Chapter 18
COLLINS
“Hold still,” I command, standing between Hayes’ legs, his hulking form perched on the toilet of my bathroom.
When Pops crafted his faux castle, he made sure every room was completely updated, with the best money could buy.
No expense was spared, including my bathroom.
With high ceilings, and large windows, the walls are painted a deep oceanic blue with darker cerulean tiles and gold knobs accentuating the area.
After I got sick, I had extra furnishings put in to assist my compromised immune system: sanitizers, extra soaps, lotions, and a special duct irradiation system that houses UV lights to kill bacteria.
Though he sold it as a way to keep me safe, this was one more way he kept me suffocated in this house. Under his control. Never allowed to grow.
Hayes winces against the alcohol pad as I clean the cut on his eyebrow, shifting my legs. Since returning, I’ve cleaned broken glass out of his cuts, bandaged his fingers, gluing shut his scraps and cursing the Heavens for this unholy need inside me.
Usually, I can control them. Give in, only a little, during a medical lab experiment. Or grab a boy from the study hall to fuck the urges out of my system.
Neither of those options are viable right now. Not when blood stains my palms, coats Hayes’ face, and the memory of how vicious he was in the ring assaults me. I just want him.
But I can’t.
“Easy, viper,” he gripes, one blue eye looking up at me. “I’m sensitive.”
“I’m trying to stop the bleeding.” I push harder and he flinches. “God, Hayes, from what I just saw, this should be the least of your concerns. You were going to be stabbed through by a knife only hours ago.”
Watching Heath hold that knife, everything in me stopped. Breath, thoughts, lust, gone. And in their place grew an incredible rage that tore through me like a crashing wave. I was ready to kill Heath if he ended Hayes’ life.
I have never been so angry—so possessive of someone before. And over my fake fiancé no less seems absurd.
“Knives are easy,” he quips. “Your bedside manner? Not so much. You sure they’re going to let you graduate? Your technique is giving Dr. Kevorkian.”
“Cry baby.” I stab again and ignore his implied insult. He doesn’t know how close he hit to my secret.
Shifting, I bite my bottom lip as my lust rises again. Now that he’s relatively cleaned up, I have nothing to focus on.
His churning eyes look down to my rubbing knees. “What’s going on there?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” he singsongs, leaning closer. He inhales as if he can smell my desire. “Something you want to tell me?”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. This close, I can see the flecks of brown in his blue eyes, like raw lapis washed ashore. His brown beard is soft, just like his hair.
With the way he’s looking down at me, he looks undone. A predator about to catch his prey.
“Take off your pants.”
He snorts. “I usually like a little foreplay first, viper. Maybe a few ass grabs. Perhaps a bit of tongue, yeah? Then, the pants come off.”
Rolling my eyes, I snap my fingers. “Good to know. No, it’s to check your legs.”
He sustained some cuts under his jeans and I want to make sure he’s not infected. Also, it’ll help keep me distracted.
The minute his pants lower, my mouth parts, chest heaving. Nope. This is infinitely worse.
His legs are corded muscle, the tribal ink decorating all the way to his foot. Whirls, zigzags and lines are etched into his perfect skin. I notice a few runes, a compass on his thigh and what looks like an axe, all beautifully done together like museum quality art.
“What does it mean?” My finger traces one design, swiping against the blood on his shin. His cut is deep but not unmanageable. I don’t think as I dig into it and he hisses out a breath.
I pull back abruptly. Shit. People don’t usually like it when you play with their wounds.
When I look up, Hayes doesn’t look alarmed, but aroused. Pupils wide, puffs of breath leaving his lips, he’s barely containing himself.
“An ode to my Norse roots.” He swallows as I start to clean his skin. “My mother was from Denmark. She had similar tattoos. It’s some of the only memories I have of her.”
Nodding, I ache for the longing in his voice. He must have lost his mother when he was young. “You won’t need stitches, but it’ll be sore for a while.”
“I’ve had worse. Want to kiss it and make it feel better?”
I scoff even though there is a part of me that wants to touch his wound again. “No.”
“Cool, so long as we’re being honest,” he says, giving me a look, “Want to tell me what’s happening there?” A lazy finger draws over my pussy and I blush. Hard.
“Nope.” Turning toward the bedroom, I ignore his knowing smirk, taking my phone out from my top and pulling up my last library conquest—Jake.
He wasn’t very good, but I’ll take anything right now.
Hayes catches me as I rush away, swinging me until we’re facing each other, surrounded by my plush animals and barren walls. His blue eyes—endless blue like the deepest sea—peer down at me and my breath catches. Unlike my panic attacks, this is caused by anticipation, not fear.
Until my phone pings and Jake answers my text.
Hayes pulls the phone from me, smirk still in place but his eyes have changed. Darkened.
Immediately, my shoulders tense, waiting for his reaction.
“You know,” he begins casually. “You seem to think I’m joking when I say you’re mine.” He clicks the screen a few times. Those eyes look up at me and I gulp. “I’m not, viper. Not even fucking close to it.”
He tosses my phone onto the bed. “Don’t bother looking for Jake’s number again. It’s deleted.”
“Hayes!” I sputter, cheeks hot. “You can’t just—”
“And blocked.” He winks and I shove at his chest.
“You can’t just do that!” I screech. “That’s my phone, my property—"
“And,” he cuts off, “I’ve sent my phone his number. I’ll be paying him a visit later on.” He pinches my chin, pulling me close. “To remind him who you fucking belong to.”
“I don’t belong to you,” I deny, even though my insides melt. I’ve always wanted to belong to someone. I’ve fantasized about Hayes, having him claim me.
But, boundaries!
“Oh, but you do.” He shrugs, so indifferent, as if we’re discussing the weather. I see red, stepping close to—to do something.
Quick as lightning, he grabs my throat, hauling me forward and his nails dig into my pulse point. I fucking whimper at the pain and pleasure warring inside my core.
“Remember what I said? No one touches you.” He spins us so the back of my knees hit my bed and his smirk edges into dangerous territory. “If you wanted to take the edge off the night, you should’ve asked me.”
I remain silent. How does he know?
He gasps, mocking me. “Collins, please. I know everything about you. Isn’t that clear by now?
” He tosses me on the bed and my body bounces, my dress criminally high on my thighs.
“I saw the way you drooled over the bloodshed. How you practically flooded the whole bar when I beat the shit out of some guy. Violence gets you off.”
I don’t answer—I can’t. No one should know this. No one does know this!
How did he figure it out?
Clearing my throat, I squeak, “But this isn’t real. You shouldn’t know this about me. You shouldn’t be offering…” I trail off. Offering everything I need. Badly.
He lifts the glinting ring between us, studying it intently. Lights catch the sharp angles, highlighting the cobalt stone and the surrounding diamonds. It’s as blue as the ocean and as ominous in its promise.
“Offering my fiancée what she needs?” He tsks. “I don’t know Collins. This is my ring on your finger. Seems pretty fucking real to me.”
Stripping his shirt from his body, his gaze doesn’t leave my frame. A dark cloud covers us, settling around us as if to promise retribution.
“Strip.”
“Excuse me?” I scoff. He’s kidding—he has to be.
“I didn’t stutter.” Pulling me on to my feet, he pulls the zipper half way down my back. Then he steps away, pushing me back to the bed. I’m being manhandled like some kind of doll.
I should hate it. But I don’t.
“You’re hurting Collins.” He pulls my desk chair closer. Sitting down, he’s as large as a bear and just as menacing. Rubbing his bottom lip, he jerks his head. “I have a proposition for you.”
Tugging my dress higher, I fail at reaching the zipper. “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.”
“You need release.” He smiles wide and welcoming. “I’m willing to help with that.”
I snort. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“We won’t be sleeping.”
My cheeks burn brighter. “Hayes!”
Ignoring me, he jerks his chin toward the side table. Exactly where I keep my toy. “Take it out.”
“Have you gone through my room?”
He sighs like I’m the one acting weird. “Do as I say. You might like it.”
Logic be damned, I’m intrigued. I am hurting, my body coiled deeply with need and agony. It’s never been this bad, but the fight, Hayes’ skill and his prowess have added to the effect. His presence is drowning me and I hate it.
And against my better judgement, I bring out my toy, much to his amusement.
“A dolphin, huh?” Those eyes shine with mischief.
This is the same toy I used thinking of him. Oh, God. My face turns so red, I’m sure I look like a traffic light. This is so bad.
“Now, what?”
“Now,” he says, leaning back, legs spread. His cock is already thick and full through his shorts and I lick my lips. “You’re going to play with yourself and I’m going to watch. Just how you like it.”
My lungs forget how to function and I stare down at the dolphin in my grasp.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t lie,” he cuts off, voice hard and unyielding. “We both know you do.”
Licking my lips, I exhale, palms sweaty. This is insane. Completely fucked up—absolute madness.
Then why does it turn me on more?
“You won’t touch me.”
He holds his fingers into the air as if he’s a Boy Scout. “On my honor.”
Silently, I nod just once. Just one moment of giving into the depravity. Let that darkness out and feed it. Just once. “Fine. What should I do?”
He grins.