Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
I’m still twitchy when Rowland’s footsteps approach.
Maybe because it’s my turn to lie by omission.
The ripped pieces in my pocket feel like they’re fused to my skin, but I remind myself it’s best for both of us if he doesn’t know.
He steps out from the darkness of the corridor, his weary features turning bright. Then he pulls me into his strong arms.
All the tension escapes my lungs, and I melt into his embrace. Rowland squeezes me tight against his chest like he’s afraid I might disappear.
“It’s over,” he says, his voice rough with exhaustion.
Pulling back, I meet his dark eyes. “Your brother’s really gone?”
“He wasn’t in the tunnels. And the basement’s empty except for...” Rowland doesn’t need to finish. I already know he’s talking about the bodies Rochester collected over the years. Now, Morrison’s keeping them company. “You were right. He really did die in that fire.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice breathy with hope.
Rowland nods, his eyes fluttering shut. With an outward breath, he murmurs, “Edward is gone. We’re finally free.”
The next few days blur together in a haze. We clean the study and hallways of all traces of the fight, dispose of Morrison’s car in a nature reserve on the other side of the island, and settle into the routine of two lovers learning to live without looking over our shoulders.
Rowland and I spend hours talking, touching, discovering each other without the constant threat of his brother’s return. We make love in Rochester’s bed, in his study, in every room where he once held power, claiming the space as ours.
But our fragile peace doesn’t last long.
Three days after Morrison’s death, letters arrive from Blanche’s attorney requesting meetings to discuss Rochester’s inheritance. Her will left everything to her husband, and the estate is still in need of rescuing from bankruptcy.
The solution is obvious but terrifying. Rowland must become Edward Rochester legally, financially, and socially to claim Blanche’s money and save the estate. It’s the only way we can stay here and build a life together.
Which is why I’m standing outside the bathroom, listening to his labored breathing through the door.
“Rowland,” I press my palm against the wood. “You need to come out.”
“I look monstrous,” his voice is thick with revulsion and shame.
“You don’t know that until I see you.”
Silence stretches for several seconds, broken only by his pained sobs. My heart squeezes. I picture Rowland’s face crisscrossed with the same scars marring his chest. It’s hard to imagine what manner of torture he endured. No matter what, my love for this man won’t waver, even if he’s disfigured.
“Rowland. Come to me. Please.”
“Alright,” he says with a sigh.
Moments later, the lock clicks, and the door swings open. Rowland emerges naked, save for a white towel around his hips. He bows his head as if walking to his execution, his shoulders drawing up to his ears. The beard is gone, and his hair is slicked back with water, but I still can’t see his face.
“Look at me,” I murmur.
He jerks his head to the side.
I place both hands on his scarred chest, frowning at the frantic beat of his heart. “What are you afraid of? We’ve seen each other at our worst. You can’t turn away from me now.”
Throat bobbing, he finally straightens and looks me full in the face. The man staring back makes every fine hair on my body stand on end.
Rowland’s resemblance to his brother is so strong that I reel on my feet. He has the same aristocratic nose, the same sharp cheekbones, the same cruel mouth.
“You didn’t tell me you’re twins,” I whisper.
He grimaces, his lips tightening with distaste. “Not identical. Not really.”
My chest squeezes at the denial. They’re so similar, it’s painful. But Rowland probably hasn’t seen his own face since he started growing facial hair.
I place both hands on his cheeks, forcing him to stay still, and I look past the shock of recognition.
Rowland is right. He’s not his brother. But he could wear that face like a glove.
Besides, his features are more weathered, with lines bracketing his mouth from years of pain.
The posture is also different—more guarded, beaten down, less entitled.
Rochester moved through the world like he owned it. Rowland is a man barely clinging to survival. Rowland might have looked identical to his brother if he hadn’t lived a hard life instead of one cushioned by privilege and wealth.
“Do I look monstrous?” he whispers.
“No,” I blurt. “Never.”
Rowland glances away, breaking eye contact. The shame rolling off his shoulders is palpable, and I understand why. He isn’t just wearing his brother’s face. He’s becoming the murderer who tortured him for decades.
“Look at me,” I say, injecting my voice with command.
He sucks in a deep breath as though gathering his courage before returning his gaze to mine. Fear shines in his dark eyes, reminding me so much of how I felt before I finally escaped my previous life.
“You are not your brother,” I say, meaning every word. “After everything we’ve endured together, everything you’ve done to protect me, I could never see you as a monster.”
He starts to turn away again, but I catch his face in my hands, forcing him to maintain eye contact.
“But you saw me murder Morrison,” he mutters. “Doesn’t that sicken you?”
“We’re both killers,” I say with bite. “We did what we had to do to survive.”
Rowland doesn’t reply. But from his shallow breathing, I can tell he’s fighting an internal battle.
He isn’t like me. I burned two men alive.
I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t flinch. Just let the flames do my work.
Both threatened me with something worse than death—a lifetime of hell.
If I’d stayed married to Brother Matthew, he would have kept me enslaved and pregnant.
Rochester would have worked me to death, then choked me for sport.
So if Rowland endured thirty years of that without killing, I would never judge him for slaying a cop for my protection.
Rising on my tip-toes, I press my lips to his. He stiffens for a heartbeat, then melts into the kiss with a deep groan.
“I need you, more than air,” he murmurs against my mouth. “You’re the only person in the world who makes me feel human. With you, I’m no longer a caged beast. I can finally be a man.”
He slips his fingers through my hair and kisses me again with desperate hunger, pulling me closer as if I can chase away his demons.
We tumble backward into the bedroom, the towel slipping from his hips, revealing lean muscles and that long, thick cock. I run my hands down his shoulders and chest, my fingers tracing decades-old scars. Burn marks, slashes, grooves lie beneath body hair as luxuriant as silk.
“I love you, Annalisa Burlington,” he says, his voice breathy with need.
I whisper it back. Not because I should. Because it’s the truth. “I love you, too.”
Rowland stiffens, his eyes widening. “Say it again.” His voice is rough, like he’s barely holding back. “Slower.”
“I… love you.”
“Don’t say it unless you mean it,” he growls. “Because if you do, I’ll never stop wanting you. Never.”
My pulse quickens. The hunger in his voice should be terrifying. After years of men who threw me away, I need to be wanted this desperately. I slide a hand over his scarred chest, meeting eyes that burn with need.
“Rowland, it’s you I love. Only you.”
His breathing becomes ragged, his grip on my waist tightening. I can feel him fighting for control, the decades of deprivation warring with his need to be gentle. “You have no idea what your love does to me. I’ve lived a hundred lives in agony, and you undo them with three words.”
“Deal with it,” I murmur against his lips. “Because you’re mine, forever.”
A sharp breath whistles through his teeth. Drawing back, he gazes down at me, his eyes blazing. I meet his stare, communicating everything I failed to say with words. Rowland means everything to me, and my heart beats only for him.
With a groan, he yanks me against him with bruising force, his mouth claiming mine with desperate intensity.
His kisses travel down my chin, down the sensitive column of my neck, making me shiver.
He roams his hands over my body like he’s memorizing every curve, every hollow, every place that makes me gasp.
“Mine,” he snarls against my throat, dragging his teeth along the pulse hammering beneath my skin. “Say it. Say who you belong to.”
“You,” I say with a gasp.
“That’s right. Every inch. Every breath.”
“Yours,” I moan, arching into his touch. “Always yours.”
“And I’m never letting you go.” He throws me onto the bed. The air rushes from my lungs as I hit the mattress. Then he’s on me, eyes dark with hunger. “After thirty years of having nothing, I want everything with you. I want to create something that’s ours.”
My head spins. I’m so breathless for this man, I barely hear his words.
“I want to fill you up, make you mine completely,” he growls into my ear.
“Yes... please.”
“Open those legs for me, little pet. Prove you deserve this cock.”
My gaze roams down his chest. Light streams in from the window, cutting across his pecs. Rowland is all lean strength and controlled power, utter perfection. White lines criss-cross his skin, meeting darker patches where he was burned. Some would see flaws. To me, he’s unbreakable.
Beneath his chest are tight abs with a smattering of dark hair. The scars over his abdomen tell the same story. His thick cock lies flush against the ridges of his stomach, leaking, heavy with need. Breath quickening, I part my thighs.
He gazes down at my pussy, and his eyes darken. Then he looks up at me, nostrils flaring. “Good girl, showing your master what’s his. You’re dripping. Eager. Good enough to eat, but I won’t give you my mouth. Not yet.”
“What?” I say with a gasp. “Why?”
“Because I need you to beg for it,” he snarls. “Tell me you want to be bred like a good little slut.”
My pussy clenches before I can even process the words. Everything about this man is intoxicating, and the thought of him taking me so thoroughly has me crying out, “Breed me, Rowland.”
His breath catches. For a heartbeat, he stares down at me like I’ve said something sacred. Then a low growl rises from his chest, rough and satisfied, the sound dragging over my skin like heat.
“First, I’ll fill you up. Make you take it to the hilt. I’ll put my seed so deep inside you your belly will swell with my children.”
The possessive words flood my veins with heat. I buck my hips, wanting more. “Yes,” I say with a gasp. “Give me everything.”
Rowland positions himself between my spread legs, his hands pinning my wrists to the headboard.
Feral intensity burns in his eyes, making every fine hair on my neck stand on end.
My heart skips several beats. Without the beard, he’s all sharp edges and danger.
A monster. An unrelenting beast. I have to remind myself that he belongs to me.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him close, until the head of his cock grazes my opening.
“Tell me your safe word,” he growls.
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because once I start, I won’t stop. Not until you’re full of me. Not until you’re bred.” He presses in closer, voice rough. “I want to hear you sob when you take it all. Want to feel you clench around me when you break, saying my name.”
“It’s red.”
“Good girl.” His eyes flash with something dark. Could be satisfaction. Maybe control. Then he thrusts into me, hard and deep, and I cry out, the sound raw and helpless.
He fills me completely, making my inner muscles stretch to accommodate his size. I gasp as his grip on my wrists tightens, holding me in place. Building up a punishing rhythm, he fucks me without mercy or restraint, all the while growling filthy promises that make my toes curl.
“You’ll take this cock like you need it to survive. I’ll pump you full of cum until your belly fills with my heir. Then everyone who sees you will know how well you take it.” He pants against my ear, his breath hot and urgent.
The thick head of his cock brushes back and forth against a spot that makes me jolt like a live wire. I rock my hips, on the verge of climaxing, desperate for more friction, but he changes position.
“Do you want to come, little pet?” he asks, his voice thick with lust.
“Yes,” I cry.
“Then tell me how much you want it,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Please,” I moan, arching beneath him. “Let me come.”
“Tell me how much you want to carry my babies. Tell me you’ll stay here forever.”
Euphoria floods my heart. Rowland wants me as much as I want him. I finally have security. Love. A future.
“I want it all,” I say through panting breaths.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Please, breed me,” I beg, my voice hoarse with need. “Make me pregnant.”
His eyes flare. Something inside him snaps. He slams into me harder, his thrusts wild, hungry, raw. “Such a good girl, begging for my seed. I’ll fill you so deeply, you’ll be dripping for days.”
His words send electricity through my core. I’ve never wanted anything more than this: to be claimed, filled, owned so completely by this man who killed to protect me.
“The estate needs a mistress. And an heir. And you’re going to give me one. I’ll make you so round and full that you can’t leave me even if you wanted to.”
“You have me, Rowland,” I say with a gasp. “I’ll never leave.”
“That’s right. Because you’ll be tied to me forever.” His rhythm falters as he gets closer to the edge. “I’ll make those glorious tits heavy with milk, make your belly stretch tight with my baby. Everyone will know you’re mine.”
The image he paints of us together forever pushes me over the edge. I come apart beneath him, crying out as waves of pleasure crash over every nerve ending. Rowland follows seconds later, burying himself deep as he fills me with hot fluid.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal. His hand rests on my stomach, as if he’s already imagining the life we might have created.
“We’re going to be happy here together,” I murmur against his chest.
“More than happy,” he replies, his arms tightening around my waist. “We’re going to have everything. The money, the estate, the life we deserve.”
I smile into his chest, already planning our future. With Blanche’s inheritance and Rowland’s new identity as Edward Rochester, we’ll have wealth, security, respectability. But more than that, we’ll have each other.
Two killers bound by love. And by what we’ve done to survive. And if anyone ever threatens what we’ve built, we’ve already proven what we’re willing to do to protect it.