Chapter 14
Connor Pen
Hilary turned off her phone. Aisha won’t answer her cell. Momo won’t open the door.
I sit in the hallway leaning against the wall across from their front door in obvious view of the peephole. My ass hurts from sitting on the hard floor and my legs threaten to go numb, but I refuse to budge until they let me in.
I used my ill-gotten key card to enter through the lobby and could use the copy I bribed from the building manager for their apartment, but I’ve made too many mistakes and can’t force myself into Hilary’s place of safety.
My warrior queen can’t abandon me now. I need her.
Not for revenge. Not to protect her.
For me.
Hearing my birth name on Hannah’s lips opened the coffin I’ve spent most of my life burying.
I need my gladiator goddess to save me again.
The door slams open without warning. Adrenaline and alarm yank me onto my tingling feet.
“Can you fight now? You look strong, so maybe—”
“What’s wrong?” I interrupt Aisha.
“She’s having a night terror.” She hisses as I push past her but keeps talking.
I rush through the living space to the hall.
Momo stands in the doorway of the first room with her back to me.
“Momo picked the lock, but Hils gave me a black eye last time and felt so bad she said she didn’t want us to wake her up anymore, but… ”
I shoulder past Momo. My heart stops.
With unseeing eyes locked on the ceiling and her body rigid, Hilary lies on top of the blankets fighting a battle no one but her can see. I lunge forward. Both sisters make a grab for me, but I jump onto the bed and yank Hilary into my arms.
Her paralysis erupts into violence. She fights so hard I worry she’ll hurt herself, so I roll on top of her and pin her flush against the mattress with my bulk.
Amidst her visceral screams, her sister’s worried voices yell at me.
“Don’t hurt her—”
“She doesn’t mean it—”
Hilary bites my shoulder. Hard. So hard blood trickles down from the skin above my shirt and fiery pain spreads down my arm.
“Good girl. More. Harder,” I growl.
She complies. My bones ache from the force.
“Give me everything, Hilary. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Awareness washes over her.
She releases her bite and hides her face against my throat. I loosen my hold on her. She wraps her arms around me and wriggles her face lower to my chest. I murmur words of praise and adoration into her hair.
This is my fault. I took her to see Hannah today and made her recall her stepfather’s attack. She may have claimed to have worked through it and acted tough, but as a survivor, I should’ve known better than to let her be alone.
“I’m sorry, Hilary,” I say.
She takes a stilted breath but doesn’t respond. I lift my weight off her, but she clings to me and growls.
“I taste blood. Who did I hurt?” she croaks.
“Just me, my warrior queen,” I say.
“Not my sisters?” she whispers.
“No, we’re fine,” Aisha says from a few feet away.
She relaxes and takes her first full breath.
“How bad is it?” she asks.
Momo presses a wad of paper towels against my neck before the blood drips into Hilary’s hair.
“It needs a bandage, but I dare say it’s nowhere near as bad as Aisha’s black eye. You let him off too easy,” Momo says.
She must have learned the vicious streak from my gladiator goddess, because twenty-four years ago, she was the sweetest, most timid little girl I’d ever met.
I mouth a thanks to her. Her eyes widen.
“Oh my god, it really is Heath! Aisha, look—with all the flashy jewelry and expensive clothes, and that big body, I wasn’t sure, but those eyes—”
Hilary’s disparaging sigh ruffles my shirt and warms my flesh.
“Yeah, sure, rub it in. I’m the only one who didn’t recognize him,” she mumbles.
“I don’t either,” Aisha says. “Even with the eyes. How did Hannah know?”
“His freckles,” Hilary grumbles.
Aisha gasps and points at my forearm braced on the disheveled sheets.
“It is him! How is this that pathetic runt you kicked all those bullies’ asses for?” she exclaims with a gesture at my whole body.
Hilary cough-laughs.
“Thanks, I feel better, Aisha,” she deadpans.
After a moment she mumbles, “You can get off me now.”
“Can I?” I ask.
She nods.
I press my fists into the mattress and push up. With her arms locked around me, I lift us both off the bed. She squeaks, releases her hold, and bounces.
I chuckle, steal a kiss to her forehead, and roll off the bed. Momo offers me the bloody paper towels. I cover my neck before Hilary rises.
She demands an inspection anyway. Her sisters watch in amused fascination as she tugs me through the apartment, pushes me into a chair at the dining room table, retrieves the first aid kit, and snaps at me as she cleans and dresses my wound.
“Is she happy or mad?” Aisha whispers to Momo. Her voice carries clearly in the quiet.
“Neither. She’s in love,” Momo whispers back.
Hilary’s attention snaps to them.
“Have you packed yet?” she asks.
I lift my brows in surprise. She still intends to move forward with the contract marriage despite my deceit.
“Are we taking everything?” Aisha asks. “We don’t have much, but—”
“The townhouse is fully stocked,” I answer. “You can bring as much or as little as you want. This apartment isn’t going anywhere either.”
Hilary swings skeptical eyes my way.
“I wasn’t aware keeping this place was part of the plan. Who are you, and why are you being so nice?” Hilary snarks.
Both her sisters snicker behind their hands.
“What?” she asks with exasperation clear in her tone.
“You’re upset because he’s hurt, aren’t you?” Momo giggles.
Hilary’s pupils shrink, and she flattens her lips. Without a word, she continues dressing the bite mark she left on my shoulder. With my shirt halfway unbuttoned and the collar pulled off my shoulder, the red, raised flesh clearly carries imprints of each one of her teeth.
She flicks vulnerable, uncertain eyes the color of melted dark chocolate up to mine.
In a single glance, she decimates every last one of my defenses.
She hates to admit it, especially after the chaos of the last few days, but despite all the horrible things I’ve done and the destructive things I plan to do, she can’t evict me from her heart.
Ever since she saved me twenty-four years ago, she’s mourned losing me, and even though she didn’t recognize me, she trusted the man she met eight years ago and gave him everything.
I’m both Heath and Connor. The obsession of youth never ended. I need her, but I’m no longer a boy.
I’m her fiancé. Her only lover. Her boss.
Her personal demon and darkest fantasy.
Hilary Winthrop is mine.
Always.
She may think this marriage is just a contract, but she’s wrong.
I’m never letting her go.
Ever.