CHAPTER 18 CADEN
CADEN
I shouldn’t be peeping inconspicuously like a teenager finding his first porn video, but here I am.
I can’t help it, any glimmer I can get of Elodie without that vulgar scowl on her face I’ll take it.
It’s the only time I can glimpse a modicum of our possible future.
One where I’ve moulded her into the perfect wife and she bows before me every day.
I’ve only seen it a couple of times. When she walks into the room and doesn’t spot me first. When my senses prick and eyes land on hers to see the delicate beauty behind the scowl. Then I watch as she notices me, see the first moment of surprise, the subtle diffidence, before the glower returns.
Dinner was civil last night. She seems to have taken the bait of taking The Hunt seriously, conserving all her hateful energy for it.
Every time Fiz made a crude comment, she sucked in her cheeks as if physically holding back her retorts.
All I could focus on was the deep groove in her pale skin.
The hollow of those cheeks and the image of my cock shoved between those puckered lips pummelled me.
I could vividly picture grazing a thumb along that sharp cheekbone as she sucked the life out of me, on her knees, tears streaming down her face, eyes red from gagging. My cock hasn’t softened since and I think this is becoming a new form of torture.
But because of my incessant need to keep those images alive, I’m currently peeping at Elodie and Alfie together in the gym.
It bodes well for The Hunt – she’s useless.
There’s nothing of her so that’s no surprise, but it’s still amusing to witness.
Anything Alfie tries to get her to lift barely leaves the mat.
I need to get her some clothes. She’s pranced around in mine all week, staining the fabrics with her feminine smell, and it’s suffocating me enough to seriously debate swallowing my pride on this one.
She’s currently wearing an old black tracksuit.
I don’t know why Alfie keeps giving her my clothes, might as well dress her in his, since they act like a fucking couple.
She gives him these small, sweet smiles all the time, like now when he hands her a bottle of water and dabs at her damp forehead with a towel.
She’s looking up at him with those big shiny eyes, like he’s the best thing in the world.
I don’t know how he does it. Where he conjures this insurmountable patience from.
When he turns his back to go over to the bench, I catch Elodie staring at his back.
The wide expanse of it. My cousin was blessed with the bulk genes like my father has – most Blackwoods, actually – he’s fucking huge, probably has the strength of me and Fiz combined, although I don’t envy it.
My lanky, agile frame grants me advantages Alfie could never have.
That’s why he never beats me in The Hunt.
His way over two-hundred-pound build weighs him down, slows him too much.
I’m light and nimble. No one’s ever gotten away from me.
And Elodie Valor won’t either. I’ll catch her, claim her and finally leash her.
She gawks at him, studying his outline, idly biting down on her bottle lid.
She should be looking at me like that. I’ve given her a home, food, protection.
I gave her Alfie, for fuck’s sake. I could be doing the chaperoning if I wanted, if I really wanted to punish her, has she ever thought about that? This is me being nice.
I reach down and adjust my hard dick in my jeans as Fiz comes to stand beside me.
We had words about his little love bite he left on my fiancé.
To be honest, I can’t be mad. The weeks leading up to collecting Elodie, I said they could have at her, then I just took that away.
Some primal instinct snapped into place when she was presented to me in that wheelchair.
I still can’t get the image out of my head.
But we’ve always shared. It still doesn’t feel right that they’re touching my girl, but…
let’s face it, if I’m not ruining her, then someone should. Maybe she’d be less fucking rude.
“You’ve been eye-fucking this bitch for thirty minutes,” he says, peeping next to me through the window.
“It’s not been that long.”
“Bro, I walked past you earlier, fed the dogs, took them outside, packed the car, and made a sandwich. You’re in the exact same position.”
I sigh and tear my eyes away from her, walking down the hall. “I don’t get it. How does Alf do it? It’s Alfie for fuck’s sake.”
Fiz follows at my side. “It may be Alfie, but it’s sober Alfie. You know he’s a good boy when he’s not intoxicated.”
I shake my head. “The problems started before he found drugs and alcohol. Impulse control, mood swings. There’s none of that happening.”
“Maybe it’s the Valor effect.”
“The only effect she transmits is dizziness and nausea.” I huff. “How are me and you practically foaming at the mouth trying to control our urges just by walking past her and that lump of muscle is with her all day every day and hasn’t smashed right through her?”
Fiz shrugs. “Maybe he’s rubbing one out every night.”
I scoff. “You know he wouldn’t. I strive for that amount of self-control.”
“I don’t. Walking this tightrope of desperate famine keeps my brain sharp, I like not knowing when I’m gonna explode.”
“That’s because you’re a masochist.”
I flick through a folder on the coffee table in the lounge, looking at my next job. I’ve got pickup in an hour, at least that will give me something to do for the rest of the day to take my mind off that insufferable little blonde flouncing around my house.
“Far from. The unknown just makes my dick hard. Listen.” He turns to me. “Drago has been trying to get hold of you. He wants to talk.”
I pat my pockets, realising my phone’s not on me. “Shit. Is he online now?”
“Yeah.”
I shove his shoulder, darting to the office. “Why the fuck you standing around talking about pussy for, you dumbass!”
He sprints to keep up with me. “You’ve seen the pussy we’re dealing with. Shit’s distracting, bro.”
I stagger into the office and tap the computer screen. The video call’s up, the screen black as usual.
I sit in the chair, Fiz ducking to the side to keep out of view.
“Drago,” I say, scooting to place my elbows on the desk.
“Caden,” his modulated robotic voice comes through the speaker. “I wanted to see how your little arrangement is getting on.”
I know Dad told him about his arranged marriage idea, since Drago holds the strings of both our families, but him knowing the ins and outs of my life still makes my skin crawl.
I lick my teeth and hold back my snarl. “Adjustment has been slow, as expected, but it’s fine.”
“Is she being any trouble?”
I could be honest, but I don’t like this guy.
Don’t trust him. Never have. We may be ruthless, but Drago’s a different kettle of fish.
He’s got this untrustworthy air about him.
Maybe because I’ve assisted him in a lot of backstabbings.
He’s got his hand dipped in countless honey pots on the dark web, and once someone upsets him, he effaces their business – and them – from the planet.
I know how easily he switches. It’s constant eggshells with him. If I dare tell him I can’t handle my woman, he may just take her away from me. And I haven’t given myself a fair shot to admit defeat yet.
“No. She’s reserved, sure, a little tentative, but overall, it’s been… nice having her here.”
“You’re pleased with your betrothed?”
I nod with my lips pressed into a tight line to hold in all the complaints I have about my betrothed.
“Good. Well, if all’s well then I’m satisfied. I have a new job for you this week. I’ll wire the details through.”
My heart plummets. Dismembering and trafficking is one thing, but this man – the only other person in my life I can’t fucking say no to – he makes me do things the Devil himself wouldn’t.
“Sure, on it.”
“Good boy.” He ends the call and the room fills with a thick silence at the patronising praise.
It doesn’t take long for Fiz to start his little snickering.
“Don’t.”
He comes over to me and speaks in the same squeaky voice he uses on Bob. “You’re such a good boy, Cadie.”
I catch his wrist as he reaches to pat my head. The urge to put him on his ass is almost impossible to resist, but I won’t. I’ll never hurt him. He’s as much a Blackwood as I am. To me, anyway.
“I’m on a fucking hair trigger right now, Fiz, don’t test me.”
He catches the strain in my voice, so he holds his free palm up and says, “You got it, boss.”
I huff, walking back out the office.
Fiz follows, saying quietly, “I think I’m starting to feel a little sorry for what Elodie’s going to have to put up with when she loses the bet.”
I push the hair out of my eyes. “No, you’re not.”
He chuckles. “No, I’m not. I can’t wait to hear that beautiful voice scream this house down.”