16. Talon
sixteen
Talon
F uck. Fuck. FUCK! What had I done?
I’d crossed the line. Fuck .
Fuck .
I glanced back to where she still lay, a frosty twig dangling from her disheveled hair, bare knees tucked up to her chest. The cheek that still bore a receding bruise from my strike was bright pink from where it had been pressed into the ground.
Her expression baffled me. I’d expected to see pure mortification but instead there was only bewilderment. I replayed the moment back in my head from start to finish. She’d kissed me first. She had made that first move and she had not been hesitant about it. I couldn’t be held solely responsible for my actions after the fact. She hadn’t said no, hadn’t even implied that she didn’t want it. I’d asked, hadn’t I? Yes, I had, I’d asked and she sat there with those giant gray eyes and waited.
Had I left enough of an opening for her to deny me if she wanted to? I thought I had, but looking back I wasn’t so sure. She’d been so fucking wet, and tight and perfect. She’d wanted me and she’d initiated.
And yet I fought the temptation to step out into oncoming traffic. I was holding her against her will. Blackmailing her with threats of harm to her family. It wasn’t right of me to touch her, to want her so badly again already. Or maybe this had been her intention—to get inside my head, to distract me from the sole purpose of all of this. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I charged through the back door of The Lodge and did not look back towards Misely again. There was no way I’d be able to stomach the disgust that would inevitably catch up with her after what we’d done. I ignored Susie as she tried to stop me to see if everything was all right, seemingly noticing something in my expression. Wait until you see Misely.
Barely restraining myself from slamming the door shut as I barged into our room, and immediately began pacing, my fingers pulling roughly at the roots of my hair. I could hear my own breathing coming sharp and rapid, and the sounds of my feet leaving a wet snowy mess on the carpet as I paced. I clung to those noises, desperately trying to slow the frantic hammering of my heart.
She’d seemed so distressed when I’d caught up to her, her eyes brimming with a sadness I hadn’t been prepared for. Gone was the burning hatred that she seemed to have on reserve just for me. Gone was the playful flirtation she gave to everybody else. The sass, the snark…it wasn’t there. Just an aching well of sorrow that must’ve been hidden just beneath the surface.
And then I’d put my hands on her like I had some right to.
I began to count my steps in sets of four; one, two, three, four, one two, three, four, one, two —The device in my pocket began to vibrate, pulling me from my next set. If it was Kyle I was going to —it wasn’t my phone, but Misely’s. There was a picture of some douchebag looking dude with gelled back dark hair, the name reading ‘Brantley Corrigan,’ and I stiffened.
The same motherfucker who’d been texting her the night I’d taken her from Chicago. Their text chain had been dull to say the least, but still she’d been hesitant to tell me who he was. My lip curled and despite my better judgment, I answered.
“Yeah?”
There was a long, awkward pause before the man on the other end asked cautiously, “Uh, yeah, hi. Is Misely available?”
My skin prickled; I knew it was irrational. Of course he was asking for her, he’d called her phone. He'd asked her to dinner just the other night.
“Who’s askin’?”
Brantley gave me another extended pause before clearing his throat. “My name is Brantley Corrigan. Misely and I are friends.”
My god, he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. I wasn’t a moron. I knew what ‘friends ’ meant. They were, at the very least, routinely fucking.
“Look, could you tell her I called? I heard she went out of town last minute and I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”
The blood in my veins began to boil and I hated myself for it. It wasn’t like I had any right to be jealous—where she was concerned, I didn’t have a right to anything—but at that moment I was feeling particularly overwhelmed. It would be so easy to lie and say sure, no problem, and hang up. So easy. And yet—
“Yeah, nah, I’m good.”
“Excuse me?” Jesus, he even sounded like a douche.
I chuckled throatily without any real humor. “I said, I’m good . If she wanted to talk to you, she would. Not like you’re even saved in her phone.” A dead lie, but it wasn’t like he’d know. I wanted to hurt someone, and if it had to be this stupid mother fucker’s feelings, so be it.
When he responded, some of his awkward demeanor was gone, replaced with blatant displeasure. “And who exactly are you ?”
Before I could answer, the door handle turned and it opened, Misely stepping into our room. She shut it gently behind her before turning to face me. I inspected her expression for the hatred I was sure had to be there, for the shame or the revulsion, maybe even fear—but there was none of that. She stared back at me with wide eyes that had cleared of all of their earlier misery, instead replaced with something that looked suspiciously like contentment.
When her sights landed on the phone I held to my ear, they narrowed, realizing it was hers with it's ridiculous glittering case. “Who are you—” she mouthed, but I began speaking, letting my lips pull into a wretched grin.
“I’m the guy who just had her out on her hands and knees in the snow. Thinking about doing it again, actually.” I pulled the device away despite the man on the other end immediately protesting and demanding answers. I hung up, turned on my heels and shut the bathroom door without saying a word to the woman who stood gaping at me.
It wasn’t morning time, so it would mess up my routine even further, but I started the shower anyway. Once I was no longer in the room to see the shock on her face, the satisfaction of creating discord between Misely and her alleged ‘friend’ vanished. The self-deprecation I’d felt only seconds before I’d answered her phone had come crashing back in full force.
So utterly disgusted with myself, I hadn't even taken the time to cuff her like I would have—like I should have—if for no other reason than to keep up appearances. But I just…couldn't. Before the water was even warm, I stepped in, bracing myself against the freezing cold. It was better than I deserved.
“Talon?” I hadn’t heard the bathroom door open. Jesus Christ, I hadn’t locked the bathroom door. I was losing my edge.
“What do you want, Blondie?” I couldn’t summon the venom.
Her silhouette was outlined through the shield of the shower curtain, and I watched as she stepped from foot to foot. There it was. What I had been waiting for. The nerves. The fear.
“Who was that on the phone?”
I forced out a sardonic snort. “What? Worried I told Mommy dearest how you like it?”
“No, I just—well, yeah, kind of. More like my boss or something. Who was it?”
I blinked back my surprise, trying to process how she could sound so calm.
“Just your little boyfriend.”
“Who?” There was no mistaking her confusion. So not a boyfriend then? “Brantley?” she asked, saying his name like a question.
I grunted, wishing she would leave me to my misery. She didn’t. She didn’t say anything else either. Squeezing my eyes shut, I ran the water over my face and tried to wash the guilt down the drain. I couldn't take it.
“Misely, I shouldn’t have touched you.” I could’ve punched myself. Why was I saying anything? I should’ve left it alone, let myself feel guilty and shameful forever. Let her keep me in her mind as a monster. I was a monster—
“What are you talking about?” Her words were sharp, laced with angry accusation.
Fuck it. I’d already dug myself a hole today. “In the woods. I shouldn’t have put my hands on you, I shouldn’t have—”
Cold air blasted my wet skin as she tore the shower curtain back, stepping inside the tub to join me. While I had been wallowing, she had been stripping.
And now I was gaping. Beautiful. So fucking beautiful from head to sparkly pink painted toes. Legs a mile long, a smooth toned belly with a glittering butterfly shaped stone pierced through her navel, and breasts I could wrap my hands around. A temptress.
“There is already plenty of shit you get to feel bad about. Plenty of things you have done wrong.” She growled, her blue-gray gaze hard. I swallowed, keeping myself as far from her as I could in the tiny space. “But this isn’t one of them. You gave me an out and I didn’t take it. Don’t apologize for that. You should know by now that I am not the kind of woman who goes down quietly. I know what I want and I take it. I wanted it. I needed it. And now I want it again.” One of those perfectly manicured fingers poked into my chest forcefully as she stepped into my space, erasing the invisible line I’d drawn between us as our fronts brushed together.
Holding back a shudder, I murmured, “Are you sure, Blondie?” Closer still she pressed, the peaks of her nipples pressing into my skin. Her lips, still a deep maroon from the frigid cold outside, were parted. She tipped her chin once and whispered, “I shouldn’t be. I really shouldn’t. But I am.” Snaking her arms up around my neck, Misely closed the last centimeter of distance between our mouths.
She tasted as sweet as the maple syrup she’d drowned her pancakes in that morning, but I only wanted to drown in her . The way her tongue moved over mine, her fingers coiled tightly into the hair at the base of my neck, her tiny whimper when my teeth found purchase on her bottom lip…who needed oxygen? Not me, not ever again.