mask and exhale a sigh of relief. At least I got to her. She’s with me. Unharmed. Safe.
And quiet.
Crunch. Squeak. Blood. One wrong choice.
No. Don’t go there now.
Despite how furious I am with her, I lace our fingers together and sweep my gaze over her body, noticing how she’s curled into herself—hoodie off and unmasked, legs pressed together, hand smashed between them, head bowed. “What’s going on? Did they hurt you? Touch you?”
“No. I lost them before …” She glances up, her eyes boring into the side of my face as I peer back at the road. “How did you know they were looking for me?”
I switch lanes and careen onto the route out of the city. “The bartender alerted me.”
“Oh. That makes sense.” Her voice is small now. Tentative. “Vic and Kipper wanted me to stay sitting at the bar. But those guys were such creeps. They thought I knew where their friend was and didn’t believe me when I said I hadn’t seen him. Maybe I should’ve alerted security, but the bouncers were unarmed, and it was so crowded. They were taxed. And I got nervous because I noticed those guys fanning out, manning the exits.”
“Sorry about that,” I mutter, shouldering the responsibility for that fiasco even though it wouldn’t have touched her had she stayed put.
“Why are you—” She abandons her question abruptly, examining me, like the answer is written on my face. It’s not, but she still grasps it. “Did you do something to that guy who’d tried to hurt me?”
“The one who fucking hit you?”
An irritated breath tumbles from her lips. “He didn’t hit me. He smashed me into the wall when I tried to get away from him, and I pummeled him with a palm strike. But, yeah, that one.”
I may not have been able to see it, but she definitely rolled her eyes. A palpable gesture of defiance, escalating the agitation in my muscles that I was attempting to diminish.
“Yep,” I bark through gritted teeth. “Killed him.”
She shrugs her shoulders and tucks her knees against her chest, her arm coiling around them. “Well, I get that. Is that where you disappeared to last night?”
I offer her a quick sidelong glance. “Yes.”
“How’d you do it?” she asks, her curiosity briefly defusing the tension.
Too keyed up to prance around the truth of who I am, I lay it out for her. “Broke his neck and took out his friend with a knife to the carotid artery.”
“Clean. Smart.” Her blasé response might be intriguing, but she embellishes it in the most galling manner. “My brothers would have done the same. Well, messier no doubt and not at a place they didn’t own. Ballsy. Regardless, you could’ve given me a heads-up.”
Says the girl who bolted after convincing me that her brothers were beating the door down. The hypocrisy is staggering. Tension refueled.
“Your knuckles are cracked open,” she tacks on before I can get a word in.
I squeeze her hand, just enough to shoot my irritation into her slender fingers. “They sure are. Someone pissed me the hell off, and I took it out on the wall. We’re done talking.”
She actually listens, plucking a butterscotch candy from her bag and sucking the lifeblood out of it. Her seductive scent pervades the vehicle while we drive in quietude, but it’s anything but peaceful. The air is thick.
As I pull into the driveway, the how questions I’ve been biting back become too much to swallow. I shift the car into Park and set my frustrated leer on her. “How the hell did you know how to climb that wall and flip to a goddamn beam? Do you have any idea how insane that was? If you’d fallen, you would have died. And how did you arrange for the knocking and honking?”
She hurls her free hand into the air and tries to remove the other from my hold. Tries and fails. With a groan, she puffs a rogue strand of hair away from her face in exasperation. “I was practically raised in a circus, so everything I was taught—gymnastics, shooting, axe throwing, self-defense—had a bit of flair to it. Plus, there were ridges on those walls. I could do that in my sleep. And Uber was the big master plan .” That is delivered with a razzing jazz hand. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it. You can pay those guys to do anything. I left detailed instructions, and he nailed it. That wasn’t even a scheme that required more than one brain cell.”
That explanation is equal measures impressive and infuriating.
I let go of her hand and swing up my door, hissing my demands, “No more goddamn circus climbing. And you are never to call an Uber again. It’s so fucking unsafe.” I slam it closed before she retorts.
But she’s out, rounding the hood to sidle up beside me within seconds. “Yeah. Okay. It’s so risky. That’s why millions of Americans use them every day.”
Pausing my trek, I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes in an attempt to center myself, but revolting images flash behind my lids—Rena swinging to that beam, those monsters grabbing her, unspeakable horrors being her future—so that shit doesn’t work.
Scooping her up before she can resist, I dash up the porch stairs with her slung over my shoulder, unlock the door, and tromp inside, immediately activating the alarm. Her backpack slides to the floor with a thump. She must sense this isn’t playful because she’s snarling and smacking my back. I am way beyond that affecting me .
After a quick jaunt into the bedroom to retrieve what I need from my bag, I head back out to the family room in the center of the house. The plush couches are surrounded by narrow wood columns, connected to curved ceiling beams. It’s gorgeous architecture. But presently, I only care how they serve my current purpose.
Rena is still spouting irate ramblings as I drop her onto the arm of the couch, grab her wrists, and cuff them around the column that is slightly to the left of her body. The handcuffs have an extra-long chain between them, so the reach is spot-on. She gasps, but she’s fucking speechless, which, in my harried state, sings like a victory chant.
I whip out my phone and press the speed-dial button for the three-a.m. friend who will be most willing to carry out the plan I have in mind. Without attempting to ground me.
At the precise moment that he answers, Rena finds her words. “Did you just fucking cuff me to a damn pillar?”
“Yeah.” I raise an admonishing palm at her. “And you fucking seduced me and took off. We’re not playing nice anymore, Little Moon.”
“You calling me during some kinky-ass shit, Tytan?” Gage’s booming tenor carries a hefty dose of amusement through the phone.
“I wish,” I wheeze, suddenly hit with visions I would actually welcome, but I push them away and begin pacing. “She ran. I caught her and cuffed her.”
To anyone else, that explanation would draw some scrutiny, but not the Big Guy. “Good,” he acclaims. “That’s what I’d do, at a minimum.”
A strangled bleat bellows from somewhere in the background, followed by a thump.
“Did I catch you in the middle of something?” I ask.
Before he can answer, the pink-and-pierced peanut gallery chimes with another acute observation and an empty threat. “This is a whole new side to Ty. I’m sure my brothers would— ”
“Oh, baby girl.” I halt my stride, cocking my head in disappointment. “Don’t go crying for your brothers now. You made your damn choice.”
Her hazel eyes blow wide and wild. “Did I? Because I remember leaving you in the lurch with a stiff dick.”
“And I recall saving your ass when I should’ve been spanking it,” I volley through a ragged breath.
“Well, okay then,” she mutters. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Returning to my call, I finish relaying my plan. “I’m about to take out a houseful of assholes who were after her. From what the one guy said, I’d expect two dozen.”
It’s not a particularly detailed plan. Yet. There will be a mound of bodies when I’m done. That’s all that matters.
“You’re finally thinking fucking straight, brother. Christ, it’s about damn time.” The pride in his voice is expected. Gage thrives on no-nonsense revenge. “I’m on my way. See you in about seven hours.”
“Seven hours? Aren’t you somewhere out west?”
“Yep. But I can’t fly. I’ve got cargo I need to keep an eye on, so I’m gonna drive to you and have the crew deliver the plane later. Get some sleep or fuck your Little Moon .” He trills her nickname in jest and bellows a laugh. “It’s almost three. We’ll take care of them after sundown tonight.”
“Thanks, man. See ya soon.” I end the call and amble to the couch opposite Rena, setting my gaze on the incensed girl bound before me.
Her skin is flushed a pretty pink, coordinating with her silky strands and highlighting her raging blueberry-field irises. No freedom here.
“You’re not going to uncuff me?” she asks. An incredulous tilt of her lips has the piercing in her eyebrow bouncing and the one in her nose wiggling.
“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?” I respond. Those words are flat. I don’t know if I’m numb or so angry that I’ve lost the ability to process my emotions .
“What happened to gentle Ty?” That’s a taunt, not a question.
My teeth sink into my cheek, chewing on the various holes in my mouth—after months of this stress, they’re everywhere. I mull over my answer prudently. “I’m never gentle with people who endanger women, especially the women I care about.”
“That makes zero sense. I’m not asking you to be gentle with them.” She yanks on her constraints with a bewildered grimace set on me. “Uncuff me and go take your freaking roid rage out on the dicks who chased me, like you’re apparently planning to do.”
She was unfazed by the news that I’d killed the guy who’d hurt her and his accomplice and obviously perfectly amenable to the notion of me obliterating the entire group of motherfuckers. Maybe she fits in our world better than I originally figured. It’s still not what I would have chosen for her, but it seems it won’t break her.
“They’ll be dealt with,” I assure her, my fingertips pressing against my lips as though they can keep my harrowing nightmares from pouring out of me. “But by running from me, you put my favorite girl in danger, so you need to be dealt with too.”
“Favorite girl?” Her breath hitches, and her eyes well with tears. “You’re a freaking enigma. You know that? One minute, you don’t want me because it’s too complicated. The next, you’re letting me suck you off and pissed that I left. And I see it, how wanting me torments you. Maybe I should respect that, understand what these new feelings are doing to you. But I guess I’m too broken. This probably makes me sound pathetic, but I don’t fucking care anymore. This isn’t new for me, Ty. You’re hurting me. Unlike you, I’ve dreamed of something more between us for years. Since the first time I saw you, I fantasized about you being mine. And I can’t … I get that you’re a good friend to my brothers and mad for them—”
“You think I’m pissed on behalf of your brothers?” My skin heats with that question. Other than during the incessant-knocking fiasco, they weren’t a thought in my head.
“Or angry that I bested you,” she sneers.
I leap from my couch, so irate that my vision spots, and land right before her, gripping the velvety sofa to keep myself steady as I crowd around her small, scrunched-up frame. “I couldn’t fucking breathe, Rena.”
That admission blasts out of me, far more aggressive than I ever want to be with her, but she’s been ripping my heart out over and over for months. And she doesn’t get it. How could she?
“What?” she gasps. “When couldn’t you breathe?” There’s fear and curiosity, hope and shame, all swimming in her green-hazel pools at once.
I could keep my answer simple, tell her the bare minimum, but we’re past that. So fucking past that.
“That day with the Skulls, I didn’t know if you were okay, and my chest felt like it was collapsing. And afterward, since I couldn’t personally … and the second Axel called to tell us you were missing. Eleven. Fucking. Days. And when I realized you were gone and then saw you on that goddamn beam—” I grip my chest, as if willing my lungs to finally consume the air properly. “For nearly two months, I haven’t functioned. I haven’t slept. I haven’t breathed.”
“Why?” she asks, a tear trickling down her blushing cheek.
I catch the drop of her mixed emotion on my thumb, caressing her satiny skin. “Because the thought of one hair on your beautiful head being harmed makes me want to burn the whole fucking world or die.”
Both. I’d burn everyone first and then welcome the scorch of the engulfing flames.
“I’m sorry.” She glances away, that shame returning tenfold. I can’t bear to see it there.
Axel mentioned Rena’s impulsivity, and I’ve witnessed it. She’s been depressed. Distraught. Scared. Doing whatever the hell pops into her head is the way she copes, like she did when she jumped in the lake the day her parents died. It’s not necessarily negative. Thinking on her feet is a strong trait. It certainly aids her in perilous situations. But with me, she needs to learn to take a breath. It’s the only way she’ll survive the life she unwittingly signed up for .
“I don’t want your apologies,” I say, lifting her chin so she focuses on me again. “But you’ve awakened a part of me that I tried desperately to bury. It makes me a little untethered.”
“Untethered.” She nods in my grip. “That’s something I can understand. Don’t hold back with me, Ty. I’m lost, but I’m strong. Give me your demons. And I’ll give you mine. We can let them dance together.”
She is so strong and so perfect. I don’t deserve her, but I’ll gladly spend every breath I have earning the dance she’s offering.
“I like the sound of that. But I need a promise.”
Her eyes caper between mine as she rakes her teeth over her bottom lip. “Promise for what?”
While still clutching her chin, I station myself between her legs and snake my arm around her back to keep her close, as if the cuffs aren’t sufficient. “You need to promise that you’ll trust me and do what I say. Can you stop reacting rashly and be a good girl for me?”
Rena is a live wire, especially when she’s lost. Deep down, she wants to please. To be cherished. To be guided. All while being viewed as an equal.
That I can do.
A coy grin coasts up her cheeks. “Show me how, sailor. Being good doesn’t come naturally to me, but I want to be your good girl more than anything. I have a request though.”
Of course she does. I doubt she agrees to anything without negotiating.
I glide my fingers into her untamed locks, lowering my face until our noses are nearly brushing, our breaths mingling into one. “Request?”
A chill washes over her, goose bumps erupting on every visible glimpse of skin, but she doesn’t miss a beat. “Will you call my brothers and tell them about us? That there is an us?”
That’s a test. Just hours ago, she was angry at the prospect of me calling them in a couple of days. But I’ve left her so vulnerable that she needs proof I won’t walk away. Unfortunately for her, even when she comes to her senses and realizes this isn’t the best future for her, I won’t be letting her go. It’s too late for that.
“There is absolutely an us , and I will tell them,” I avow against her lips, my tongue darting out to lick the seam. “You’ll be my good girl and listen, and I’ll handle your brothers.” I fist her hair, wrenching her head back to expose her throat to me and nipping along the column as she swallows. “But I’m not calling them tonight.” A trail of kisses across the curve of her jaw. “You’ll need to trust me.” My teeth graze her earlobe. “Practice patience.”
“Why not now?” She practically pants that, but I hear the skepticism laced through it all the same.
I straighten, denying her what we’re both craving, and lift her leg, propping it on my thigh to unlace her boot as I explain. “For starters, it’s three in the morning—five in New Orleans. That’s far too early for this level of confrontation.” I pause, shuck that boot and sock off, and move to the other. “Plus, you came out here to figure things out. I’d like to help you do that before we involve anyone else.” Removing that one, I let my fingers skim over her calf as I finish, her pink-painted toes curling from the tickle. “And your brothers would most definitely spoil the mood for what I’m about to do to you.”
She soaks in my answer, her chest rising and falling, smashing into the forearm crossing her body and accentuating the swell of her breasts above her plunging neckline. “Well, I can’t argue with that logic. Are you keeping me cuffed for whatever that is? Gonna teach me a”—she waggles her brows—“ lesson ?”
I hum, considering. The cuffs could be fun. Although she can’t be comfortable, perched on the edge of the couch with her arms outstretched. Which is exactly what she deserves after playing me.
She’d enjoy the bondage element though. I’m not sure if that’s a pro or a con if I’m seeking punishment. Discipline isn’t really my style. I’d much prefer to spoil her, fulfill her every fantasy, have her seeing stars, screaming my name, and begging for more. Not that I’ll be clueing her into that immediately. A little suffering is warranted after what she pulled. Maybe I could marry the two.
Deciding not to answer, I yank her pants off in a single sweep. Her balance falters for a beat, but the restraints hold her steady. It leaves her in the black bodysuit, clinging to her graceful bends. Legs for days. Utterly magnificent.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “You’re never going out without me again.”
She puffs a disbelieving laugh. She thinks I’m joking. I am not even in the same vicinity as joking, but we’ll double back to that later.
Unable to restrain myself, I clutch her cheeks and crash my lips to hers, wild and frantic, spilling all the helplessness, desperation, and torment that swarmed me every time she was in peril into her. She meets my untamed offering with a matching dose of fervor, purring into my mouth and welcoming the demons with her willing and eager dance. And as my tongue tangles with hers, I know she senses it. The fraying thread I’m gripping. How she strengthens me and weakens me at once.
Her teeth sink into my lower lip as her hazels flit up to mine. “You going to kill anyone who looks at me?”
A challenge.
“Such a brat.” I chuckle, hauling her off the couch and positioning her chest against the column so she’s hugging it, which affords me a glorious backside view—the bodysuit and her panties are thongs. And her ass is round and plump and a sensational blank canvas.
Whisking her hair over to one shoulder, I mold my body to hers, slinking my fingers between her thighs and speaking low into her ear as she shivers from the contact. “No need. Anyone who dares to breathe the same air as you will know that you’re mine and run the other way.”
In response, her own air whooshes out of her, catching with a whistle a second later as I dust over the thin strip of fabric, drenched from her arousal. My girl likes to be owned, but she can’t help but push back. “Are you always so controlled? ”
That sounds like a simple sentence, but it’s undoubtedly snark.
My retort arrives with a swift spank to that luscious ass, and she receives it with a tantalizing moan of approval.
“Oh God,” she whispers, her cheek melded to the wood pillar, breasts billowing over her top from the pressure.
“So eager to be marked,” I rasp into her ear. “You like that?”
She nods, huffing out a wispy, “Yeah.”
I knew she would, so I issue another to the opposite cheek as I answer her question. “Not controlled when it comes to you.”
She arches her back, wiggling for more, even as my handprints bloom a ravishing pink on her porcelain skin. “I don’t know,” she argues. “You seem to be now, and you were with your method of killing those pricks.”
That’s an odd change of subject. Maybe she’s coming to her senses, which would be absolutely poetic. I finally cave, give in to my craving, and she wants to bolt. Not gonna happen. But I might as well lay it all out there. Deal with it.
“Not even then, Little Moon.” I slide my fingers beneath the fabric, taken aback by my discovery. “So wet, baby girl.” Swirl. Pinch. Dip. Repeat. Delivering a teasing tempo that will never suffice but leave her desperate for more. “I saw your bruised cheek in my mind after I killed them, so I stabbed them both repeatedly until they were unrecognizable.”
That’s who she’s getting. So far from what she deserves.
“Probably better to do that once they’re dead. Not nearly as messy,” she murmurs, and I stiffen in shock.
What?
“What?” she parrots my thought, peering over her shoulder in bafflement as to why that would derail me. Innocence cloaks her face, which is in complete contrast to that astute observation.
I press her firmly against the column, my rock-hard cock jamming into her lower back as I sink my teeth into the slope of her neck and roughly plunge two fingers inside her, unleashing the beast. “I can’t decide if you’re perfect for me or if I should be terrified. ”
She beams, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of me. “Both,” she says through a moan.
“Exactly,” I concur with a kneading massage to her tender flesh, preceding a few more smacks to her pretty pink ass. It’s then that I notice she’s dripping down her inner thighs. “You’re making a mess, so desperate to come. Want me to fuck you, baby?”
“Yeah, I could go for that,” she wheezes, rocking her hips in search of friction. She’d probably be content for me to take her right here while she cuddles a pillar.
I’ve waited too long for this though. I need to worship every inch of her. Reminding her how reckless her choices were tonight is vital, but there are other ways to drive that point home. What’s most important is ensuring that she can follow orders. The only way to do that is to free her.
Wordlessly, I snatch the key from my pocket and unlock the cuffs. She rubs her wrists, gaping at me beneath the dark fringe of her lashes and awaiting my instructions. That’s a good start.
Lying down on the couch, I don’t waste any more time. “Take off your clothes and sit on my face, baby girl. I need to devour that mouthwatering pussy.”