Chapter 27 | Preston
TWENTY-SEVEN | PRESTON
As the future boss, I used to take pride in being an overachiever.
Drowning myself in work was the only thing that muted my demons.
I say muted because they’re relentless little fuckers that have thrived and rotted corners of my soul that are unreachable.
An infestation that I began to ignore because I didn’t deserve to feel better.
Not when Luciano should’ve drained the life from my eyes instead.
I’ve kept myself busy ever since the weight of Tayla and Mom’s deaths crashed onto my shoulders like an anchor that can’t keep a ship at bay in stormy waters.
Wave after wave of grief slammed into me with the force of a hurricane, determined to splinter and crush my stability and the world I had worked to keep up with.
The one that I’m prepared to take over.
Dedicating myself to the Megalley Syndicate was easy when sleep evaded me. When I’d get swallowed into that place that had those voices echoing in the darkness, telling me it was my fault they died. That their final breaths taken in violence should’ve been mine.
After all these years, I’m still not sure I’ve come to terms with the fact that it isn’t my fault. And it isn’t my father’s.
Marco Giovanni’s—the late don of the Calco Cartel—death isn’t written on our souls like the countless others we’ve stolen over our lifetime.
No. That one we are clean of.
Yet it’s somehow worse knowing that my mother and sister died for a war that isn’t ours.
Tayla always told me I was too protective.
It wasn’t until my father and I ran back to the Ferris wheel to find their guards’ lifeless eyes staring blankly into the night that I realized I wasn’t protective enough.
At the time, I agreed with her, but I didn’t care, knowing the kind of monsters we coexist with.
Men whose hands were once clean and were conditioned to inflict the type of agony and malice that’s demanded if you want to survive and earn respect.
The kind of monsters that flood our property and whose eyes wander to pretty things.
Tayla was our wildflower growing through a brutally hard world.
She was softspoken. Kindhearted. Gentle.
Had a smile that was as bright as her eyes. Blue, like moms. Eyes that looked ethereal against her dark brown hair, with the way they make you feel like you’re drowning in sunlit glacial waters.
I used to be able to remember her voice, her unique warmth when she clung to me, just like a younger sister would who looks up to her brother.
There may have been three years separating us, but it didn’t feel like that.
We were close. So close that I went against my father’s rules and would sneak her out of her room to come to parties with me.
Because I knew if I didn’t, she would disappear anyway, and at least if I helped her, I could keep a watchful eye on her when she was with her friends.
Without trying, I’m dragged back to a moment that replays on a constant loop.
I’m pulled into the night I took Tayla to one of my family's clubs an hour away in Portland. A secret twenty-first birthday trip that should’ve landed us both front row seats to my father’s fury.
But I was careful. Crafted a story made up of beautiful lies to see her smile return after she’d been locked away in her room, suffering through her first heartbreak.
I’m still not sure who she was seeing. Probably good considering I would’ve killed the bastard who hurt her.
Still would.
That night, I lurked in the shadows and watched her dance and drink until she felt better. Luckily, I ran into Carter, and he kept me company before a call from my father came in, and I had to step away to spew more lies to keep him in the dark about where we were.
I live in those moments more than is healthy.
Recounting that memory and all that transpired in that month before she was taken—before Luciano crushed her petals in his fist, destroying the only bright and innocent life that didn’t make mine feel so dark and bleak.
Before he cut her heart out of her chest like a vile, bloodthirsty motherfucker he is, acting like he wasn’t already happy to be on top, ruling without his brother.
Like I said, I hurled myself into my work to mute my demons, but with Kate lying naked in my bed, somehow her sugary scent and sweetness have slowly started seeping into all those places I could never reach.
The kind of depths that until now have left a constant ache behind flesh and bone, stirring a pain that hardens you on the outside because there’s not enough space to harbor any other feelings on the inside.
From that moment I saw her on the dock, a part of me thawed and melted straight through the wooden boards, disappearing with the tide.
The first time I watched her fall apart on my fingers, on my tongue, her taste invaded my bloodstream, leaving behind a comfort that I don’t feel deserving of.
And yesterday, when I fucked her for the first time, I wrapped that beautiful hair around my fist and clung onto her like she was my lifeline. The one supplying oxygen to my lungs. A drop of sunshine through a crack in the cavernous void I’ve adapted to.
The faint glow of moonlight drifts through my open French doors, cascading long, fingered shadows across the room. The black curtains billow in waves from the breath of the breeze, circulating the room.
I thread my fingers through Kate’s hair, lightly stroking the strands near her temple, caressing her ear as I tuck them behind.
Don’t get me wrong, ears aren’t a turn on, but hers are cute as fuck.
They’re delicately adorned with small diamond studs, with a slight point to them.
The only reason I noticed is because I’ve been staring at her for the last few hours before reality comes crashing back.
She’s filling my head and my room with her soft, even calming breaths that make this place feel more alive than it has in five years.
“Come for me, mo ghrá.”
That declaration echoes in my ears. Calling her that came naturally despite how much it terrified me after.
If I could stay here in the confines of my room with her tucked into my side forever or coming on my cock, I would.
But I have shit to do.
For example, I'll meet my father in a few hours for another shipment that’s coming into the harbor.
And tomorrow night, when we release Rowan and Cathal in the park after it closes, we'll see if Lex and Brett are worthy of being proposed for the opportunity to live and die for a kingdom, rather than wasting their purpose and skills on an amusement park. Exhilaration thrums in my veins thinking about the show we’ll get from them.
Releasing Rowan and Cathal will be like freeing two rabid dogs with gnashing teeth.
They are men who will stop at nothing to survive.
My fingers push aside Kate’s hair, floating down the delicate slope of her neck, where the risen and angry skin slices through perfection. She tenses where she’s cradled into my side, the slight movement causing her ass to stir my half-erect cock.
I shift my arm, resting behind my head on the pillow, to get comfortable again and make sure there’s still blood flow to my limbs. I move the collar adorning her neck out of the way, lightly brushing the pad of my thumb over the scar.
Her voice is as delicate as my touch. “I was with him for three years.”
My body stills.
She has enough scars on her stomach to tell the story of a lifetime. I know, because I have them. I remain silent, my gentle movements in her hair turning mechanical with the ire burning behind my sternum.
“He was a phlebotomist at a blood drive I went to while I was attending OHSU School of Nursing in Oregon. He was the one who drew my blood that day, and he asked me out after.”
I remember Brody pulling up information about her college years when she was attending nursing school, before she started her internship, which eventually turned into a full-time position at OHSU Hospital.
She was renting a cute little house on the outskirts of Portland and attended a yoga studio in Beaverton.
Her mother and father still live in Oregon, and she has an older sister named Natalie.
The amount of information he pulled up could tell me anything about her and her younger life, besides the one fucking thing I wanted to know, which she is telling me now.
My fingers continue to pull through her hair. I’m not sure whether it's to comfort her or me. Probably both, given the way our heartbeats thrum and string together, where she’s braced against me.
“There weren’t any signs at first. Or maybe there were, and I was too naive to see them. It wasn’t until a year later that he told me about his kink.” My lungs collapse. “He told me blood play was normal. That I’d learn to enjoy it as much as he did.”
She still faces away from me, which is probably good considering all my blood just rushed to my face.
Anger simmers below my skin. Her sad chuckle has me removing my other arm from behind my head and snaking my hand around her stomach to tug her closer to me as if I can protect her from the memories rushing back to her.
From where my head is propped on the pillow, I can see her picking at a loose thread on my sheets.
“I should’ve known then, but between how rough he was and the knife cutting me, I froze, fearful of what else he was capable of when hurting me like that came so easily.
” She sighs. “God, that seems like a lifetime ago. I was twenty-one then.”
I don’t realize I’m clenching my jaw hard enough to shatter my teeth until she shifts beside me to her other side, giving me a glimpse of those beautiful green eyes still vibrant in the darkness engulfing us.
She places a hand on my chest. My heart is about to explode out of my chest. I know she can feel it.
The soft column of her throat works as she swallows.
“Even when I found my voice, it was too late. There wasn’t enough evidence to charge him.
The only thing I could do was run until he caught up to me in Wyoming and nearly killed me.
That’s how I got the scar.” My blood turns to sand, scratching against my veins, the weight making me drop my hand from her neck. “I’ve been running for a year.”
For the first time since she turned to look at me, my eyes dart away from hers.
Kate’s delicate fingers grip my chin, lowering my face back to meet hers as she rests against my chest. She wets her lips. “Lachlan Harbor, working at the park, it was the first time I felt far enough away. I feel safe here.”
She still doesn’t give me a fucking name.
The only darkness I want consuming her is me.
A disdainful laugh leaves my lips. The word is bitter. “Safe? You think you’re safe here?”
Pushing herself up, she hovers above me, clutching the sheet to her naked breasts, which is good. I can’t be distracted by how beautiful her tits are and how they contain their own gravity that calls to my hands. My mouth.
I bet they would look pretty pressed together with my cock thrusting between them.
Apparently, not getting distracted isn’t an option when it comes to her.
Creases form between her brows, but she doesn’t say anything. The confusion painting her face is enough.
“For one, he’s still out there doing fuck knows what to look for you. And two, you traded one monster for another.”
She purses those lips that were sealed to mine a few hours ago, shaking her head. “That’s what I used to think, but I don’t anymore. You couldn’t be more different.”
“Monsters come in different forms. I’ve killed people. Innocent fucking people who will never be found. You could’ve easily ended up as one of them!”
Her soft voice is calm. Steady. “I don’t believe you would’ve hurt me.”
I hold my hands up between us. “These hands are stained with blood.” They are cruel. Unforgiving. “I’m not a good man either, darling. I might not have had a knife, but I’ve been just as rough with you tonight.”
Surprisingly, she slips her palms into mine, opening up my arms. Kate crawls on top of me to straddle my hips, letting the sheet fall away to expose her fully.
She gazes down at me with resolve so pure that it takes my breath away.
I don’t realize I’m wrapping my arms around her naked form inattentively until her lips lift in a soft smile.
Maybe I’m afraid she’ll run if she has a moment to contemplate my words. Recognize the darkness that thrives and threads through my body like its own nervous system.
Those fears vanish as Kate leans over, cupping my neck.
“Good is a subjective term.” I swallow the acid in my throat.
“To me, a good man doesn’t hurt a woman and then continue to shatter what’s left of her after.
Yes, you’re rough with me, but you collect the pieces once you’re done and put them back together while also mending parts that aren’t your responsibility to fix.
” Her eyes hold mine. “That’s the difference, Preston. ”
She sits up, her core grinding down against my aching cock. My palms flatten against the curves of her ass, lightly gripping into her supple flesh. The feeling of her wet seam pressed against my dick has my muscles tightening, forcing the breath out of my lungs in a growl.
Kate rolls her hips again. My eyes drop to where her slick heat rubs against me, entranced by her movements.
Goddamn, she is a sight to behold like this, all warm and ready for me.
“Break with me.” The power of that request hangs between us with bated breath.
It’s heavy. Pure. Contains so much meaning that Kate burrows into my fractured soul a little deeper.
“Shatter with me. Let your pieces tangle with mine for a little while so I can care for the parts you’ve been too afraid to let anyone see.
I want all of you, and in return, I’ll give you all of me.
” She grips my face in one hand, drawing her lips to hover above mine.
I’ll give her anything she wants if she keeps looking at me like this. Like a beautiful angel from heaven that isn’t afraid of colliding with my dark.
Kate lifts, gripping my cock in her fingers to sink onto me slowly, letting me get lost in her.
Truthfully, I already have been.