53. Everett
53
EVERETT
M ary-Kate leads us upstairs. I hear music in the other room—not the thumping club music from the library.
This is a live band. Folksy.
Mary-Kate notices my attention shifting. “That’s the Queen’s coronation.” She winks. “Not for us.”
Belleflower Queen. Claire.
She’s near.
She tugs my hand. The guard body-checks me, his shoulder nudging against mine. When he does, his jacket falls open, and I spot the firearm holstered to his belt.
Gun. I need that gun.
I let Mary-Kate lead me up the stairs. She leads us into a bedroom with white, fluffy sheets and landscapes on the walls.
The door clicks closed behind us. The guard stays inside, watching.
Mary-Kate’s fingers make quick work of my shirt. She runs her palms over my chest and stomach, appreciating the muscles there .
She lets out a low hum, a near purr. “Claire always got all the best things,” she muses. “My turn.”
She comes in for a kiss, but I close my hand on her throat, holding her at bay. Her eyes go wide with surprise, and she gasps. In the edge of my vision, I see the bodyguard tense, his hand going to his sidearm.
My wolf is howling. I hold her here but don’t squeeze. Instead, I stroke my thumb over the pounding pulse of her throat.
“You smell like other men,” I tell her. “Go. Clean yourself first.”
The surprise in her eyes morphs into a burning heat. She licks her lips. “Yes, sir.”
With that, I release her. She gives me one last hungry look before she vanishes into the adjoining bathroom. She leaves it cracked open. An invitation I won’t take her up on. The shower hisses as it starts up.
I can feel the guard’s eyes on me. I lean against the wall beside him.
“So,” I start. “Are you going to stay here the whole time?”
He won’t look me in the eye. “It’s my job.”
Oh. I can read the familiar lines of repressed homosexuality like a book.
All my worst, most vile instincts are rising to the surface, but I don’t care.
I’ll do whatever it takes to get me closer to Claire.
And to get to Claire, I need that gun.
“I’m afraid you won’t get much of a show,” I tell him. “She’s not my type.”
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Huh.”
I turn to him. I pick my words carefully. “I need something… harder . ”
Finally, he meets my gaze. His lips part. A hopeful, wanting itch.
It’s the distraction I need.
I tilt in, as though for a kiss, and he lets me. But instead of meeting his mouth, I grab his gun. My hand wraps around the cold steel, my finger around the trigger.
Ah. We’re home .
In an instant, I have the gun underneath his chin. He chokes, his eyes wide with fear now.
Past-Everett wouldn’t have hesitated to blow his head clean off.
But now, Dragonfly’s voice is in my ear.
There’s always another way .
Fuck him for making me a better man.
I remove the gun and deal him a swift punch instead. His body slumps to the floor. He’s out cold.
Just as I’m about to make my escape, I hear it.
A scream. Two screams.
The first, a man’s.
The second makes my blood cold.
It’s Claire’s.
Claire is in trouble. And she’s right next door.
I can hear her. I rush up against the wall and slam my palm on it. “Claire!” I shout.
I will break down this wall.
I will break it apart.
I will tear this house down brick by brick to get to her.
She calls back, “Everett!”
My heart is going a thousand miles an hour in my chest.
“What the fuck is going on—?” Mary-Kate leaves the shower, towel around her body. Her mouth falls open when she sees the guard slumped to the floor.
I raise my gun and aim it at her. She freezes .
“Back inside,” I tell her.
She stares at me like a deer in headlights. Slowly, she walks backward into the bathroom. “Please,” she whimpers. “Don’t?—”
I shut the bathroom door in her face. I lock her in.
Good. That’s done.
I rush to the door, fling it open, and?—
There she is .
Claire. My Claire.
Her hair is tangled around a flower crown. Her skin is flushed, and those gray eyes are wild. She looks like a ghost in her soft, white dress. The hem of it is splattered red.
Her knuckles are white as she grips the hilt of a bloody knife.
Immediately, I take her face in my hand. I savor the warmth of her cheek. She melts into my touch, her eyelids lowering.
“Are you okay?”
Those soft eyes look up at me. “It’s not my blood.” She reaches up. Her fingertips press against the bare skin of my chest. Even the smallest touch from her sends a fire lashing through me.
“I came to save you,” she says.
My breath is light. Tight. My voice is a hard rumble when I tell her, “You already have.”
Our eyes meet. There’s a small, tense second of electricity.
And then her mouth crashes against mine, and I lose all control.
She drops the knife. I drop the gun. I need both hands to grab her. I cup her rear and the back of her head, holding her against me. She climbs me like she can’t get close enough, wrapping both her legs around me. I yank her into the room and shove her against the wall.
I need to be inside of her. Nothing else matters. I’ve never needed anything more.
“I need you,” Claire moans in my ear, her voice hoarse and desperate.
I rip her panties from her legs and bunch her dress up. Her nails dig sharply into my back as I undo my zipper and shove my aching cock inside of her. She’s dripping wet. My hard length slides in easily as she soaks me.
She cries out. She shouts my name— yes —and more . I grind her against the wall. Our hips smack together. Her skin burns feverishly hot against mine.
I ravish her mouth, and she attacks me back, matching my ferocity. She launches forward, knocking me off-balance, and I stumble backward, hitting the bed. Claire straddles me here, riding me hard and fast.
My wild woman. She bucks over my body, her dress fighting to stay on. Her pink nipple slips out of the v-cut, and I attach myself, sucking and nibbling. She grips her hair and shouts as her body clenches me. I growl, her nipple trapped between my teeth, as she milks my release from me.
Her hair is a mess, trapped in the crown. She runs her hand over my chest. Her nails leave hard, red marks. I hiss. My queen isn’t done.
With one swift move, I flip us over so Claire is on her back, her body dripping half off the side of the bed. I hoist her strong leg over my shoulder and drive my cock deep inside my greedy, desperate girl. Even after my release, my erection is still raging strong, and if she keeps looking at me with those lust-filled gray eyes and those slightly parted, rosebud lips, I’m afraid it’s never going to slacken .
I prop myself up with a hand over her head. “Look at me,” I tell her. “Eyes on mine.”
She keeps those perfect, beautiful eyes trained on mine.
“Good girl.” I reward her by cupping her neck, my thumb pressing in. She’s sweating. There’s a light puddle of sweat in the hollow here, and I lick it, drinking her like heaven’s elixir. “I’m yours. Completely.”
She grabs my ass. My stomach clenches as she grips tightly, holding me as deep as possible inside of her. “I’m yours,” she whimpers. “Give it to me, Everett.”
I choke on a moan as a second orgasm erupts from me. She mewls with pleasure, rocking her hips on my cock, her own body throbbing with me.
Her nails leave a bright trail of pain up my back, and I shiver. When I kiss her, her tongue is a balm against mine.
My heart is pounding. But—finally—we’re slowing.
Those gray eyes look clearer. She blinks, as though seeing me for the first time, and slips her hand through my hair.
“You have a tag on your ear,” she says curiously.
I pet her messy hair. “You have a crown on your head.”
Her eyes fall to something over my shoulder. “Is he dead?”
Oh. The security guard. Forgot about him.
I shake my head. “No. I don’t think so.”
There’s a shouting coming from the bathroom. Has she been throwing a fit this whole time? The locked door rattles.
Claire lifts her eyebrows. “Is that Mary-Kate?”
“Unfortunately.”
I lift the bottom of her dress. I rub my thumb over the red stain. “Is this Loren?”
She looks at me. Her eyes look far away. “I had to,” she says. Her voice shakes. “He killed Daddy. I wanted to kill him. But I…I couldn’t…”
I take her perfect, precious face. I kiss her, and I kiss her, and when I taste the salt of her tears on our lips, I use my thumb to push them from her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
She sniffs and then rubs her hand over her face. She pulls herself together, a sudden urgency in her voice. “Ransom. Is he?—?”
“They had him in the stables, last I saw him.”
“We need to get him and get the fuck out of here.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
I start to pull back, but Claire grabs my face. “Wait…”
She pulls me in and kisses me. Her kiss ripples through me. I feel it down to my toes.
“Okay,” she says, her breath hitting my lips. “Now I’m ready.”