Chapter 36 Aurora
AURORA
“Wake up.” Everett’s familiar command jolts me out of my sleep.
It’s the most emotion he’s shown me in over twenty-four hours. His hand is wrapped around me, right above my collar.
I’m lying on my side, squeezing my eyes tighter shut.
Praying.
Please, don’t let this be a dream. I want it to be real.
Ever since he picked me up from the hospital yesterday, life has been a nightmare.
I was so happy to see him. So excited to tell him that I felt like tomorrow would be the day I finally learned the babies’ names. I’ve made up my mind, I wanted to say to him. I practically hopped up and down on the leather seat of the SUV.
Until I took a long look at his face. His expression wasn’t solemn or upset like it’d been on our wedding night. On the days that came after.
There was nothing behind his eyes. Nothing on his face to acknowledge that he cared I was there.
An emptiness that chilled me to the core.
Only when I asked him what was wrong, did I get the same response. Nothing.
I couldn’t do anything but wait.
Wait throughout the entire evening. Through the morning after. Through the breakfast I ate on my own. Then dinner.
His detachment rattled my bones. An old ache rose to the surface.
He seemed so lonely, so desolate, that he couldn’t see that he had me on his side.
My husband was gone. Checked out.
The few times he acknowledged me were to take off and put on my collar so I could shower.
This evening, I told him my period ended early. That we could try to have babies again.
That statement earned me a nod, then he lay beside me in bed, in nothing but his gray sleep pants that I loved, and he stared into space.
I didn’t cry before I fell asleep. But I did ask the universe to grant Everett peace.
I just wanted my husband back.
“Wake. Up.” He’s squeezing my throat now, cutting off my air supply.
The universe seemed to answer my pleas. It’s giving me exactly what I asked for. What I need.
The full force of Everett Quentin Alder unleashed on me.
I’m not dreaming this.
My eyes snap wide open. We’re enveloped by the dark room with only the moonlight illuminating the expansive space.
“Well, well, well.” Though he’s behind me, he can tell I’ve opened my eyes. Nothing escapes from this hunter. “There you are.”
“I—” His hand closes in tighter on me. Suffocating me. “Everett. Please.”
“Please.” The way he laughs. So cold. So cruel. He’s mocking me. “Are you begging me, princess? Asking me to stop?”
With his lips on my naked shoulder, the emotional pain grows tenfold. He’s tricking me. The gentle press of his mouth on my skin is a lie.
He’s in a mood. A cruel one.
“I’m asking you to be honest,” I wheeze out, tilting my hips back. Letting him have every part of me.
“I’m asking you for answers.”
My naked body is his. My heart belongs to no one but him.
For better or worse.
“You know who else must’ve begged for answers?” I’m being yanked out of bed. Dragged back until—oh my God—I’m up in the air, in Everett’s arms. “For mercy?”
His eyes send ice racing up my spine. My teeth chatter as shock strikes me.
I can almost feel it coming.
My lungs stop working.
He’s going to throw me into the basement. Locked up underground, the soundproofed walls and doors would mute my screams. I’d bang on the door anyway. On Everett’s door.
But…no. We aren’t headed out of the room. He’s taking me to the closet.
He’s going to lock me up. In there. Alone.
I can’t do it. I can’t.
“Put me down.”
My fists bang, bang, bang on his chest. When it doesn’t work, I yank at his hair.
I wish I could control myself, but I can’t. It’s nearly impossible when I’m drowning in panic.
I need help.
“Put me down!” I have to breathe through this. Have to try. “I don’t want to go in there.”
Everett stops in the middle of our bedroom. Shadows play over his sharp features, his clenched jaw. His love for me is there. Right beneath the surface.
He won’t let it out. He can’t.
Something or someone has sunk their claws into his damaged soul.
The wound he had managed to patch up has been cut open again.
He’s bleeding. In so much pain.
I get that now. “Everett. Your sister.”
“Your mother.” His hiss is quiet, yet it hits me like thunder cracking through the skies. “How’s that for honesty?”
My mother. There’s no question in his voice anymore.
My.
Mother.
“You sent our DNA to a lab.” I reach for his cheek. I go for a subtle touch.
Everett bats my hand away, staring at me through narrowed eyes.
“Then…” I start. Stop. It’s too much. The weight of this moment, of this revelation. Of Everett’s anger that’s sucking the air out of the room.
I won’t hide from it.
He needs me. “What happened?”
“Your father.” The venom in his voice is a dagger to my heart. Right between my ribs. “I have no doubt that he made her beg. That he ignored her cries.”
We’re walking again, crossing the room. Entering the closet.
“Everett.”
“Shut up.” He drops me, and there’s no kindness in the gesture. His grip clamps both my wrists together, and I know it’ll only get worse from here.
“No! Don’t!” I thrash, kick, snarl. I’m fucking useless. “Talk to me, please!”
“I can’t…” Looking past me, he reaches into the drawer where he keeps his ties. “Can’t fucking take it. Goddammit.”
“Let me go.” My mind is fucked. Has to be. It’s why my nipples are pulled tight. Why I moan at the feel of his tie around my wrists. I’ve just learned what happened to my mom, and I ache to be fucked by him. “Don’t lock me up.”
His eyes tell me that he won’t. That he doesn’t hate me.
This isn’t about punishing me or about pushing me away.
He needs this release.
He wants to break me to feel better? He wants me to bear the brunt of his anguish?
I can do it.
As long as he doesn’t lock me up here, I can take anything.
At the first change in me, he raises an eyebrow. “You’ve stopped fighting.”
“Yes.” Tears brim in the corners of my eyes. “I-I’m your wife. I’m yours. And you—”
I shriek when he drags me across the walk-in closet.
With one hand on his tie, Everett wrenches all of his suit jackets off the clothing rack. One by one, they’re discarded onto a pile on the floor.
I don’t run. Don’t grimace.
I bite down a gasp when each hanger clatters on top of the rest.
He terrifies me. He always has, on some level.
It won’t make me back down. Nothing will.
“I’m what?” he snaps.
The rack is bare of clothes. In its place, Everett loops the other end of his tie around it, his expression hardening. And I let him. I let him hang me there by my wrists.
“I’m what, Aurora?”
“You’re my husband.” My toes barely touch the ground, swiping over the warm wood.
It’s okay. It’s okay. For him, my shoulders will burn. My arms will stretch. It’ll get worse before it gets better; that much is obvious.
I won’t have it any other way.
He hurt me and wronged me and stole from me.
And through it all, he managed to save me.
From my life. From my abusers. From myself.
“So?” He spits out the word, sounding bored. His concentrated face as he examines my naked body tells a different story. “I was a son once too. A brother. I’ve been your step-uncle for years. A lot of good it did to you. A lot of fucking help I’ve been to the four of you.”
I can tell him, from experience, that it’s impossible to manipulate life.
When the world decides to fuck you over, it will. It’ll show you just how small you are. How ridiculous it is to have hopes, plans, and dreams.
Even a man as powerful as Everett is just a blip on the universe’s radar.
But I know my husband. I’ve learned his pain, about his bottomless guilt, the hate that’s eaten at him for years. It runs deep, roots sunk inside him.
Words alone will never be enough to heal the wound in his heart.
“Use me.” I arch my back, lifting my chin. “Use me to make your pain go away. Use me as an outlet. Take it all out on me. I”—dammit with these tears—“I’m your wife. I love you, you asshole. Use. Me.”
His breath is labored as he studies me.
Waiting for his verdict, I do the same.
He’s gorgeous, even when furious.
His chest muscles are tight with tension, abs accentuated while he holds himself very still.
I yearn to lick the tattoos on his body.
His clenched fist. The hard line of his cock. Both make my mouth water.
He slips his hand into his pajama pants pocket.
Where he hides his remote.
“You want me to hurt you?” One click and electricity radiates in a sharp pang from my neck straight to my toes.
My breath whooshes from my lungs. I’m vibrating and shocked at the force he’s used on me.
“Yes.” I keep my eyes locked on his. “I meant what I said. I won’t back out on my word. I won’t ask you to stop or go easier on—Jesus Christ,” I shout when he sends a second zap through me.
“Sure about that?”
He’s being mean. Nevertheless, I see a flash of the real him beneath the pain.
The man I’ve grown to love over my time here is still there. He’s there, and he needs this.
He needs me.
“I’m sure.” My teeth grind, no matter how hard I try to breathe through the pain. “Again. Again.”
Instead of shocking me, the remote crashes against the wall, and I bite down a surprised cry.
“So brave, aren’t you?” He grips my chin. “Resilient little thing. Taking the electricity so well. Except it doesn’t look like you’re in enough pain. When your nipples are pulled tight like this. When your cheeks darken. When I can smell your needy little cunt. How horny you are for this.”
I don’t have a chance to tell him that it hurts so fucking much. That I’m acting as if I’m okay so that he won’t stop.
I don’t tell him that I’m confident that degrading me isn’t about breaking me. It’s about his guilty conscience. The one he shouldn’t have. Not ever again.
Everett lifts one of my legs by the back of my thigh. Spreading me to him and then—
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
My pussy is wet, making obscene sounds each time his hand cracks down on my sex.
“Please.” I wouldn’t shield myself from the pain if I could. As much as it hurts. “Please. Please.”