Grace #3
“Who are you talking about, Nikky? Who wants to kill Lucas?”
“I have to go.” She yanks the door open and tears down the stairs.
“Nikky!” I shout, then run after her.
She stops at the side of the road, waits for a car to pass, then crosses. She looks at me from the other side, a tear sliding down her stricken face.
“I’m sorry,” she mouths.
My heart twists in my chest. I want to run to her and hug her. To bury my face in her hair and promise her that from now on, everything will be different. That we’re going to fix her mistake and be a family again.
In the next moment, the world slips into slow motion.
A black Audi slows beside Nikky. The front passenger window rolls down, a hand reaches out, and a sharp shot cracks through the hot air, sending the pigeons perched on electrical wires and rooftops into flight.
I freeze. Passersby—other drivers, nearby workers—hit the ground and scramble for cover.
My heart is trembling, my knees are shaking, and tears sting my eyes as I watch the car glide past me.
And that smile—those eyes… Lucas Baker gives me a cold smile, arrogance spreading across his darkly handsome face.
The wind catches my hair and whips it into my face.
As soon as the Audi disappears at the crossroads, I look at Nikky.
They shot her in the head. Just like they did my brother, years ago.
I lunge toward her, but Chase grabs me from behind.
I thrash like a lunatic, crying, screaming—like I’m possessed.
“You can’t go there,” he says, trying to calm me down. I curl my hand into a fist and drive it into his groin. His grip slackens. I wrench myself free and run to my sister’s body. When I reach her, I collapse beside her.
“Nikky!” I sob and pull her head into my lap, stroking her blood-soaked hair and her beautiful face. “Forgive me!”
My words splinter like dry twigs under a boot. Her blood trickles into the cracks in the pavement. Passersby edge closer, curious. Chase cuts through the crowd and grabs my arm. He leans in close, his expression blank.
“Come on. We have to go.” His burning eyes bore into mine, his sharp voice popping the bubble I built around myself. Warm blood trickles down my hand. My sister’s blood.
I shake my head in protest and look around, panting. My ears are ringing, and my vision blurs.
“No. No. No!” I keep repeating it. “I must stay here with her. I can’t leave her behind the way I left Jamie behind.”
Chase yanks her head from my lap and puts it back into the pool of blood, then drags me off and shoves me into the car.
“Don’t try anything stupid.” He slams the car door in my face and runs back to the motel room, taking the stairs two at a time.
“You asshole! I hate you!” I scream at the top of my lungs, pounding weakly against his chest. “I have no one left!” I shout. “Because of you!”
We spend the car ride in silence, but when we get to the next motel room, I lose my mind. I punch and kick at Chase whenever I can.
He grabs my wrist and yanks me closer, his body pinning mine.
“Remember what she did to you. Remember what she turned you into.” His voice is calm—measured, quiet, horrifying—raising goosebumps on my skin. His eyes, devoid of even a spark of emotion, drive a cold ache into my chest. His face is chiseled like a perfect statue—hard, stern, cold, lifeless.
“She turned you into an emotional wreck.”
My lips part in surprise. His words cut deep into my heart. Then the surprise curdles into anger, burning hot under my skin. His grip slackens on my wrist.
“Fuck you,” I whisper through clenched teeth. Pain and sadness knot in my throat.
His full lips twist into an arrogant smile. His eyes flash—not with anger, but with desire. Hungry. Predatory.
And something clicks in my body. An insanely strong emotion takes over… something loathsome. Corrupt.
He pulls me to him and kisses me. He cups my wet face in his hand and kisses me with such depth that I shudder, my stomach twisting.
And I can’t resist his touch—his tongue finding its way into my mouth. It flickers fast, fierce, passionate.
Chase wants to tame the feral hate and contempt in my heart.
I kiss him back. Our lips move in unison—angry, wild, untamed.
How can he drag me down to hell and lift me up to heaven at the same time?
The space between us heats up, hums—it blinds me, rips me apart.
I’m a shipwrecked sailor in a storm, fighting to stay afloat in a raging ocean of emotion.
Sadness, grief, anger, and hate try to drag me down to the cold bottom to drown me, but Chase’s touch and burning kisses—his love, our desire—are a lifeboat.
They feel like oxygen, like sunlight on my skin.
His kiss makes me moan. My lower abdomen tightens, and hot honey spills through my womb, soaking my panties.
Chase unbuttons my pants impatiently, shrugs off my denim shirt, then his T-shirt—then mine.
Our hot skin presses together. Our bodies and souls become one.
He grabs my ass and lifts me. My back hits the cool beige wallpaper.
He thrusts into me. I cling to his neck as he sets a frantic pace.
He’s inside me, taking me, kissing me with merciless passion in this gloomy room while my sister’s death casts a shadow over my heart.
He grabs my hand and slides it down between us.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he growls, then bites my lower lip, setting me on fire—making me shatter with desire.
He’s driving into me with such dirty, wild passion that the old picture on the wall—some faded print of Nebraska—shivers.
My fingers move in steady, rhythmic circles, rubbing the aching, slick nub in time with Chase’s pace.
The tightness in my lower belly coils until it fills me completely.
I’ve never been this horny, never been this wet.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, moaning against his lips.
Destructive heat and unstoppable trembling spread through my body as my orgasm detonates in my womb like fireworks.
Bright lights burst behind my eyes, my heart races, and a thin sheen of sweat coats my skin.
I tighten around him. Chase growls and comes, spilling into me.
He reaches down between my legs, taming the last feverish waves of my orgasm.
I collapse against him, hollow-hearted and weak-limbed, and cling to the last seconds of our connection—before shame and hate seize me and drag me down to the bottom of the ocean.
I sit in the corner, naked. It didn’t take long to find myself back in the beast’s dark belly. As soon as that wonderful feeling passed and desire loosened its grip on me, the image of him—his face, his eyes, his infinitely dark soul—snapped into crystal clarity.
How could I fall in love with him?
How can I still love him?
This love is spitting in the face of the people I loved.
Mom, Dad, Jamie, Nikky…
I fill the bathtub with hot water and sink into it. These might be the longest, most painful minutes of my life, but…
Forgive me, Cyrus.
My lungs burn. I need air—everything in my body is begging me to sit up and drag in a deep breath. I squeeze my eyes and lips shut. I will not come up. My ears ring; my head grows heavy. I’m only seconds from death when I black out. And all the suffering drains out of my soul.
You were the bait.
You were the bait.
You were the bait.
My body shakes. Behind my closed eyes, dark shapes slide through the murky water. Chase grabs my shoulder. The water sloshes like the sea as he yanks me out of the bathtub, splattering across the cheap floor tiles.
My brain hums, dazed. A cold, fresh draft brushes my skin. There’s no water in my nose—I can breathe—and my body reacts instantly: I gulp air, frantic. My nipples harden.
“Why?” I moan, coughing up water. Chase doesn’t answer.
He wraps me in a soft towel and leads me out of the bathroom.
My steps are clumsy, and my vision blurs, black-and-white spots flashing in front of my eyes.
The objects around me seem to melt into one another, swaying in waves.
My head is like a beehive with a thousand angry bees.
He makes me sit on the edge of the bed. I stare into his face, a tapestry of conflicting emotions—Chase looks like he’s fighting the biggest battle of his life against himself.
His desperation and anger fill the room.
His rage throbs in the air, and his sadness tastes sour.
An icy ache spreads through my chest as soon as I come to my senses.
Chase’s touch hurts. It’s like a wasp sting: it makes my skin itch and burn.
“No!” I snap. “Don’t touch me!”
He gets his feet so fast it makes me dizzy. I almost fall off the bed. He grabs me and makes me sit farther from the edge. My stomach lurches, and bitter bile rises in my throat.
“I’m gonna throw up.” I clasp my hand over my mouth.
Chase dumps the trash on the floor and shoves the bin into my hands, then gathers my wet hair into a ponytail and rubs my back while I cough up stinking, sticky yellow bile.
The smell makes me heave again. The strain draws tears down my face.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and inhale.
Chase takes the bin away and comes back with a pill and a glass of water.
“You want to drug me?” I ask, acid in my voice.
His eyes flash with cold, threatening fury. I sit hunched on the bed, taking the pill and the glass of water with a careless motion. The water cools my raw throat after I swallow the bitter pill.
“It’ll just help you calm down a little.”
My mouth slits open—I want to jam two fingers down my throat and bring the pill back up. But I hate vomiting.
“Did you just drug me?”
“For your sake. This is your second suicide attempt.”
I grimace.