Chapter Thirty
Present - Ryder
AS SOON AS we’re inside my loft, Evie’s lips are back on mine, as if she can’t take another second spent apart. Bending down, I wrap my hands around her thighs and lift her so she’s between me and the door. The little dress rides up, doing nothing to conceal the sensation as I push against her softest parts. The evidence of how ready I am presses harder, while I reach around her with one arm to work the deadlocks into place.
Evie drags her nails down my back, eliciting sounds out of me that I never knew I was capable of. She needs me. She’s always needed me. When we were children she depended on me for survival, and now she depends on me for so much more. No matter what she’s been taught or what people will think, I’m in her blood. Fingerprinted on her soul.
There’s no version of this, in any universe, where I end up walking away from her. I was a complete idiot for trying to fight this invincible thing between us. Stronger than tungsten, it exceeds the capabilities of the material universe.
The world around us could become rubble, but this? Us? We would still exist.
Pulling my mouth away feels like torture, but I need to feel this moment, savor it. We’ve been together countless times since that night in the church, but I’ve been afraid to fully let go, convinced this happiness would be fleeting, that the universe was waiting for the moment it’d hurt the most to take it away. But tonight showed me that when we’re faced with the threat of being ripped apart, it only makes us stronger.
And she’s never looked at me the way she did in the car.
Evie’s tongue swipes across her lips, and I’m not a strong enough man to resist the urge to run my thumb in its path as I take in her dirty blonde hair, those hazel eyes and her upturned nose, the way her flush spreads over her cheeks and neck. The visible proof of how she warms for me.
Reaching down to the hem of her dress, a pretty red thing, I gently pull it over her head before standing back so I can watch the goosebumps raise over her skin, the way she can’t seem to be still. I watch the desire course through her, too forceful for her to combat the urge to clench her thighs and roll her hips, in search of the friction I’m currently denying her.
“ Ryder .”
I jerk my head. “Let me look.”
Taking a few steps back, I lean against the sofa, bracing my hands on either side of myself. And I fucking look . My jaw clenches with restraint as I drag my eyes over her breasts, so perfectly formed behind that lacy bra, still swollen and sensitive from her release.
I strain against my jeans at the prospect of giving them more, what it’ll feel like to roll her nipples between my fingers, let my tongue play with them and watch them bounce with every thrust inside of her.
As if she can read my thoughts, Evie reaches behind her back and unclips her bra, letting it fall to the ground. It’s almost enough to spoil my plan, but I grip the couch, determined to push us both to the edge where we physically can’t restrain ourselves.
Evie reaches for her nipple, just like I taught her, before her other hand disappears into her underwear. Unwilling to be outdone, I unzip my pants, letting them drop to my ankles. Following suit with my briefs, I watch as her eyes alight with fire at the sight of me springing free. I give myself one pump and Evie starts to quiver.
“ Please , Ryder.”
I could get used to her begging.
Gripping myself tighter, I let her watch, imagining that it’s me moving inside of her, rather than her hand. It’s more than she can take, as Evie staggers toward me and tries to drop to her knees, but my hands plant on her waist, halting the movement.
Shaking my head, I take another step back. “I’m taking my sweet time with you.”
Then I see the determination strike across her face, the competitive streak that’s never died, the insolent side of her that refuses to be bossed around.
With three flawless steps, Evie is at the end of my mattress, smirking, before she slides her underwear off and slowly drops, lying back onto her elbows and spreading her legs. I can’t take a single second more.
She is so beautiful and completely mine. I intend to make sure she knows it.
Launching forward, I’m coming over her in an instant, giving no warning, no easing in as I shove, finding myself as close to her as I can get in the physical sense. Evie throws her head back, but I guide her chin down so her eyes peer into mine. With the feeling of her around me, the sense of promise this night provided, there’s nothing I can do to withstand the force of the words escaping me.
“I love you, Eves.” Emotion claws its way out of me. “I’ve loved you from the moment those dirty pink sneakers emerged from the car and strode into my life, shrouded in darkness. You showed me the light, and I vow to do the same for you, for the rest of our lives.”
A tear rolls down her face. “I love you, Ryder Cassidy. Every version of you, even the darkest one.”
And then we’re moving, our bodies joining in the way our souls have always been since the beginning.
· · ·
Evie begins inspecting the contents of my bathroom cabinet. And I try to grab the box of condoms, but she’s quick, reaching inside and snatching one out, opening the foil with her teeth.
“Sorry,” she giggles. “Intrusive thoughts. I’ve always wanted to do that.” All too slowly, a wrinkle forms on her brow. “Is…this condom…gingerbread flavored?”
“Don’t fucking ask.” I capture her lips with mine, a far too delayed realization finally hitting me. The last thing on my mind since being with the girl I’ve loved since I was a child has been preventing one. “Um. Evie.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been extremely irresponsible.” I shake my head, running through all the ways this could go. “We haven’t been safe.”
“You think a serial planner like me hasn’t taken precautions?” Evie snorts. “I assume you were safe...with the others.”
“Always.”
“Then we’re all good.”
The breath whooshes out of me, utter relief. I’ll give Evie as many children as she wants one day, but I can’t imagine bringing them into this version of my world. She kisses me on the cheek before climbing back into bed, wearing nothing but my t-shirt. Nostalgia washes over me as I climb in beside her, but instead of shoving her over, I pull her closer.
Within minutes, I’m listening to her soft, steady breaths as she sleeps contentedly next to me. It’s a pleasure entirely of its own kind. Unlike the race and fire of desire, it’s sweet and settles a primal need that’s been raging inside of me for too long.
My phone buzzes on the floor next to me and I tense.
Stefan: Here, boy. You’re needed.
Trepidation drags its claw down my spine. I could pretend to be asleep, but it would risk sending one of his cronies to my loft, finding Evie here. Unwilling to risk it, I slowly slide my arm out from under her, gently lifting her face off my chest.
Me: On my way.
With every piece of clothing that goes on, I box up the love and the light and shove it down, burying it behind the box of shadows I’ve opened and welcomed to the front of my mind. The part of me I keep filled with sickness and guilt descends over me, and the mask of darkness falls over my features.
Without allowing myself another look at the home awaiting my return, I slip out the door and lock it behind me, before hopping on my motorcycle and speeding to the bar. Not even The Swan is open at this hour, so I use my key and slip in through the side door as quietly as possible, hoping to arrive unnoticed and give myself a fraction of a second for preparation.
A string of groans, followed by pleading, travels from the main floor of the bar and is all the cover I need to conceal my approach. Of the fifteen or so men in the room, not one of them look my way, all completely focused on the guy tied to a chair in the middle of the dance floor. His face is vaguely familiar, but I can’t place why, not with the swollen eye and busted lip.
As one of the men grabs pliers off a high-top table, it becomes clear that his bruised-up face isn’t the worst this man is facing tonight. It can only leave me to wonder, why am I here? And when did violence stop making me feel nauseous? When did I become so accustomed to blood being spilled in such volume?
The FBI is watching him. And yet Stefan can kill, steal, and torture wherever he wants and continue to get away with it. Has he become powerful enough that he doesn’t have to hide?
A scream echoes around the bar, bouncing off the whiskey bottles and tainting the honor that used to accompany gentlemen in a tavern. The man holding the pliers laughs as a fingernail falls to the ground. Another walks up with a mallet he must’ve gotten from the kitchen, slamming it over the man’s wrist.
Stefan emerges from the secret door then, his inner circle in tow. “You boys had enough fun?”
“Not yet, boss.”
“Too bad.” Stefan’s head cocks to the side, and the man’s cruel smile slides right off his face as he drops the mallet. “Now, get out of my fucking way.”
The two men scurry back.
Stefan’s steps are slow, cold and calculated, the anticipation of the pain enough to make the captive plead. The iron snake wrapped around Stefan’s knuckles seems to glow with hunger, just before he moves faster than an adder, landing a powerful hit none of us saw coming.
The man’s face cracks to the right, left cheek splitting as another one of Stefan’s hooks comes from the left. Over and over, the man’s face becoming more unrecognizable as it breaks and swells and bleeds from hit after hit.
There are no questions being asked. There is no information being demanded. This isn’t an interrogation. This is a punishment.
The man’s head rolls to the side, slack and unnatural, punishment complete. My stomach fills with acid as I watch him sit there, motionless, beaten to death. In a way it’s a mercy, if only so he doesn’t experience one more second of agony.
Stefan stands straight, wiping his nose with bloodied knuckles. Red smears across his skin, but it doesn’t bother him one bit as he rolls his shoulders. The room is silent, waiting for their master to dictate the next move, the only sound being the blood dripping onto the floor.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
There’s nothing to do but stand here until I’m given my role, which tends to be cleaning up after Stefan’s made a mess. He takes a deep breath, as if to cherish the smell of death around him, finding joy in the mutilated body as if it was his sick toy.
Evil in-fucking-carnate.
The kind of fucked-up character that shouldn’t be allowed to walk this Earth. He will continue like this for as long as he lives, leaving death and suffering in his wake. What if the next person who finds themself in his path is an innocent? Someone’s wife or child who just so happens to love the person who got in his way? My mind drifts to Evie, who could so easily become the innocent losing her life, just because she loved me.
Because I let this monster keep on breathing.
Because I was too spineless to decide that enough was enough.
My fists begin to shake, and I take one step forward. Evie will never have to worry about what lurks in the shadows if I erase this fucker from the Earth. Grabbing a wine opener that I’ve nicked a finger on too many times to count, I decide it’s as good as I’m going to get.
Evie will never know the real story, but at least I won’t die a spineless fucking coward, watching this man kill. I’ll be allowed to get close enough. Stefan will never see it coming, until the exact moment that I plunge this corkscrew into his fucking jugular. Slipping it up the sleeve of my jacket, everything changes. Because just as I round the bar, the front door bursts open.
Every man lifts their guns at the door, jumping in front of Stefan, ready to lose their lives on his behalf. I almost laugh when I realize who it is. Preston—slimy and entitled, party-boy Preston —raises his hands in front of him, his life depending on them deciding that he’s not a threat. You’d think a fucking crime lord would lock his fucking front door.
Stefan growls. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Had a feeling shit would be going down and you’d need help.”
“Help?” Stefan laughs, his men following suit. “You think I’d need help? From you ?”
Preston nods.
“You’re lucky that I find you more useful alive.” Stefan sniffs. “Get rid of him.”
Stefan’s men crowd around Preston, shoving him toward the door as he struggles, trying to stand his ground. “I want in!”
“Into what ?” Stefan holds up a hand, indicating for the men to let go of him. “A Girl Scout troop?”
“I want in on your crew.”
Stefan lifts a brow. “Is Daddy’s business getting boring?”
“Daddy’s business doesn’t let me do things like that.” Preston nods toward the dead body tied to a chair, eyes glassing over with need. “Tell me how to prove my loyalty and I will.”
“If you even have to ask, you’re not cut out for this.” With a flick, the men start pushing him out the door, Preston shouting over them. “I will prove myself! I will! You’ll see!”
“Who knew the kid was that crazy.” Stefan laughs, noticing how close I’ve come. I hadn’t realized I kept moving. He looks at me, and I fear it’s too closely before his eyes drop to my hand. “Whatever were you planning to do with that ?”
The corkscrew burns in my hands, my heart launching into a rapid beat.
I box up the thought of the beautiful girl waiting for me in bed, along with my plan to watch the light leave his eyes, shoving it to the very back of my mind, making sure my eyes are flat and bleak as I shrug. “Thought I could have some fun when you were done, but there’s no point now.”
Stefan grins. “I can trust you, can’t I?”
“Yes.” I focus on the dead man sitting in a chair in the same room as me, keeping my face neutral. Killing Stefan would make me no better than he is, and someone else would just take his place the way he took Victor’s. The corkscrew clatters to the ground. “Tell me why I’m here.”
Stefan smiles, putting his bloodied hand on my shoulder. “That’s my good boy.”
· · ·
Evie can never know about what happened tonight. Never .
I will save the barren looks for when I’m alone, on the days I haven’t done a good enough job of convincing myself that the man who died tonight was far from innocent.
As I turn the last deadlock in my apartment, I shove everything that happened tonight— cleaning up the blood and scrubbing the floors of my own rock bottom—to the back of my mind before desperately searching to find the light I left with.
Killing Stefan would have solved nothing, but I’ll figure something out. Until then, my life has become a balancing act. A deadly one. But I won’t let harm come to a hair on her head.