Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cormac
Dinner is as delicious as always, but that’s no surprise. It’s nice to eat together as a family. We occasionally stand around the island or sit at the barstools, but it’s rare that the three of us all sit to enjoy a meal together.
After Malachy carted Charlotte away like a caveman earlier, I spoke to Patrick about Vanessa. He said she seemed genuinely relieved to see we had no intention of honoring the contract, but that doesn’t fix the issue of what happens if they don’t pay back the original loan.
It’s a mess we’re going to have to address sooner rather than later.
It’s insulting to Charlotte that the world thinks we’re still going to marry Vanessa. Especially considering Charlotte is living here, and we’re in the process of courting her.
It is obvious that we’re courting her, right?
Charlotte knows that part.
She has to.
I think.
Holy fuck.
We forgot courting gifts.
I mean, I vaguely knew we needed them, but does doing things to make her and Lucky more comfortable here count?
No, that’s shitty.
They need to be gifts specifically picked out for her.
Malachy was right.
We need Lucky’s insight on what Charlotte likes.
Next Christmas, we’ll have a much better understanding of what to purchase.
I know she likes to read mysteries, thrillers, and fantasy books when she has time. That’s a solid place to start. I’ll buy her a bookshelf and fill it with all the books.
Hmm.
I wonder if my prisoner has insight into anything Charlotte used to like. It wouldn’t hurt to at least ask him.
After dinner, Patrick disappears to handle a few minor work things. Malachy, Charlotte, and Lucky settle in the living room to watch a movie, and I excuse myself to check on my prisoner.
My father was fond of mental torture, and I am too to a degree. However, I draw the line at forced nudity. Sure, it can hasten the process of mentally breaking someone—clothing can feel like an added layer of protection, even if it’s a farce—but that’s a line I won’t cross.
My biological father also believed in forcing prisoners to use buckets for their waste. I installed flushing toilets because I’m not about that life. I have no interest in cleaning or disposing of human waste.
If someone doesn’t appreciate the facilities they’ve been given, then I would consider downgrading them to the bucket system. At least so far, I’ve never had anyone purposely avoid using the available toilet.
Having to maintain a food plan for someone who won’t live past next week is always tedious.
My guest needs enough nutrients and water to avoid dying before I gain the information I need, but he doesn’t need to be well-fed either.
As my father told me many years ago, it’s best to remember the people we work with down here are not like other human beings. They’ve done something truly vile to earn their stay.
Although, that might be semantics.
McCarthy views me as the villain in his story, but if the tables were turned, and I was his prisoner, how would he treat me?
More importantly…
How would he treat Charlotte?
What heinous things would he do to Charlotte or Lucky if he had the chance?
Those are the types of thoughts that keep me focused if I ever experience a shred of empathy for a guest.
It’s a quick process to get myself into my gloves and jumpsuit.
I collect the bottle of water and food and make my way to McCarthy’s room. His right arm and leg are chained to the floor, and it appears we’re making progress. He doesn’t lunge, curse, or spit at me; instead, he blinks from where he sits on the floor at the back of the cell.
“Good evening,” I say, placing the items within his reach.
Well, he can’t grab them now, but if he moves across the room and stretches, the chains will allow him to access his dinner.
“While you’re more coherent, I thought the two of us could have a chat.
” I make my way to the chair just inside the door. “If you’re feeling up to it?”
He continues to stare with a blank look on his face.
Hmm.
I’ll be disappointed if he skipped the bargaining stage and settled into acceptance this quickly. The bargaining stage is surprisingly where I tend to learn the most. It’s rarely outright admissions, but if you pay attention, you can put the pieces together.
“You came to Boston to find a woman,” I say calmly as I cross one leg over the other. “I’d like it if you could tell me everything you know about her.”
There’s no reaction.
I stare, staying silent for close to five minutes before asking again.
Nothing.
“How did you and your associates know where to look for Candice?” I ask, calling Charlotte by her real name.
McCarthy closes his eyes, resting his head against the wall.
This is going well.
“Why send so many of you to bring in one woman? Does she have some type of training that would make it dangerous to send a two-person team?” At this point, I’m just goading him.
Several more minutes pass, and he continues to ignore me.
“Is there a financial reward available if someone turns Candice over to your boss?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
The lump of potatoes has nothing to say.
I’m sure he thinks he’s being exceptionally tough considering his circumstances.
He’s not.
By this point, anyone with any intelligence would be trying to bargain for their life. Perhaps he does have unwavering loyalty to his MC brothers.
Our standoff continues until I grow bored of it.
This fucker is of no use to me in my quest for the night. I’ll have more luck by simply guessing what Charlotte might like when it comes to courting gifts.
I push to my feet and cross the room, swiping the peanut butter crackers and beef stick off the floor.
He can keep the dirt-like protein bar, only because I need to ensure he keeps up his strength. He needs some calories to do that, but he’ll be extra hungry when I check in on him tomorrow.
Once I make it back inside, I spend several hours searching for gift ideas and purchasing them with rush shipping. My brothers had better be damn grateful that I’m forward-focused.
It’s late, but I’m not ready to turn in just yet.
I stop to check on Lucky, who sleeps soundly in his new room.
I’m not sure if he’ll wake up throughout the night, but someone left the nightlight on for him.
He’s nearly too large for the toddler bed, but I’ll wait to purchase a larger size in case Charlotte would like to select the frame and mattress type.
Squatting down, I pull his blanket up around his shoulders, tucking it tight.
He looks so small and peaceful.
I can’t even begin to imagine how Charlotte must have felt, knowing she was being hunted while trying to protect them both with no resources.
My stomach tightens.
She went through all of that alone for years.
My only solace is that she has us now.
I would do unimaginable things to keep them safe.
I run my fingers through his soft hair and give his head a pat before standing and making my way downstairs.
I’m unsure where everyone is, but I’d like to spend some time cuddled up to Charlotte.
We’ve broached physical intimacy, but I’d like to work on building emotional intimacy. Based on what she described about her relationship with Lucky’s father, I believe it’s important to show her that I want more than just sex.
I want a true life partner.
I’m unsure if she understands that this afternoon was a first for me on many levels, but I’ll have to explain my lack of sexual prowess at some point. Hopefully it won’t put me at a disadvantage compared to Malachy and Patrick.
Women like virgins, right?
My god, I’m so fucked.
I might not know how to do everything right, but I’m a fast learner. More than that, she can teach me how she likes things.
Before meeting Charlotte, I never understood the overwhelming obsession others had with sex. It was just never something I thought about. I certainly wasn’t sex-crazed like Patrick when I was a teenager.
I’ve had fleeting sexual desires on occasion, but I have two fists and suck at human interaction. Jerking off was easier and more appealing than having the conversations necessary to be sexually intimate with someone.
As if I’m not strange enough, all of those things made me stick out even more, but I’ve never allowed it to bother me.
During my late teens, I did research on asexuality, and I think I fit somewhere on that spectrum.
I’ve ebbed and flowed throughout my life, but if I had to pick a term that best described me, I would identify as graysexual.
In the past, if I have been attracted to someone, it was more of a fleeting thought, and I had no real desire to act upon the knowledge that someone was attractive.
That’s why my reaction to Charlotte shocked me to my core.
I always assumed I would join a pack and leave the sexual parts to my brothers. I would be available for emotional intimacy and reassurance, along with cuddles under the right circumstances.
I hoped that would be enough.
After twenty-nine years of life, I finally understand what true sexual desire feels like.
I enjoyed watching Charlotte come.
Having her suck me off was an entirely different level of euphoria.
I no longer wish to be the consolation prize of emotional support while my brothers handle the sexual activities.
I want a multifaceted relationship.
With Charlotte.
The thought is only appealing with her as my partner.
I come around the corner into the living room and freeze.
Malachy is stretched out on the long end of the sectional, and Charlotte is tucked between his arm and his chest. Her leg is tossed over his hip. They’re both focused on the television. Nothing remotely sexual is going on.
It’s a purely domestic moment.
Does physical closeness build emotional intimacy?
Or is it the other way around?
This is one of those moments when I wish I better understood human emotion.
Malachy has his phone next to him on the cushion, and I believe he has Lucky’s monitor feed pulled up so they can keep an eye out for him while watching the end of the movie.
I take a tentative step forward, but my mind gets the better of me.
Would that be intruding on their private moment? Yes, I’m sure it would be.
Would they mind? That’s the part I’m unsure about.
Relationships between a single couple are complicated enough.
Let alone trying to figure out how to be respectful of her relationships with my brothers while also ensuring I don’t get left behind.
Charlotte’s head pops up as I back toward the doorway. “There you are.” She smiles, waving me over. “We saw you check on Lucky. That was so sweet. I almost melted. Want to finish the movie with us?”
I rock on my heels, checking in with Malachy. He needs the most initial contact with Charlotte because her pheromones will prevent the decay from progressing until he can sink his teeth in.
“Come on,” she says. “You can snuggle up behind me.”
Mal nods, and I make my way over.
Charlotte gives Malachy’s chest a shove, and they both scoot over. I climb onto the cushion behind her, and Mal lifts his arm, resting it on the back of the couch instead of being wrapped around her.
Her cherry limeade smell hits my nose, and I contemplate taking off my glasses. It’s annoying to try to lie on my side with them on, but I get smart and plant my elbow on the cushion so I can rest my head on my hand.
Charlotte peeks at me over her shoulder, stretching back to grab my hand. She wraps my arm around her middle, linking our fingers.
My heart races.
She runs her thumb over mine, wiggling her ass to rest against my pelvis. They get back to watching the movie, but I’m enamored by studying Charlotte’s expressions.
It’s a perfect moment in time.
One of us needs to bite her as soon as possible.
That way, there’s no chance she’ll try to leave us, and my instincts will settle down.
I’d never put her down in my workshop, not under any circumstances, but I would handcuff her to the pack bed if she tried to leave.
Then I’d talk Patrick into giving her a bunch of orgasms—I could try, but I would have no idea what I was doing—and when she was happy and euphoric, I’d sink my teeth in so deep that she’d never get away.
Only then would I uncuff her.
I’d probably have to spend the next few years apologizing and groveling, so I’m considering that the backup, backup plan.
Shit.
I think my fixation is getting worse, and that’s a very bad sign.