Chapter Thirty
Lyra
The Saturday of my trip with Killian comes far too soon. I double-check with Sarah about taking a week away from work to travel—she reminds me that I will be working, just in a different capacity.
If only she knew that my work typically entails taking Killian’s cock however and whenever he wants to give it, I don’t think she’d be quite so eager to hand me over to him.
Or maybe she would. In either case, I know what to expect this week. Killian’s made it abundantly clear that my sole purpose will be to act like a blowup doll and serve as his shadow.
My objective will be quite different; I need to find something on him to really pull my expose together.
I may not hate Killian as much as I did when this ordeal began, but my self-preservation instincts still override my strange draw to him.
I have to be free of him, even if the thought of never seeing him again makes me feel hollowed out, like someone rummaged around in my chest cavity with a spoon and decided to scoop out some integral pieces of me.
I pack on Friday night, bringing sensible work clothes—long skirts, blouses, and slacks. I also throw a nice dress into the mix for any high-end events I might be attending, but I don’t go out of my way to pack anything sexy that’ll encourage Killian to pounce on me.
He doesn’t require any encouragement.
Locke meets me outside my apartment building early on Saturday morning. He’s wearing a suit and sunglasses; he jerks his chin at me in greeting.
We haven’t really spoken since the night he saved me.
He’s driven me to see Killian, and I know Killian’s told Locke to stalk me, but he’s good enough at his job that I never notice him.
Locke takes my suitcase from me and puts it in the trunk while I slip into the backseat of the car, twining my fingers together.
Locke gets into the front and puts the car into drive. I worry my lower lip between my teeth.
“Locke?” I say after several minutes.
“Miss Stewart,” Locke replies flatly.
“I… wanted to thank you. For that night in the alleyway. I appreciate you looking out for me.”
He glances at me through the rearview mirror. “I was just doing my job.”
The subtext is clear; he doesn’t give a shit about my wellbeing, he’s just following orders. Nevertheless… “Still, I owe you my gratitude. That night would’ve gone down very differently if you weren’t there.”
“If you want to thank someone, thank Killian,” Locke replies. “He’s the one who’s obsessed with you.”
Butterflies take flight in my chest. “I don’t think he’s obsessed with me.”
“Then you aren’t paying attention.”
I swallow. “I won’t see him after this week.”
Locke only credits that statement with a snort. “Both of you seem so keen on telling yourselves that. It’s still bullshit.”
I plaster my gaze out the window, because I don’t have a good response to that.
The rest of the drive to the airport is taken in silence. Locke occasionally checks on me through the mirror, but he makes no move to strike up a conversation, and I’m too busy ruminating to talk to him, either.
Instead of pulling up to the front of JFK airport, Locke takes a strange route that leads us directly onto a private airstrip. He stops at a security booth, where I step out of the car to get patted down by guards—who also check the car—but the interaction takes less than two minutes.
This is what true wealth is like. No lines at airports, no TSA, no insane wait times, and no crowds. Simple shortcuts that allow a high-powered individual to delegate their time where it’s important.
Killian’s spoiled without a doubt… but I know he’s also an exceptionally hard worker. He’s not the type to get drunk and party on a private plane after skipping long wait times—I’d wager his move will be to work on the plane rather than wasting his precious time.
As much as I despise some of the despicable things he’s done to me, I also admire him.
His drive, his ambition, and his way of achieving tasks that seem impossible to others.
He came from nothing, and he’s managed to amass everything he could possibly need.
And still, he doesn’t let up. He doesn’t allow a team of individuals to do his work for him while he relaxes on a beach somewhere.
He’s motivated and precise. He’s powerful, and while I’ve known him to abuse his power… I have to admit he’s earned it.
Locke stops the car in front of a sleek black jet standing proudly on the tarmac.
It’s not a small plane, though it’s nowhere near as large as commercial ones.
Like everything in Killian’s life, it’s sensible, serviceable, and elegant.
While he doesn’t mind flaunting his wealth, he also doesn’t do so at his own expense.
Another thing I admire about him.
There’s a black SUV idling in front of the jet—when Locke opens my door, the driver of the SUV steps out and opens the backdoor of the car.
Killian and I both step onto the tarmac at the same time.
He’s frowning at something on his phone, though he swiftly pockets it and approaches me.
He hooks an arm around my waist, and my belly flutters.
He tucks my hair behind my ear and dips his head down, but I plant my hands on his chest and take a step back, glancing around. I don’t want any public exposure to our… arrangement. Certainly not if I can help it.
Killian frowns at me. “Lyra.” The word is a warning.
“Not here, please,” I whisper. “In the plane, but not out in public.”
His frown deepens into a scowl. I get the sense he’s offended. “Why?”
“Because I would get in serious trouble with my boss if she finds out what’s been going on.”
Killian waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. If we were outed, it’d probably raise your social status and get you opportunities. I can nearly guarantee that your value after working with me will only improve.”
“I’m fine with my value remaining the same, if it means I can also maintain my dignity.”
“Dignity is another abstract concept,” Killian says dismissively.
“It’s defined by your own beliefs and opinions—nothing more, nothing less.
If you believe that getting fucked by me is undignified, then it’s undignified.
Alternatively, you could choose to believe that getting fucked by me is more than dignified, it’s something to be proud of, and then your dignity will be intact. ”
“Being reduced to a blowup doll isn’t dignified, no matter how you spin it.”
Killian chuckles. “You’re not a blowup doll, Lyra.
You’re worth so much more than that. For now, you’re an ant—but ask yourself, how many colony ants would I go out of my way to chase and pin down?
” His hold on my waist tightens, and he dips his head down low.
His nose skims up the side of my neck, and a gasp is torn from my lips when he nips at my pulse.
“Only one,” he murmurs. “Only my Little Bird. That’s it.
That’s all. Because you, Lyra, are the ant who has the potential to be a queen. ”
I bite my lip. “I don’t want to be a queen.”
“That’s because you’ve never felt the intoxicating power of ruling.” He draws my bottom lip into his mouth and bites down on it, hard enough to make me yelp and pull back. I touch a finger to my lips, blinking when it comes away covered in blood.
“Come on,” Killian says, shifting his hold from my waist to my hand. “Let’s give you a taste of what it’s like to live as a ruler.”
The plane is luxurious to the extreme. The seats are butter-smooth, and the menu is prepared by a Michelin-starred chef. Killian and I enjoy a steak with a pepper reduction, a fresh salad, and a French pastry before the plane takes off.
Once we’re cruising, Killian takes me to the bedroom—a bedroom on a plane. I’m not sure what to do with myself; I expect he’ll start stripping me and fuck me immediately, but he doesn’t.
“Take a nap,” he advises me. “It’s a long flight, and I’ll need to be working as soon as I land. I prefer to get my sleep on the plane ride so I can avoid as much jetlag as possible.”
“You don’t want to…” I trail off, shifting my weight from foot to foot.
Killian smiles faintly. “Are you offering, Little Bird?”
I shake my head, maybe a little too quickly. “No, of course not.”
“Of course not,” Killian says mockingly. His jaw tightens. “One day, you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that you enjoy what I do to you. That you love it when I give you no choice but to take my cock however I want to give it.”
My cheeks heat. “You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not.” Killian ducks his head down to kiss me. I turn my head to the side, giving him my cheek instead of my lips. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” he says. “For now, get some rest. Our first stop is London.”