Chapter 24
Ivan
Can’t Shake This
Restless and beyond irritated, I paced the length of my room, a bag by the door.
I was struggling with leaving, with staying, and with each passing minute, my grasp on my control slipped.
I wasn’t used to feeling this way, this intense.
I relied on my even nature and mental fortitude, not to mention my strength.
But when it came to her, all that went out the window, leaving me… off-balance.
The truth was, the power Kinsley held over me was unshakable. It gnawed at my insides, a constant reminder that I wasn’t in control and never had been. Every time I thought of her, my chest tightened and my thoughts spiraled down dark and chaotic paths. It was a completely unfamiliar sensation.
In the gym, I could lift weights, push my body to its limits, and feel a sense of control. In the ring, my speed and strength gave me confidence. But when it came to my little love, none of those things mattered.
We once shared something deep, and now, having tasted it, I longed for her. But loving her had left me exposed, raw, and uncomfortable in my own skin. When I’d heard she was safe, I wanted nothing more than to rejoice with my brothers, but then the memories of the war room surfaced.
I clenched my fists, trying to channel the discomfort into something tangible, something I could grasp and control. When that didn’t work, I raked a hand through my hair. It was maddening what she did to me. She made me question everything I thought I knew about myself. I was caught in her trap.
I meant every word I said to her this morning in the gym.
There was no excuse for what I’d done. None.
Ultimately, I had a choice to make that day, and I’d made the wrong one.
I could have just as easily been gentle with her, loved her, taking away the pain she was experiencing instead of causing more.
Her words haunted me in ways I couldn’t explain, and the guilt tore at me every waking hour of the day.
Marcel had tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t even look him in the eye. He knew what happened, I could tell that much, but the beauty of our friendship was he’d never out me. Waves of nausea washed over me when I even thought about telling Alek and Nik.
As cowardly as it sounded, seeing the hate and disgust in their eyes for violating her would utterly destroy me. So I teetered on the edge of despair, torn in a thousand ways, yet I still had no excuse.
Marcel was fond of telling me that hurt people hurt people, and even though I hated myself for all I’d done, I wanted her to hurt more. She’d unleashed the beast I’d put into check long ago, and now every move she made had me wanting to counter it with an attack of my own.
She had turned my world upside down, and it scared the hell out of me. Despite all the discomfort, there was a part of me that still craved her. And that was the most unsettling part of all.
I yanked my door open. The familiar creak greeted me—almost like a warning, if you will.
I should have heeded it. But I needed out of here, needed space.
Anything to clear my head from the storm of emotions.
The plan was simple, really. Find the guys and tell them they could find me at the club until she left.
We had rooms there, and it would be a welcome sanctuary with enough pussy to distract me.
As if that was the answer, I scoffed at myself.
Staying certainly wasn’t, though. So I lied to myself.
Sue me. All I knew was right now, I didn’t trust myself to stay here.
Not with her so close I could taste her.
The hallway was dimly lit and quiet when I finally left my bedroom. My footsteps were heavy, each step a reminder of the pain in my chest. I rounded the corner, and the sight that greeted me stopped me cold. Anger burned through me in waves so startling I had to shake myself.
Pasha was carrying Kinsley, his arms cradling her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Her head rested against his shoulder, her eyes closed, and something in me snapped.
Visions of her giving birth in a hospital delivery room and him with a radiant face, holding her hand while she pushed out his son, made me lose my shit. A surge of emotion, fierce and uncontrollable, raged.
It was like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought, leaving only raw, unfiltered jealousy and anger in its wake. My vision blurred at the edges, and I saw red. My fists clenched as I struggled to keep myself in check.
You cannot spill his blood. There would be no coming back from something like that.
The rational part of me knew there was nothing going on between them.
I knew her heart and her loyalty lay with us, her Kings.
But the irrational part, the part that had been simmering, couldn’t stand it.
Seeing her in his arms may as well have been like plunging my own dagger into my heart and twisting it.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded, stalking over to him.
He glanced up as I barreled down on him.
Our eyes met, and a tiny spark of fear shone in his expression.
The bastard was keenly aware of the raging turmoil radiating off me in waves.
The barely contained fury was about to be unleased on his ass.
He paused, shifting her weight, and for a moment, shedding his blood in the hall seemed like a perfectly sane idea.
“Ivan, it’s not what you think,” he began, his voice surprisingly calm for a dead man.
Given how I towered over the dancer and outweighed him, I was impressed he stood his ground. But his words didn’t matter and barely even registered. All I could focus on was the way my girl’s body fit against his, the ease with which he held her like he had the right to.
“She fell asleep. I was taking her to her room, is all,” he said, his voice sounding tired and confused.
“Like hell you will,” I exclaimed. My voice rang with possessiveness and unrestrained jealousy.
My words cut through the haze of her sleep, and she stirred before opening her eyes.
Pasha noticed and set her down, and she hugged him, whispering something in his ear.
Though his expression was wary, he nodded.
He wasn’t sure what to do. I could see it in his eyes.
But in the end, she pulled away and turned to go, leaving him no choice.
I moved after her, pulled by something I couldn’t name, let alone fight.
A few quick strides closed the distance.
Before she could take another step, I had her in my arms. She yelped, startled, body shifting awkwardly against mine as I adjusted my hold.
Her frame pressed to my chest, light as ever.
It hit me all at once how fragile she was.
“Put me down,” she murmured, but I gripped her harder. “Seriously, I can walk.”
Ignoring her little protests, I continued down the hall toward her room. Each step closer only made me feel more unhinged. What the fuck was the plan once I got her there? The feel of her warm body in my arms was torture.
She stopped struggling, understanding the futility, but clenched her jaw. We reached her room, and I pushed the door open with my foot and then kicked it closed.