Chapter 31
COLLINS
It’s Saturday. Show day. The crowd outside is a distant buzz that used to fill me with anticipation—now it’s dread.
Bruno is here. He’ll be watching.
It never bothered me. Now, all I want is to hide and simultaneously cut his eyelids off while he’s still awake for his family’s hand in hurting Hayes.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I run a hand along my exposed belly, nails raking the glinting sequins.
Pink neon signs in the back shine against the shadows, casting ugly lights over the vanity tables.
Rows of red scandalous silks and lace line the closets, waiting for their debuts on stage.
The stage used to be my sanctuary. Where I could ignore my perfect mask and feed the other side of me—the viper. It’s a fitting moniker Hayes gave me.
The stage is a noose around my neck, ready to snap. A way for Roman to control me. A way for me to be reminded of my self-loathing, not the small progress I’ve made in embracing my taint.
All because of Hayes. Who sees those moments and smiles. Who wants more of it. Who understands that this world has created us into something different—though no less worthy.
He appears behind me, hungry eyes trailing over my body. I don’t hide—not from him. He knows me, has seen those broken bits and has kept them close.
I’m reminded of his words a few nights ago. And my heart lodges in my throat.
He was concussed, bleeding, exhausted. He didn’t know what he was saying.
I really wish he remembered. But he stayed quiet, being brought to my room by Killian the next morning, sleeping for the remaining days. This is the first he’s been out of the manor, placing weight on his still sore leg.
If he didn’t say anything, does he not remember? Was it a fluke, a moment of clarity brought on by sudden death?
“What are you thinking?” he asks, rough palms sliding along my hips. My body falls back, knowing he’ll support me. I’ve gone from tensing with his every touch, to craving it.
“Nothing,” I lie. How do I ask?
Hey, remember when you told me you loved me? You had just been shot and thought you were dying, but I really liked it. Want to date? For real this time?
Not very smooth.
“You’re a horrible liar,” he singsongs, laughing. “You’re starting to pout.”
Him, knowing me, is all fine and well until it’s used against me.
“I’m just worried about your leg.”
“My leg.” He glances down.
“You’re still healing.” I changed his wrap before we left and I can see blood seeping through the gauze. “You need to keep weight off of it.”
“Sure. Right after this.” He spins me around, tossing me on to the black lacquered vanity. My makeup, glitter, and body jewels crash to the ground and he pins my throat to the mirror.
“Hayes!” I gasp, my body igniting into dangerous territory. It reacts so easily to him, the need and desire rising up like a rough wave, threatening to take us under. I flush and moan against his fingers flexing, stuttering my breath.
“Something is going on in that brain, viper.” He leans close, smelling like a recent rainstorm and I inhale, trying to memorize it. “Something big. What is it? Do you want to leave?”
“We can’t leave,” I argue. “Roman won’t let us.”
He winks. “He can try.” He uses his thumb to angle my head back. “Tell me,” he commands, voice soft. “What made you so distracted?”
The cool mirror calms some of the heat, but as he nestles between my thighs, my thoughts scatter.
Talking about this makes everything real. I can’t hide from it.
I don’t want to—not anymore.
“Do you remember the night of the first Trial?”
His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “That night is burned into my memory, Collins.”
“Really?”
His nose trails over my jaw and I melt. He feels good this close, his pelvis pressed to mine. I have to fight my lizard brain to forget the conversation and take him, right now, here, without a care who sees.
“I was waiting for you to ask.” His teeth nip and rake over my heated flesh. “Waiting for you to ask if I remember telling you I loved you.”
I swallow, nerves twisting in my belly. “Do you? I mean, did you mean it?”
Pulling back, his blue eyes shine like the night sky full of stars, bright and hopeful. “Collins Kennedy O’Brien, I’ve been infuriatingly in love with you for years.”
Blinking, I say, ineloquently, “Huh?”
Laughing, his tongue laps at my earlobe, biting lightly.
“You’ve driven me mad for years. Your intelligence, your grace.
Your inability to never let me get the last word.
The way your nose scrunches when you hear a word used improperly, or how your eyes flash like a lightning storm when you’re angry.
I’ve been in love with you, Collins. Only you. ”
Shaking my head, I grip his shoulders. “There’s no way. We’ve just—”
He tsks. “I’ve known you for years. Loved you from afar. You’ve just never noticed until now.”
He loves me.
My heart bursts, full of hope and adoration—of love. For him. This incredible, broken man who swims in the same tarry blackness as me, who embraces the flaws loves me.
“Even though, I’m…” I trail off, glancing down. “This?”
“What you are, is beautiful,” he praises. “And mine.”
His hard cock nudges against my center and I groan, back arching.
Sliding me off the vanity, he turns me toward the mirror. His hand wrapped around my jaw forces me to take us in—his hulking form over my pale, slight curves. His dark hair and my red-brown curls. Different, but each holding a stain in our heart we don’t have to hide from.
We can still be good, while giving into it.
“I love you,” he breathes against my head. “Remember that, viper. Because I’m going to fuck you like I don’t.” He slams me forward, my forearms taking the brunt of my weight. “And you’re going to watch.”
His teeth sink into my shoulder, biting into my muscle with enough force to leave a mark. I groan low, pussy damp. His nails scratch against my hips as he rips the bottoms away.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmurs, dreamily. “Of the day I finally told you. The day I finally felt you. Been inside you.”
“Sounds like you need to broaden your horizons.”
His leg kicks my knees wide, pulling one up to rest against the edge. He whistles tightly as my pussy goes on display. My arousal leaks down my legs, cool air fanning over my warmed skin.
“Why bother when I have you?” He touches the back of my thigh, my ass, my lower back.
He wraps my hair around his fist, forcing our eyes to look in the reflection.
“You were crafted to be touched by my hands—stained with sins, yet strong enough to handle both. You are mine, Collins. You belong to me as much as I belong to you.”
He loves me.
“You belong to me?” My eyes flutter, watching him discard his shirt and unzip his jeans. Licking my lips, I feel the head of his cock at my entrance and my back presses against him, seeking more.
He laughs and it's a direct line to my clit. “Absolutely, baby. Every part of me—every horrible part—belongs to you.”
This. This is what I’ve always done. To be owned—to own someone.
Hayes. I’ve wanted Hayes.
“Watch the mirror, baby,” he murmurs as he slides agonizingly slowly inside of me. I claw at the mirror as he presses further, driving my breasts to the cold glass, my stomach shaking.
He bites my neck again and the pain, mixed with the stretch of his cock causes me to moan. Wild. Free. His.
“Eyes open,” he commands. “Watch how devastating you look, taking my cock. This is you Collins. No more masks. No more pretending. Just you—raw, dangerous, ravished. Mine.”
Panting, I see his cock withdraw and then enter, the mirror a window to our most intimate moments. I clench and my pussy flutters, eyes wide. I’m wanton, and wrecked, hair messy, cheeks flushed from pleasure. Hayes doesn’t leave my face, grinning with each thrust.
“What if someone comes in?”
He doesn’t stop his torture, each stroke long and filling. I can barely think.
“Let them see me enjoying my fiancée.” He hits that spot and I cry out. “I’ll pick out their eyes after, for witnessing such a fucking gift.”
I moan, imagining him maiming and killing for me. I grow tighter, wetter and he smiles into the back of my neck. “My filthy girl,” he praises. “You’re made for my madness, Collins. And I want more of yours.”
He picks up his pace, hips snapping forward.
We rock the table, things on the wall falling to the dark floors.
I don’t care—don’t look away from his eyes.
I take in his masculine snarl, his pleasure in my body—in me.
His cock is thick and long, spearing me open and I use my fingers to open me wider.
Hayes groans, almost pitifully. “Fucking hell, Collins.” He takes me harder, us transfixed by the images. Both of us, wild and untamed, finding the monster in the other and loving them regardless.
Ripping my head back, he kisses me, teeth bumping. I bite his lip and he groans as blood tangles on our tongues. It’s only a few more pumps as I cry out his name and he follows me over the edge, his seed pumping into me.
Thank God I can’t get pregnant.
“My fucking ring. My fucking pussy. My fucking wife,” he growls into my neck, words deliciously dark. “You belong to me.”
Nodding, I hold firm to him as he withdraws, both of us shaking. A pounding on the door startles me as Hayes holds me tight. The door knob rattles but doesn’t open—locked.
At my curious expression, Hayes shrugs. “You really thought I’d let someone else see that?” He scoffs. “No, that’s all mine.”
He quickly helps me dress and the evidence of what we did runs down my leg. Take two fingers, he swipes some up, fingers slipping under the damp fabric and pushing them inside me.
I groan and he smiles devilishly. “I always knew I’d see you on stage, my cum leaking out of you.”
He plays for a second longer, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean. His eyes roll and I fight the urge to say screw all of this and ride him in my makeup chair.
But I have to do this. Keep Roman happy—and away from Maeve. I can figure out how to get out of this after. Maybe I’ll even come clean to my sister and we’ll put all of this behind us. I don’t need the stage now, not when I have Hayes’ undivided attention.
“What does this mean?” I ask, voice soft. “For us?”
He adjusts my top, straightening my hair before fastening his jeans. His broad chest is bare, the tribal ink glinting under the harsh overhead lights.
“I thought that was obvious?” He kisses the ring on my finger, before chastely pecking my lips. “I’m yours, Collins. To do with whatever you wish.”
“Anything?” I cock a brow and he smirks.
“Viper, you could cut out my heart, hand it to me and I would say thank you. I’ll let you do anything you want to me—as long as you say you’re mine.”
He loves me.
Tapping my chin, he asks, “Right?”
He’s so hopeful, so boyish—so mine. Stepping close, I grab his hair, curling myself around him. Instinctively, his arms find my waist and he holds me, waiting for my words.
He’s giving me the control. I could walk away right now, but I won’t. I can’t from Hayes.
“I belong to you,” I breathe.
He beams, light and carefree. “And?”
I snort. “And you belong to me.”
“Damn straight.” He steals a hard kiss, and the banging sounds again. My set is ready and I’m needed on stage. “This isn’t fake anymore, Collins. This is it. Until the stars call us home, forever and a day, you’re mine.”
I like the sound of that. “And you’re mine.”