Chapter 19
nineteen
Thick arms squeeze me so tight, I feel safer than I have, possibly ever. And so warm. Between the intense body heat I produce and Aiden’s, we’re like an inferno under the covers of his bed.
My toes nest under a calf draped over my thigh. Light snores vibrate in my ear, his breath tickling my hair until I giggle without meaning to.
That’s when I realize…
Our pillow wall has disappeared. A week and a half into my duties, and I’m in his bed. Curled up against him. Like I belong.
I remain still. Not knowing what to do.
The moment is soft, tender. It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. Just him. Holding me close, so he’ll never let me go. No families. No orders. Only us. Against everyone.
If I breathe wrong, he might move. And this? This would vanish like a good dream I’m not ready to wake from.
But I do.
He startles, body jerking like he fell from a rooftop. “What the—” Bolting upright, he drags a hand over his face, eyes still half-lidded, then scrubs his fingers through his shaggy black hair. “Where’d the pillows go?” he barks, accusing me.
“I think…”
“You tossed them off the bed.” His sneer is automatic.
But they’re clearly on his side.
With a heavy sigh, I throw the blankets off and kneel next to him, fingers digging into the waistband of his briefs to perform my job for the morning. Apparently, I don’t get weekends off.
“What are you doing?”
“My duty, lord.”
His sculpted chest rises and falls faster than usual as he blinks himself awake.
Aiden Cardell doesn’t sleep in. Even on Saturdays.
He doesn’t cuddle. And he doesn’t know what to do with something so simple.
So human. I’m not sure he even knows whether to want more of it…
or destroy it before it gets under his skin.
“Nah. I…I don’t need that. I need—” He stops, eyebrows stitched together with worry and irritation. “Go get ready for the day next door. I need to be alone.”
“Great.” The word is clipped. Disguising disappointment.
With a fake little bounce in my step, I head to the adjoining suite that still smells of mint toothpaste and detachment.
My phone buzzes on the dresser—another string of messages from Talon that I don’t bother to open. I tell myself it’s because Aiden would punish me for it, even though part of me might like that.
No. It’s because being at Theta’s Manor feels like a vacation from the likely disaster waiting for me outside its walls.
Facing Talon is like putting on that old yoke I can’t break away from. A future I never decided, but was forced onto me anyway.
After a long soak in the clawfoot tub with eucalyptus salts and silence, I take my time getting ready to do nothing today.
Everything in the ornate bathroom is dipped in gold.
Mirror trims, rug tassels, toilet handle.
Veined marble chills my soles. Brocade ruby wallpaper gleams above the glossy black wainscoting.
The same style flows into the bedroom. Crimson velvet and bloated antiques.
Most of my clothes are still locked in his closet.
Here, I’ve only got a few underthings and pajamas I managed to squirrel away in the mahogany chifforobe.
I slide on a pair of practical white cotton panties, a tank top, and some worn gray sweatpants.
Fingering my damp strands, I pad toward the adjoining door.
I hesitate with my hand on the knob. Wondering if it’s been long enough for him to have cooled off. If I’ve cooled off…
If we’re still pretending that we don’t need each other this morning.
Carefully, I crack the door open—and stop. Because the sight before me makes my thighs clench and heat coil low in my belly.
Aiden. Half-naked. Moving through a series of precise, controlled martial arts forms like he’s sculpting the air itself.
Every muscle ripples with tension and release. Sweat slicks the divots of his lower back, running down to his waistband in sinful little trails. His face is taut with focus—the same expression he wears when he’s inside me. But there’s serenity, too.
Like hurting himself is as good as hurting me. Maybe even better.
The gravity tethering me to him tugs me into the room without permission. My bare feet cross the floor in silence as I drink him in.
His arms sweep through fluid arcs, every motion a study in violence disguised as grace. On his upper back, an intricate black tattoo unfolds—reptilian wings that stretch across his shoulders and down the curve of his triceps.
At the center: a hybrid crest that’s part scorpion, part Theta.
From this angle, the arms of the symbol almost resemble the curling horns of a ram…flexing with every breath he takes.
Deeper, redder than the black ink of purposeful marks on his body, are slashes and raised skin. Ones from the scars of lashings.
At Crest…
As if sensing the shift in the air, he pivots and catches me staring.
His flushed face tightens. Hands land on his hips, his chest still heaving from exertion.
But it’s not pride in his form that stiffens his spine.
It’s something quieter. Something dangerously close to shame.
Like I witnessed a secret he wasn’t ready to share.
The moment hangs between us, too raw for words. Until I move in closer. When I wrap my arms around him, fingers tracing the reminders of our worst times together, he flinches.
“I still have mine, too.”
His jaw flexes. Muscle working in the back of it as he bites off words he wants to say. Or not. “I saw.”
It’s a subtle movement, almost unnoticeable, but his hands at his sides raise. Like he’s going to pull me in. Then, he jerks his shoulders and steps away, reaching for a shirt nearby.
“Viper’s ride tonight. You’re coming. I’m not leaving you here alone to hex my shit, or whatever it is you’re plotting.”
And just like that, the wall between us slams back into place.
“I’ve never been on a sportbike. Been on a cruiser a few times, but…that takes a lot of trust, lord.”
With a dismissive wave of his hand, he heads for the bathroom.
“You’ll learn,” he mutters. “Get your studies done this afternoon. Algebra problems. That paper on eighteenth-century decoupage or whatever it was from your Interior Design class. And the completed project, too.” He points to the desk, fingers snapping once. “All of it. Before we go out tonight.”
“Sure thing…” I grit my teeth and seethe. As he rounds the corner toward his shower, I whisper, tongue laced with venom, “Daddy.”
Aiden moves around me the rest of the day like a nerdy hall monitor, checking in every so often. Even weirder? The bits of praise he drops whenever I get something right.
“You’re so smart. So good,” he murmurs after reviewing my answers like he’s impressed. Like he’s proud.
“I’m bored. And hungry. And I want to quit.” I shove back from the desk, arms crossed in defiance. His last compliment is still ringing in my ears, and it makes my skin tingle.
His dick’s a half-chub in his gray sweatpants as he stands next to me, inspecting my work. Or maybe it’s always riding like that because he’s so big.
I think he’ll tell me to keep going. That I need to focus more. Sit here until everything is done. All I want to do is go swimming downstairs in their indoor pool or lounge in the sauna while eating a meatball sandwich that the chef makes so good here.
Instead, he slowly nods. “Okay. Let’s eat.”
The manor is a hotel of luxury. Butlers and chefs.
Housekeepers. And a fridge and oversized pantry always stocked with delicious food.
With only one minor eyebrow raise, Aiden keeps his mouth shut as I grab chicken tenders, fries, and a salad…
Because it’s healthy. He, of course, sticks to his boring, plain bodybuilder foods.
But I notice he sneaks two snack cakes into his pocket.
Then sets one on my plate with a resistant smirk.
After lunch, he lets me hang out in the velvet-curtained cinema room with some of the other boys.
I’m not allowed to talk to them, but I can sit nearby on the giant U-shaped sofa in front of the screen and laugh at their constant ribbing.
They eye me with amused glances but never say a word, like they’ve all been threatened not to speak to me.
By the time evening rolls around, Aiden’s dressed me for a ride—tight leather pants I had for going out to clubs in, and a matching shorter jacket that I’ve only worn once.
He tops my head with a helmet, securing the band under my chin.
Without a word, he pats the back seat of his motorcycle with a gloved hand.
I remember all the times he busted down the door to the solitary closet to get me.
The moment he punched three counselors to break me out.
Hand in his, rushing through the woods near Crest to get away.
Even threatening the cops when they finally caught up, throwing himself in front of me like a shield. So no one could ever hurt me again.
Not if he could help it.
I slide on.
Exhilaration takes over as he cautiously takes us down the long drive of Theta Manor. Over the Cardo, he snorts a laugh. “You have to hold me tight, Ashlyn. Arms around my waist or chest. Here.” He places them where he wants them, up high on his firm pecs. His body heat keeps them toasty warm.
“Lean with me. Don’t fight the pull. Don’t try to balance against me. Just…match your weight to mine. Move where I move. Shift your hips with mine. We’re one force now, got it?”
“Yeah,” I say, voice shaking.
He reaches back and pats my outer thigh. “Good girl.”
The wind floats out of my lungs as he says it, rippling away like the bare trees blazing by us at top speed as he hits the back winding roads.
It feels like a memory I ache to remember…and fight hard to forget.
Without the thick leather jacket and pants—layers stacked beneath—I don’t think I’d survive it. Even with the shield down, the November wind cuts straight through. Sharp. Icy. Real.
When we pull up to Warehouse 9, the ancient brick structure missing glass and filled with broken asphalt and spindly weeds, my chest tightens.
I’m surrounded by guys in fancy sports cars that look like sculptures of metal and plastic, as well as a showcase of dangerous street bikes.
Some guys wear brightly colored helmets.
Others smoke cigarettes, blunts, or engines. But all of them turn to look.
At me.
I climb off the bike and remove my helmet, mimicking Aiden. His younger brother approaches with a cautious smile.
“Hey,” Henry says, giving his brother a tight handclasp.
“Anything going on tonight?”
“Yeah, they’re setting up a drag race down on the strip in twenty.” Henry’s gaze flicks to me, only for a second, trying not to stare. “Did…you two come here together?” Like he didn’t watch us pull up.
Across the lot, Landon Turner smirks from where he leans against a neon-green custom truck, arms crossed, like he’s watching a soap opera.
“I brought her,” Aiden snaps, tone sharp and final, his gaze cutting across the crowd.
Henry hesitates. Swallows. Eyes grow big. “What about your appointed?”
My heart skips a beat. I knew he’d get an appointed. I knew it. But I’m still unprepared for the word; a reminder that he’s not mine. And it gnaws at my insides wondering who she is…
Aiden doesn’t answer his brother. Irritation flickers across his face, then disappears beneath a sheet of ice, like that’s where it belongs. Stoic and reserved AIC... Unreadable. He doesn’t smooth things over. Doesn’t tell me what to do.
Without his constant commands—the rules I’ve lived under all week—I feel unmoored. Lost.
And completely alone.
He moves forward to join his friends, greeting them with fist bumps and lazy pulls off a blunt. Tosses back a beer like it’s water. Never once glances at me. Even Henry drifts off, vanishing behind the hoods of expensive cars.
“I’m gonna…” I mumble to no one, voice evaporating like the fumes from the revving motors.
It’s not that far of a walk to campus from here. And the more I imagine poor Aiden wondering where his prized little pet wandered off to, the more appealing it sounds.
But when I slip into a dark alleyway between two crumbling buildings, the idea doesn’t seem so smart anymore. I consider turning around. Or, better yet, stealing his bike and figuring it out on the way. A slow drizzle of rain begins, making everything wet. And icy.
I spin to go back—and freeze.
A figure looms at the alley’s entrance. Shadowy. Towering. It’s hard to tell if he’s…big. Or if he’s wearing layers. Maybe a sheet?
My pulse pounds so hard, I can’t swallow. Without wasting another second, I scurry toward the other end of the alley.
Footsteps echo behind me. Matching mine. Step for step. I stop to be sure I’m not imagining it.
So do they.
Slowly, I glance back. He’s still there. Same distance. Same stance.
Waiting.
We seem to study one another. Him from a distance. Me, shaking in my boots. Fear overrides me as he makes a sudden move.
Sprinting directly toward me.
I scream, ready to fight like my father taught me. Ready to kick and punch, to run, threaten. Rip his eyes out. Anything.
But then a pair of hands yanks me to the side. Aiden. Rescuing me.
Gun drawn high, he aims it at the man. “Take one more step, and you cease to exist,” he snarls.
The figure skids to a halt, then turns and disappears into the dark. Gone. Just like that.
Rain drips down Aiden’s ink-black hair as he spins on me, face thundercloud dark. “Where the fuck did you go?” His voice lashes like a whip. “Why would you come out here alone?”
“I ran.” Sniffling through tears that match the drops on my cheeks, I whisper, “I ruined it. I ruined everything.”
His chest heaves. Breath loud. Controlled rage flickering behind those frostbitten blue eyes as he studies me. “Are you sorry?”
Am I? For everything I’ve done? For who I am?
My chin shakes until I release a sob and lift my eyes to his. “No. I’m not.”
His hand locks around my throat as he lifts me, forcing my body to wrap around his. He’s so close, I can’t breathe. Adventure. Fireworks. Heat. And…ice.
And all I can do is cry while he shoves his lips against mine in a punishing kiss. Tongue delves out to lick up any spilled tears on my chilled cheeks. He huffs cumulus clouds of air into my mouth, forehead pressing against mine.
“I fucking hate you,” he says, thrusting his hardness where I yearn for him to go. “You hear me? I fucking do.” Another kiss. Another stolen breath. And I whimper a soft cry between each. “So much.”
“So.” Kiss.
“Fucking.” Kiss.
“Much.”
Then he drops me. Lets my feet slam back to earth. But before the shock settles, his hand finds mine, and he leads me back.
Back into the safety of his control.