CHAPTER TWENTY
TY
C runch. Squeak. Blood. One wrong choice.
The thing about nightmares stemming from flashbacks, the remembrance of real-life horrors that never loosen their grip, is that they can’t be brushed off or dismissed. They aren’t a fabrication of an overworked mind or a weary psyche. They happened. They’re mine.
My memories. My past. My story. My terror.
So, it’s hard to know what’s true. To draw a line between then and now, here and gone, mourning and moving on. It’s jumbled and suffocating and chained by shame. The antithesis of freedom.
My prison.
I’ve been locked up my entire adult life. A captivity I vowed I’d never inflict on another soul, which is why I strive tirelessly to be outwardly optimistic. To spare those I love from being bound by my shackles.
But here I am. Clipping the wings of the freest spirit I’ve ever known .
Buried inside her while she peacefully sleeps because she’s become my refuge.
And I’ve become her bondage.
We returned to the Vegas house last night as husband and wife. I took immense pleasure in consummating the marriage and watching her radiant face illuminate with pleasure. For fleeting minutes, here and there, a greater happiness than I’d ever known enveloped me. But it was always met by the shame of what I’d sentenced her to. The fear of losing her. The rage that someone thought about harming her.
When I finally drifted off, visions bombarded my rest—my murdered mom and sisters; Steve’s cold, beady eyes; Wells climbing into the truck with a beaten Ivy curled around him; Celeste, bruised and battered after being attacked; the rapist I stabbed in the Middle East until I couldn’t form coherent sentences, moments before we were bombed and thrown and taken prisoners and tortured.
And Rena, plummeting from that beam into the hands of those monsters, who wanted to do unspeakable things to her. All the while, I stood helplessly by. Waiting for the right moment to act. Thank God that part wasn’t a memory, only a terrifying lie my mind conjured up based on a truth.
Waiting means loss.
I woke to an angelic, tear-soaked face and Rena’s pleas to let her help me. And swarming guilt over the pain that I was already causing her before we even concluded our first day of marriage.
But I took her up on her offer and persuaded her to let me sleep with my cock inside her because there was no greater solace. She was more than amenable. My girl eagerly agreed. And it worked.
By the brightness of the sun bursting through the sliver of undraped window, it’s got to be at least noon.
I have never slept this late. Nor have I ever slept that soundly.
My Little Moon is magical.
And warm and wet and tight.
Her breaths are so even and serene—a consoling melody washing over the crook of my neck. We’re chest to chest, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. Pink-and-gold strands fan to reach my forehead and bicep and pecs. I’m coiled around her like a snake seizing his innocent prey. Arms and legs engulfing her tiny frame. My nose burrowing into her sweet berry-scented hair and my steel cock nestled snug in her heat.
She’s a goddamn sanctuary.
One I should be banned from, but it’s too late for that.
I don’t deserve her, but she doesn’t deserve to shoulder my self-deprecation, so I’ll rise above it. For her. Somehow, I’ll stuff it all down and be everything she needs.
Resisting the urge to move even though my balls are zinging with anticipation, I simply bask in the comfort of being molded to every inch of her naked work of art. Staying like this all day would be a dream, but the smell of bacon reminds me that Gage is here.
Reluctantly, I detangle myself from her. This is why people go away for their honeymoons. Every cell of my being protests the whole prospect of not being entwined with my wife. But Gage did drop everything and walk into a shitstorm that will have us both reamed out, probably by the end of the night. So, off I go.
After washing up and throwing on a pair of joggers and a T-shirt, I pull the curtains tighter to evict the golden rays, plant a kiss on Rena’s temple, and sneak out of the room.
It’s noisier than expected. Gage must be watching one of his Regency romance shows alone, which is fifty shades of pathetic and only enhancing my guilt for abandoning him all morning. My stomach growls obnoxiously as I trudge through the house to find him, following the delicious aromas wafting through the air.
When I round the corner into the kitchen, it isn’t only a bald head that welcomes me; it’s a flash of ginger hair beside that bald head. My heart plummets into my depleted stomach, instantly rendering me nauseous. It’s not that I don’t relish the sight of Ivy beaming at me in an apron and cooking up a storm; it’s that she wouldn’t be here alone .
She drops her spatula and rushes for me, jumping into my arms before I’ve even made it fully into the room. “Ty, you got married without us. What the hell?”
“Sorry, Freckles.” I squeeze her back and peck her cheek, attempting to scan the area behind her as my choppy breath crashes out of my lungs. “It was a snap decision, but a long time coming. I’m glad you’re here now.”
“Snap decision? I’ll say.” She belts out a laugh. “But long time coming is the truth. I’ve been waiting for you two to get together, to see you happy. I wish the circumstances were different, but this is—”
That exuberant, uplifting joy is cut off by another voice—one decidedly infuriated.
“Get the fuck in here, Reynolds,” Wells barks. “Nice of you to wake up this afternoon.”
Fuck me.
I rub my forehead and gnaw on my inner cheek while Ivy frowns at me, blinking her big blue eyes and whispering, “You know he loves you. Just let him rage. Think of it as a Nicolas Cage performance.”
She didn’t select a specific movie because Nicolas Cage rages in practically every role he’s ever played. Still, I grant her a Vampire’s Kiss reference with one of his most unhinged rants because she’ll appreciate it.
“Right,” I sigh. “Let’s hope he leaves it at the alphabet.”
Ivy giggles, muttering, “Nice,” before returning to the stove as I amble in for my lashing.
And the gang’s all here.
Wells points at me and then at an island stool. “Sit.”
There’s nothing to do but follow orders when he gets like this, so I obediently take a seat. Although I’m rarely the object of his wrath. Which is why—behind the outraged Chief—Liam is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Gage is shaking his head, and Celeste is feeding Felicity a bottle but staring at me in utter empathy.
I’m glad Rena isn’t awake yet. I wouldn’t want her to think this had anything to do with her, but she’d surely draw that conclusion .
“Three. Things. That’s all you had to fucking do, Ty. Three goddamn things.” Wells is pacing and chomping on a Tootsie Pop like it has personally offended him. Maybe he’s envisioning that to be my head. I’m not sure I could even blame him.
Silence is my current defense mechanism. Primarily because I fucked up, so there’s nothing productive to add to the conversation. I’ll own it. But like Ivy suggested, he needs to unleash his rage because he’s got one hell of a mess to clean up.
“Do you remember what three things you agreed to?” he asks.
This is like jumping onto a trampoline of shit.
I swallow and keep my unwavering gaze on him. “Lie low, dick in my pants, keep you informed.”
He halts his pacing and pins me with a contemptuous gape. “That’s right. I didn’t fucking imagine that goddamn call then. So, in response, you galivanted all over the city, fucked her, took out a house full of Balzano foot soldiers”—he pauses there and shoots Gage a death glare—“informed me of nothing, and then married her. Do I have everything?”
Gage obviously filled him in on all the finer points in that Murphy line call.
“I think that about covers it,” I say, to which Liam slaps the table and howls.
“Shut your suck, Graves,” Wells snipes.
“Can’t do it, Chief.” Tears are streaming down Liam’s face. “I gotta take a minute and rejoice. Ty is all growed up and wreaking havoc as seamlessly as I ever have. I’m just so damn proud. Plus, it’s a rare fucking day that I’m not the one you’re going all Chief on.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Wells is unamused. His temple is visibly throbbing. It’s a gift to me though. Sitting here quietly is a winning strategy because Liam will end up poking the bear and taking the heat upon himself. As if that same thought occurs to Gage, he bobs his head at me on his way back to assist Ivy, right as Celeste drops her eyes and smirks knowingly .
Wells finally hauls his attention back to me. “What do you have to say?”
Denying my culpability or apologizing for it will piss him off, so I don’t do either. Instead, I venture into an even greater concern that needs addressed. “I will double back to my reasoning for all the shit mentioned in a moment. But first things first. Let’s get one thing straight, Wells. That is my wife you are talking about. And she’ll be treated with respect even if she’s not in the damn room. So, there’s no discussion with any of you regarding me fucking her. And after this, there will not be one word uttered that makes her feel unwelcome, frightened, or like a goddamn burden. Keep her separate from the shitstorm.”
For a beat, no one makes a sound. The exhaust fan on the stove hood is suddenly deafening, drowning movements and breaths and responses as the room spins around me.
Felicity squawks, and Wells smiles, but his gaze is glued to me, his green eyes glistening with what appears to be pride.
He saunters toward me and grips the back of my neck, so I stand to meet him eye to eye, and he drags me into a hug, smacking my back. “We love you both, Ty. I’m not going to pretend it didn’t hurt to miss this because … well … it’s been a rough road, and I would’ve liked to be here, to support you, to celebrate this. But you happy, connected to a woman who will love you well … We’ll figure this out.”
Here’s the scoop on Wells and me. When I was in the Navy, one of my superiors felt my past was psychologically damaging and insisted I see a counselor. Suicide rates were high in the Military, and they weren’t willing to take any chances with a guy who’d endured all I had. It was evident that my trauma scared the shit out of most of them. Eventually, the counselor suggested I be assigned to Chief Folsom—Wells’s name at the time—because apparently, he was some sort of orphan or messed-up-childhood whisperer.
She wasn’t wrong. After our first one-on-one conversation, I knew he’d be more than just my commander. He made me his family when I had none. Understood the loss because his entire family had died in a tornado. And dedicated his spare moments to building me up, making me stronger, ensuring me I’d never be alone.
He asked me once why I’d joined the Navy, and when I told him it was because I wanted to be somewhere that I wouldn’t go to jail for killing people, he simply cocked his head and said, “You came to the right place.”
Not once did he pity me like others had. And he never batted an eye at the demons I harbored.
But he feels like he’s failing when I spiral.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he is beyond irate over how I handled this, but true to form, he pushes that all aside to celebrate the good. For me. It all wrenches my gut. I considered how Rena was feeling without her brothers and how much it would pain them to miss it, but I was so anxious, so in the zone of protecting her, that it didn’t occur to me how hurt my family would be to miss our nuptials.
So, I respond with the one sentence that will help Wells understand without issuing an apology he’d abhor. “Waiting means loss, Chief.”
He pulls back and studies my face, nodding in agreement and so choked up. Fatherhood has done a number on him, or maybe it’s just Ivy. He’s also aware of the torment laced through those words. Witnessed it. Held it.
When he releases me, the room erupts into a cacophony of cheers. This is far from over, but the tension is broken. They all rush for me, enfolding me in hugs and congratulations and a blanket of warmth and acceptance. The Navy wasn’t out of line with their assessment of my well-being all those years ago. Without the people in this room, I’d have undoubtedly chosen to join my mom and sisters.
Ivy serves up lunch—paninis and fries—and we all sit at the kitchen table to hash this out. I walk them through most of the details from the last couple of days—which feels far more like weeks. Even last night, when Rena protested the marriage based on us only being together three days, it felt off. Maybe because she’d been mine in one way or another for years, and we’d been dancing around the idea of it being more for weeks—since that day at La Lune Noire when, in my drunken state, I couldn’t stay away. So much has been packed into these few fleeting days together too.
Once I’m finished, the questions fly.
“What made Noire so pissed that she took off on you that night, and how the fuck did she disarm the security system without you waking?” Liam asks between bites, sliding a slice of bacon out of his sandwich to indulge in it separately.
One of the details I omitted was the blow-job escape plan because that shit is embarrassing. So, I deflect. “She was upset because there was obviously something happening between us, but I was keeping my dick in my pants, as ordered, and insisting that we reach out to her brothers. I took a hit off her joint, which left me groggy, and went to bed, and she texted with the girls.”
That’s a little shitty of me, but I saw that thread, and they encouraged Rena to make me chase her. No doubt that what she did is not what they’d had in mind, but they can absorb some of this heat all the same.
Wells glances between Ivy and Celeste while Gage and Liam chuckle, knowing I threw the girls under the bus, but they would’ve done the same. I learned my shady diversion techniques from the best.
“So, spill it,” Wells demands. “What the hell happened in the texts?”
Ivy takes that one, skin pink in indignation, jaw set. “We commiserated with her because men are sometimes dense. That is all.”
I laugh, admiring her uncanny ability to throw back whatever is shoved her way. “Thanks, Freckles.”
Celeste sighs and shrugs a nonchalant shoulder. “I may have suggested she make Ty work for her, and I stand by that. It did, in fact, pay off. But neither of us told her to run out on him.”
Liam chuckles, eyeing his wife. “Showing all your cards, Ace.”
“That’s true. Neither of them told her to do that. But I can’t blame her, and it’s not important anyway.” I push my plate aside and wipe my hands. “All that matters is that she did take off and I couldn’t breathe.”
That’s all the explanation they need for why I made my decisions.
“The Noires will be here tonight,” Wells informs, and my head pounds as he voices my inner thoughts. “That’s going to be a fucking disaster. Axel will be explosive … hell, Ryker too. Worse. They will not take kindly to you finding her, hiding her, marrying her, and claiming her without a word to them. Which brings us to KORT and this goddamn—”
“Fucktastrophy,” Gage supplies prior to sinking his teeth into his panini.
“Yeah.” Wells flings a hand toward him in agreement, but it isn’t an accolade. “A goddamn fucktastrophy with Balzano’s men that you so eagerly aided in.”
Hmm. No mention of the Morellis, so the Big Guy divulged all my shit to the Chief but covered his own.
Gage balks and swallows his mouthful. “You and Liam ran the damn background checks. It’s not on me.”
“Hey now, slow your roll with the finger pointing, Big Guy.” Liam swigs his Modelo. “I ran a fan-fucking-tastic background check. But we were verifying that Enzo was just some lowlife gang member, and he was a lowlife gang member. I didn’t go down all the rabbit holes that led to Balzano because as far as I knew, the threat was neutralized.”
“That’s valid,” I concede. “I made the same error.”
“Yeah,” Wells growls, diving a hand into his raven-black hair. “We all fucked up. And Balzano will eventually figure out that we were the ones who took out his men. You’ve already claimed Rena, so her loyalty test—”
“Let’s delve into that for a second.” My fists clench, and my skin ignites. “As far as her loyalty test, you let them know that she will not be out of my sight for even one goddamn second.”
“Ty,” Wells says with a trace of compassion, “I get where you’re coming from, and we can track her and have a plan to get her out, like we did with Celeste. But making demands like that is not how these things work. And this is a much more turbulent situation.”
“Fuck that,” I snarl. “Be sure to tell them that anyone who suggests I walk away from my wife so she can be tormented will get a bullet lodged in their brain. If they think I’m joking, you can cite the twenty-four foot soldiers I killed who’d tried to fuck with her.”
Gage’s booming laughter filters through the stale air with a resounding clap of his hands. “Look at the big balls on Tytan.”
“Truth.” Liam points the bottleneck of his beer at me with a dip of his chin. “And you are my wife- ing it like a motherfucking pro, man. Seriously impressive.”
Wells strokes his forehead in exasperation, but Celeste passes him Felicity before she heads to the fridge, which is her way of ensuring his voice remains steady. I wink appreciatively at her, and her brown eyes twinkle in response. Celeste is always levelheaded and strategic.
“Jesus Christ, Ty,” Wells wheezes, petting his daughter’s full head of jet-black hair. “Keeping you alive is a full-time job right now. There are steps that are expected to be followed. So much shit has happened since we found that goddamn book. You don’t even know the half of it. It all plays into how this will be handled.”
“I don’t give one tiny fuck.” Lowering my voice so that Rena doesn’t overhear details she should not discover this way, I go on, “I know who set her house on fire, and I also know who threw another person into it. Not sure what else could matter or how I could be the one fighting for survival. What about the damn KORT chair, who is so fucking high on his power that he disregards the bylaws he helped write? Adultery. Abandonment. Murder of an innocent. Running a prostitution ring. Corruption that puts the whole goddamn organization at risk.”
The room stills again. No one budges. For all the lighthearted jeers thrown by Liam and Gage at my threat, they know the reality of what Wells is dealing with. It’s messy because for all intents and purposes, his other KORT chairs are his equals and reap priority. He’s expected to protect his family, but never at the expense of KORT. Anything contrary could cost us all our lives. It would appear that we were defecting. Balzano is, of course, guilty on all accounts, but calling another chair out is perilous for a myriad of reasons. Even if it worked, it would sever any trust with the next in line, so in the end, we may have a more tumultuous chair to contend with. And by taking out Balzano’s men, even with the evidence we have on him, it reads like a hostile takeover.
I won’t accept that I have no options here though. I may have signed up to be part of this lifelong society, but Rena didn’t get that choice. I promised I wouldn’t let it rob her of anything, and I won’t.
Wells rises from the table, bouncing a babbling Felicity and clearly deliberating on something. “There’s more to this, but my hands are tied, Ty. I don’t—”
“I have an idea,” Ivy blurts, biting on her lip, her cogs clearly turning. “Give me a couple of days to formulate it with Wells and pitch it to Jared and Payne. You can’t tell Rena anything though.”
Jared Austen and Payne Logan are the other two KORT chairs. Jared is the leader of The Order, and Payne is our financial institution guru. Ivy didn’t mention pitching it to Balzano because she’s probably hoping to bypass him or at least get the other guys on board with whatever her idea is first. He disputes anything she suggests.
“I won’t hide this from her or spring it on her,” I warn.
“Ty,” she huffs. “I’ll fix this. You know I’ll take care of you both. But you need to tread lightly and stop being an alphahole. We do not inform of loyalty tests beforehand, or everyone would pass.”
“And I’m telling you that I will not keep this shit a secret, Freckles. She’ll be terrified. Work with that—her being informed and me staying with her. Do that, and I’ll comply just fine.”
Everyone at the table has expressions that are a mixture of awe, irritation, and concern. I know I’m being unreasonable. Maybe we should be running. But that would be even less in my control with so many people hunting us, all who have endless resources. Plus, our loved ones would pay the price. If we’re doing this though, I won’t risk losing her or even traumatizing her. So, it’s vital that they know where I stand.
Ivy shakes her head and reaches for her daughter. “You’re a pain in my ass. You know that? For now, keep your mouth shut. What’s your time frame?”
By time frame, she’s referring to when she can schedule the loyalty test. It has to occur within one month of vows being exchanged. The only exception to that was Ivy’s because Wells wasn’t yet a chair when they married. Celeste was tested about two weeks prior to their wedding, but she and Liam had already had a couple of months together.
“I want the whole month,” I say, even knowing how stressful the anticipation will be. “She’ll do fine, but we need time.”
“That’s wise,” Wells grants, kissing Ivy’s cheek as she snuggles Felicity against her chest. “We also have to deal with her brothers.”
“That won’t be easy.” Rena’s sweet warble trickles in from the threshold so that all heads snap to her. She’s fresh and adorably sexy in an oversize off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, shorts, and bunched-up socks. Her hair is in a messy knot with wisps framing her ethereal beauty. I jump up to greet my girl as she continues, “The Noires are temperamental. Sorry to say, you’re all stuck with one, fam.”
Her words are delivered in jest, like always, but it’s her cover. She’s nervous. It’s been a lot. I can’t fathom all the concerns flitting through her mind, but I can assuage a few with a simple action.
As soon as I reach her, I scoop her up, palm her head, and crash my lips to hers. She gasps into my mouth, like I’ve stolen her breath, but my tongue continues probing for another few beats. Soon, she relents, purring in response, weaving her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, and hooking her legs around my waist.
When I’m only mildly satisfied—because I’ll never get enough of her—I peck her nose. “Good morning, Mrs. Reynolds. I missed you.”
She smiles, bright and gleaming, and her green-hazel eyes, which have a grayish-blue tint today, brim with astonishment. “Good afternoon, hubby,” she whispers against my lips. “It wasn’t a dream, huh? ”
“It was,” I reply. “The kind that’s real.”
“That’s awfully optimistic of you, sailor. What happened to the burn?”
I have been a doomsdayer with her, which, in many regards, is completely warranted. But the tranquility I felt while buried inside her last night and the peace of my family being here, of standing my ground, and doing this ridiculous loyalty test on my terms—it’s freeing. And I want to give her the world.
“We still have to burn, baby girl. But I bought us some time, and reinforcements are here.”
She giggles. “I don’t know what any of that means, but lucky for you, I prefer not to think things through.”
A quality that is both endearing and terrifying, but I suppose it has worked in my favor.
“You taste like butterscotch already,” I say as I carry her through the kitchen to make her a plate. The itch of everyone’s eyes boring into us is palpable, but I forge ahead.
She laughs. “I heard the voices, so I needed my own reinforcements to fend off my crazy.” Twisting to peer directly at the family peanut gallery, she acts like she’s whispering while actually raising her voice. “I should probably acknowledge them though. They’re all frozen and staring.”
With that, I set her on her feet, and she shuffles over to dole out hugs and smart-ass remarks, but Liam sidles up to me.
“Christ, man.” He blows out a ragged breath and squeezes my shoulder. “That was good to see. It’s about goddamn time you got the kind of win you deserve.”
There’s so much emotion escorting that, pinching my lungs, but in true Liam fashion, he swivels to Rena, who is hovering near the island, chatting with the girls.
“So, Noire,” he starts, gearing up for a taunt, “you were able to accommodate that big motherfucker? I mean, he’s got a superhuman dick. It’s practically monster porn. ”
That garners expletives and snorting cackles from the rest of the room, but Rena doesn’t miss a beat.
Her eyebrows dart for the sky, her piercing twirling as they scrunch. “No shit. And it’s freaking bedazzled, which, of course, I admire. But c’mon. That thing is no joke. I might be a shapeshifter, the way I molded right to him.”
Liam howls, rounds the island, and sweeps her into his arms. “Fucking priceless. You are exactly what this guy needs.”
“Can we circle back to the bedazzled comment?” Gage bellows. “What in the hell is a bedazzled dick?”
“Pierced. A reverse Prince Albert. He did it last year,” Ivy supplies, swaying her little bundle to and fro.
My eyes widen in alarm as I halt my meal-making mission. “How the hell do you know that?” And shifting my focus to Wells, I tack on, “This insider’s info doesn’t earn a snapped Ivanna ?”
“I already knew,” he says, waving me off with a twitchy grin. “Bold move.”
Gage scratches his chin. “I think maybe we’re too fucking close.”
“Agreed,” I huff.
“You did it at La Lune Noire.” Ivy beams proudly and winks at me like she’s privy to the deeper reasoning. “Those guys tell me everything.”
I set a stern gaze on her. “Which one told you?”
She hems and haws but eventually comes out with it. “Jax. Out of all of them, that’s the best-case scenario. No big deal. He runs the shops, and I noticed you snuck in there during one of our lunches, so I probed.”
Rena hides her face in her hands in outright hysteria. “Jax knows Ty’s cock is pierced? Awkward.”
“Our chitchat always veers to such bizarre topics,” Celeste mutters.
“Courtesy of your husband,” Wells grumbles back to her. “Like herding fucking cats.”
“This whole conversation is awkward,” I chime. “Can we stop discussing my dick? ”
“I second that,” Celeste says before glancing at my wife. “We should at least do it behind his back.”
Gage laughs at that, but Wells and Liam appear mildly ruffled.
“You girls have cock-worshipping parties?” Liam quips with a waggle of his brows.
Ivy laughs in a mocking tone, blue eyes rolling. “Something like that.”
God only knows what that means, but the thought of Ivy and Celeste discussing my—
Nope, don’t want to go there. I think of them like sisters.
Rena wanders back and nestles into my side, cracking open the Diet Coke I grabbed for her. “At least the dick convo lightened the mood. It was like a tomb in here.”
Wells chuckles, plucking a butterscotch candy from his pocket and making a show of unwrapping it. “Your timing is impeccable, Rena. Just what we needed.”
“Well, you know,” she says, waving her hand in the air, “when life has you by the thong …”
“The fuck?” Gage belts out. “When life has you by the thong?”
“Yeah.” She flaps one hand and raises her soda with the other. “Well, it’s less relevant to you because you aren’t expected to wear dental floss as an undergarment, but you know when life is all up your ass and uncomfortable and you’re ready to just say fuck it and shed every last morsel of constriction? Stripping isn’t practical in most situations. Sometimes, all you can do is laugh.”
Gage bobs his head, considering. Ivy and Celeste giggle in agreement. Wells rubs his fingers over his smirk, clearly amused by my girl. But Liam lays it all out. Not simply what I need to hear and what I want her to soak in, but the sentiment that is clearly shared by my whole family.
“Thank fuck we get to keep her.”