Chapter 18
eighteen
A solitary scream pierces the stagnant air.
I huddle closer to my wolf, hugging the stuffed animal in my arms with all my might. The door to my hiding place is locked from the outside. I can’t get out. Tears stream down my cheeks, the sound of crashing furniture coming from downstairs.
“Stupid bitch,” a woman screams. She is closer now. The sound of her voice comes from my left where the stairs are. “You had everything I wanted. Everything. Why couldn’t you just lose for once in your fucking life?”
“Stop,” my mother’s voice is shaky and terrified, but I can hear the sheer determination behind the terror. She doesn’t want to die. She can’t. My mother wouldn’t leave me all alone. “What have I ever done to you? We were friends. Best friends.”
The other voice scoffs. It is dark, filled with a burning hatred. There is a soft lilt of an accent to her words. Like momma’s. “Please. I was never your friend. The only thing I wanted was what was promised to me.”
“And what was that, Mar?” Mother asks tearfully.
“Liam and your empire.”
It is momma’s turn to scoff. “Liam would never have you,” she sneers. “And no one but blood can inherit my empire.”
Mar laughs. It is dreadful and full of corruption. “Everything’s about to change, Kat,” the woman is still chuckling. “The McDonough empire is done for. No more of this ethics and value bullshit your father tried to implement.”
“You honestly support people trafficking women and children?” My mother is disgusted with the thought.
“Why not?” the woman asks. “I was.”
There is a pause.
“Didn’t know that, did you, little Kat?” Mar mocks. “There are plans in place that run far deeper than you will ever know. Soon, the world will belong to the corrupt and those who stand in our way will perish.”
“You should really see to that God complex you’ve got going,” my mother snarls. The woman just laughs again.
“I am a God,” the woman whispers. “They called me Hera.”
“They should have called you delusional.”
That’s when my mother screams again.
My head hurts like a fucking bitch.
Have I been mauled by a truck?
Mom!
Bolting upright, my chest is heaving, body soaked with rain.
Her scream still echoes in my ears. It was the kind of scream that bordered on terror.
It tore through the house and into my soul like a shard of glass.
My eyes widen as I fight to take in air.
My heart is thundering like a wild drum against my rib cage.
Hands grab at me, and I cry out as a pair of arms wrap themselves around me, pulling me into a warm chest.
“Shh. It’s okay, Red,” a voice whispers in my ear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Pine and leather envelope me and for a moment I allow myself to relax into the familiarity of his body against mine. I clutch at the arm banded against my chest, holding me tight to him as I sob.
Problem is, I don’t even know what I’m crying about.
Remembering the last moments of my mother’s life? Something my psyche has apparently kept buried for all these years. Or the fact that the man I love is holding me to him like a lifeline? As if I’ll disappear if he lets me go.
The man I thought was dead.
“Let me go,” I croak. His arms tighten for a moment before releasing me. That’s new. He rarely ever does as I ask, only doing what he wants.
I pull myself up from the ground, not bothering to dust myself off since I’m still soaking wet and brushing at wet hay is as useless as mopping rain.
“Krasnyy,” he whispers.
“No.” I shake my head to clear my thoughts before facing him. Even wet and covered in dirt, he is still the most handsome man I have ever seen. Devilishly rogue. He looks like a fallen angel. The devil in a three-piece suit. “You don’t get to call me that.” Pain and sadness shred at my insides.
How could he do this to me?
Leave me like that?
I really mean nothing to him.
“No.” His voice is adamant, face serious as he gazes down at me with an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint. “You mean everything to me.”
A mirthless laugh slips past my dry, swollen lips.
“Then why did you do it?” I nearly sob. “Why did you draw up those divorce papers? Why did you take Serena to the gala? Why did you let me believe you died!” By the end I am screaming, my voice gravelly and hoarse.
I push at his chest with every accusation, and he takes it.
He lets me move him. The immovable force.
“I’m not going to apologize for the mistakes I made, Ava,” he whispers to me. “I made my choices, and I don’t regret them.”
His words are like a slap to the face, and I physically recoil.
“What I do regret,” he tells me, his eyes still soft as he stares down at me, allowing the space to stay between us, “is not seeing that the mistakes I made hurt you so much and how much that hurt me.”
“You really expect me to believe that?” I bristle.
The gall of this man. “Do you know how many times I opened myself up to you? Even after you forced me to marry you, I opened myself up to you. Even after you lied to me, I opened myself up to you. Hell, I even opened back up to you after you shut me out and called me a traitor. And you still—still—shut me out again and again. The gala? That was the last straw even if you hadn’t faked your death.
And this time—there won’t be any fixing it. ”
He smirks, pushing himself closer to me, invading my space with his warmth and smell.
“Do you honestly believe I am giving you a choice, Red?” His eyes spark like thunderstorms. “Because I’m not.”
“Fuck you.” Turning on my heel, I dash out of the barn toward my father’s Ferrari. The rain pelts down from the sky and within seconds I am soaked to the core. I don’t care. I am too hurt. Too angry.
Growling, I search my pockets for the key fob, coming up empty.
“Looking for this?” I spin around to see him dangling the key fob in his hand, a smug smile stretched across his ugly mug.
Okay, it isn’t ugly.
Not in the slightest.
No. I am pissed at him and not thinking about how handsome he is.
“Are you going to give me the key?” I ask, my voice dulled by the howling wind and rain. The fucker smirks and shakes his head.
“Okay then.” I flip him off and begin my long walk back to civilization. Fuck him.
“Where do you think you’re going, Mrs. Dashkov?” The wind dampens his steps, and I don’t hear him approach. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“Go to hell,” I spit at him.
“Only if you’re there with me, baby.” He smiles down at me.
“Sure,” I tell him sweetly. “I’ll be the one roasting you on a spit.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he growls before his hand shoots out to grab the back of my neck.
His mouth comes down on mine with enough passion and fury that it honestly might melt the polar ice caps.
Excitement and desire ripple through me as his tongue forays into my mouth, taking no prisoners and leaving nothing unexplored.
Okay, I am mad at him, sure. But that doesn’t mean we can’t indulge in a little hate sex.
That’s normal.
Right?
Whatever. My mind doesn’t seem to care any longer when one hand drifts behind my neck, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes when he pulls back. “You taste so good.” He nips at my earlobe. “Just like I remember.”
“Stop talking and fuck me,” I snarl, thrusting my hips against his jean-clad erection. He chuckles darkly.
“You don’t make the choices here, Red,” his voice dips seductively low, and a spark of desire shoots straight through me. I shiver. “I might need to remind you who owns you.”
“No one owns me.”
Yeah, that might sound semi more believable if it didn’t come out like a breathy moan. In my defense, his hand slid into my jeans and sinks directly into my pussy when I said it. I didn’t feel him pop the button to them.
Fuck, I am already soaking and the smug grin stretched across his face tells me he knows it too.
Suddenly, he removes his fingers from my aching pussy and flips me around, pressing me against the trunk of my father’s car.
Seconds later his fingers return to their original position as he places a hot kiss to my shoulder blade.
I buck against his hand, desperate for more, but I am not in control here.
Just how he wants it to be.
Matthias’s hard length is crushed against my lower back, and I salivate at the thought of having his large cock stuffed inside of me, replacing his fingers.
Unfortunately, he seems content to keep the slow, torturous pace of his finger-banging.
So I do what any woman would do. I reach my hand back and rub his length.
He stiffens but doesn’t stop teasing me with his fingers.
“Come on, wolfie,” I egg him on, applying just a little more pressure. He groans and scrapes his teeth over my neck. “Show me what you say I’ve been missing.” I scream when his free hand twists my right nipple harshly.
“This is my show, baby.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“Fucking hell,” he mutters to himself when I squeeze him tightly again. Matthias could easily remove my hand and keep it immobile, but he doesn’t. That is something to file away for later for future Ava to deal with.
He withdraws his fingers again and shucks my jeans and underwear down to pool at my ankles. “Put your hands on the trunk, baby,” he commands, “and don’t move them.”
My pussy clenches at the low tone in his voice and the hint of punishment he laces into it. The Ferrari trunk is slightly higher and squarer than the hood. The noise of the rain dropping against the car and the howling wind through the open grass and tree-lined forest knocks out any subtle sounds.
The sensory deprivation has my body on edge, waiting for his next move. It isn’t until Matthias’s hard cock strokes against my clit that I realize he has undone his pants.
“Matthias,” I whimper, pushing back against him, begging him to fill me.
The fucker chuckles, then slaps my ass. I’m not ashamed to say I moan like a wanton whore as he does it again and again until my ass is no doubt a pretty shade of cherry red.
The heat of my ass intensifies under the icy raindrops, providing that needed bite of pain.
He fills me with one forceful thrust, making me scream out his name and to God. Matthias doesn’t give me any time to adjust before he grabs my hips and starts fucking me with reckless abandon.
His body slams into mine again and again, his massive cock stretching me as he strikes my ass again and again, groaning as my cunt pulses around him.
“You love that, don’t you?” he whispers in my ear. “My dirty Little Red loves having her ass spanked.”
Fuck.
“It’s been too long, baby,” he groans. “This is going to be quick.” Which is perfectly fine with me. I am already standing at the edge of a precipice, and when he tweaks my nipple through my drenched silk shirt, I crack.
“Such a good girl,” he coos in my ear. “Taking me like a fucking champ.”
“Matthias.” I barely get his name out before he pinches my oversensitive clit and sends me spiraling over the edge again, bringing himself along with me. We fall, shattering against the rocks into a million pieces, just like our marriage. Our love. We are never meant to be, and I know that.
“I love it when you scream my name,” he breathes. “Moan it. Curse it. You’re mine, Ava Dashkov, and I will prove that to you repeatedly until you believe it.”
“You don’t need to prove it,” I whisper brokenly. “Because it’s never going to happen, Matthias. You broke me and there isn’t any way I am going to allow you to do it again.”
“We’ll see about that, my little psycho.”
For a moment neither of us speaks. We stand, leaning against one another, relishing in each other’s warmth as the rain continues to pour down around us, our breaths heavy and ragged. I lean my head against one of the arms bracketing me in and just let myself relish the fact that he is alive.
With a reluctant sigh, he withdraws himself from inside of me, tucking himself away. He bends down and shimmies my panties and jeans up my legs, buttoning me back in place. The evidence of our union is lost in the deluge around us.
Then he kisses me.
Soft and slow. Full of sorrow and affection. He has never kissed me like that before. Like I am precious. Like he loves me.
Nope.
I am not ready to analyze that just yet.