Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
RAFAEL SANTOS
I hate myself. I hate that I’m lonely, and stupid, and weak. I was almost caught tonight—why? Because I couldn’t stay away. And what’s fucking worse, I feel guilty for leaving Valentina standing alone in the crowd.
I shouldn’t feel this way. I can’t afford to feel guilt when it comes to my enemies. Marco wouldn’t.
But my mother would. She was always compassionate, always encouraging us to imagine another person’s hardships instead of assuming the worst. She was sunshine and pure love to her core. My father thought she was weak; Marco and Javier did too.
Not me. I thought she was perfect.
But she’s dead—they all are. And it’s all her fault.
Renewed in my disdain for Valentina Reyes, I resume pushing McCrae’s bike toward the barn, only a sliver of light from within to guide me. I push toward it, picturing each of their faces, ashen and lifeless, Jose only a faded mystery, his death still unknown to me.
I thought for a second I could begin to heal, and then, I did the unthinkable. I kissed her. I fucking kissed the enemy, spitting on my family’s graves.
I hate myself.
The barn doors squeak open as I push inside, and I hold my breath, imagining what I’d say if I got caught. The truth is, I don’t have a plan. This was an impulsive decision, and even though I’m not sure it’s wise, I can’t stop.
I have to hurt them—I have to hurt her—and at this point, hurting McCrae is the only way I can think to do that. She’s infatuated with him, desperate, even, and I hate it.
It’s disgusting.
Every time I catch her staring at him longingly or talking about him like he hung the fucking moon, I want to ring her neck.
McCrae’s a monster—a fallen angel who destroys everything good and decent. He’s her blade, and she worships the pain he inflicts.
I can’t stand it.
Finding the barn empty besides the quite shuffling of the horses, I kick the stand down and step back from the enormous death machine.
It’s sleek, old-school, with blacked out tires and rims, a sleek black leather seat and body, and long handle bars ending in ridiculous leather fringe.
It’s McCrae’s dark wings, and I’m about to destroy them.
Dropping to my knees, I run a hand over the body, feeling for any wires or hoses. It’s a well-kept bike, McCrae’s prized possession, and he’ll be devastated when it’s destroyed. I can’t help but smile.
I want to destroy McCrae. I want him gone from this ranch, away from Valentina, never to be seen or heard from again.
Then, she’ll be alone, with no one to rely on but me.
What if I just want her alone so I can kiss her again?
No. I shake my head. I can’t think like that. It’s not true; I’m just lonely.
My fingers snag on a line, and I sit up, flashing my phone flashlight into the hole to see what it’s connected to. Just as I do, the sound of the barn door creaks open, and I freeze.
From beneath the bike, I watch delicate bare feet pad in through the door and then slide it shut behind them. Her toes, painted cherry red, wiggle against the cool concrete, and I hold my breath as she inches closer.
If I stay perfectly still, maybe she’ll leave.
“McCrae?”
It’s something about hearing her call out for him that makes me snap, my blood turning molten as it races through my veins. I’m tired of her relying on him like he’s God or something.
Slowly, I press off the ground, but she’s turned around, her red curls unbound down her back, a pathetic white shirt hanging off one shoulder, barely covering her round ass. I stare at her, contemplating what to do.
Part of me knows I should walk away or simply announce it’s me.
But the other part of me, the dark part, recoils at the thought of letting her go.
I’ve a primal need to destroy her, to break her to my will and show her she doesn’t need that other excuse of a man in her life.
Without him, finishing her will be easier—or something like that.
I don’t know why I do it, but as I take the skull mask out of my back pocket, I slide it over my face and watch her for a second longer. She looks like a small animal, timid and afraid of the big, bad wolf lurking just around the corner.
Fuck—I’m the wolf, and she’s the pathetic little rabbit.
“Fucking stupid.” She begins backing up toward the barn door, and I snap.
“Why’s that?”
She whirls on me, her hand fisted and racing toward my face. I instinctively grip it, pulling her tight to my chest to keep her from escaping. In a matter of seconds, we’re pressed together, our bodies intertwining.
“Santos?” Her wide eyes burn across my skin, her chest heaving. “Wh-what are you wearing?”
Blood roars in my ears, filling my head with the sound of war drums, pounding as I drop into battle with the one person who’s proven they can destroy everything I value.
I lean closer to her, whispering in her ear, “What are you doing out here, dressed like this?” I lick my achingly dry lips. “Hoping to find trouble?”
Her mouth flops open, and for a brief second, I have the overwhelming urge to kiss her again. Instead, I picture my dead family, and I laugh at my own stupidity. She might look like a scared animal, but I know it’s all part of her trap—luring me in for the kill.
“Are you looking for McCrae, little rabbit?”
Her doe-eyed expression hardens. “I’m not a little rabbit.”
Because I know I can’t kiss her, but I can’t let her go either.
I trace a finger across her forehead, pushing a rogue curl from her eyes.
My finger drops, tracing her lips and then her throat, landing between the deep valley of her tits, and I’m reminded of how heavy and rosy they are—how the bars between them glitter even in the darkness.
I clench my teeth, fighting to keep my composure even as desire begins to fog my mind. “Looks like a rabbit. Acts like a rabbit.” My body quivers, and I breathe deeply, her expensive perfume and musky scent like a fucking drug as I whisper, “Smells like a rabbit.”
“What’s—what’s that even mean?”
I drop the finger caught in the v of her shirt before looking her in the eyes. “Like fear.”
Her face instantly begins to blotch red, her anger blatant. I’ve poked the villain beneath the timid exterior, and even though she has the fire to destroy me, I only want to go deeper. How deep does her rage go? How deep can I go before drowning?
“Why are you here, little rabbit?” I ask.
“Because I can be,” she snaps back.
I’d be lying if I said my dick didn’t grow instantly hard at her bratty attitude. I’ve always been a glutton for punishment. “You tough, little rabbit? Did you come looking for someone to love and protect and whisper sweet nothings to you?”
“Fuck no.”
“No?” I challenge.
“I prefer to be degraded than coddled.”
For a second, my mind empties, shock and something else I refuse to look too closely at coursing through my veins.
Valentina Reyes might be my enemy, but she’s the perfect enemy—easy to hate, impossible to ignore, and desperate to be destroyed.
My hand drops from her wrist, and I see a flash of devastation flicker in her eyes. It calls to me, beckoning me into the dark depths without a life raft but the promise of the sweetest treasure.
I go willingly, without a second thought.
Wrapping a hand around her throat, I smile despite myself at the sight of her life in my hands. I could so easily destroy her, but I know in my soul there’s something so much better waiting for me if I’m just brave enough to search for it.
“Get on your knees, Little Rabbit. Show me what a good whore you can be.” With my free hand, I press on her shoulder, signaling for her to move. Where I expect a fight, I’m met with only compliance—the stubborn woman doing what she’s told without force.
There’s a moment of pause between us, the silence that comes when the waves retreat to the depths to gather force.
And then, her fingers bite into my thighs, forcing me to widen my stance, her eyes boring into mine.
A pang of bone deep want spears through me at the sight of her like this, and as she pulls my pants down, staring at the length of my aching cock, every other thought eddies from my mind.
Mine.
I’ll destroy her, now and always, because she’s mine. Mine to mold and bend and fucking break if I damn well please. Mine.
It may only be for this moment, but I’ve never been stronger in my convictions. The thought of her being with anyone else, before or after me, rips away my remaining restraint. “You just going to stare at it, slut?”
She runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
My cocks bobs as a shiver spears down my spine.
I want to make her pay for her words—for everything—and I want to start by making her choke on my cock.
My body begins to quiver as I hold my need at bay, waiting for her to make the first move.
But when she leans forward, blowing a teasing breath over the tip instead, I detonate.
“You’re a desperate fucking whore, you know that?
A tease. You want me to beg you to suck my cock when you’re needy to do it.
Just look at you—” I flick her nipple, the bar pierced through it hard and unmoving, and her eyes flutter.
“Your nipples are hard points beneath that flimsy excuse for a shirt, and your pussy’s no doubt drenched for me.
” She blindly rubs her thighs together, and I smile, realizing how close to the truth I am.
“You want me to force you, don’t you? You want me to fuck your mouth even when you beg me to quit. ”
Before I can say anything else, she nods once. “Yes, a desperate whore.”