Chapter 37
Indie
the machine - reed wonder ft. aurora olivas
It’s been another week of Conrad on the run, and we’re snowed in for at least a couple days. The people Saint and his dad have out searching for him can’t get back into the Pit; the road is completely blocked.
But somehow, Malcolm has a connection for a plough, and he’s waiting for them to clear the road through the woodland, which should be done by tonight. I no longer ask questions about who that man has links with; something might come in handy for me one day.
I feel like Saint and I’s relationship has shifted over the week. It’s more intense, a deeper sense of love and understanding than ever before. I pine for him, even when he’s in the same room as me. He always looks at me adoringly, but now it’s like if he looks away, I might disappear.
His eyes are always on me, and I do the exact same thing to him.
There’s no more hidden truths between us now; our worth to one another has been laid out bare. Bloody, tattered hearts and all.
We’re getting closer and closer to that happily ever after; it’s so within reach, I can taste it. And fuck anyone who tries to get in our way. You don’t want to cross either of our paths.
And you’d think being stuck with each other for all these hours might change all of this, that the confinement might stir us crazy, wanting to spend less time with each other.
But when you have no current leads, only two people left to hunt down instead of multiple, and can’t leave the area…
You end up glued to your man like a pair of obsessive, tortured lovers.
My palms slide against the shower screen. I feel like I’m fighting for my life as the steam billows through the air, my handprint sliding and clearing through the condensation. I can barely see into the bathroom, we’ve been in here that long.
“One more, baby. You can give it to me.”
He slides into me once more, my pussy taking every inch, snatching the last bit of oxygen my lungs desperately needed. “Fuck. Saint, I can’t,” I whine as I struggle to keep my hands against the glass, back arching and rising on my slippery toes to meet each pound of his hips.
It’s a struggle to open my eyes. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s either fucked or licked an orgasm out of me.
I swear I hear knocking on the door over the water showering around us, but it could just be my sanity, asking if it needs to take over.
I pretend I’m not home.
“How have you not come yet?” I ask him, and it makes him fuck me harder.
“Because,” he bites out, hands gripping my wet hips and my ass bouncing off him, slapping loudly as the shower beats down on us, “I’m holding until you give me one more.”
“You’re fucking insufferable,” I pant, pushing against him as my core throbs.
His laugh is dark. “Don’t lie, I know you’re loving this.”
I am, I really am. Though my vision’s blurring, and I swear if I untense my jaw, I might drool.
The bang gets louder. Maybe that was—
The bathroom door swings open, the handle hitting off the tiled wall. “Saint, your dad wants us in the meeting room in twenty minutes.”
“Get out of my fucking room, Rex!” Saint roars, picking up his pace.
His hand grips my throat, arching me back at an awkward angle so I’m staring up at his devil-like eyes. I’m grateful you can’t see through the glass, and I can’t hear what Rex muttered back, but the steam in the bathroom swirls as the door slams closed.
My swallow works around his tightening grip, barely able to get the words out. “We should…Oh fuck, Saint.”
His hand hooks under my thigh, lifting above my hip as each stroke builds that pressure inside me as he hits off that spot. “Come on, Indie. Be my good girl and come on my dick one more time.”
And just like all angels obey their gods, I do too.
Saint catches me when my body buckles under the delirium, letting me visit his stars as he comes right behind me, whispering wicked praises in my ear as I wade through the aftershocks.
I whimper as he pulls out of me, feeling lightheaded spending so much time in what now feels like a sauna. He kisses my cheek, slapping my ass. “Make sure you keep my cum inside you,” he growls as he leaves the shower, totally unaffected by his form of torture that he too had to bear.
He really is a masochist.
I’m out of the shower within five minutes and towel myself off, slipping my shaky limbs into my underwear and drying my hair the best I can. I use the towel, seeing as I don’t have time to use the dryer, because Saint is a fiend and I can’t walk around naked without him rugby tackling me.
The very man comes up behind me, kissing my neck and staring at me in the bedroom mirror. “I love you, darling.”
I smile. I’ll never get tired of hearing those words or that name.
He could shout them a hundred times a minute, and I’d still beg to hear it one more time.
“I love when you call me that,” I admit, pressing my bare ass into his groin.
I have the audacity to call him a fiend.
We’ve only managed to get one layer of clothing on, and we don’t have long to make our way down the stairs.
“Really?” he says, kissing along my exposed shoulder, shivers raking through my body.
“Mhm, I think it’s your accent as well.”
His teeth nip my neck, sending sparks of electricity into the atmosphere.
His voice is smoky, wrapping around me and making me feel intoxicated. “You don’t say?
My hand reaches to grip his jaw, tugging so I can whisper in his ear, “I really fucking love it.”
He wets his bottom lip as he faces me, and the sight of it does inappropriate things in the pit of my stomach. “I feel like it’s past its sell-by date now. You need something more…appropriate,” he says, reluctantly taking his gaze off me and looking straight ahead.
I follow it to stare back at him in the mirror, my voice softer. “Like what?”
Saint snakes his hand along my ribs, slowly travelling down to trace his thumb along the line of my panties, the skin tingling until he takes hold of my left hand. The pads of his finger caresses against my ring finger.
I freeze.
“My wife.”
I stare at his deadly set gaze reflecting back at me for what feels like an eternity, finally managing to breathe out the word, “What?”
His smirk has the light-headedness making a U-turn. “You heard.”
I can’t get a damn sentence to form, my mind and mouth short circuiting. “As in. You mean.” My heart skips a beat when he gives me that rare, full and world-altering smile. “Yes, Indie. Wife, as in you marrying me.”
“You’re asking me—”
“More so telling—”
“To marry you?” I whisper.
He raises his brow, as if he didn’t just ask me a question that’s got my pulse ready to call it a day. “I said it in English, didn’t I?”
Oh yes, yes he did.
He wrapped it up and delivered it in that cocky bad boy accent that makes me weaken at the knees. Makes me swoon like a fucking idiot in an all-consuming love. “Saint.”
He flips me around so I crash against his chest, hands staking their claim as he holds me by the nape like a prized possession.
“You’re already mine, darling. But the thought of telling anyone that this sublime creature right here is my wife?
” He presses a harsh, possessive kiss to my lips as he grits out, “Fuck. The thought makes me feral.”
“You’re serious?” I breathe, and his voice drops a further octave.
“Do I sound like I’m fucking joking?”
I manage to shake my head as he blurs in my vision. “No.”
Twice within the space of minutes, this man has blessed me with a smile I’ve imprinted into my memory. “Then say my favourite word, beautiful.”
My answer comes out confident, fervent, and without a hint of doubt. “Yes, please.”
It’s a miracle I managed the two, and seeing as the latter was unexpected, his pupils blow out the grey. Our lips collide, his kiss stealing the last remaining part of me that’s mine.
When we’re both breathless, I feel the tension soaring in the room again, his sinful smile brushing against my lips, corrupting a moment I’ll never forget.
I wouldn’t have it any other way, because it’s ours.
“Good girl, now.” The black panties that once covered my ass snap off the side of my hip as the material rips in his hands. “Fucking scream it.”
“I’m still not giving up, darling,” I mutter as we walk down the stairs hand in hand, his thumb continuously brushing over the spot that’ll soon possess something I used to dream about.
Feeling like a giddy schoolgirl, I want to scream it from the rooftops, and I can’t wait to tell my mom. Hell, tell everyone and yell it into the night.
Until Saint opens the door to the meeting room, and I’m met with an arctic atmosphere.
“Right on time,” Malcolm says, staring down at the computer screen Dawson and Regina are sitting at.
I glance at my phone subtly to check the time, making sure it wasn’t a sarcastic dig, but we seem to be only a couple minutes late.
We would have been later, if Saint hadn’t done this thing with his tongue and fingers that had me coming so hard I almost passed out, and I think I might be dehydrated.
“What?” Saint asks, letting go of my hand to stalk around the desk. His eyes immediately shoot up to mine from the screen.
I slowly make my way round, wondering what everyone’s looking at, and when I see it, a lead weight drops in my stomach. The little bit of happiness I was just gifted shatters before my eyes.
Snapshots of Conrad and my sister litter Dawson’s screen; the time stamps span over the past couple of days.
He’s hidden himself, all dark clothing as he dips his chin into the hood, hat covering his eyes.
My sister, on the other hand, is walking around brazenly, both at a place I would never have imagined.
Our university.
“How did you find them?” I manage to ask, my voice rough, mind burning at her once again tainting something else.
She ruins fucking everything.
I clench my jaw to contain the outburst, concealing the wretched laugh that wants to break free at the betrayal rearing its ugly head.
It’s Regina that answers me. “It was a lucky guess; someone drove past the Archives. The car slowed like it was going to stop by the ruins. I used the feeds to pick up the registration hitting off different street cameras. They parked in the university, managed to capture their journey before.”
The school’s closed for the winter break. No one will be near the grounds to check on them. And it wouldn’t surprise me if the Omnia had a hand in how the university runs.
Saint’s hand slides into mine, pulling me flush with his front, one arm banding across my chest to hold me tight. “When is the road being cleared?” he asks his dad.
Malcolm pulls out his phone. “Got another couple hours yet. They’re making progress.”
Saint grunts his response, and the room falls silent. All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears like waves.
Fucking Louisa.
I curse at myself. Why the hell is this affecting me the way it is? I’ve had so many talks with myself that she’s not going to change, that her speech to me outside the gate was just a performance.
She ran right back into the arms of the Omnia, because that’s all she knows.
Family really means nothing to her. She might have given me Saint, but the fact she’s sneaking around in the shadows with my rapist, that she’s now fully aware of…
My eyes close when I feel the burn behind them. I’m sick of letting out tears for people who don’t deserve them.
“What do you want to do?” Dawson asks. I’m not exactly sure who he directed the question at. When I open my eyes, my gaze lands with Jenna’s. Something unspoken passes between us.
He’s her abuser as much as he’s mine. He took from both of us.
She’s still healing, and she knows this opportunity is there if she wants it, and she also knows that this is something that I need to do for the both of us.
I won’t even take a second thought to do it for us, for all of them who suffered at his hands.
She reads the volatile thoughts in my mind, giving me a subtle nod.
My voice is potent with the darkness that falls over me like veil. “Saint and I will take them.”