10. Run
TEN
RUN
CONNOR
Ishould’ve known better.
I should’ve fucking known better.
Haven Smith—no matter what happened to her—would rather die than give in to me.
And I know I’m to blame for that. To keep her safe from the vultures in the Order, I could never be honest about my feelings.
I had to let her believe that she wasn’t the most important damn thing in my life, and now I’m paying for it.
I told her I loved her. She didn’t believe me. I told her she could trust me. That didn’t happen. I told her that I’ll do anything to keep her safe… even from herself if I have to… and by the time I’m chasing her outside my house, I’m determined to do just that.
Between the trauma of her captivity and the double dose of sedatives, Haven has no chance.
I’ll give her credit, though. Her flight of freedom takes her out the front door, down the porch steps, and around the back of the house.
I would’ve thought she’d head straight down the long driveway.
She didn’t. I caught a flash of the t-shirt out the corner of my eyes as she went that way, almost as though she’d rather face the dense woods bordering the back of my house than the side street that leads to the front of it.
Then I realize that Adrian’s car is the only one in the drive.
I have three vehicles of my own, each one in the attached garage.
Adrian’s been driving the same make and model of car since high school, only upgrading it to a later year when the whim suits him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she saw the car and recognized it, then ran in the opposite direction to avoid it.
To avoid Adrian.
Or, fuck it, avoid me.
No. I won’t let her do that. Not again. Never again.
She’s shoeless. Pantsless, too. I’m fully dressed, wearing a pair of running shoes just in case this exact scenario happened. I have no doubt in my mind that I’ll catch up to her before she can get away, and I’m almost disappointed by how easy it is.
Disappointed and heartbroken when I’m right on time to watch her stumble and collapse to the grass.
Pain lances through me. “Haven.”
She stays down, only pushing herself to her knees. I force myself to slow before I reach her.
I don’t want to. Every instinct I have screams at me to grab her, to haul her up, to carry her inside where I can keep her safe and hidden and protected.
But, suddenly, she’s on her hands and knees in the grass, shaking so hard that my old shirt slips off of one of her shoulders, and I know that I’ll only scare her more if I do that.
Instead, I crouch low to the ground several feet away from her. I’m careful to move into her line of sight so that she know I’m here, that I’m with her, but I keep my fucking hands to myself as I call out her name a second time.
She shakes her head.
“Haven, look at me.”
She doesn’t. Her breath is too fast, too shallow, her fingers digging into the dirt like she can anchor herself there.
I inch closer to her. “Hey,” I say. “I thought we decided that you were going to stay upstairs. Come on, gorgeous. It’s too late to be running around with no pants on. If Adrian sees those legs of yours, I might have to gut one of my oldest friends.”
And I’m only partway teasing about that.
For as far back as I can remember, I’ve always gotten the best reactions out of Haven whenever I teased her. That’s what I’m doing now. She can spit at me, she can huff at me, she can throw some blades of grass at me, I could give a shit. I just want to see some fire instead of fear. That’s all.
And, oh, I think I get some.
Her head snaps my way. For the first time since she woke up in my bed, I see pure hate blazing out of her grey eyes. I suck in a breath, but when she jabs a pointer finger at the house instead of at me, I realize what really set her off.
Adrian. Fucking Adrian.
Yeah. I should’ve known better. Adrian and Haven’s relationship—or lack of one—has been fodder for the gossips in Harmony Heights for a damn decade.
She has her reasons to loathe him, and I was happy to let that animosity fester in case Adrian got a lobotomy or some shit and decided to make a move on my girl.
Only now? She might think she hates me, but she loathes Adrian, and there’s no doubt in my mind that she knows he’s currently in the living room.
Just like I’m pretty sure that she didn’t just take advantage of Adrian’s visit distracting me to escape. That’s gotta be part of it, but if I’m right—and, when it comes to Haven Smith, I usually am—then she bolted because Adrian was in the house.
Which means that I’m going to go kick one of my oldest friends out of it.
“I got you, baby. You hear me? You shouldn’t have run that fast. Maybe after you’ve had more than a couple of bites of fruit, you’ll be strong enough to outpace me. For now, why don’t we go back inside, you calm down, and I’ll make you a real dinner? Yeah?”
She makes a sound. That’s the only way I can describe it. It’s not a yes. Not a no. It’s vocalized pain, and it fucking wrecks me.
It takes everything I have to speak around the lump in my throat. Keeping my tone cheery instead of as murderous as I feel, I rise up, edging even closer to her.
“I’ve got you,” I repeat. “I know you don’t want that right now, but I do. I’ve got you.”
Maybe she finally believes me because, when I drop down and lift her up in my arms, she doesn’t do a damn thing to fight against me.
I want her fight. I want her fury. I want her to slap and punch, to kick, to bite.
I’m not even annoyed she tried to escape.
I mean, I’ll have to take that into account and accept that it’s probably not a smart idea to let her have that much freedom until she chooses to stay with me on her own accord, but seeing her spark…
I know that the Haven Smith I’ve always adored is in there somewhere.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to claw her back out again.
Ten minutes later, I’m back in the living room.
Once Haven allowed me to carry her back inside, I brought her upstairs, placed her on my bed, and locked the bedroom door behind me after telling her that I’ll be back once I get rid of Adrian.
I didn’t want to lock the door. Like my panic room, it’s a dual locking system where she can lock me out or I can lock her in.
I thought I might frighten her by keeping her trapped in the room, but when the alternative is expecting her to pull a Houdini on me whenever my back’s turned, I have no choice.
She’ll understand. One day, she’ll know why I’m doing this. She’ll appreciate it, too.
She has to.
I wasn’t sure if Adrian would still be there when I returned—and, yeah, that’s a fucking lie. He came here to say something, and despite him telling me that it would be quick, we didn’t get to finish our chat before Haven tried to take off on me.
The moment I walked into the room, Adrian gives me an assessing look. “So? You’re keeping her captive now? Is that it?”
Yes. “No.”
Adrian arches a brow. “So she’s allowed to leave?”
No. “Of course.”
“You didn’t just take off like a bat out of hell to run her down? That’s something that didn’t just happen? So what did? You wished her good luck, watched her walk away, then came back because you remembered you left me here?”
Uh-oh. “Not quite.”
Adrian gives me a hard look. “Did you run her down, pick her up, and put her back in your bed? This time, you locked her in, and the poor traumatized Offering is realizing that she’s now your captive?”
When he says it like that…
I shove my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “Maybe. But that’s only because I can take better care of her when she’s like this than she can.”
Adrian exhales, then starts reaching inside his suit jacket pocket. He pulls out a slim, gold-plated case.
“What are you doing?”
He pops the case open. “What does it look like? I need a smoke if I’m going to listen to this shit.”
“Don’t smoke in the house. What if that bothers Haven? In fact…” I free one hand, grabbing Adrian by the crook of his elbow. “Having you here bothers her, bro. I love you, but you gotta get out.”
He jerks his elbow, breaking out of my hold. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. She… she’s not doing as good as I thought she would. She needs more time. I’m gonna give her that, but if having you here is upsetting her, next time we’ll meet up at your place. Better yet, call me. I keep the volume low enough, she can’t hear your voice, I won’t upset my wife.”
“Wife?” Adrian takes a cigarette out of the case, slipping it behind his ear so that it’s within reach the moment he can light up. “What happened? I miss the wedding? If so, I owe you a gift.”
“Don’t worry. When I let Haven know that we’re getting hitched, I’ll convince her to let you come. Just make sure you stay away from the altar, Kingmaker.”
Adrian snorts. “You’re fucking nuts, Con.”
I rub my thumb over the ‘H’ that’s been scarred on my arm for almost a decade. “What was your first clue?”
Adrian studies me for a long moment. “It’s me. Be fucking honest. You sure you have this under control?”
No. “Absolutely.”
“Connor...”
“If I need help,” I concede, “you’ll be the first one I call.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s the only answer you’re going to get.”
His mouth tightens, but after a second, he nods. “Keep her away from Jack.”
“I plan to keep her away from everyone,” I tell him honestly.
He exhales, almost amused despite everything. “Fair enough. Hey. Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re here if you need us. You know that, right? If you’re determined to do this… you don’t have to do it alone.”
I know. With brothers like mine, I know.
By the time I walk Adrian out, watch him drive away while already puffing on his cigarette, I’m desperate to return to Haven.
My fingers twitch, the key nearly slipping out of my hand as I try to unlock the bedroom door.
Pushing it in, I’m prepared to tell Haven I’m just checking on her before I start dinner when I peek my head inside and see that the room… it’s empty.
For one horrible second, my heart just about stops—and that’s when I notice that the sliding door that leads to the small balcony off of my room is open, and my stomach lurches so violently, I almost hurl.
Next thing I know, I’m racing across the room, dashing through the open doorway. Haven is on the balcony, one bare leg hooked over the railing, the hem of my shirt riding dangerously high on her thighs as she tries to pull herself over the edge.
Fuck, no.
Before she can, I grab her around the waist and haul her back until both of her legs are on this side of the railing. As I do, she actually fights me this time.
That’s fine with me. Good, baby. Fight. Just don’t fall…
Her elbow clips my jaw. Her nails rake my forearm. She bucks hard enough that we nearly go down together, but I get us both back inside. Freeing one hand, I slam the balcony door shut behind me.
Then I hold her until the fight is gone.
I hold her until she shudders against me, squeezing her tight until it finally hits me that I could’ve lost her again.
We’re on the second floor. A fall shouldn’t kill her, but she could’ve been hurt, and that hurts me almost as much as knowing she’s that desperate to get away from me.
I can’t let her go. I can’t. But now that I know she’d rather take that swan dive after all, she’s left me with no choice. She’ll run out the front door. She’ll climb off of the balcony if I let her… and that just means that there’s no way I can let her.
I don’t drug her again; at least, not with the pharmaceutical grade injectables that I’ve been taking.
I’m too worried what sort of side effects might happen if I sedate her more often than I should.
I do, however, crush up an allergy pill that’s known to make someone drowsy, and lace the glass of water I bring her when she stubbornly refuses to join me in the kitchen for a meal.
She’s wary of the food I also bring up. To be fair, she should be.
I went simple. A plate of pasta with jarred sauce because it’s a staple in Haven’s pantry.
I gave her buttered bread, too, swallowing my smile when she bites into it with a scowl as though she has a love-hate relationship with such a carb-heavy meal.
Haven has always looked perfect to me. From her pretty brown hair to her striking grey eyes, the freckles over her nose, and her lean body…
she’s stunningly gorgeous even covered in scrapes and fading bruises.
Still, she’s an Offering. I’ve lived in Harmony Heights long enough to understand the expectations set for the future brides of the Owed, and staying as small as possible is one of them.
Not my girl. Not my wife. Her looks have always been a bonus to me, but it was her loyal side, her kind heart, and how strong she was despite Offerings being raised to be fragile… that’s what stole my attention and kept it all those years ago.
I’ve been her captive since I was a boy. The way I see it, it’s only fair that she’s now mine.
And though she treats the dinner she pokes at like it might be drugged, it’s the water she drinks without any issue.
Within an hour, she’s curled up on the bed, fast asleep, snoring so adorably, I’m torn between wanting to snuggle next to her and heading to the bathroom so I can rub one out real quick.
I’m fucked up. I know I am. I’m not that fucked, though, that I’ll use Haven that way without her knowing.
Hey. I’ve made it all these years, wondering what it’s like to work my cock inside of her heat or have her hands on my dick, and no matter how long it takes until my wife invites me to consummate our new union, I’ll continue to wait.
But that doesn’t mean that, after I heft her up in my arms and relocate her to the panic room in the basement, I don’t join her in the bed for a while, simply enjoying having her that close before my aching balls force me to leave the basement, purposely locking the door behind me.
Because… yeah. That’s exactly what I do.
And that’s when I strip down to nothing, hop in the shower, and stroke my cock until I’m panting her name, my come circling down the drain with the shower spray all while I’m finally sure that there’s no way she can break free of me again.