Stutter.

A Novel by: Ruby M. Darling

Stutter. – Copyright 2025 by Ruby M. Darling

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by 3va Grac3.

Content Warning

This book is a work of fiction completely products of the author's imagination. Any names, characters, places, incidents are also a product of said author's imagination.

This book is an entire work of fiction and a very dark romance between one female and three OTT males.

This book contains highly graphic violence and sexual content. It is not intended for anyone under the age of legal adulthood. All characters depicted herein are over 21 years of age. This book is not to be used as a resource for sexual education, or as an informational guide to sex or BDSM. The activities and scenes within this book are not meant to depict realistic expectations of BDSM or fetish-related activities.

Some contents within this book may be triggering or disturbing to some readers.

Reader discretion is strongly advised.

The Kinks/Fetishes Within This Book:

Consensual non-consent (CNC), dubious consent, manipulation,

Doctor play, Older men/younger woman, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, bullying, breath play/choking, cum play, spit, collaring, swallowing bodily fluids, stalking, pushing boundaries, somnophilia, pain play, denied orgasms, forced orgasms, fear play, bondage, restraint, spanking/impact play, humiliation/degradation, raw sex/sex without a condom, breeding kink, throat fucking, enjoyable group sex, primal play & MMFM.

This book also contains mature content of highly sensitive material pertaining to:

Deaths, (graphic/on and off page) Oppressive language, suggestive language, Kidnapping, (adult) verbal abuse, Mental Illness, Emotional Trauma, sex work, Violence, Drug use, Alcohol use, Assault (on page) Eating Disorders, Self-harm, Over The Top Male Characters, Possessive Male Characters, Mentions of PTSD, emotional/mentally abusive parents, body shaming, being buried alive, and MMFM scenes.

If any of these things trigger you, please do not continue.

Your mental health matters.

Dedication:

To Courtenay

To Clair

To Ashley, Erin, Rose, -

to each and every single one of you beautiful sluts who

wanted and needed more of

Mav, Damon and Jonas,

I couldn’t have done this without any of you.

This book contains the word “cock” 94 times

and the word “dick” 95 times.

There is so much sex in this book.

Like, so much.

“In the fell clutch of circumstance,

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody,

but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me

unafraid.

-          Invictus, William Ernest Henley 1888

Prologue

Damon.

Lorne Wood Falls Hospital

Two Weeks Prior

The gears in the pulley of the elevator whir quietly as it ascends, taking me up the second, third, fourth… I watch the large antique dial move until it lands on the tenth floor of the hospital, my memories reeling along with the dial.

“Maman said Paris at night is dangerous. You shouldn’t go, Maddie. It could be bad for your heart!” I worry for her. She’s been so crazy lately., sneaking out, partying, coming back late. I think she even smelled like cigarettes one time.

I don’t like it.

Silver eyes dart to mine in the mirror as she lays her green hairbrush atop her vanity. Our only genetic similarities are our black hair and silver eyes we got from our mother. She smiles sweetly at me in the reflection. “I have lived every day worried about my heart. I’m tired of being afraid of living… But you’re right, Arrow.” The nickname is a nod to our different last names. “How about we play and then go to bed?”

My heart jumps, excitement thrumming through my eight-year-old self at just the thought that my big sister wants to play with me. “You’ll really play with me?”

She nods happily. “It’s been a while since I’ve played, huh?”

“Okay! I’ll go grab my cars!” I yell excitedly and dash away.

And so we played. For over two hours my sister played with me, creating huge ramps and obstacles on the floor of her room, my Hot Wheels flying at top speeds, crashing into the barricades we built. And then, before bed, after she promises to play with me when we wake up, we build a fort in my room, where she tells me stories of Greek gods until I fall asleep.

When I wake, she’s gone.

I stand at the threshold of her room, looking in, but staying outside of the small bedroom, afraid to disturb the setting. My cars and our ramp and obstacle course are still set up in place.

I wait for her to come back to play with me, never touching nor disturbing them, even when dust begins to settle on them.

Because she’ll come back. No matter how angry Maddie is, she always come back to me.

For six days I stand in the doorway outside of her room, my mother quietly sobbing in the living room downstairs. She thinks I can’t hear her but in the quiet little home we rented from her friend, it echoes. Not loudly. Just a low, shy sound, only floating when it gets to be too much for her. Her worry. Her grief mirroring my own. Her insecurity that she wasn’t enough of a good mother which makes me angry.

How could Maddie make maman think she’s a bad mother?

The bell in the elevator dings, and the steel doors of the elevator slide open as the memory of my mother opening the doors and her wails ricocheting off the walls rings in my ears when they tell her, they found Maddie’s body behind a building buried under trash.

The sterile hallway leading to the ICU ward’s nurse’s station seems to pulsate, the soft thuds of my casual Italian dress shoes seem to reverberate with each step I take, adding to the tension around me.

The low comfortable chatter from the nurses a growing hum as I advance closer.

“Dr. Archer?”

I pause, letting my eyes focus on the stout woman before me in sky blue scrubs, with matching eyes, blonde and silver hair in a high tight bun on her head, searching for her name in the recesses of my mind, blinking. “Nurse Elliot, a pleasure to see you. Thought you’d have left this place behind years ago.”

A bright grin spreads across her tired face, laugh lines deceiving you into believing they aren’t from decades of hard work and worrying about possibly losing her hard-earned position caring for patients, that are often so close to death in this ward but the silver in her roots and the lilac bags under her eyes and deep laugh lines and crow’s feet tells a different story. “Oh gosh it’s been ages since you’ve stepped foot in the ICU. It's so good to see you. What brings you by?”

She must not know I no longer work for Lorne Wood.

Good. The less she knows, the better.

“My colleague is here, unfortunately. My girlfriend asked me to bring by flowers during my visit before I go home to her.” I say, conveniently holding a vase and the important thing tucked between the leaves of the thornless dark red roses.

“Girlfriend?” She asks with a slight gasp, and I don’t dare say Raven because this nurse was there the night they brought her into Lorne Wood Hospital, when reporters were everywhere. There the night they transferred her to my ward to be under my care.

I give one singular nod.

When I don’t give more information she takes the hint. We aren’t friends. We’re former colleagues. Nothing more. Nothing less. “Who is the patient?”

“Whitmore.” I reply.

“Oh, yes! He came in just yesterday. Room 1001. Just down the hall and to the left.”

I thank her and step aside and resume my journey. The thrum starts again, the halls pulsating, narrowing into a stretch as I find his room, and enter, standing beside the bed to unplug the call button in his hand.

It's dark, the only light in the private unit is above him, a dimming fluorescent beacon as I take a seat beside him and place the vase on his bedside table. I take a good look at the older man before me, fifteen years my senior, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, wires everywhere, but most importantly an IV to administer drugs and fluids.

Seven years too old for Maddie.

“Thaddeus.” I say aloud and his eyes flutter open. He tracks his surroundings, the wall, the window and finally, me.

He blinks when I lean closer and I pluck the syringe from between the woven stems, uncapping it. His muddy eyes widen in surprise as I suck nothing but air into the tube and twist it into the port of his IV wire where drugs are administered. I hear the click of a button and smirk, pulling the mask off his face. “Come now, Whitmore. This is twenty-five years in the making.”

“Why are you doing this?” He rasps, breaths shallow, wheezing.

I would feel bad for the old man if this wasn’t for the greater good. One less brother in the Syndicate. What I’m about to do should have me nervous, should have my belly swooping. I took an oath, to save and never harm. I should feel something other than this thrum in my veins that feels more like encouragement than resistance.

“In 1999 you took a trip to Paris. Where you met one Maddeline Celine Bordeaux. A fifteen -almost – sixteen-year-old visiting with her mother and her baby brother. I will say, Whitmore, it was smart, to preach love to a fifteen-year-old girl born with a broken heart.”

“Don’t know… what you’re talking… about.” He denies between wet gasps, but my focus is on the large barrel of the syringe. My weapon of choice. Ironic, maybe.

I’d call it… poetic justice.

“It would be improbable, wouldn’t it? In a perfect world. Those thousands of miles and an entire ocean twenty-five years ago, we were at the same place – me, as a boy enjoying summer vacation with my mother and my big sister. And you – tearing that same family apart. I myself never would have believed it. It was far too coincidental for it to be real… except I saw the ledger for myself.” I grit out between clenched teeth and push the plunger, watching the divine separation of air and fluid in the clear plastic with fascination. A large gap, that slowly travels from the tube down to his hand, and we watch it enter his body.

“Won’t… get away with this.” He rasps.

I shrug. “And you never should have.” I reply, throwing the syringe in the biohazard bin, and walking out, the door closes with a soft click. Like a silent predator I stride past to the nurse’s station and straight to the elevator as a code blue is called, and chaos ensues behind me.

But I don’t even glance back as the steel doors of the large elevator open and only turn forward once they shut behind me.

The pulsating in my mind stops, the blur at the sides of my vision dies down, and for a moment, I’m not alone in the elevator. For a moment, I can see Maddie’s reflection standing beside me. Her head comes up to my chest where once upon a time, I came up to hers – proof of how much time has passed. I watch as her ghostly hand covers mine, cold against my skin and I suppress a gasp and a shiver. Our eyes clash, silver with silver and she gives one solemn nod, and when the elevator whirs, beginning it’s descension, I blink, and I’m alone again.

And for the first time in twenty-five years, I allow myself to grieve what could have been.

Chapter One

Raven.

“I bet you’re fucking faking it. FAKING IT! FUCKING FAKER! SHE’S FAKING IT!”

I blink, keeping my composure as Raelynn gets closer to me. Raelynn, the girl that killed her stepfather, cut off his fingers and ate them. Raelynn, who they had to wait for a bowel movement for evidence. She swings but I block, and that makes it worse. It agitates her more when I defend myself. So she tries harder, windmilling her arms, but these meds I’m on… they make my movements less fluid. So she gets them in.

I’m dragged from where I was sitting in the cafeteria across the blinding white tile floors, trying to find purchase. I’m lifted by strong arms; the scent of rainwater soothes me and then–

No, this isn’t right.

I was somewhere else – somewhere good.

I’m in the hallway now, my hand trailing the wall like I always do, only moving when there’s a doorway.

I should run.

Escape.

I will…

But I can’t… remember things. It’s fuzzy in my brain. I have to… there’s things to remember. Faces. Faces. So many faces but they don’t make sense.

Except Shadow.

What if I run and they find me?

What will I say?

Words are garbled messes and faces wear masks. Ugly, ugly perfect teeth. Too white. Blue eyes. They flash green. Chameleon eyes.

“Pssst. Raven!”

I stop, clutching the hem of my long sleeve in my hand. It’s always so cold here. I can’t ever get warm. I can still feel the scratchy material of the asylum approved shirt Axel sent me. God, I miss him so much. I look to my right where my name was called from one of the rooms.

My stomach swirls and dips.

He’s groaning and there’s a slapping sound.

I don’t like Josiah.

“Hobble away, spooky bitch. I bet you did it to yourself! Archer’s fucking pet. Do you suck him off during your daily meetings? CUMSSSSSSLUT!” Josiah flicks something my way and the white, thick liquid lands on my face. Covering me from forehead to chin and it drips down to my scrub top over my long sleeve. The wicked laugh echoes loudly, bouncing off the sterile walls and I shiver. “Saved that all up for you!”

I look down and I… I… what do I do?

Bile rises in my throat when I realize what he’s done and I violently spew and spew and spew.

I should have run. I will next time. Stupid little crazy Raven, covered in cum.

Strong hands come up from behind me and help me. They walk me to my room and help me undress to shower.

But the shower turns into… the room.

Solitary.

But why?

What did I do?

Why am I here again?

Oh no, I’m strapped in.

No, no, no. My wrists, please!

This isn’t right.

But it’s foggy how do I-

I was somewhere happy.

It’s too tight. My wrists. They’re bleeding.

“It’s too tight!” I scream but it doesn’t come out. I can’t remember what my voice sounds like.

Nobody hears me.

Lost, lost, lost.

Psycho Raven.

Ghost.

Spooks.

The walls thrum, the fluorescent lights dim.

Closing in.

It’s all… no I can’t be here again!

It’s dark.

Can’t breathe.

No, no, no, no.

I’m there again.

It’s too tight. I can’t breathe.

It’s too small.

I can’t breathe…

I can’t breathe.

I can’t-

“RAVEN!”

Too far. I’m too far.

“Here! I’m here! Please!” I scream but no one’s out there.

Total darkness.

Gone, gone… gone…

“RAVEN, baby, wake up! Come back to me baby. Please. I’m right here. You’re safe.”

Taps on my face like my taps on the locker door.

Taptaptaptaptaptap.

“Amourette. You’re having a dream.”

I’m having a dream.

“You’re safe. You’re not there, Little Bird. I’m here with you. Come back to us.”

I’m not there.

So much pressure. Heavy. It’s so heavy. It feels good. So good. I’m ohhhh…

I feel my lids flutter. I can’t see past the fog.

“There’s my baby. You’re safe, baby. Keep going Damon.”

It’s so warm.

“I love you.”

Love me.

There it is… that pleasure.

“There’s my girl, I’m right here. You’re safe, Amourette. Feel me. Feel me inside of you. Come back to me please.”

Little Love.

“Mm mmmph”

“That’s right, baby. Come for Damon, baby, back to us.”

“Damon?”

A deep, masculine groan from above me like a sweet caress, it blankets me, calls to me.

Damon. His name is a whisper in my mind. I wrap my arms around his torso, feeling him, his weight, his body. So strong. My protector. My love. My love. So… perfect. So deep. Need more. I purr for him, still wakening from my nightmare.

Was it a nightmare?

Memories that feel like nightmares… dreams and faces, they blend…

Never-ending.

“Raven, look at me, Little Bird. Open your eyes. See me. I’m here.”

I tighten my legs around him, opening my eyes to see his face in concentrated blissful agony, as he continues his slow, deep, tormenting thrusts, his scent is in my nose, my lungs.

Jonas reaches between me and Damon and plays with my swollen clit. I tense, exploding for Damon in a sleep-filled euphoria.

“My perfect girl.”

“Perfect.” I repeat.

“Yes, my love. Absolute perfection is how you feel wrapped around me. Tailored to fit me like a glove, Raven. I love you.”

I moan again, grinding against Jonas’ fingers still dancing along my clit, seeking just one more. Always one more. To feel alive.

“My perfect girl. Fuck yourself on my cock, Little Bird, that’s it. Make your doctor cum.”

“Deeper,” I beg, shivering beneath him and I’m rewarded with short, deep, strong thrusts and his face goes to the crook of my neck, licking and I shatter all over again just as groans out my name.

He stays inside, letting me feel his weight. Jonas settles beside me, kissing my temple.

I’m safe.

Two weeks later

The ocean feels the pull of the moon, just like I feel my shadow’s - but it’s different now.

He is different now.

This shadow has a name. This shadow loves me or… I thought he did. This shadow watches me, our hold on the other a thing of nightmares, of dreams, of beauty and monstrosity. I am a reaper, he is life. I can feel him in the room every time he’s here.

Haunting me.

Call me delusional. Sick. Tell me I belong to the ghosts and demons that reside at Lorne Wood Asylum because I do. I do I do I do. I belong at Lorne Wood as much as I belong with Damon, with Jonas.

With him.

He belongs with me.

Us.

But I have to wait for him to come to me. No matter how much agony I’ve been in without him, his dominance, his reign, his power over me. I have to stay patient.

So I dance.

“Dance, butterfly.”

I roll my eyes at Stephen Prescott, a Syndicate elder, from beneath the mesh lining on the eye holes of my mask. It’s a moth. Intricate, beautiful. Positively poisonous. But I dance. Jonas and Damon stay in their respective places at the bar, not drawing attention to themselves in their own masks as Maverick watches from afar, drunk on spirits he doesn’t need because I’m his specter. His little mouse.

Siren.

Angel.

Of death, of course – I never proclaimed I was a saint.

On the contrary, I gave Maverick the evidence. Not mine, per se, but the Syndicate’s. The ledger that holds so much power, villainy, sacrilege within the copied and printed pages of the binder I gave him – along with Inferno’s flier soliciting a dancer. I purposely rolled the ball in Maverick’s court and gave him all the evidence to put me away for life. To be thrown back into Lorne Wood, where they would drug me for the rest of my life, keeping me in a vegetative state, trapped in my mind and yet, in a sick way, it would be heaven, to be trapped with my memories of Maverick, Jonas and Damon.

Tortuous bliss.

To be mentally trapped in a world away from here with nothing but the men I love.

Except there would be no home visits this time. No way for me to wean myself from my medications and feel alive again. The way he makes me feel alive.

But he saw the evidence himself. Saw the video of me limping across the lawn… likely saw the pictures of the crime scene.

And yet, here I am, a moth, free of her overturned glass confinement box, dancing.

He watches me now, as I writhe on Stephen’s lap, his large hands on the tops of my thighs. It’s the first night he’s alone, without anyone else, to speak to of Syndicate matters, not now that both Whitmore’s are six feet under. And Ashleigh.

Once Damon had… unalived the elder Whitmore, the Syndicate decided to hold off on a funeral for Thadd and Ash until an autopsy was performed. They found nothing. No tampering. The footage of the hospital was clear. No nurses could say anything suspicious happened. They questioned Damon, of course. Good thing I told him to take some flowers.

Like a good colleague he had ‘simply been there to drop off flowers, and when he saw Dean Whitmore sleeping soundly, he left to let him rest. Why, he hadn’t even known the Dean died until he received the message from the board while he was at home, curled up in bed reading a book.’

I’m not sure if Maverick knows it’s me beneath this mask mostly because his pupils are dilated and he looks one drink away from spilling them altogether on the floor. He takes a step forward, and when purple lights flash, he winces like a vampire at the sun.

The light is too bright.

But until he accepts the comfortable darkness that is me, it’s where he needs to stay.

“Chloe…” Stephen breathes against my earlobe, breath hot and it skitters down my spine like a delicious omen. And yet, my lullaby hasn’t taken over. I am still without all the answers… and until I have them, members of the Syndicate will continue to fall until I’ve torn off the head of the snake and eaten it to nourish my blackened soul.

Because that’s what I am now, a mere mirage of who I used to be. A silver specter for all to see. And in the sick way that is my mind, I want Stephen to touch me. His creation. A pretty little winged demon grinding on his lap. I mean, they made me like this, didn’t they? Each curse, each laugh, each hit, each wish for my death as I waited in a locker for my shadow that never came. No lovely kiss from Death awaited me. No angel to take me away.

After all, Thadd said I was the Monroe Tyler didn’t want. He wanted Axel, my stepbrother. But even if I had been purchased for the younger Prescott, it would have, no – should have- guaranteed my safety. I should have been placed on a perfect gilded pedestal, not a cage and be seen as untouchable.

So why wasn’t I?

Before my hour is up, I make sure to stay seated on Stephen’s lap, pay him the attention he pays me for. I don’t need his money. And tonight was a waste of time. it’s only him, no other members of the Syndicate gossiping.

But I have plenty of time. I have it in spades.

When the bartender/cage master comes to take me away from Stephen when his alarm rings, I ask to be taken to the back room, so I may dress and leave through the dancer exit, where I am secure, my identity remains hidden, so I don’t get stalkers.

I wonder if Stephen would try to stalk me. Would he put me back in my little confinement box, an exhibit for all to see? Trapped, unable to escape?

“Dance, Butterfly…”

And suddenly, I see it – like a haunting premonition.

The irony of slaying him while wearing the mask I use to dance for him.

With no other prominent Syndicate members in sight, I leave instead of going back to my cage – ready to be whisked away into the dark and dreary night and fucked into oblivion by my guys, reminding me who I belong to, punishing me for letting another man touch me. Each spank a deep caress that awakens the deadest parts of me, each kiss a treasure, each stab of their hips meeting mine a jolt of electricity, reminding me I am alive. I survived. I live for them, for me… helping me claw my way up from the pits of hell like a demon unleashed, starved and hungry for a pound of flesh.

Jacob Cartwright.

Chase Prescott.

Tyler Prescott.

Thaddeus Whitmore II.

Ashleigh Whitmore.

Simon Hoover.

A…

Tangled in the sheets between Jonas and Damon, I dream of the one missing and let my mind conjure his image as I whisper his name into the dark room, like a mad woman speaking to the walls as flurries of the oncoming snowstorm dance outside of our bedroom window, eerie and silent, a promise of quiet, swift destruction.

Because even the most beautiful things can be catastrophic.

Chapter Two

Maverick.

Present Day

Tipsy.

That’s how I end up on the third floor of Inferno, watching the new dancer sway her hips while holding onto the bars of her cage for the third Saturday in a row. Large black wings, lined with gold. Even though her half mask is a moth, she looks like an angel. The shape of her body reminds me of Raven. I’m usually on the fourth floor doing depraved things with the women that dance outside of cages.

But that was before Raven.

Who hasn’t shown up to my class unless it’s to drop off her essay on Wednesdays. I don’t know if she thinks I need space from her or she simply needs space from me or she’s giving me a chance to soak up everything she’s given me – and soak up I have.

Jonas still shows up because he needs it for his bachelor’s in political science. But he sits in the back of the class and does nothing more than take notes on his laptop and leaves, never staying behind.

“Let it unravel.”

I watch the same older gentleman as last week stride up to her – pale hair, pale blue eyes, unmasked with an audacious confidence that oozes power and wealth. I hate him. This man is proud to be seen, doesn’t care if his kinks are on display. The bartender unlocks the cage and out she goes, her hand in his, and as she moves, I swear, I swear I see the semblance of a tattoo where my Raven has hers. But that couldn’t be right… right?

I go to the cage before her screen is turned off. Chloe Ultor… avenger.

My stomach plunges to my knees as I stare after them, his hand in hers, leading her up the stairs but even behind the mesh in her mask hiding her eyes, I swear she’s watching me. Her head is turned in my direction and as they disappear behind the ponywall, I feel the silent tug of our soul-string. My heart begins to stammer in my chest and my legs unwillingly follow.

But I’m four Rusty Nails deep. Not to mention the two I had before arriving.

I could blame it on the alcohol for my stumbling to the stairs. Blame that I confused her for someone else. But I need to see.

I stay in the shadows, the lights overhead bright, purple, white and green. Some song I heard Raven playing a few times comes on and she vacates Stephen’s lap, goes up to the pole and begins to sway. A peek of her tattoo – one I traced to primarily with my tongue and my fingertips, mesmerized by the goosebumps that rose in their wake.

But this isn’t her element.

“I’m s-s-ssorry.” She had stuttered with eyes full of tears holding that fucking binder.

The binder that harbored true evil. Syndicate secrets that made me sick to my stomach.

And yet I had devoured every page. All of her scratchy annotations where she had done her own research. One by one, going back to the pages, her notes, their deaths, researching them myself. Because she had dared to speak. To me. She had parted her perfect lips, taken a breath, and sputtered her raspy apology. And as if knowing giving more of an explanation or a deeper apology would hurt her physically. But her eyes… wide with sorrow, tears, and longing for understanding, silently pleaded with me to love her despite her transgressions.

It was an image I’ll never be able to replace.

And I wanted to – desperately.    

But the question remains; what to do with the goddamn ledger? Do I turn it to Detective Arlo and let him and his team handle it? Burn it? Let her unravel? Do I integrate myself in the investigation to keep an eye, make sure any evidence leading to her is redirected?

I’m surprised to see a masked Damon and Jonas watching my dark angel from the bar. Have they always been here, hiding in plain sight protecting her and I just never saw them in my drunken stupors? We watch her every move as I slip into the corner, where I’m most likely to stay and be undisturbed, where I can watch as the last sane Prescott roves his hands over what’s mine as one by one, unmasked individuals as audacious as him approach, unbuttoning their suit jackets as they sit around the crescent-shaped velvet sofa, drinks in hand.

He pats her plump bottom and whispers something to her. I growl and it goes unheard over the music, the woman I’m sure is Raven is swaying her hips to. The more I watch I can see how nervous she is, how she stays close to the conversation, tilting her ear toward them, her head, and when the song is over, she goes back to him, to his lap. His hands once more roaming over her body.

My body. The one I owned. It was mine. All mine.

And she leans into it. To his touch. The thought of being replaced sends me into a jealous rage. I take a step forward but a motion out of the corner of my eye twenty feet away stops me. My eyes flick to where Jonas is shaking his head at me, one palm raised in a silent STOP and then has his hands raised to his mid-section as to not draw attention.

Gathering information.

I quirk a dark brow in his direction because he’s obviously been practicing his ASL. I gather my courage, finally after three weeks, and stride to the bar to order another drink beside them. Like before, Damon turns to face the club, inconspicuously, and I stay facing the wall of mirrors and shelved liquor, taking a seat on the stool with a red velvet buttoned cushion.

He holds his classic Old Fashioned, me with my fresh two fingers of Macallan and for almost too long neither of us say anything. Another song plays, low and sultry, the tension thick between us but then, “Have you made your decision?”

“There was a detective literally at my door.” I grumble, the memory of Arlo still makes my stomach churn and my brain pulsate against my temples. I suppose I could blame that on the alcohol as well.

“I see.”

No, he doesn’t see, his attitude is too fucking nonchalant for me. It was my workplace. I was fucking blindsided not by my girlfriend, not by her partners I was beginning to see as my friends but by some motherfucker I didn’t even know. Christ I unknowingly got rid of evidence. If anything, that shit was sloppy.

“Do they know or suspect anything else?”

I straighten my back at his bold question. “No.”

Damon sighs. It’s rich and I can feel the sorrow in his voice that matches the feeling in my chest. “It was an honest mistake, one she never meant to make. She didn’t mean for that to happen the way it did and she regrets having dragged you into this. She’s been a mess without you, our little bird.”

Our little bird.

Our.

The word bounces between my ears. It feels far away and yet… it feels right. And that makes me happy. I take a sip of my drink, hiding the way one elementary word makes me soar. Even though it shouldn’t. Because my head and my heart are even further at war and the whiskey is in no way helping, when I let it further settle over my tongue, welcoming the accompanying burn. “Which of you was the second shadow?”

No answer.

“Can you promise it won’t happen again?”

The stern “No.” comes from Jonas. “I help her clean up what I can, but I can’t make any promises it will always be perfect.”

“Like the wig in my trash I had to burn?” I chastise. I’m being a fucking asshole and I know it but my anger stems from being kept in the dark for so long.

This time they both face me. Gunmetal first then hazel eyes meet mine. Damon lifts a heavy shoulder and Jonas fails to hide his smirk, leaving me to believe they think I accept this. That I’ve betrayed my own morals and ethics, same as them, for her, for them. For this dysfunctional family that just works. But haven’t I?

“Like the wig in the trash you chose to burn, Maverick.” Jonas says, still scanning the room, one elbow on the bar, looking bored as fuck.

The whiskey in my stomach sours. “How many more?” I slur the question.

“Until it’s done.”

_______

I wake on a couch that isn’t my couch, in a house that isn’t mine, a needle in my arm that’s connected to an IV bag of fluids, the urge to piss but not vomit, and a headache that is minimal, although there. On the coffee table to my right is a mini bottle of water, two ibuprofen and a note that says,

‘You should guard your drinks better. The bathroom is the first door on the right. – Jonas.’  

Did the little fucker drug me? Better question is, when did the fucker drug me?

I gently tug the IV out of my arm and squeeze my hand, wrapping the cord over the IV stand and make my way to the half bathroom in the grand house, relieve myself, wash my face and find a band aid in a first aid kit under the sink and place it where I’m bleeding. When I open the door, I’m handed a hot mug of coffee.

“Glad to see you’re up.”

“The kid drugged me.” I gripe, taking the mug, my mood dipping again at how delicious it is. Brewed to annoying perfection.

The prick.

“He just wanted you to see what he was capable of. And it wasn’t a lot. Barely a drop. You were already drunk as a skunk.” A shirtless, comfortable Damon says, taking a sip from his own mug.

“Was not.”

Damon chuckles and shakes his head.

“Where is she?”

“They flew to London with Jonas’ parents this morning for his mother’s birthday since it’s also Thanksgiving break.”

Of course they did. “And you?”

“I have patients to see on campus until midday Tuesday.”

“No family?”

“I’ll be headed to see my father in Stanford on Wednesday and then I’ll catch a red eye on Thursday to see my mother.”

“Where is she?”

“Paris. Jonas and Raven will be meeting me there. Would you like to come with?”

I scrunch my nose, feel my brows furrow. “To meet your parents?”

Damon shrugs as though this isn’t an issue. As if bringing me to meet his parents is second nature. “Why not? Do you prefer to spend the holiday alone? I assure you my father’s chef is the best on this side of the Mississippi.”

No, I’ve spent enough alone. Too many. I don’t say that. But also, “his chef?”

Damon chuckles again, “My father is the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery there. He doesn’t always have the time to cook for himself.”

Of course not. But learning about Damon feels… good. Like he’s finally letting me in after months of knowing him. I feel… acceptance. But it could be a trick. Right? Tricking me into knowing him, feeling accepted and wanted so I don’t talk to Detective Arlo. There’s only one way to find out. “I’ll need to collect my passport.”    

He nods once. “Jonas drove your car back. It’s in the driveway. Your keys are hanging by the front door.”

“Why are you being kind to me?”

“Because she loves you, Harrington, and, you’ll find I have very little tolerance for anyone or anything else that doesn’t involve her.” He replies, walking away.

Because she loves me.

Simple as that.

              _________

Damon’s father lives in an older, gorgeous, meticulously kept two-story colonial home with a picture-perfect manicured lawn. The interior is adorned with modern lighting, light oak hardwood flooring. It feels like walking into a museum. It makes me sick how much it resembles my own home; how much it screams of loneliness.

But the older gentleman that looks like Damon’s much older twin, except for the eyes that are green instead of silver. (He must get those from his mother.) He welcomes his son (and me) with open arms. He’s exceptionally in shape for an older man, lean with broad shoulders, muscular arms and lean hands. Hands that save lives.

“I’ve had your rooms made.”

“Thanks, dad.” Damon says, embraced in his father’s arms and when he pulls back, Dr. Archer shakes my hand but still peeks over at his son from above my shoulder.

“Tabitha is finishing up dinner so we just have to reheat tomorrow.”

“Her family doing well?”  

“I hope so. Her son just graduated and started his rotations at my hospital. Antionette got into-”

“Damon Beau Archer!” the holler comes from the archway at the end of the foyer from a petite black woman with an afro wearing a Chef’s coat and black pants. Her smile is radiant and her arms are set wide apart and he goes to her, collecting her into his arms and when he stands, she levitates a good foot off the ground.

“Tabi!”

“My boy, you have grown!” it’s now I can hear her Cajun accent.

Damon laughs as he settles her on the ground. “Tabi, it’s only been two months. And I stopped growing over a decade ago.”

She responds in French and I watch the exchange, feeling my lips turn up at the corners when she smacks his arm and then pulls hers up and flexes beneath the sleeve of her Chef’s coat. The exchange is odd but warm.

I hear the click of the door shut behind me and the older Doctor Archer stands beside me.

“Thank you for having me.” I say, nervously holding out a bottle of wine I picked up yesterday and had it chilling in my refrigerator until Damon picked me up this morning.

He grins. “No one should be alone on the holidays.” Oh, he has a British cadence in his words. I must’ve not heard it during my rush of anxiety when he opened the door but all in all, the home is comfortable even though it lacks… familiarity. He holds out his hand to take the wine. “I’m Henry Archer. Come.”

The next day around noon, we begin to eat Tabitha’s food; a grand Turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, mac-and-cheese, mashed potatoes, gravy, a green bean casserole, and finish off with her pumpkin-pecan pie, which reminds me of home. To say I devoured an extra slice would be an understatement.

“So, off to see your mother then?”

“Come with us.” Damon pleads.

“Son… I-“

“Dad, I have news to tell you and when I tell maman, you’ll want to be there. For her. Plus, I want you to meet my girlfriend. Our girlfriend.”

“I don’t think I need to be there when you tell your mother you’re bisexual, son. Also, this is an awkward way for me to meet your boyfriend, had I known-“

“What? Dad, no.” Damon lets out an exasperated laugh. “She’s our girlfriend but we’re not together. She’s with her other boyfriend, Jonas, in London with his family. She wanted to be here to meet you but it was his mother’s birthday.”

“She has three of you?”

“It’s more common than you think, polyamorous relationships-“

“What’s her name, son?”

Now Damon thumbs the condensation from his wine glass, avoiding his father’s gaze. “Raven Monroe.”

Henry’s eyes widen then narrow. “Son, if the medical board finds out you’re dating your patient-“

“Former patient. She’s no longer under my care. And it was a month or so after.” He lies. “I also no longer work at Lorne Wood. I work at Rayne-Moore.”

“What business do you have there?”

“I’m the psych counselor there.”

Henry drops his fork, not hiding his displeasure from his son. Shaking his head at Damon, the light in his eyes dimming. “So you took a pay-cut, a severe one, to follow her out there, didn’t you? And if the school board finds out?”

“They knew I was a doctor on her team but she doesn’t fall under my care.”

“You were the sole doctor on her team, Damon. I knew your obsession with her was borderline possessive but I didn’t think it was this bad, son. You could jeopardize your entire future. You worked hard to be where you were.”

Watching Damon get reamed by his father pleases me. What doesn’t please me is the way Damon’s demeanor sags.  

“What’s the news then?”

Damon’s eyes darken to the color of a faded, forgotten tombstone. “I… found Maddie’s murderer…”

“What?” I decide I can’t watch Henry’s eyes well with tears, although unshed at his son’s revelation.

“And I took care of him.”

Henry deadpans at me.

“He knows.”

“Tell me everything, son.”

“First of all, you’ll love Raven. She’s the one that found the information that lead me to finding her killer.” And then, Damon begins his story. I latch on to every word, every syllable, not missing anything. He clues me in, telling me how his mother decided to stay in Paris, advocating not only for Maddie’s murder but those that went missing as well, pouring so much of her money and her energy into it, it tore their marriage apart.

When he’s done, and Damon reveals he has a ticket for his father already, Henry leaves to reschedule his patient’s surgeries and pack a bag that’s a little too full, as if he doesn’t plan on coming back.

         _______

On the flight to Paris that evening, Henry is riddled with anxiety. “Twenty years since I’ve seen her.” he says, fiddling with a brochure in his bouncing lap.

“It’ll be okay, dad.”

“And if it’s not?” He snarls but Damon takes no offense.

“Then we still have each other and you can finally move on.”

“Nobody simply moves on from Amelia Bordeaux.” The nervous Englishman replies softly. He remains fidgeting and quiet. Nervous to see the love of his life once more. Anxious, and possibly hopeful, that she still loves him – the way he loves her. Has always loved her. From the moment he saw tears in her eyes, pleading and praying over her little girl with a sick heart, to a silent god that often let those pleas go unanswered.

“She didn’t pray to God to heal Maddie,” he tells me, looking out the circular window as we sailed over the clouds. “Mia prayed for me and for time. For her God to steadily guide my hands. To cut and sew and stitch everything properly so Maddie would have a chance to live. Whether it be two days, two years or twenty. All she wanted was more time with her daughter.” He sighs, fogging the window. “I had asked her to wait for me. To not go to Paris until I could get a week or two off…” he shakes his head as he trails off, obviously shaking away the memories that plagued his mind every day.

“I had gained a wife and a daughter the day my Mia married me. I was the happiest man alive. Then Damon was born and no one could tell me I wasn’t the king of the world. They were my life. Coming home to a woman that seeks to be in your arms, that loathes being away from you, that brings peace when the rest of the world is full of chaos, and let me tell you, there were some nights after a hospital shift, or a surgery gone wrong – I wanted nothing but to melt into the ground and hide from the world, I melted into my Mia instead.”

He chuckles when he continues. “Although, with all that passion in her soul, there were times she was the chaos, all three of us vying for her attention, or the three of them vying for mine. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I never thought I wanted children, to be a father, and yet, I couldn’t imagine my life without Amelia. Maddie was a bonus, another little heart I held in my hands, literally and figuratively. When Damon came along, I felt complete.”

I don’t know if he realizes how close he’s hitting to home with me.

“But then I lost my wife and my little girl the same day. I may not have raised her from the day she was born, but she was mine nonetheless… I have been incomplete for twenty years.”

I stay silent, letting the older gentleman speak whatever words he needed to get off his chest. Because when he says, “if she brings you peace amongst the chaos, if she seeks to be in your arms even when you’re angry, either of you, if she chooses you over and over again, looks at you like you’re the most interesting creature she’s ever set her eyes upon, even if she has no idea what you’re talking about, and loves you despite what a complete shite you are sometimes, you keep her. And you never let her go. A woman like that only comes once in a lifetime. She will love you so fiercely nothing will ever compare.”

I stay quiet.

My mind reeling, going back to the night I confronted her. How she fought to be in my arms when I pushed her away. How tears streamed down her face and she moved her jaw, opened her mouth to speak, and stammered the words, “I’m sorry,” swallowing as though every strained stutter was painful.

My heart sinks into the bottom of the Atlantic.

           ________             

We arrive in Paris and get a taxi, then are shuttled to a small Parisian home on the outskirts of the city, and the front door opens, I understand what Henry means. An older, small petite brunette no taller than five foot two with silver eyes, a button nose, a gorgeous smile opens the door. While she’s ecstatic to see Damon, her eyes widen at the sight of me… and then Henry.

The longing, the sadness, the love after twenty years is still clearly there. “Henry.” She says, her accent full and beautiful it sounds like “Hon-ree.”

“Amelia.” He says with a rasp and steps away from my side and simply goes to her, taking her into his arms and kisses her deeply. Pulling away and I see they both have tears streaming down their faces. He speaks soft words to her only she can hear, never pulling his face away from hers completely, as if in a hypnotic trance only lovers have.

My heart thumps in my chest at the sight of two lovers reuniting after decades, and I can’t imagine the pain they went through to get to this point, here and now, finally together again because their son murdered their daughter’s killer because my girlfriend conveniently found a ledger in the restricted section of the student library where she rode me like a succubus in heat until we both exploded in ecstasy.

Even with the embarrassing truth that I came in my slacks that morning and had to hide behind my cardigan – I miss her with every atom that I am.

Damon says something in French to his parents and the lovers part, a blushing Amelia leads us through her quaint home. Where Henry’s was large, Amelia seems to live humbly and well by her means. I’m sure being an advocate for missing girls must be financially taxing.

There’s a knock on the door and where I felt anxiety from before meeting Amelia, it skyrockets and my heart begins to beat wildly in my chest, blood rushing to my ears.

Damon goes to retrieve Jonas and Raven and when she sees me, she barely has a chance to look at me before Amelia has her in a hug, kissing her cheeks, then Jonas’ and then it’s like she finally realizes I’ve been in the same room this entire time as she laughs, and does the same to me.

Accepting me.

But they wouldn’t be in on it, would they? His mother and father? Right?

When Amelia turns to make conversation with Raven, she replies in ASL, which Damon translates. Things get serious as we take our places in Amelia’s small living room. The furniture is small so I decide to stay standing and Damon starts talking in  a low hum. I go to the window, looking out, taking in the dead scenery of winter.

When Amelia exclaims in rapid fire French, I know Damon has told her he killed Whitmore. Where I should feel guilty, where I should be thinking of ways to turn in the Syndicate, to turn in the trio behind me to the proper authorities, Amelia's gratitude and wails make my heart thump lazily.

The only time I ever saw this side of things was when I caught the bad guys before offing their victim or in a court of law, watching them get carried away after a guilty verdict.

Now, I’m in a room full of murderers, that took justice into their own hands, witnessing gratitude firsthand.

I have to get out.

But I can’t.

I’m stuck here.

In Paris, the city of love.

With them.

               _______

We have a French dinner, coq au vin, a wine braised chicken stew that is probably the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, and then we leave for a hotel. The four of us. Henry stayed behind.

“He’s not coming with?”

Damon laughs. “No, and I would stay but I’m not exactly in the mood to hear my parents making up for lost time.”

And so we go to the Four Seasons Hotel, George V, as ostentatious as it is luxurious but I remember I’m staying with two murderous billionaires, and one almost millionaire murderous doctor. Or maybe he is a millionaire, considering I looked up his father’s net worth.

Damon. Another trust fund baby.

“I can’t afford this.” I say as the bellhop takes their luggage, but I hold onto mine, looking around, uncomfortable.

“Nonsense, I got you your own suite.” Damon says nonchalantly.

“Like Tyler Prescott had his?” It’s the wrong thing to say but what exactly can I say? I did my research on him, too. Suicide, they said. Yet there was no note. Alcohol level well above the legal limit, sure. The razor blade was found inside the tub once it was drained. No DNA. By this point, I’m no longer the idiot in the group. I know my class was the only class Raven chose that had nothing to do with music. She took my class solely to learn… and learn she did.

Raven stops in her tracks, having overheard me, shakes her head softly, then squares her shoulders. Jonas narrows his eyes at me, upper lip curling back in disgust then takes her hand in his and follows the bellhop to the gold-tipped ancient front desk.

Damon’s silver stare turns icy cold like melting glaciers and it shakes my soul.

I’m in Paris with three killers. One who’s already successfully drugged me. I scowl back at Damon. How is this not running through his head? How uncomfortable I am? That nothing has changed for me. I have some answers but now I have more questions.

“The concierge will hand you your key, we’ll have no access to your room. I didn’t bring my equipment, GHB would be something difficult to conceal from TSA, and if I’m honest, I’m exhausted. It’s been a tumultuous week and I’d like to watch Jonas fuck my little bird in the tub, put her to sleep so I can wake her up with my dick and then pass the fuck out because it’s been days since I’ve been in her sweet little cunt.

“If you want to stay here, where your room and your food are already paid for, be my fucking guest. If you’d like to go out in the cold and shell out three-thousand dollars a night of your own money in a city full of pickpockets, you’re also welcome to do so. Just don’t come back when you realize your wallet and passport have been stolen and you have nowhere to go in a country where you don’t know the language.” He growls.      

My room is next to theirs and I’m grateful I can’t hear their late-night activities.

In the morning, I wake to the low sounds of a cello playing something haunting and mournful. I wake to thoughts of Raven because my dreams are the only way I still allow myself to have access to her. I go, open the French double doors, taking in the sight of the sun rising over the horizon behind the glittering Eiffel tower and watch her play.

Because I’ve never seen something more tragically beautiful than her.

Chapter Three

Jonas.

Axehole: You’re in Paris?

I roll my eyes at Axel’s text. It’s the second morning I’ve woken up to Raven playing her cello out on the balcony and this time, I made sure to grab my phone and record her so I can post it on my Instagram. I mean, the scenery is perfect. Sun rising, the Eiffel tower is still lit, you can see the Sienne, but the main beauty is her. She’s playing something she’s been working on for weeks now and it’s so damn heart wrenching but alluring. I never thought of classical music as wondrous, but when she plays… I love it, because it’s her.

I keep thinking now is the perfect time to propose.

Here, now, in the city of love.

But Damon keeps saying it’s not. Not while Maverick is still fragile and indecisive. We have to play our cards right. ‘Be patient.’ Whatever that means.

Whether or not we actually need him is up in the air. We only know she loves him.

And that he’s gotta get his head out of his ass.

When she stops playing, I take a picture and this time, when I post it, I make everything else black and white and leave her in color. Caption: The Future Mrs. Jonas Anderson.  

Yeah. I like that a lot.

She always stays outside for a moment after playing, looking over the sleepy city that’s not even close to waking up. It’s freezing outside but not as cold as Massachusetts, there’s a soft flurry of snow that melts before it touches the ground and when I hear a knock on the door behind me, I know Damon ordered room service while I was entranced. But how could I not be?

My phone vibrates in my hand, and when I look down to see Axel is calling, I can feel my molars grinding together.

“Yeah?” I answer without pleasantries.

“What are you doing in Paris? What if she has an attack? What if she attacks?”

“Well, I’m mostly fucking your sister to answer your first question,” I reply crudely. “And secondly, she’s doing great. We’ve been out and about just fine. I told you; you don’t need to worry about her anymore. She’s mine. I got her.” There’s a tap on my arm and when I look down, I see a mug of coffee. I look up at Damon and he’s smiling. I grab the mug and take a sip. “I gotta go.”

Hanging up on Axel always feels great.

“She really is doing great isn’t she?” he asks, looking like a proud papa as Raven turns around in her chair and grins at us. “You played beautifully, little bird.”

Where there’s a part of me that is jealous at the way my girl blushes, looks down, lashes hitting her cheekbones and then back up at the man that watched over her for years, that emotion is overpowered by the way my own smile appears on my face, happy that she is happy. Damon sets down his mug and tugs on his overcoat, goes to her, plants a kiss on her forehead and she lights up even more when he towers over her, cupping her face in his large hands. Images of the way she came between us last night make me smirk because she looks so sweet and innocent with those big brown eyes I know make Damon’s heart flutter, but deep down, she’s an insatiable, sick little slut.

My sick little slut.

He helps her up and they come back inside, closing the double glass doors behind them, and she strides to me, the room feeling at least ten degrees warmer now. “Morning, baby.” I kiss her. “Did you sleep good?”

She blinks as if thinking over her answer, as though if she tells us she dreamt of Maverick again it will hurt my feelings. It won’t. I’m actually surprised the man came with Damon but I know it tortured her to be near him as he barely glanced at her. If only she knew he can barely keep his eyes off her anywhere else – school, the library, Inferno… they’re both suffering without the other but he has to be the one to reach out. Raven finally nods but I can’t help the sinking feeling that she’s perhaps lying to me to save face.

I hate that.

“Want to get dressed so we can wake Maverick and have some breakfast? Walk around and shop, maybe? I found this bookstore online that’s two blocks away. They have a little café…”

The smile on her face makes my knees buckle.

It’s so easy to make her happy. I hide my disgust at the Monroe family for thinking she’s a menace to their image, to society, and keeping her locked away. I mean, she is, but she’s only a menace to a special secret society but not – it doesn’t matter. I plant another kiss to her cheek and tap her hip twice. “Get ready, baby. I’ll go get Maverick”

As soon as she’s in the bathroom with the door closed Damon shakes his head. “He checked out last night.”

I scowl. “Did you at least do it the night I roofied him?”

Damon nods. “Yeah. He’s tagged. That’s how I know he’s currently flying over the Atlantic as we speak.”

“What a fucking wuss-puss.” We’re leaving tonight anyway he couldn’t have waited? Then again, it’s not like he gave us a chance to speak to him properly. That’s why him coming on this trip was pertinent. We wanted to talk to him. All of us. As a family. Because as fucked up as it is, as fucked up as we are, that’s exactly what we are.

Silver eyes flash to mine, a grim shadow creeps over his features. “I’m staying here tonight to be with my parents. I’ll be home Sunday night. ”

“So they’re… fixing things?”

He chuckles. “My parents should have never separated, Jonas. All these years apart, so many failed relationships between them, they were always each other’s end game. What happened to Maddie was terrible, but it wasn’t what happened that tore them apart – it was the distance. Trying to solve a murder from thousands of miles away, spending money to go back and forth, it takes a toll on you. Now they can be together again.”

“Can they, though? Doesn’t your father still have his entire career in the US?”

“He does, but if I know the man like I think I do, he’ll retire early. There’s nothing that man wouldn’t do for my mother. He’s proven that more than once already.” He says somberly as the shower cuts off and I frown.

Damn. I really wanted to shower with her.

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll get us home. Have you thought more about Kronos?”

Now the handsome fucker smirks at me. “Get her the dog but wait until I’m home. I want to see the look on her face when you present her with the old Doberman.” He says as the bathroom door opens and steam rolls out like low drifting fog.

“That’s fine. I need to get him transferred closer for pick up.”

I’m excited. I found an animal shelter in Jersey that caters to rescuing dogs and cats and having them trained as service animals but they got lucky with the one I chose for Raven. Kronos is a ten-year-old service dog that belonged to a veteran that lost his battle with depression. He’s been in a shelter for the last three months and as soon as I saw him, I started making plans to get Kronos. When I had Syndicate matters to see to in New York, (which hasn’t been often lately but when I am called it’s been all-nighters) I’d stop by to hang out with him so he’d grow used to seeing me. I just know he’s going to love Raven and I know Raven will love him back. Plus, having him around to protect her when neither of us are home would make me feel a lot better – mostly because she’s been sleepwalking more frequently the last few weeks that we’ve been at Damon’s. Because of it, we had to install deadbolts on the tops of doorways. During the day, they’re unlocked, but nights are a completely different story.

Raven walks around, muttering, voice hoarse, or silently stammering at a wall. It’s never scared me, when I wake up and find her, not even when she looks like a ghost trying to escape. It’s just now we’ve been finding her sleeping in the oddest positions in the oddest places. The only time she doesn’t wander off is when we’re both in bed beside her, and unfortunately, since I still have to show up for Syndicate matters and meetings, it’s not always.

Speaking of - my eyes roam from her little feet, up to the tattoo that starts on her ankle and goes up her leg, her knee, her ample thigh, still slick with water and I salivate, an absolute Pavlovian response to her. Sure she’s wearing a towel now, but I know exactly what’s underneath – the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen, complete with wide hips, the soft swell of her stomach, a narrow waist, and teardrop titties that aren’t overly large, but enough to fill my hands.

Made for me.

She stills at my perusal of her, a knowing look in those caramel eyes of hers, wet, curling rivulets of her hair two shades darker cling to her shoulders and I bite my lower lip. “Drop the towel baby. Slowly.” I bite my lips in appreciation when she does, clasping her hands in front of her, the towel pooled lazily at her feet like a cloud. It takes me three wide steps to get to her and when I do, I drop to my knees, a servant before his goddess and crawl to her.

I have licked and kissed every square inch of this woman’s body, from toes to crown, fucked her in every possible position, and had her suck me in every possible way and I simply just can’t get enough. She’s in my mind, my heart, my veins. I’m a fucking addict and she’s my drug.

Every breathy sigh, every whisper, giggle, and little motion of her hands, reminds me just how much I’m wrapped around her little finger. One wish and I’ll do whatever possible to make it come true. One command and I’m on it. In whatever way she needs me, I’m there. As a friend, a lover, someone to clean up behind her as she eradicates the Syndicate one by one. I’m her to command and I don’t mind it.

I stare up at her as I kiss the trimmed triangle on her mound, and then a little lower to her lips, extending my tongue as far out as I can to lick her slit from hole to clit, groaning when her tang lands on my taste buds. Nothing but addictive ambrosia.

Reversed Erotomania.

That’s what I’m diagnosed with. Along with a mild case of attention deficit disorder. But when she’s in my line of sight, or just near me, I have no issues paying attention. But my erotomania, on the other hand, goes haywire. I have to touch her, see her, taste her, to feel okay inside. Whatever ounce of her I get is okay and not okay at the same time because I always want more.

Need more.

I simply cease to exist away from her because I was made for her.

Her thighs shake and I’m rewarded with more of her nectar, continuing to kiss and lick and suck and swirl my tongue. Her hands go to my head, tugging my hair so I can tongue fuck her deeper, and her hips buck, fucking my face. I moan, narrowing my eyes, hoping she understands what I’m saying while I suffocate in her pussy.

That’s my baby. Fuck my face. Come all over my tongue like my sick little slut.

Her eyes widen, her mouth opens, those delicious sighs the only sound in the room besides my grunts of approval and my tongue lapping up every fucking drop of cream she gives me. She goes rigid, her orgasm taking over and I keep licking through it until she spasms one last time.

She lets me go, and I sit back on my heels, my dick raging behind my zipper, but I can wait till later. I lick my lips and grin up at her.

“Better?”

She gives a sleepy nod and a lazy smile.

“That’s my girl.”

        ________

The walk to the café consists of consistently stopping every five minutes for Raven to look at the displays the shopkeepers are putting up for the upcoming holidays, or because she simply wants to window shop. I don’t care. I stop with her, holding her hand while taking in every smile and commemorating it. Even with all the darkness, she still looks at everything with a childlike wonder, and I can’t help but try to see it through her eyes. Her last four holidays were spent at Lorne Wood Falls Mental Institution, for God’s sake.

But a thought darkens me - what were her holidays like in the asylum?

I’ll have to ask Damon when we get home.

The bookshop café, ironically named Livres d’Adam Pour Belle – Adam’s Books for Belle (which I found out is the Beast’s actual name which is dumb because he looks like a Tristan) opens just as we get there, quaint, quiet and it smells so fucking delicious I almost order everything from the menu which makes my girl laugh silently beside me when the waiter’s eyes go wide. He comes back with to-go cups of espressos, encouraging us to look around while our enormous order is being made.

Raven gets up excitedly, taking my hand and I of course, indulge her. Because, my god, my heart hurts when she smiles. The waiter hands me a woven basket lined with fabric to put anything she wants inside. I want her to get whatever she wants. I want to replace all of the books that were destroyed in the fire. All the ones she didn’t get to read and the ones she did.

We walk the first floor of the shop, until a worker tells us the English tourist section is in the far back wall. I take in the few French titles she’s placed in the basket already and make a note to myself to go through her phone later when she’s asleep to look up her Pinterest and see if she’s marked any books down she wants. Our waiter finds us as she places another book in the basket to tell us our breakfast is ready and served at our table, eyes widening again when he sees the twelve books in the basket.

Various croissants, breads, butter, jams, omelettes, and more espresso line the table set for two, and when she sits across from me, I move my chair to sit beside her. She grabs a brioche bread, slices it in half, butters it, folds her omelette and makes… a fucking sandwich.

“Brilliant.” I whisper. She does the same to mine, then cuts and parts the sandwich in half. Then, she fixes my espresso with cream and sugar to my liking because of course, she’s paid attention and gets it right every time. And soon, we’re simply eating, enjoying our espressos and the ambiance the quiet shop provides. Outside on the street, more and more lights are turning on in the shop windows, lighting up the Christmas displays. Some minimal, some full of glittering tinsel, toys, lights, and Christmas trees with large, glittering ornaments to small, matte ones.

People are beginning to wander as we take it all in. The difference between here, and out there, where it’s getting busy, is incredible. Every now and then someone comes in to order and then leaves without so much as glancing in our direction. For sure wanting to stay away from the gawking American tourists. But my girl’s not gawking. My girl is soaking it up. The way she holds the mug close to her lips once she’s done eating, inhaling the scent of the coffee with a small smile on her lips.

So content with the simple things.

She catches me staring and grins. Her hand comes up to her face and she swipes her fingers along in a circle. It’s one word. An easy one.

Beautiful.

And I nod, flicking my middle finger from my thumb and mimic her soft movements. Very beautiful. I sign back.

She blushes and goes back to staring out at the street, at the people rushing by, people coming in and leaving, taking little bits and nibbles from her croissant, for sure not wanting to waste it.

I’m so busy staring at her, I barely hear my phone buzz from my back pocket. I pull it out only to see my mom’s face and I answer the FaceTime call.

“Hey mom.”

“Hello, good morning darling. It’s so good to see you. Where’s our lovely girl?”

“She’s right here.” I place the phone on the table and Raven scoots in closer, greeting my mother, Elena.

They have an entire conversation in sign language, since my mother’s gotten a lot better at it while we were visiting in London, wanting to excel at being able to talk to my future wife and the mother of her grandchildren because honestly, we don’t know if Raven will be able to ever talk properly. But I don’t care. I like her little motions and glares and all the little sounds she can make.

I catch the waiter and the staff behind the glass counter holding pastries watching in fascination. My mother must have made a joke because Raven tilts her head back, curls cascading behind her shoulders, laughing silently, glee on her face and I love it. I love how easily my mother has accepted her. How carefree Raven is away from her family. Away from the structures of our society, away from the worries of the Syndicate.

She hasn’t had a nightmare or a sleepwalking episode the entire time we’ve been in Europe. I just hope it keeps up.

“Jonas!”

I blink rapidly, Raven tapping me on the shoulder and I look down at the phone. I haven’t heard a word she’s said.

“Son, I’ve been saying your name for five minutes.”

“Oh, sorry mom.”

“Jonas I have answers.”

I grip the phone immediately, taking it off FaceTime and kiss Raven on the temple. “Go get more books, baby. I just have to talk to her really fast and I’ll be back, okay?”

She shrugs and I hand her my wallet. The whole thing. She can have it all. I know she has her own. But she’ll never use hers when she’s with me.

I step out into the brisk Parisian air, holding the phone to my ear. “Okay I’m in the clear. What did you hear?”

“Seems the Elders believe someone is targeting Syndicate members.”

I nod even though she can’t see me, turning around to look at Raven being handed another basket to stuff more books inside. “Okay?”

“Seems Chase’s case is no longer being ruled an accidental drowning.”

Shit. My guts feel like they’re being twisted every which way, my breakfast wanting to make a comeback. “Why?”

“The hyoid bone was broken. It’s often seen in homicidal strangulations, not accidental drownings.”

Fuck fuck fuck. I keep my eyes on my gorgeous girl, heading up the staircase that holds the other part of the bookshop. “I see.”

“Darling, I’m going to send one of my best men-“

“That’s really not necessary, mother.”

“I know. But it’ll help me sleep better. Don’t worry. He’ll stay out of sight.”

“Who is it?”

“Ivan Sokolov.”

“The Russian, former Bratva guy?”

“Oh good, you remember him.”

“Mom-“

“Listen to me because I don’t have much time. I can hear your father already clambering around upstairs, getting ready to come down and have breakfast with me. You are still fresh in this world, Jonas. You were not born of my body but I love you just the same. If I can keep you safe in whatever manner I can, I will. Ivan was an enforcer. He blends well in the shadows and is easily the man I trust the most in the world. He could be watching you now and you’d never know it. Please, if someone is murdering Syndicate members, I want you to have a fighting chance. I know you can take care of yourself. I know this. But like I said, you are too fresh in this world. You’re new blood in the brotherhood and had I not been arranged to marry your father; I would have left it behind decades ago. I need you to – oh, good morning husband.”

I can hear a grunt in the background. “Good morning, wife. Which one of our deserters are you speaking with?”

Mom laughs a fake, cheery laugh. “Jonas, my love. Your father grunts hello.”

I grunt back.

“Will I see you for Christmas?”

“Of course. London again?”

“I’m not sure. The cabin in Vermont has sat a little too empty. It may be high time to celebrate a holiday in America again. Go skiing. Would Raven like that?”

I grin. Already thinking about my girl. Accepted her as a daughter. “I think she’d love it.”  

There’s a knock on the window above me, Raven waving at me to hurry up and come inside.

“Which reminds me, what do you think she’d like for a gift?”

The answer is simple.

“There’s a bookshop off campus, a really big one. She lost all her books in the fire and I want to help replace all of them. I know Monroe tech was flopped off by the senior Monroe’s old bookstores, but I think she’s doing her best to not have further ties to them. She’s been supporting a lot of indie authors.”

“Oh, darling, that’s such a lovely idea.” She sniffs, pausing and then I hear her exhale slowly. “She really is the future Mrs. Anderson, isn’t she?”

I grin up at the love of my life that’s gotten tired of waiting for me and has gone back to graze the bookshelves, touching the spines lightly, eyes closed in concentration as if they’re speaking to her. “Yeah, she really is.”

Chapter Four

Damon.

The second my flight lands and I’m in an Uber on my way to the two-story colonial brick house I purchased for my little blackbird, it’s pitch black. There is no moon and if there were, its glow would be completely irrelevant due to the thick clouds burdening the sky with yet another promise of a wintery storm. Paris was lovely as always, seeing my parents together again filled me with too many positive emotions to articulate but the one that stood out the most was elated. Truth be told, I want to take Raven away from here again come winter break to warmer weather.

I was able to catch a few highlighted reels of the Yellow Jackets on the RMUs YouTube channel, catching the best (Jonas’ touchdowns) and worst parts of the game. Snow blankets either side of the road, glittering in the light of the car’s high beams as we come to the bridge of the frozen strip of lake that separates Rayne-Moore from Salem where my Amourette and her lover await my arrival. If she’s asleep, I hope to wake her in the best way possible. If she’s not I want to put her to sleep. Being away from her is agonizing. How Maverick can do so willingly… confuses me.

Maverick must be a masochist because I saw the longing in his eyes, the vitriol in seeing how we could stand to be near her unless that hatred was toward himself. There was too much emotion and not enough being said but with a man like Maverick, he will have his breaking point and need to reach out to her. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to see that.

You just don’t fall in love with someone and not feel tied to them when something of this magnitude is the string that could bind you and make you stronger or break you.

And Maverick now knew not just hers but mine and partially Jonas’ secrets. He didn’t run away. Not exactly. Did he leave Paris? Yes. But I knew the turmoil in his mind was but a tub wheel, gathering information and distributing it to the proper places in his brain, compartmentalizing it all, probably. He left Paris to think of everything and yet the most important pieces needed to come from her. He would need Raven’s truth so he could make his final decision.

To stay with us… or turn us in.

It was why I had dragged him to Paris.

We were supposed to have spoken about everything. Raven just wanted us there as back up. In case things escalated or she had a fit.

The car lurches, small thunks under the tires as they rotate a little slower, making the drive longer but I don’t mind. I rather get home in one piece to her than never get home at all.

I keep my eyes on the abyss, the black water below us as city lights on the bank twinkle in the distance, little orbs reminding me of the holidays approaching and my mind goes back to Maverick. The night he begged me to tell him Raven’s story.

It’s something that irks me, the way he dismissed the mention of his mother so quickly when I brought her up.

I know too much about Maverick. I have to. I have to know who my little bird surrounds herself with. Who she was falling in love with, who was tormenting her if not me.

Jonas asked me how I knew about cameras; because of her. Because I taught myself how to be more inconspicuous when it came to them. How to manipulate them to meet my needs. To figure out hers.

It’s how I know she needs Maverick. He brought out something in her while bringing it out himself. They’re two stars destined to collide.

She trusted him enough to hand him a copy of the ledger. Her research. Her name... but he’s right. He doesn’t know her story. He doesn’t know what happened to her that night exactly.

Now I need him to reach that breaking point quickly. I need to know if we need to run. Where she goes I go. Prison. Lorne Wood. Mikonos. Fuck it. If she told me she wanted to find a way to go to a magical university full of witches and warlocks I’d find a way.

Round and round my thoughts go, spinning like the tires of this car that mildly smells of Mediterranean food and something sickly sweet. My thoughts race to my little bird and back to Maverick and his mother. Charlotte De Luca – formally Harrington. How I found out his mother is a wife to a former dirty Senator of New York, currently residing in Brooklyn was easy. Just a search of a birth certificate, a marriage license, a divorce license, and a new marriage license, along with his father’s Death Certificate and obituary, then a few other things easily accessible thanks to this little internet device we all have at our fingertips.

But alas, it’s not my story to tell, and I don’t know the entire thing, just pieces of it. When he decides to share it, I doubt it’ll be with me, it’ll be with her, the one who needs it to be able to understand him the most. If he ever chooses to share with me later… I’ll charge him for the hour.

The Uber comes to a halt in front of my house where I spot a dim lilac glow in the upstairs bedroom, my (our) bedroom, letting me know she’s in there waiting for me. Another lamp by the window in the living room is on because she never wants me to come home in total darkness. It’s little things like that that make me feel loved. The trunk to the Honda unlatches with a thick thunk as I unstrap myself and get out, thanking the driver. After grabbing my luggage, closing the trunk, and walking up the few steps that lead to the front door, I’m almost sad this home is temporary.

Although coming home knowing my little bird is safe in my cage, fills me with satisfaction. It will never matter where we reside because my home is her. I turn the key and open the door, stepping through the threshold and into the foyer, pulling my luggage along behind me and into the dimly lit living room where I immediately hear whispers.

Feminine.

I don’t see her anywhere. I push my suitcase against the wall and let my tired eyes look around. Nothing. No one’s there. But the voice is a hoarse whisper. I keep searching until I see a silhouette in the dark hallway move. The flimsy, cream-silk night slip she wears for me hugging her dangerous curves and I go into a lustful protective rage at the sight of my specter.

“Amourette?”

She doesn’t answer but keeps whispering. I turn on the other lamp on the end table to see her better. I close in on her, fully ready to wake her out of her sleepwalking episode. She’s gazing up at a corner on the ceiling, facing the wall. Her hands are moving at a snail’s pace, trying to convey the words she’s speaking by signing but they’re no match for her rapidly moving mouth.

Before I wake her, I take her in my arms, tilting my head to her lips so I can hear her better.

“Shadowwasthereshadowwasthereshadowwasthere shadow… saw. Shadow… saw. Shadow was there. Raven bled for shadow. Shadow saw Raven. Raven made him sad.” She says and a single tear falls, hands still attempting their weak ASL.

My heart bleeds at the sight of it and I decide she needs to wake up. I take her hands in mine, my stomach dropping at the feel of her freezing skin. The house itself is warm, but in the recesses of her mind it’s a different story, and the subconscious is a treacherous thing. “Raven, my love, let’s go to bed.”

“Shadow saw.” She whispers to me clearly, her voice raspy and beautiful. Haunting.

“I know.” I’m inclined to believe her shadow is a manifestation of her own hallucinations but the last time I doubted her, her haven was sent up in flames. I won’t be making that mistake again. I should be thrilled she’s saying complete (albeit broken) sentences without stuttering, but what she’s saying sends chills down my spine. There’s only one name left on her kill list.

Is her mind putting things together again? I’ve lowered her dosage on her medications to that of a child’s so she weaned more easily but now…

Was there another person there who witnessed her attempted murder and never came forward?

“Raven bled for Shadow.”

Chills.

Chills erupt all over my body as I tuck her into my chest sideways and bend to grab her in a fireman’s hold, rounding the staircase to take her upstairs. Her whispers turn to mumbles and soon her breath evens out and she snuggles closer to me. Seems my presence soothes her the same way she soothes me. Jonas is at the doorway of my room, rubbing his eye as he looks upon us, hair disheveled, shirtless, and thermal pajama bottoms hanging loosely at his hips.

“What’s going on?”

I grunt my irritation at him and shove past him sideways to get us both through the door while he’s standing there. “Out.”

“Alright. Geez.”

I gently lay my little bird in bed, tucking her in before I face him. “Where were you?”

“We fell asleep in here waiting for you. What happened?”

Hazel eyes like a forest glance at the woman we love – our destruction and our vindication – confused, a little bewildered and a lot tired.

“I came in to find her having a fit while sleepwalking.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I was so tired. No. That’s no excuse.” He frowns, looking so sad. “Did she, you know?”

“She was saying something.” I almost don’t want to tell him but I know I need to because if anyone would know anything about that night or anything that happened to her, it would be a member of the Syndicate. “I think there was another person there.”

“Simon Hoover.”

I shake my head. “She said her shadow.”

“What did she say, exactly?”

I repeat her monotonous, rasped chants and Jonas pales but then shakes his head. “It’s like the closer she gets to everything, something else is thrust upon us like an unlubed dick, waiting to fuck us raw. Christ, it’s never-ending.” He looks worried and slightly lost. “It’s like we’re grasping at nothing but tiny straws.”

My sentiments exactly. I rub my tired eyes with my thumb and forefinger and sigh. All I want is to climb into bed with my woman and sleep for a thousand years. “Go to sleep. We’re both exhausted.”

Jonas nods. “Okay. Oh, I already found an animal shelter closer and they’re working on a transfer to Boston.”

The mention of the pup he found makes the corner of my lips tilt upwards. “You did a good thing, Jonas. She’ll love him. Thank you.”

“Hopefully we all sleep better, too.” He says over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

I grunt as if he’s still in the room, kicking off my shoes and undressing quickly then head to my bathroom to shower so I can wake up my little bird properly.

Having edged myself for the seventh time in two days, I’m hard by the time I’m done washing and turn off the shower. I grab a towel to dry off, then hang it on the hook for it to dry, and slowly tread to the Alaskan king size bed where I deposited her only a few minutes ago.

Raven’s kicked off the blanket, tucked between her legs. She lays sideways, one thigh over the bunched comforter, night slip pushed up to her hips revealing a matching cream-silk thong slipped into her crevices, the easy rise and fall of her shoulders tells me she’s deep asleep. I stroke my cock to the sight of her, slow, teasing myself for what I know will be such a warm, wet welcome.

I guide her thigh higher, causing the slip to rise and bare her to me and begin kissing up from her ankle to her inner legs, and knees and when I get between her thighs, I kiss the silk-covered mound that promises me an insight to heaven. I pull the hem of the thong up, further between her pussy lips, loving to kiss her puffy lower lips like the ones on her face, sucking and licking. I finally pull it to the side and let my tongue seek the hood of her clit, swishing my tongue side to side from her clit to her hole, over and over again until her nectar becomes creamy and she’s softly seeking me out.

“Mmmm.” Soft breathy little sigh and I’m so hard from that one sound I almost explode on the comforter.

She once said I was mad for her and she’s not wrong. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her. To protect her. Even from her own mind.

“That’s my good girl.” I coo, lapping at her hot, slick pussy. “Letting me feed from your juicy little cunt.”

Her thigh trembles when I move it further up, holding the meaty part of her ass up so I can get access to her back hole and taste her there, too.

I let my tongue explore her asshole, my fingertips lightly dancing on her clit, but I’m so ready to come. I back away, getting on my knees, my cock jutting out before me like a heat-seeking missile, angry and practically purple at how I’ve edged myself for almost forty hours without her. I want to leak out of her for just as many hours.

I guide my tip to her hole, rubbing it side to side, the vision of her in white, so innocent looking when I know what she’s capable of, my dangerous blackbird. I wait for her pussy to accept me before pushing steadily all the way home.

Her moan is low but her breath comes faster and her hip moves, up and down, seeking my cock when I pull away, sucking me back in. “Yes, Raven,” I encourage, “fuck my cock like the depraved little slut you are for me even in your sleep.”

I sit back on my heels, watching her move her sexy body and her hand reaches down to seek mine when I rest it atop her thigh. I lean over her, one fisted hand behind her, the other taking her throat in my hand and kissing the corner of her lips. “You are such a vision. What do you need from me, Little Bird? Hmm?”

“More,” she breathes.

“Play with your needy little clit, Raven.” She obeys quickly and I almost purr. “I came out of the shower and you had your legs spread, ass out,” I press my weight on her as my finger finds her still saliva-slicked hole and push inside slowly. “Did you do it on purpose? For me to find you like this? Always so ready to get fucked, aren’t you?”

She gasps and shakes her head when I shove deeper, harder, and chills roll down my spine with each delicious recoil of her plush thigh against me, causing my balls to draw up and begin to tingle, heavy with the need to release.

“Liar.” I shove two fingers in her mouth, the need to fill all of her holes, even when I want to be nice and sweet to her, is an assault on my urges. Primal and chaotic, fill me with immense satisfaction knowing her tongue is wiggling around my digits, her lips still seeking mine, my cock so deep in her cunt and her asshole clenching around my fingers, stroking my cock through the thin wall that separates them.

I feel her begin to flutter around me and slow my strides, pull my finger out of her ass and gently roll her onto her back, because as amazing as that position was, I have to watch her face. The way her bottom lip tucks between her teeth, her brows bunching together, cheeks red… nose to nose, I encourage her further, to seek her pleasure but at my pace, slow and maddening, she gives up.

And that’s exactly what I want:

For her to remember who her pussy belongs to.

Like when I would sneak into her dorm room, I shove her knees to either side of her plush, perfect tits that spill to the sides out of her night slip, and dip so I can kiss her with an animalistic surge, feeling her nipples against my chest as I put my weight on her, so deep I feel her clit on my pubis. She wraps her legs around me, crossing her ankles to keep me caged in.

But I bide my time, the more my hips want to piston and drive into her, the more her face screws up in pure tortured agony. The agony I’ve bestowed upon her and only I can bring relief. I love this. Love her. And I tell her with every labored breath I let her know everything I feel to how good her cunt feels squeezing around me. A vice I never want to escape.

I lave my tongue deeper into her mouth, tasting all of her, for every day I wasn’t able to kiss her. I grip her with as much tenderness as I can for every day I wasn’t able to touch her, and I clutch her closer to me for every day I was unable to hold her while she was under my care.

“Putain,” fuck, “you’re fucking perfect for me, Raven.” I let go, pumping my hips faster, her breasts jiggling. “Come with me so I can fill your gorgeous pussy. Putain.” Fuck. “Putain.” Fuck.

Her breathy gasps morph into whimpers as she claws my back, hips moving with mine as she tries to fuck me back, to have me dig deeper, and when I do, I feel the beginnings of her orgasm. Her tight, hot cunt pulsates around my cock and when she cries my name, “Damon!” I am a madman, losing all rhythm as I fuck, fuck, fuck up into her, spilling into her with a groan and her name on my lips.

I stay inside until I slip out moments later, then get up to wet a small wash towel and clean her up. But when I come back to her, her thighs spread and my cum leaking out of her like a river, I gather it up and push it back in, only cleaning me off her labia and thighs. Once I’m back in bed with her, her back to my chest, chocolate hair in my nose, breathing in her scent, my arm draped over her torso, do I close my eyes.

I’ve never wanted children.

But thinking of removing the little rod in her arm that prevents me from impregnating her and keeping her tied to me forever… well it just seems like the next best thing to do.

After.

I remind myself.

After the Syndicate fall to their knees at her cute little feet, I’ll make sure to give her the perfect sleeping concoction. She won’t feel a thing.

Chapter Five

Raven.

The music hall is empty and the closer I get to the locker room where I was left for dead, the more I can smell the piss, the blood, hear my whimpers, my ragged breathing, taste the rag that was shoved into my mouth as a gag – the more my wrists and my leg begin to hurt and my heart feels like it’s cracking and my stomach drops through the floor. I think of everything but what happened here as I pass that room until I hear a familiar broken-hand rendition of Max Amlitzer’s Ghost Lullaby.

How fitting.

I stop at the music room that holds the old grand piano, chairs crescent to it, waiting to be filled with students eager to learn and fully master the instruments that sing what they can’t say.

The leather jacket draped over my arm feels as heavy as a boulder and I know I should have come sooner to see him, the man that saved me, but… I just couldn’t.

Kill those who tried to kill me, sure.

Leave them lying in their blood and piss -  absolutely.

But him? Lex?

The man who found me after I’d been assaulted, locked in a locker, and left for dead for sixty-five hours? The man who sheltered me with the jacket dangling from my arm from nosey paparazzi?

Suffice it to say I’ve been a coward. Because seeing him makes it all more real. He slips a key but continues as if he hadn’t, shoulders hunched, head tilting side to side, lost in the music flowing through him. It’s magic, to watch a musician play and get lost in their own world. I spot a violin in an open case, probably his. Setting the jacket on a chair, I slip quietly through and grab it, balancing it on my shoulder, tucking it beneath my chin, dragging the bow after placing my fingers on the proper strings, and play along.

It’s a little late for a jam session, I guess. But it’s better late than never. He eyes me and inhales sharply, never stopping, never faltering. Just plays with more emotion. Even when the song is over, he loops it one last time, chocolate eyes glassy behind his glasses, blinking rapidly. We play and play until we’re both in tears and our fingers hurt.

He's bald now.

He looks tired.

Older.

He finally stops, unmoving, and then sighs, like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and then looks up, searching the ceiling for… who knows what. If he’s looking for angels, he is one. If I never believed in them, he made me a believer.

Days in that fucking locker I thought my shadow would come for me. Save me. Help me. I mean it watched over me for years and when I actually needed my shadow to take me away, it failed me. Instead, it was-

“Raven.” My name is hoarse on Lex’s lips, full of emotion and gratitude, and if I could speak full sentences without over-exerting my vocal cords, his name on mine would sound the same.

I put the violin away, grab the jacket I left on the chair, and step slowly toward him but instead of reaching for his jacket, he pulls me in for a hug. It’s tight and fatherly and he still smells like cloves and spice. There are no haunting memories for me when I look at him, only warmth and gratitude.

“I heard you were back on campus; I hoped you’d come to see me.”

I point to my throat.

He frowns. I don’t like it. “I see. You let them take away your voice.”

‘Let’ is a strong word. I want to say. But I don’t. I just blink back more tears.

He eyes me, up and down, and then frowns again when he catches the jacket in my hand. I can see the memories fluttering behind his eyes. How he saw me. Covered in my own blood and filth, tied up and gagged, throwing this goddamn jacket over me in a failed attempt to protect my modesty. He shakes his head. “I gave that to you.”

This jacket was a physical reminder of the worst day of my life. The day I was so wonderfully found only to die for a full minute and seventeen seconds once I reached the hospital - something that the tabloids were never told and who was I to tell anyone?

Who was I to say, “I died… and I loved it?”

I always felt my shadow, always felt that ticking time bomb over my head, telling me I’d be going soon and I had welcomed it. I had… accepted I was going to die. But when I died, it wasn’t incredible. It wasn’t some otherworldly experience, and all I remember is feeling safe, feeling warm, comfortable… and not alone.

It's not something you can tell anyone, I was scared they were going to throw me in Lorne Wood Falls’ Mental Institution… but they did that anyway only a few days later when that nurse grabbed my wrist which hadn’t healed yet from being held tightly by zip-ties and they dubbed me an unfit patient, prone to violent, psychotic fits due to PTSD.

I wonder why.

I make a show of holding the jacket a little closer to my chest in a hug and a faint smile ghosts my lips. I reach out and place a hand on Lex’s shoulder and squeeze then let it drop. I knew he had to speak with the police after he found me and was taken in as a suspect until the cameras showed the four masked figures entering the building. This building.

“It took me a long time to come back here, too, you know?”

I did know. But I let him keep talking.

“I couldn’t face coming in here… I tried to keep you safe but they still got pictures of you. The one time I didn’t have my hearing aid turned on all the way up… you needed me.” He shakes his head as if shaking away his memories. “And now bodies are dropping…” He looks up at me, brown eyes dark and full of wisdom, putting it all together but there’s no judgement in his eyes, more like… pride, and he simply nods. “Never liked those Prescott boys. The Whitmore boy… his wife…” He grimaces, the crinkles around his eyes more prominent, then Lex shakes his head, still staring at me. “I’m old, sweet girl, but I remember a lot.”

It’s true. Lex was a prodigy and what makes him incredible is that he has an eidetic and echoic memory. He can hear or see something once and remember it immediately.

“You were meant to get out of here and fly, blackbird. Far away. Berklee… Julliard… away from your parents and your stepbrother…” He shakes his head again and sighs, taking my hand and squeezing it. “You do what you have to and then never come back here. Do you understand? The people here… they’ll be out for blood.”

I take a step back. I do know. They’re getting closer and I can feel it. But in the meantime… I lie the jacket back down on the nearest chair and swing my backpack around to my front, pulling out a binder. And take out the six sheets of music full of notes, front and back. The entire reason I had Jonas bring me to school with him while he went to practice this early. Lex only cleans the music hall before classes and after. Never throughout the day. It's why I hadn't bumped into him sooner. Why it was easier to avoid him.

“What’s this?”

I point to the piano and grab my cello case, popping the lid and hauling it out.

“You wrote this?”

I nod.

He takes a second and scans the notes I’ve scribbled on. A curt nod later and “Okay. Let’s play.”

I sit on the leather jacket eagerly as he sits on the sleek, black piano bench and wait as Lex plays the first morose notes, slow and somber and I wait for my turn to begin, my heart an aching mess at hearing it how it’s meant to be played. Because there’s nobody else I’d rather see help bring my death lullaby to life, than the man that saved mine.

       ________

Walking to Maverick’s class fills me with absolute dread. But I’ve missed enough of his classes and it’s time to face the music. Jonas is already waiting for me outside of the doorway like a beacon of light with a coffee from the Koffee Kart in hand. Whatever heartache I have, I need to put it aside for now. Finals are coming up before the winter break and I have more than studying on my mind.

Like Simon Hoover.

Jacob Cartwright is dead. Accident.

Tyler Prescott – alleged suicide.

Thaddeus Whitmore II and Ashleigh Whitmore – murder/suicide.

Chase Prescott was a necessary evil, but he’s also dead – accidental overdose.

As Jonas and I jot our names on the sign-in sheet and make it to our usual seats, it feels surreal. It was only three months ago Maverick did me this kindness, one he didn’t have to do, and now here we are, strangers again.

Strangers that know the darkness inside the other, whose souls have twisted and collided, marked the other… but strangers, nonetheless. Once everyone is signed in and seated, the lights are turned off and an interview begins to play.

I take out my notebook to take notes, feeling eyes on me and when I flick my gaze to Maverick, he turns behind his podium to face the interview, ignoring me.

Does he know I’m the one who was dancing for Steven Prescott at Inferno? He must know. He watched from the darkest part of the room and even through the mesh in the eyeholes of my mask, I could feel his eyes boring into mine even from across the debauchery. Our connection was that strong. He was mine and I was his, even if it included two others.

I knew I needed to give him space but I don’t want space anymore. I miss him. Maybe I’m being a brat, maybe I just want his undivided attention, want him to spank me and withhold my orgasms and be brutal with me because that’s when I know he loves me most. When he bullies me before, praises me during while degrading me, and then holds me so tenderly afterward, petting me for being such a good girl.

I squeeze my thighs together, remembering the evening before the detective went to him, how Maverick had tied my wrists to his headboard, being so encouraging when I would try to pull away, but his voice would bring me back down from the brink of insanity only to edge me over and over again, to finally allow me to come when he was sheathed deep inside me, leaning over me, my back arched, his arms under my body, hands in my hair, holding me close, looking into my eyes and demanding my soul.

I gave it freely.

The next morning, I thought he had felt the same while we were lying in bed, sweat dried on our bodies, smelling like the other… until he pulled away from me so quickly and began acting cold and closed off. I had decided that morning to tell him everything. Jonas came home, and we studied. I had waited around for hours for Maverick to show up even after Damon showed up and told us he had taken care of Dean Whitmore.

I wasn’t going to blab Damon’s nor Jonas’ sins – just mine. Because if he decided to turn me in, I would have accepted my fate.

When he came home while I was upstairs pacing back and forth in his room, ready to spill my secrets and accept his wrath but instead of asking me for my story, he asked Damon.

Damon, who ended up saying truthful, harsh things that only angered Maverick. But it seems Maverick and I… while tasting each other’s souls, we were still keeping secrets from the other.

We were either doomed from the start and there’s no way to get past this, or we can overcome this together but it won’t happen while we’re apart.

I’m so lost in thoughts and memories of Maverick, by the time the lights come back on the classroom brightens and my eyes try to adjust, I realize I haven’t written anything down. I have no idea who our Nurture VS. Nature debate will be on. I bite on my lower lip and feel my brows bunch together. Maverick glances at me for just a second.

“Class is dismissed.”

I stay behind, shooing Jonas away, lingering in the threshold of Mav’s office, the door is open and he sits behind his desk, elbows perched, glasses off, rubbing his temples. He looks sad and a little lost. More memories flood me and all I want to do is crawl into his lap, or crawl underneath his desk and simply comfort him by letting him know he still has me, he isn’t alone. Not anymore. Never again...

I watch for a moment before gathering the courage to knock on his door. My mouth wants to say words. I can feel it in the way my tongue wiggles, saliva wetting it in preparation to speak but when eyes like deep forest moss meet mine, I swallow it down, words stuck in my throat.

“Yes?” He eyes me with a cool indifference. A mask. No longer do his peridot eyes darken to emeralds when he peruses me, nor do his eyes narrow. No. He studies and looks at me as though I’m just another silly little fangirl, wanting to suck the hot professor’s cock.

And so nothing. Nothing comes out. No words. Not even a squeak. Just aggravation at myself rising. My stupidity. My cowardice. My need to make it better but I don’t know how. I shake my head in defeat and turn to go, blinking back tears so he doesn’t see them. So Jonas doesn’t see them.

I’m weak.

I pray I hear him call out to me, to come back, to get on my knees and crawl to him… but he doesn’t. It’s just more silence between us, dividing us. I groan inwardly. I can’t believe I’m dying to be back under his desk in his study warming his cock with my mouth while he grades papers.

I almost whine like a dog I want it so badly.

As if he knew the outcome, I find Jonas waiting for me, leaning against the wall outside of class and he simply takes my hand in his. I let him guide me away, swallowing my emotions down, down, down. 

Chapter Six

Maverick.

Tension headaches plague me.

Since my flight landed on American soil and I arrived at the mausoleum I call home, they’ve been on and off. I know what’s causing them. I no longer sleep with her in my arms and for that, I suffer. Every morning my alarm goes off at the same time, my arm going to her side of the bed, to find it cold and empty. I then sit up, inhale then exhale deeply, relieve myself, wash my hands, face, brush my teeth, and stretch.

After doing the mundane, I start the timer on my Keurig, and since it’s now too dark to run out in the woods by the lake, I go downstairs and begin my run on my treadmill. No music. No Audible. Just me. Running until my sides hurt, my thighs burn, my lungs screaming for air. Because that’s the only time the ache in my chest is something different.

That’s when I can breathe.

My coffee tastes like ash and when it burns my tongue, after I shower and get dressed, I still can hardly feel it. Hardly feel anything.

I was disciplined.

I had a routine.

I rub my temple as I drive over the snowy bridge to Rayne-Moore. Kingston, the tiny town beside Salem you usually drive past, or consider a part of Salem, where I reside, feels like a wasteland. My home feels decrepit. And I feel like I’m consistently on the verge of leaving it all behind.

I went to Paris for fucks sakes.

Henry’s words still ring in my head every fucking day since we sat on that plane over the Atlantic.

The thoughts that plague me most is could I leave it all behind? Her? If I put in my resignation now, could I find another job at a different university before the start of the new semester?

No. While RMU was only a steppingstone to get teaching under my belt, I can’t leave her behind. If anything, I’d take her with me. With or without them.

She could graduate anywhere else.

I just need time. I need… her to tell me everything. This wasn’t miscommunication. This was choosing to not tell me. Lies by omission. To keep me in the dark. Yes, she gave me the fucking binder. But there’s so much more she hasn’t told me.

I regret leaving Paris.

Regret not taking her into my arms instead of pushing her away the day I begged her to speak to me because speak, she did – a morsel of a phrase, and still, I pushed.

I used to never regret anything.

I park my Navigator in the faculty parking lot and trek my way into the large, ostentatious stone building, making it to my classroom so I can change from my boots to my shoes, taking off my beanie, scarf, gloves and coat.

I then go and wait for students to begin sliding into their seats. I’m surprised when she walks in, still so beautiful my heart stammers in my chest, her hair cascading down past her shoulders, thick, black tights under her yellow-and-black plaid skirt. While my cock desperately wants to reconcile and get reacquainted with her – I can’t deal yet. So instead of the lesson I had planned for the day, I turn off the lights and play a video. Ignoring her. Jonas. All of them. I’m not even sure I played the right video. The one I had pre-selected for Wednesday. I can feel her eyes on me from my podium and when I let my gaze flick over to hers, she’s sitting there like the broken little doll I love, staring at me, unblinking… unmoving, silently beckoning me to make her move, to make her talk, to play with her.

Not once does she look at the screen, not once does her hand move over her notebook even though she holds a pen so tightly her knuckles turn white. No, she’s just… there. I hold my composure until the end of the film and dismiss the class, unable to handle the headache forming in my temples. I go to my office, seeking solace and comfort in the quiet, since it’s somewhat dark, the sun still hiding behind the dark, snow-heavy clouds when I feel her.

My haunting little siren. Except now, her song is quiet. Still alluring, but only a hum.

Her feet shuffle quietly, making almost no noise so when she knocks on my door jamb I don’t expect it. But it’s two small little knocks, enough for me to gather my composure and my wits so I can face her.

And when my eyes settle on my Siren, it devastates me.

She looks good, great. Healthy. Beautiful. But there’s a sadness in her eyes I put there. A cloud of melancholy as dark as the skies over Rayne-Moore. The same ones that pester me. I want to drag her into my lap, keep her with me all day, smell her, kiss her, taste her, fuck her slow and raw, let my body say everything my lips can’t and that is where our impasse stays.

She can’t speak or refuses to and I don’t know how to articulate my apology. She’s not one for apologies. She’s the kind for actions. I have a gut feeling even when and if she’ll choose to actually part her lips and talk to me, she’ll revert to sign language.

Her plump lips parts, her tongue wetting them, but then something crawls over her face, an emotion like agony mixed with resignation and her mouth shuts. Shaking her head with an exhale, she turns… and walks away.

I stand immediately, urging my legs to go to her, to pull her to me, to kiss her so fiercely she knows how I feel. That I love her. That I forgive her. That even though I want to know her past, it won’t hurt our future. Her secrets can be hers. That I want her and what she does outside of us, is none of my concern.

But my legs won’t work and my heart pumps faster, and standing too quickly made the ache in my temples magnify and my vision blurs. I want to call out to her, to come back. That we can fix this but I sit back down, and rub at my temples again because what the fuck is going on?

Whoosh whoosh whoosh

It's as though my body feels her absence in every which way including physically and I need to fix this.

There’s another rapping at my door, louder and stronger and a piece of me believes and hopes it to be Damon so he can urge me to fix this and I can blame it on him when I’m a coward.

Instead I lift my eyes to face a somber, dark-eyed beast in a trench coat and slicked back pompadour hair. “Detective Arlo,” I greet.

Black eyes sweep around my office before they settle on me. “Professor Harrington.” He replies, taking a seat before my desk.

“How can I help you?”

He lifts an ankle and settles it on the knee part of his black trousers, inspecting a nail before meeting my gaze again and it irks me, for no reason other than he looks fucking annoyingly smug. I know him. I used to be him. Know exactly what he’s wearing under that full length trench coat because I used to wear the same fucking cliché outfit. Pleated trousers with long pockets. Brown belt with a gold or silver buckle. Black turtleneck for the winter but once spring hits, it’s back to polo’s or a nice button down. In fact, one could argue we’re wearing the exact same thing right now.

“You travel a lot, Professor?”

I arch a brow, my migraine thumping along in the vein of my temple, the room seemingly much smaller now as he pulses before me, a dark aura surrounding him.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh

“Some.” I answer.

He nods, not exactly seemingly towards anything, but like he’s contemplating how to properly word his next question. “You travel a lot with your peers?”

I take a note from Raven's playbook and blink slowly at the detective before answering him. “I had Thanksgiving with Dr. Archer, yes.”

Again he does that stupid fucking nodding tactic to see if my anxiety will rise, to see if there will be any changes in the pitch of my voice, my features, if I’ll give some kind of sign I know anything. But I don’t really know anything, do I? In her own way my angel protected me, didn’t she?

“You… travel outside of the US a lot with Archer?”

I clear my throat. “It was… a special occasion of sorts. Am I being followed, Detective?”

He frowns like he’s Robert De Niro, and shrugs like him, too. He moves his fingers, touching each tip to his thumb, a different initial tattooed in Old English font on each knuckle closest to his hand but they don’t spell a word. They must mean a lot to him, these initials. And suddenly I see it. Him. Arlo, as a young kid, growing up in the streets of some overrun, overcrowded neighborhood where you had to do some shotty things for yourself and your siblings, I eye the tattoos on his knuckles again, to get to where you need to be in life. He knows a criminal mind because he's been a criminal. A criminal now on the “right side” of the law. An old gang tattoo is probably under all those layers of warm cashmere. Probably gifts from a lover that once told him he was better than that life, and he believed it, making the amends to become better. I respect that.

Which begs the question- what side am I on?

“A special occasion, eh?”

Over the whooshing in my ears I hear the slight Puerto Rican lilt. Bronx. Something he’s done his absolute best to get rid of, that accent, and still, it remains. Subtle. But it’s there. “I was meeting the parents.” A half truth.

“Dr. Archer's parents?”

I nod once. “Damon and I are… partners.” I emphasize with a raised brow. His eyes widen, possibly in embarrassment because it’s none of his fucking business but it’s also a full blown fucking lie and I wonder if he can see through me the same way I see through him. “It’s gotten fairly serious,” a partial lie “over the last few weeks and so, I met his father and then we flew to Paris to meet his mother. So yes. I travel some. On special occasions.” I reiterate.

“Is HR aware?”

I fight back a grimace because I didn’t even think about that aspect of my lie. I groan inwardly that I now have to properly speak to Damon and just pray he’ll go along with this lie of mine without too many questions. “We have an appointment with the department tomorrow morning since we both have a late start. We didn’t want it to be anyone’s business until we both knew how we felt. Now, if you don’t mind, I have one last class left starting in about seven minutes.”

He rises to his feet, and sticks out his hand for me to shake. I take it. Making sure I grip it so he doesn’t think my sexuality has anything to do with my masculinity. He eyes me up and down and then offers a dimpled smirk. “Be careful of the company you keep.”

Whoosh whoosh whoosh

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means it’s a big school. Lots of rumors floating around. You know? A semblance of truth to legends and all that.” He warns.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying but I’ll keep that in mind.” It’s the oldest trick in the book: play dumb, innocent, until proven guilty. And even then, always plead non-guilty.

Which I’m not. I am innocent. Because Raven made sure I was, didn’t she?

He leaves, and my migraine leaves with him. I stare down at my hands, the hands that always felt permanently stained with mechanic grease from my adolescence. I turn them, trembling, expecting to see marks of old oil stains under my fingernails, and for the first time, in a very long time, they’re clean.

Whoosh… whoosh.

Chapter Seven

Raven.

I stare at Ada Howell, my speech-language pathologist, the one I’ve been seeing for the past few weeks because as soon as he could, Damon pulled so many owed favors and got me in to see a neurologist. And they declared I had a slight brain contusion from four years ago that went undetected because it was written off as a concussion, which then lead me to Dr. Harriet Howell, who diagnosed me with weak vocal cords and that’s how I ended up sitting in front of her wife, Ada – my speech therapist.

My vocal cords don’t feel weak – they feel strained. Because she’s making me read a children’s book out loud. I grimace with each stammer, but Mrs. Howell simply nods and smiles.

I have to think about big words before I say them. I’m twenty-four and stammering like a kindergartener reading Dr. Suess to a woman in her late thirties.

Fuck my life.

“Have you been doing your breathing exercises?” She asks when she places her cocoa-skinned hand on mine. It’s warm and her skin is soft, chocolate eyes full of concern. She has her hair down today, and I adore it, her afro makes her look like a disco queen from the 70s. All she’s missing is big gold hoop earrings.

“Yes.” I’m not allowed to sign in here.

She nods, smiling again. I hate that smile. I hate coming here. Not because I don’t like Ada. She’s great. It’s because every time I stutter on a S, or Sh, or F, or T, or can’t move past an M, it reminds me all over again why I’m here.

Why I’m defective.

It’s also why I’m no longer allowed to be alone with Ada. My fits are back. I don’t mean for them to happen; I swear I don’t – they just do. It may be that I’m now on lower dosages but the last thing I want is fog brain again. Damon sits behind me and all it does is embarrass me further. As a doctor, he’s proud and makes me read out loud for twenty minutes. He assesses me, always jots down my progress in a little black notebook he keeps on his person, double clicks his pen, and pockets both of them.

As my boyfriend, he’s worried. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he looks at me with concern. He always takes me out for soup or ice cream afterward, depending on how sore my throat is, and worst of all – He won’t let me blow him! Like he’s scared he’ll damage my vocal cords further.

Sometimes, a girl just wants to choke on a fat dick until she’s crying and gagging and told how pretty she looks with a dick in her mouth.

I love him, but the more he treats me like I’m fragile, the more I feel like I am.

A broken little doll.

I loathe that feeling with everything that I am.

I miss Maverick so much. He’d fuck my face until my jaw unhinged, and I really need that.

Pretty little psycho Raven. I cringe inwardly at my negative thoughts.

I may need to get my throat fucked but I want my voice back without the hoarseness. Without the rasp. I want to be able to talk to Maverick. I want to be able to tell him everything so we can move past this because I need my beast. So as much as I hate… all of this, I have to do what I’ve been doing for the last few years – survive enough today so I can thrive tomorrow.

I can cry later.

“You’ve done very well today, Raven. With how far you’ve come, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re talking like your old self by this time next year.”

A year?!

I stand up so abruptly out of my seat that it topples backward and they both shoot to their feet. I can feel Damon towering behind me, the warmth of his body radiating but it’s too hot. It's everywhere.

“No no no no no no no.” I shake my head violently and bring my hands up to my face. Tears spring to my eyes and when Damon tries to calm me down, Ada gets in my way, and I shove her back. He grabs her, thankfully, but the panic in me is full-blown and I can’t stop. “S-s-sorry sssorry s-sorry.” I apologize. It’s a choked out, garbled, ridiculous apology but it’s an honest one, nonetheless.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid Raven.

Seems like I’m always apologizing these days.  

“It’s okay, Raven. It’s okay.” Her voice is gentle, but I don’t deserve her gentility. She should shove me back. Fire me as her patient. She should scream at me.

Images of Lorne Wood, of orderlies in pale green scrubs holding me down flit through my mind and I do the only thing I can to stop them – I slap my head and pull at a thick chunk of my hair. But Damon grabs my hands before I can do it again, wrapping his arms around me, clutching onto me like a blanket and an anchor. A straitjacket. She’s not going to want to see me anymore. I can see it in her eyes, full of… something. I don’t blame her. I’m too damaged and I’m not worth it. Tears break free.

“S-S-So..rry.” I’m so sick of being so goddamn sorry all the time.

I guess I won’t be crying later. I’ll be crying now.  

“Can we have a moment?” Damon says, his voice like a horn in the fog in my mind. A beacon.

“Sure.” Ada taps me on the shoulder and smiles that ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,’ smile. “But I’d like to speak with you when you’re done, Doctor Archer.”

“Of course.”

As soon as the door closes behind her, he lets me sink to the ground, sinking along with me and I’m so sad because I can almost feel Maverick slipping from my grasp. It’s a hopelessness that fills me, like a raging sea of nothing but disgust and despair and sadness and I’m drowning because it’s all directed at me.

And it shouldn’t be.

If all those years of therapy with Damon taught me anything it was to break down my feelings, compartmentalize what I’m feeling, and aim it at who was truly to blame or who deserves my ire so I could move on and set boundaries. Because while I’m sad, I’m mostly angry. But the ones that made me like this, they’re dead. There’s only one left.

I still have to repair what they broke.

And that makes me rage on the inside.

All this chaos that vibrates within me pushes outward and I inflict pain on myself when I deserve to love myself. I deserve to look in the mirror and be proud of all I have accomplished no matter how minute it is to others. I should be able to look at my scars and remember I’m the baddest bitch, taking back my life.

But all I have is internal, contained, silent rage.

And it makes me murderous.

When I’ve calmed down enough, I don’t just see Damon, I see the man who cared for me not just through my bad, but through my worst. Through my ugly. He deserves so much better. “I w-want t-to give you mm-m-my good.” I blurt.

His dark brows rise and silver eyes flash. “What does that mean?”

I shake my head because I don’t think I can say it again. He watches intently when I raise my hands and begin signing. Telling him exactly what I thought about the bad, the worst, the ugly.

He kisses my sweaty temple and then cups my jaw to turn me so I can face him. His features have relaxed, and a genuine smile graces his lips. “I love you, little bird. You’re making wonderful progress. And you do give me the good.”

I want to argue, tell him I’ve given him more bad than good but what’s the point? This man is determined to love me and how can I be upset with that? When I sigh in resignation his pleased shadow of a smile turns into a grin, and he kisses me softly. It’s no pressure. It doesn't turn into a full-blown make-out session. But it’s there. His lips are on mine, a simple kiss that means so much more than a million diamonds ever could.

“Now can you tell me what upset you?” He uses his doctor’s voice. Low, calm, gentle and I settle into him even more.

Since Ada isn’t in the room, I lift my hands so I can sign instead of straining my vocal cords more.

I don’t have a year.

“I know you don’t. But what if we up our reading time to thirty minutes every night? Do your breathing exercises a little longer?” His undying belief in me breaks my heart.

Does it even matter? I tried to talk to Maverick today and he looked done with me. Cold. Like I was nothing.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes for a moment. “Maverick is… stubborn. Remember how long it took to convince him for us to share you?”

I nod.

“He loves you just as deeply as I do, Amourette. And unfortunately, you trying to keep him safe made him feel like it was a betrayal because it was sprung up on him in the worst way.”

I know. I sign back sadly.

He kisses my temple again, rises to his feet, and then helps me up. I don’t need his help, but he has always made me feel steadier. Stronger. Enough to survive today so I can thrive tomorrow.

We open the door, and Mrs. Howell is standing outside, along with Jonas. I reach out to touch her arm as we both cross the threshold. I’m going out, she’s going in to speak with Damon. “I’m sorry.”

She nods with a small smile. “I know, Raven.” But she doesn’t say ‘it’s okay.’

Because it’s not.

Jonas takes me and I hate the look on his face. I know what he’s thinking – I’m getting worse, not better. But then, after he looks me over, those autumnal eyes of his shine. “Perfect.” He says, and he takes me in his arms, and I allow myself the moment of reprieve.

“I want to continue working with her, but I really believe she needs therapy. Her outbursts-“

“Thank you, Mrs. Howell, for your professional opinion. I’ll make sure she sees her therapist. He’s the best in the state."

Jonas scoffs and rolls his eyes which makes me smile. He kisses my cheek and hugs me tightly again. “You think it’s a soup day or an ice cream day?” He asks, taking my hand in his large one.

I grip the sides of my throat and flatten my tongue inside my mouth, feeling the strain of my trachea. Soup, I sign.

“I think it’s a great day for soup.” He grins, leading me to where we placed our coats and boots by the front door because Ada is being paid handsomely to host us at her home office.

I slide my boots on, then my coat. Grabbing my phone and checking it just in case Maverick messaged but of course he didn’t. No. I have a few notifications from Axel, but they say the same thing as always:

Axel: I miss you

Axel: Can we please talk?

Axel: Can you at least turn on your location, so I know you’re okay?

Axel: Are you spending Christmas with him or with us?

His voice messages are usually along the lines of, “Hey Cookie. I’m in town. Can we please talk? This is the longest we’ve gone without talking and… Ray, you can’t cut me out of your life like this, okay? I need you. You’re… my sister. I love you. Please. Call me. Anytime. I’ll answer. Or text. Okay? Okay… it’s… it’s Axel, by the way."

The door at the end of the hallway opens and Damon strides towards us. Tall, handsome, eyebrows arched in agitation, silver eyes like melted glaciers, but as soon as he sees me he softens immediately and helps me with my scarf until it’s hiding half my face, beanie, and my thick mittens, then dresses himself.

Jonas opens the door once we’re all ready to go, the snow on the ground is so white it almost looks fake. I look at the Rover and make a face.

“What is it, baby?”

I pull a mitten off with my teeth, then the other and Damon’s chest rumbles. I ignore him. Axel gave me this car. I don’t want it anymore. I want to buy one myself.

Jonas grins mischievously. “You want to go car shopping?”

I nod because he can’t see the grin on my face. He opens the passenger door for me, shuts it, and then climbs in the backseat behind me as Damon gets behind the wheel.

I lower my scarf to my chin. “Ah…fter… s-s-soup?”

Damon leans over the center console and kisses my lips, a little hungrier and it makes me needy for more. “How about before?”

           ________

We come back with our bellies full in a black Audi SQ7 Prestige with all the fixings. Sleek, shiny, chic, leather interior with heated seats plus other stuff I don’t care about, but Damon and Jonas were excited for. It feels good. It feels right. It feels like another tether to the Monroe’s snipped.

We pull into the driveway beside a familiar Lincoln Navigator and my heart drops completely. I look over at Damon who is driving, and he shrugs. I almost jump out when I spot a familiar glasses-framed face, but Jonas keeps me to his side by the elbow, ushering me to the front door. I lock eyes with my handsome professor, planting my heels on the ground but I slide because of the snow.

Damn him and his delicious muscles.

Maverick looks past me and straight at Damon as Jonas pulls me inside, while Damon stays just outside the threshold.

“Yes?” He uses the same nonchalant tone Maverick used with me earlier today.

Maverick inhales sharply, worry and frustration etched on his features and when he exhales, eyes like sea glass open, capturing all of our attention but he rounds and speaks to only Damon. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

Chapter Eight

Jonas.

I know how badly she wanted to be a fly on the wall of Damon’s office, but Maverick’s face was so set in stone, I knew it wasn’t the right time. Whatever he was here for – it wasn’t for her. Or me.

So I tugged her to me when I found her listening in on their conversation, worrying her bottom lip, chewing on it so hard I thought she would make it bleed. Instead of tugging her back to me like I wanted, I gave her a moment by leaning with my ear to the door with her.

Nothing.

Their voices were too low and muffled and the harder she tried to listen, the more her brows furrowed in frustration. I took a thumb, pressed it between her brows, and then kissed where I had pressed when she opened her eyes. I waggled my eyebrows and jerked my chin to the kitchen where the bag of takeout waited for us and asked the silliest question – “Hungry baby?” Because between working out with me downstairs, dancing at Inferno, and walking miles on campus, and fucking my brains out – my girl is always hungry.

I love that.

We had stopped for ramen on the way home, and honestly, it was a great day for soup. Even though she still got her caramel cookie crunch Talenti ice cream earlier. But who were we to say no to ramen? If it brought a smile to her face… she had to have it. And if I can get it for her, I will. Every time.

I take her by the hand, reveling in the feel of it in mine, and pull her away with the promise of her spicy miso with a double helping of chashu. I open bags and make a fine spread of the multiple containers, flimsy white napkins, chopsticks, and of course, low-sodium soy sauce on the breakfast bar while she cuts up a few limes to squeeze over her order.

She makes a few motions with her hands to ask if I want some too and sure, why the fuck not? Every time we eat, she does something to her food and makes it better. I still can’t stand overly spicy foods, but I can take a bit of lime.

She grabs a bowl from the cabinet above her, (Damon has had to lower everything to the bottom shelf otherwise she climbs the counter) and she pours half of her ramen into it, looking at the hallway and back at the bowl, drumming her fingers against the marble countertop. I’ve never seen her look so anxious.

I hate it.

I put my hand on her lower back, encouraging her to sit on the barstool beside me, she’s almost up and sitting when the door to Damon’s office opens, and she grabs the bowl and hurries to meet them, practically crashing into Maverick. I cover my eyes with a hand, peeking through my fingers. She stops with enough time and… stands there. Peering up at him, I can feel the tension from here as he flicks his gaze from the bowl to me to her.

The muscle in his jaw ticks once, twice… I stand, ready to hold my gorgeous girl when he rejects her, but Maverick surprises me by taking the bowl from her hands.

“Thank you,” he says softly, taking the olive branch. It’s small, but it’s a start.

He doesn’t see the way she trembles, doesn’t see the relief on her face when she turns back to me, or the tear that slips free that she wipes away quickly. But I do. I look at Damon, steely eyes unsure of what’s transpiring, but he follows them into the kitchen, and we sit. Raven with me, Damon on her other side, and that leaves Maverick to sit in front of her.

It could be awkward.

But for her, I won’t let it be.

He takes a pair of packaged chopsticks, unwrapping them, and begins mixing his noodles with the proteins and veggies in the spicy broth. When Raven offers him a lime, he takes that, too. Mostly because I’m glaring at him, daring him to fuck this up so I can punch his eyeballs into his brain using said chopsticks.

I wait until he has a mouthful of Raven’s ramen to ask, “So, what’s going on?”

He chews as we all stare at him and the glare I receive soothes me. He swallows and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Detective Arlo stopped by today. Had some questions for me.”

“And?” I stuff my mouth, slurping the noodles in one go, still staring at him as the tips of his ears go pink. All in all, Maverick is a handsome fucker. The dark hair with a bit of silver in it, the scruff on his face, green eyes light enough you can tell they’re green behind his glasses, framed with long lashes. My girl can pick them. She also seems to have picked a moody bunch. Myself included.

“And it seems one of us is being tailed.”

I almost choke on my chashu. Alright, yeah. This needs to be talked about. I swallow, take a sip of my water, let it settle, lick my lips, and then place a kiss on Raven’s temple because I want to, because I know she loves it, and mostly, to irritate Maverick just a little bit more. He watches the way she melts with me intently, the only sign he’s envious is a quick flare of his nostrils.

I gloat.

Damon watches the whole thing, hiding his grin behind his glass of water, taking a sip, and then reaches over to place a hand on Raven’s thigh.

“Yeah, we wanted to speak with you while we were in Paris, but you ran away like a coward.”

“I didn’t-“

“You talked, now I’m talking.” I interrupt because I don’t care. I don’t care to hear his explanations. I don’t care to hear his excuses. He hurt Raven. He pushed her away in more than one way. We tried Damon's way, with the little French excursion and now I’m doing it mine. “My mother called while we were perusing a bookstore Café. Apparently, the Syndicate’s appointed coroner found that Chase’s hyoid bone was broken.”

“That’s-“

“Often found in strangulations? Yeah, we know.” I interrupt him again because fuck him. Until he apologizes to my girl, he can choke on chode.

He stares at Raven in disbelief, as if he can’t fathom how she could have done that if Chase had drowned. I asked, and when she told me he died with his face between her thighs, I decided that was the way I want to go, too. My girl keeps eating, watching everything unfold, not letting up on anything, just watching. Mostly him. His features. Most likely to see if he’s… afraid of her or in awe of her.

The right answer should be in awe of her.

“Did you have something to do with that?” He asks, obviously still unaware how anything happened but if a detective is stalking him, it’s best if he doesn’t know anything whatsoever.

“I did not,” I answer honestly. “But if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Because you don’t trust me.”

I put my chopsticks to the side, place a fist on the top of my thigh, place my forearm on the counter beside my bowl, and stare him down. “Because you have a cop tailing you. Or us. The less you know, the better. If something happens, and one of us is caught, I’ll personally see to it that Raven doesn’t go down for anything. I’d rather the Syndicate think it was one of their people placing hits and following through than her.” Because they’ll finish what they started. They’ll kill her. I don’t add.

“Because you love her.”

“Because none of us here are innocent. Because I’m fucking crazy about her. And she deserves freedom. They took away her life and she’s serving justice to those that wronged her. If you knew, Maverick, what one has to do to be initiated to the Syndicate, what I had to do, what I have done, and unfortunately what I will continue to have to do until I fucking die, even though I was against it from the beginning, then you wouldn’t question why I want the entire brotherhood eradicated as well. I only hope we take down as many as we can before something happens because it’s not if, it’s when.” I can feel the muscles in my jaw ticking when I swallow the rest of what I want to say down, my Adam’s apple bobbing as my frustration subsides.

“So then tell me.”

I sit up straighter, squaring my shoulders back. “Tell you what?”

“About the Syndicate.”

“The less you know, the better.” I reiterate, picking my chopsticks back up even though my appetite is gone.

He seems to contemplate this, Raven’s adorable little bites into a crunchy bamboo stick are the only sounds as the silence lapses. He makes a bobbing notion with his head, blinking rapidly, biting his bottom lip, and letting it roll out slowly. “I took a look at some of the names in the binder Raven gave me… a lot of these are cold cases. Open cold cases. I could… I could help.”

I almost scoff. “This isn’t like the so-called Illuminati. Go outside of the state of Massachusetts and nobody will have heard of the Syndicate. Actually, let me correct myself. Go outside of the Salem city line and nobody will know what you’re talking about. This is how tight-knit the brotherhood is, Harrington.”

“Then tell me about it.” He grits out.

“Fine. Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“Maybe this isn’t the right time,” Damon interjects but fuck this. He wants to know?

“Prove you’re not wearing a wire. Get your phone, put it under the seat cushion in the living room, and let’s fucking talk. Man-to-man,” I say, gesturing between us.

He gets up and does as I ask of him staying in my line of sight. His phone under the cushion first then comes back and takes off his shirt, throwing it on the ground, then spinning in a slow circle with his arms out. I keep my face neutral when I see how tatted he is from his forearms to his chest, the scars on his back, are for sure bullet holes. He sits back down on the bar stool and arches a dark brow in my direction as if to say, ‘Happy now?’

Ecstatic. I reply telepathically. Suddenly I want to laugh because wow, Raven has really gotten under our skin if we can communicate with just body language, blinking, and eye rolls. But I keep my features in check, his eyes on me and mine on his as I begin to tell him everything about the Syndicate. About the different tiers in the brotherhood, how before being initiated it’s all about the thrill of the hunt, finding ingenious ways to get away with murder. Once the case officially turns cold or the coroner releases the body without abnormal findings or anything that could lead to a homicide case, that’s when you’re initiated. I tell him about how some commit their murder their freshman year and don’t get their cloaks until their senior year. The night they graduate from a black cloak to a red, they’re branded on the ribs.

When I tell him this and show him the brand on my ribcage, he pales, realizing that yes, I murdered someone and got away with it. What I don’t tell him is how I killed Jacob Cartwright, Paris, or their unborn child. That to me, is still my dirtiest secret. The one I’ll take to the grave, the one I know will never escape my future wife’s lips, and the one he doesn’t deserve to know.

When I'm finished, his gaze shifts to Raven. “So there was a hit placed on you then?”

My girl, who has stopped eating, looks down and nods her head, inhaling before raising her hands. She looks pained, nervous about whatever she’s about to tell him, but Damon rubs her thigh, and I put my hand on the small of her back. I reassure her that she only has to tell him what she wants him to know, and Damon backs me up on that.

She asks him to translate for her, and her hands move more quickly.

I wasn’t expecting her to tell Maverick everything about the night of her attack, being in the asylum, being released into bi-weekend home visits after being at Lorne Wood Falls Mental Institution and weaning herself off her medication in order to think clearly, figuring out her night terrors were more, her loneliness, the isolation she felt, the depression, but she does. She doesn’t incriminate herself, but she also doesn’t claim herself as innocent.

Maverick looks sick the longer she signs and when she’s done, tears are welling on the rims of her eyes, threatening to fall but she shakes them away.

“At first, I didn’t think I could trust you. But then I realized, I didn’t want you to see me in a bad light because you… saw… me. All of you do. But you, you didn’t know my story and somehow knew what I needed, and then I fell in love with you, and the more I wanted to keep you away from all of this because I was selfish… and just wanted to be delusional in thinking it was all okay. Because when I was with you, it was just us and nothing else mattered. I was simply yours. The three of you make the extra noise in my head stop. And I… felt safe… alive.” Damon translates, his voice rasping on that last word and my heart breaks for her again, wanting to go to her so I can fix whatever he broke. I can do that for her. There may always be a Harrington-sized hole in her chest but over time, I’ll make sure he’s nothing but an afterthought.

Maverick’s chest slowly rises and falls at her stark revelation that she’s in love with him, paling further he looks ghostly.

She slips down from her bar stool beside me and walks around to him, placing her hand on his cheek, swiping her thumb across his cheekbone. His eyelids flutter but I watch him go ramrod straight, not letting himself relax into her and she sees it, too. My heart breaks for her.

“I…t’s… oh…kay i-i-if y-y-you.. d..don’t love mmm… me… any… any… mmm… more.”

His eyes go wide. She turns and leaves us to go upstairs, stoic for now, but I know when she’s in the shower, she’s going to let the water hide her tears. Because I know my girl. I know her heart like she knows mine.

I half expected him to run after her; to chase her and apologize so we can put all of this behind us and work together. But he stays planted in his seat looking like he’s about to lose the three barely digested noodles.

Good. I hope he fucking hurls as soon as he gets home. I hope he can’t sleep, and he tosses and turns and can’t eat. I hope his pillow is warm on both sides and they make his favorite book into a movie – not a series – and ruin it.

“She’s talking?”

Damon’s gunmetal eyes glisten. “I took her to the best neurologist in the country. One that doesn’t report to the Monroe family. They found an old contusion in her brain from the night of her attack. It affects her speech but mostly, her vocal cords are weak from no use. She sees a speech therapist twice a week. We have her read to us every night for twenty minutes. For you, Maverick. Because you asked her to speak. We were content with her signing. Content with her little icy glares and blinks… but you asked something of her that requires her to be out of her comfort zone. Even though she hates it, she did it for you.”

I stare at my cold noodles, the soft-boiled egg on top half hidden under veggies and bamboo. “I love when she reads to me. Weirdly it makes me feel like I’m being useful when a lot of the time, I feel useless. I know sometimes she’s trapped inside her mind. It must be chaos – all those words up there… but I want to know them all. I don’t care if she only signs to me or simply expresses everything she feels via body language and facial expressions. I always want to know how I can make it better… then I think I do. I think I have a handle on things because she had a good day. Because she went to bed smiling. Because she’s safe in my arms.” I rise and stare down at Maverick. “But every fucking night since you shoved her away, she sleepwalks. She slips away from me, from us because you threw her away.”

“I didn’t-“

“And that’s fine.” I wipe the angry tear that escaped me with the back of my fist that I want to punch him with. “She’s had enough people she loved pushing her away, thinking she’s everything but perfect when she is. And you piece of shit motherfucker,” I grit my teeth so hard the roots hurt, fists shaking at my sides but then point to the stairs with one hand. “She loves you… and you threw her away like she was defective.”

“She’s not de-“

“I know that!” I get in his face and point to myself. “I fucking know she’s not, you self-righteous prick. But it’s fine. It’s fine. I love her enough for the both of us. I could love her enough for the three of us and I do.”

“Then don’t let her do this anymore.”

I scoff then, laughing in his face. “Because the cops will help? More than half the cops here are in the Syndicate’s pockets. More than half of the FBI are in their pockets, too.”

“I can help-“

“And drag us down, too?”

“I have friends-“

“Oh, that’s fucking rich. You have friends?” I mock, “We were your family, and you threw us away, too.”

“Jonas, I-“

“Save it, Harrington. I’m so goddamn tired of hearing your non-excuses. You’re a fucking coward and that’s all you are.” I shake my head, dismissing him again because I’ve had more than enough of his presence tonight. “You know everything now. Do what you will. Turn me in. Turn in Damon. Whatever. But at least do it after she gets her answers. Give her that, at least. But her? Don’t talk to her unless it’s to apologize or leave her alone altogether. We got this. We got her. Just stay out of it.”

He opens his mouth, but I’m done. I turn and leave him behind, going upstairs to see if my girl needs me.

I find her in her room, in her bed under a heavy lilac duvet turned with her back towards me when I enter. I strip to nothing but my boxer briefs and climb into bed with her, pulling her as close to me as I can, inhaling that delicious jasmine and berries scent that clings to her skin, wanting it to cling to mine and lean over to kiss her temple when I feel her sigh deeply.

“Have I ever told you about George?”

She turns in my arms to face me and shakes her head.

I grin. “You know the big ugly gargoyle on the bell tower?”

She nods once.

“That’s George.” I chuckle softly. “The day you walked on campus, I was up there scoping the place out, talking to him,” she arches a brow, “Hey, think what you want but he’s a great listener.”

She pushes me to my back, and puts her chin on my chest, big whiskey eyes staring at me waiting for me to continue.

“I watched you get out of Axel’s douche car through my binoculars. I hadn’t even seen your face and I wanted you.” I recall. “Then you came into the dining hall and fuck, baby, I just had to get to know you. It was such a coincidence I saw you going to the pond the next day and then I followed you there. I tell myself it was to make sure you were safe, but I’ll be honest – it felt like divine intervention. Like I was meant to find you… fuck, I made Miss Overly switch my schedule just so I could have a reason to talk to you. To get to know you.”

She twirls her finger at the side of her head, and I laugh.

“I’m crazy, for sure, baby. But… I’m crazy for you. And only you. I’m near you and I need to be closer. I’m inside of you, and it’s not enough. When I’m away from you, I feel like I’m drowning. But then I see you again and I can finally breathe right. You have totally and completely consumed whatever sanity I had left, and I don’t ever want it back. You’re my heart, baby. Every beat of it is yours.”

“Jonas…” I wait for her to keep going because I know she has to form her words. “You… are… mm… my sss… soul. I… I love you.” She says clearly. She always says ‘I love you’ so fucking clearly like it’s the only thing she’s ever sure of, and my heart drops and bounces and recoils and beats erratically, making every sinew and fiber of my being erupt and mend because I never tire of hearing her tell me she loves me. “Aw… always.”

“Always, baby?”

“Mmm.” She grins and crawls up my body, straddling me then lowering her head to mine, her lips so close that when she whispers, “Always,” I feel the soft skin of them against mine before she kisses me hungrily.

It takes no time before her oversized band tee and our underwear to get lost under the sheets and she’s notching me at her hot, slick opening. We both groan when I’m fully seated inside of her, wrapped in her perfect, tight, wet heat.

“That’s my beautiful fucking girl, Raven baby. Ride my dick.” Her hips undulate, her clit against my pelvic bone, seeking her climax. Though my eyes are closed, they still roll back, forever lost in a frenzy when I’m inside of her. “It’s so good. Fucking perfect, baby.”

“Jonas!”

My eyes cross at the rasp in her voice when she says my name. It’s a war of tongues and lips, swallowing the other’s moans because I can’t fucking get enough of the feel of her under my hands, around my cock, her skin on mine, can’t get enough of the way she kisses me like she loves me. Like she can’t fathom a life without me, and I return it tenfold, because I can’t either.

She’s my present and my future, I had no past before her, and I want no future without her.

I dig my heels into the mattress, finding enough purchase to meet her bounces with my thrusts until I hold her still with one arm, the other in her hair, eyes rolling to the back of my head. “I fucking love your pussy, baby. It’s too fucking good. You’re beautiful. Perfect. Always so ready for me. Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Jonas, please!”

“Always such a good girl for me, aren’t you, baby? Taking my dick like my sick little slut. Are you sick for me baby?”

“Yes!” her rasp sends chills throughout my body like shivers of electricity crackling and fuuucccckkk if that doesn’t spur me further into bliss.

“Arch your back a little more baby, let me hit that spot. I feel you, baby. So tight. So wet. So fucking perfect. Say it again baby.”

“I love you.”

Fuck yes. “Again.”

“I… ugh! Love you.”

I can feel her pussy beginning to flutter, my balls aching for release, drawing up, every nerve ending frying and rewiring. “Again baby, I’m so fucking close.” I lick up her neck, loving the feel of her hard nipples pressed against my chest.

“I love you.” Fuck yes. “I love you.”

I go cross-eyed when her pussy strangles my dick – a hair-trigger for me and shudder, feeling her milk every fucking drop from me as I cum, cum, cum until I can’t anymore. If her soul is mine, then mine is hers and I want her to take, take, take it from me until they’re woven together so I can find her in every lifetime.

I kiss her cheek, staying inside because I want my cum to stay inside, too even though I can feel it already leaking out around me. “I love you, too.”

We fall asleep like that. For the first time, since Paris, she doesn’t sleepwalk. She doesn’t have night terrors. We sleep a full nine hours. And when we wake up, I make sure to remind her with my dick, how perfect I think she is in front of the bathroom mirror with her bent over and her ass bouncing against my hips.

Because I love her enough to know exactly what I have – a fucking treasure, and I’ll never let her go.

Chapter Nine

Maverick.

“She did it for you.”

Two days have passed since the evening I spent getting my ass verbally handed to me by Jonas and Damon. I’ve spent them being haunted by their words. I grab my cell phone from my nightstand by my bed where I keep it charging and dial the number I’ve spent the last four years avoiding.

She answers after the third ring. “Maverick? What’s wrong?”

Hearing Tasha, my old partner's voice again, floods me with emotion but I clear my throat, shoving them away. “Williams, hey. Are you… busy?”

“I mean, I was about to go to bed, but I have time for you.”

Tasha and I were partners for over five years. She was young and ambitious, started out as a cop, then decided to join the FBI. She had barely been there a year before being assigned on my team, making us forced friends. “How's Tom?” I ask of her husband so that this isn’t awkward but I’m pretty sure I’ve made it awkward.

Goddamn, I don’t even know if she changed her last name.

She hums in disapproval, but she answers me. “He's great. Getting old.” There’s a beat of a pause and then, “You’ve never been one for small talk Harrington. Cut the shit. What’s going on?”

She’s right. I’m not. I never had time for bullshit small talk; it’s unnecessary and wastes time I don’t have. “What’s that thing you said to me when I told you I was going to be teaching at Rayne-Moore?”

“That it’s fucking weird the entire town doesn’t have a crime rate.”

“Right.”

“Small crime rates mean big secrets.”

I nod although she can’t see me because fuck if that isn’t so close to the fucking truth. “I think I may have found something. I have a few cold case files that might not be so cold anymore… think you can get me some files from the database?”

Without hesitation she says, “I might be able to get a few. Depending on if I can bribe Tom with sex.”

“You can always bribe me with sex, babe. Hey Mav!”

“Hey Tom. How’s the job?” He works for the IT department portion of the FBI. Security breaches and whatnot. Tasha and I were always in the field. I don’t even remember how they met. Christmas party, I think. But I can’t remember. All I know is one day she was single and the next, there was an engagement ring on her finger.

“Job’s fine. Not as exciting as the stuff y’all do, but you know. Can’t complain. Rattle me off a few of those names and I’ll get what I can tomorrow and email them to you.”

“I don’t think these should be emailed. Do you still live in Springfield?” I ask.

Again, this gives them pause.

“Till we retire back home to North Carolina.” He replies finally.

I breathe out. “Could you come here? I’ll pay for your travel expenses. And I’ll get you a weekend stay at a hotel out in Boston.”

I can hear them whispering amongst each other until Tasha finally says, “Fine. But we want a honeymoon suite. The Four Seasons. All the fancy stuff.”

“You've been married for four years.”

“We never had a honeymoon.” She gripes matter-of-factly. Right. Because I had walked away from it all the week before their wedding. Which meant she had to work double time to cover my ass.

Fuck I really am a bastard. I’m sure after I gave her permission to tell our story, but to leave me out of it, she had book tours and podcast shows and… I oblige her, grateful for any help I can get, giving Tom the names and dates I know are more recent, within the last ten years. We talk a bit longer as she updates me on their fertility treatments and struggles, and I regret not answering any of her calls. Or texts. Or emails.

But I left the FBI for a reason. I got out for a reason.

What happened at the Ackles Farm… I almost let it break me. No, it did. It did break me. Something in my psyche was never the same.

Before we hang up, she says, “Hey, it was really good hearing your voice. Please don’t let another three years go by before we talk again. Even if it’s just… to talk. You know? Just… remember I’m a phone call away.”

“Thanks, T. I… might have to take you up on that.”

“Oh? What’s her name?”

I pull the phone away from my ear and look down at it. “You psychic or something?”

She laughs and it feels good to hear someone laugh again. I myself haven’t done that in such a long time I don’t think I remember how to. “No. But I know you. Something must have happened for you to have the spark light up your ass for you to call me. I mean, it’s been years, Mav.” She scolds me like an older sister, and it feels nice.

I contemplate whether or not I should tell her about Raven but she’s right. We were once close enough I let her cry on my shoulder, and I let her sleep on my arm during flights all over the nation. “Her name is Raven.”

“Raven… Rayne-Moore… Christ, Maverick, what the fuck?” I can see her now, out of bed and pacing her bedroom. “Is this why you went to teach there?”

“What? No. I didn’t even know her entire story until a few nights ago – I… Christ, T.” I groan. “It’s all coincidental. She’s my student and there’s… there’s something going on here. I can’t explain it. I just have this feeling.”

“A feeling, huh?”

“You never had issues with my instincts before.”

“Is it true what the tabloids and the media said? She can’t talk? Violent? I mean I guess I suppose you wouldn’t have known anything about it. What happened to her happened around the same time as the Ackles- as your hiatus.”

Whoosh whoosh

I decide to lie this time. I decide to lie wholeheartedly to the woman I used to stay up all night with planning and plotting, hunting and catching predators and sickos. “It’s true. Hasn’t spoken a word in over four years. But she’s not violent.”

“That may be her only saving grace. Keeping her mouth shut.”

I – again – pull the phone away from my ear and stare at Tasha's picture in disbelief. “So, the Four Seasons, Huh?” I put the phone back to my ear.

She giggles. “Yeah. Big fancy pants professor, you can afford it now. We’ll see you then. I’ll text when Tom has the info you need. Good night Mav.”

“Night Tasha. Night Tom.”

“Night!” Tom's overly cheery voice and the concern in Tasha's soothes something in me. Like I’ve been missed.

“Friends? We were your family, and you threw us away!”

I groan, throwing my phone on my bed, and then flopping down on it. Fucking Jonas.

He had every right to not believe me, but as much as I wanted to deny it or stay away from it all, I want to help Raven or at least try to help her in any way that I can.

“Turn us in after she finds the answers. She deserves that, at least.”

He was right. She does.

          ________

I don’t know what I’m doing here. That’s a lie – I know exactly what I’m doing here.

I could lie again and say I’m just here to make sure she’s okay. That she’s good. That Stephen doesn’t touch her inappropriately. That nobody drugs her drinks or takes her to a VIP room and she can’t shout “Stop!” loud enough for the bouncers to hear.

That’s a lie because I already know she’d never let anyone other than us fuck her. Something about that gets me ready when I step through the steel door of the old seven story red brick building that houses Inferno.

But I’ve been doing that a lot lately – lying to myself. I don’t know if I’ve gotten better or worse at lying to myself.

The lights flash, her body wrapped again in a sheer, glimmering bodysuit that barely covers her pretty cunt. Make up and small holed fishnet stocking up her legs, once again hiding her thigh tattoo, those glorious black and gold wings of hers, eyes hidden behind the black mesh of her mask, her movements fluid and in time with the music behind her large cage.

They’ve moved her. She’s no longer in the smaller one closest to the tables. She’s front and center. An upgrade, I suppose.

From across the room Stephen fucking Prescott sits back, captivated, clenching a fist on his wide-spread thighs, the other holds a cigar and a glass tumbler filled with amber liquid. I know the look in his pale blue eyes from across the room. Hunger. But because of the rules set in place by the owners of Inferno, he can’t do shit about it. I wonder if he would? If this were a seedy club where you could touch the dancers however you want, pay an extra five hundred and fuck her then discard her, would he do it?

Or would he treasure every moment of being in her lush body that was tailor-made for me like I did?

He takes her in like I am, every movement she makes, he’s watching. Calculating.

How many weekends had he paid the X amount of thousands of dollars for her to merely sit on his lap and almost flash him her gorgeous slit? But I’ve been watching her closely. She’s never let him take her into a room. Never let him touch more than is allowed, and when she’s in his lap, she keeps her hands above his chest.

Of course he’s calculating. He’s trying to figure out what to say, what to do to convince her to go into a VIP room with him. He’s trying to see how much more she wants for her time. He looks frustrated. Annoyed that he could have anyone he wants, say his name, and they fall on their backs, spreading their legs and yet this one… the one that won’t even talk to him… takes his money and walks away, every. Single. Time. Without a backwards glance.

I walk over to the cage keeper as soon as I see Prescott get up from his seat, but I’m closer to the keeper. I look at his name tag that says Jake. Gold hair and golden eyes, most likely contacts, are lined with kohl, his vest fits his chiseled body perfectly, and the smile he gives me is kind.  

“Her.” I point to Raven, who’s rounding her hips side to side with the music, holding onto the bars as she squats down. I see Stephen with her, talking to her and she flashes him a wide smile. I grip my wallet and pull out a card.

“That’ll be four grand.”

“For the night?”

Jake laughs like I’m the funniest person alive and he shakes his head as if I’m just a silly little Billy as he takes the fake debit card the club provides to VIP members that’s linked to my personal credit card and swipes it. I’ve never used it before. VIP rooms are for VIP members; you don’t necessarily have to purchase a dancer’s time to use them.

“For an hour. She’s a favorite.” He says casually, looking at the alias I use while I’m here, running the card and handing it back to me. “Usually, her clients purchase her time the evening before. But Mr. Prescott didn’t this time. So, looks like you got lucky.”

“Yeah, looks like,” I say, taking back my card  my gaze going back to Raven. “I want her for the night.” I say like I have money to spend. “Have her meet me up on the fourth floor.”

Jake smiles politely, rounding the host desk he sits behind, and I make my way up the stairs. I do a quick glance back when Jake releases Raven, and Stephen’s face turns into a scowl, furiously asking Jake questions, pointing at her. Jake shrugs, unbothered, saying something over the music and I continue upwards, smiling like the cat that caught the canary. Once I reach the fourth floor, I make sure to grab the mostly dark corner booth and I wait for her, setting my drink down to tighten the mask over my eyes that almost matches hers. I didn’t want mine to have mesh in the eyes. I wanted her to be able to see me.

I settle into the corner, spreading my thighs wide, keeping my drink in one hand, the other arm draped over the back of the booth, awaiting her arrival that can’t come soon enough. I spot her boyfriends by the bar, and the disguise I’m wearing must be working because neither of them see me. And if they do, they must not recognize me.

More lights flash and I swear it happens in slow motion. The old iron doors of the elevator the dancers take opens, Jake comes out first, Raven in tow. Through the throngs of people dancing, fucking openly, Jake finds me. He does a quick bob of his head and Raven simply follows as though tethered by an invisible leash. I’m sure Stephen’s ire reached her, too. But I’m not worried about her. As soon as she’s in front of me, I see Prescott at the top of the stairs.

Good. Pale blue eyes find mine and I send him a wink.

I stand. Taking Raven’s hand I introduce myself. I know she knows who I am but for club purposes, well, I play along. When she takes my hand I yank her to me tightly. “Hello, little moth. I’m Hades.”

God she feels so fucking good in my hands. I can feel her song again, strumming through me like vibrations, breaking whatever chains I had over my heart. She smells divine, like sweat and perfume and I want to lick the side of her throat down to her sweet cunt to taste her day in all her glory.

“Dance for me, little moth.” I practically growl as I let her go. She stumbles slightly but catches herself, standing upright. She turns, her gorgeous ass in my face as she steps up to the platform that reaches my knees as I sit back down, grabbing my tumbler, and let my head fall back on the edge of the booth so I can watch the show.

A flicker of movement to my left catches my eye but I ignore Jonas and Damon, reverting my gaze back to my siren as her body sways, hips moving in a hypnotizing trance, her body calling to me to follow her back into the black abyss we called home. That I had called home. I had once likened her to an angel that had fallen to earth just for me and now, dressed like sin, she absolutely looks the part. She jumps, hooking a leg around the pole so smoothly it looks acrobatic, and I know the difference between what she’s doing now, and what she’s done for Prescott – for him, she was almost clumsy, always trying to reach farther to be able to listen to the private conversation going on around her, but right now, for me, she’s performing.

Her wings dip low, but she doesn’t let them touch the ground. I watch in fascination, my cock hardening as she lowers herself, spreading her thighs, the gusset of her bodysuit diving between her puffy lower lips, uncaring that the only thing stopping me from viewing her holes is that tiny, string of shimmering black fabric that could easily be identified as floss.

Taste.

Memories of tearing her red thong off her supple ass and using it to tie her hands behind her back as I took her roughly from behind against the forest floor rummage through my mind. The way she came for me as I bit into her. I never checked to see if I left my mark and that excites me even more – the thought that my teeth branded and marred her flawless-to-me skin.

Claim.

I rub my thigh, inching upwards to my hardened dick, now steel in the slacks I chose to wear. The dark, tailored navy suit, lavender tie, the mask – all a part of my disguise. If she’s not Raven, then I’m not Maverick. I wish I could see her eyes, to know if she’s watching me, too.

Feast.

It’s a singular thought that makes me salivate like a drooling dog watching its owner cook a steak. The thought of her beneath me with her mouth open, her tongue awaiting my spit to land on it and then drink it down makes the beast inside me roar to life.

“It’s okay, if you don’t love me anymore.”

Now with my sole focus on her, nothing but her, I realize that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I have tried to stay away. Have tried to grieve what could have been but I can’t because just like I thought weeks ago when I tried to chase after them blindly into the cruel, cold, unrelenting rain, it’s not over.

It will never be over.

I need her more than I need water to survive.

She is the balm to my insanity and yet, every time I’ve been inside of her sweet body, I’ve been lost in throes of delirium. Madness and chaos I welcome because she’s consumed every bit of me. A silent, unmerciful storm that’s shaken and thrown my world around and I want more.

Crave more.

Because she saw me.

Saw the sickness that resides in my mind, heart and soul – she saw, she accepted, pocketed it, and chose to love me.

I lose it.

Whatever war was raging in my mind to not love her; to not forgive her, I lose the battle. Standing abruptly, watching those enticing hips of hers I stretch out my arms and hold onto them, wrapping my arms around her middle, the material of her wings soft as my knuckles brush lightly against them. Her hands go to my shoulders, her breasts in my face and I dare to inhale her scent that gets me harder than granite.

Rut. Taste. Feast. Claim.

Tugging her to me, I sit back down on the velvet booth, her thighs on either side of mine, straddling me. She grabs the back of the seat with one hand, the other on her hip, grinding against my length, the heat of her overwhelming because I know exactly what she feels like.

My angel.

My Siren.

My venomous moth.

I keep my hands on the top of her thighs; grateful her wings are large enough to cover exactly what I’m about to do. I tug one breast from the sheer material and rove my tongue over her darkened, hard nipple, reveling in the taste of her skin back on my tongue. Wild desire flares from the base of my balls to the tip of my cock, weeping for her as she seeks her pleasure, but it’s with less wild abandon than that morning I found her in the restricted section of the library.

I want her to be like that again. Untamed and feral.

The beauty to my beast.

“Stop and look at me, Siren…” I groan around her nipple, and she stills above me, her head tilting down, ear to my lips. “You're going to go into VIP room number seven. Do you understand? You’ll remove your boots, your mask, this… wig and braid your hair back and wait for me on your knees. Nod if you understand.”

It's small, barely there, but she nods once in understanding and my heart soars.

“That’s my very good girl.” I fix her bodysuit, pulling it over her breast and tap her thigh twice. She gets up on wobbly legs, walking past Stephen, past her men, and striding toward the elevator.

I stand, unashamedly readjusting myself, moving to the other keeper behind the host podium and hand him my card. “I’ll be taking her for the evening.” I say loudly when I feel a presence behind me, most likely Jonas.

“That'll be six thousand.”

Worth it. A night alone away from prying eyes and ears. That’s why I chose room seven. It’s one of the few rooms that doesn’t have a window for voyeurs. The blonde host behind the podium whose name tag says “Sasha,” hands me back my card and gives me a small smile. She looks familiar and something tells me I’ve fucked her before, but I don’t remember clearly, nor do I care.

“Have a nice time. If you proceed to the sixth floor, please let the attendant on the fifth floor know so she can arrange a suite for you.”

“How much is the suite?” I ask, not really caring for the price but for some reason, I’m curious to know what the club thinks she’s worth.

“For Chloe? I believe it’s ten thousand. I also believe you’re the first. But the attendant on the fifth floor will know more than I do.” She says. The way her wide lips press into a smile and I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked that mouth. Only that mouth. Nothing else.

I grunt and bump into the presence behind me when I step back to turn away from the attendant.

“She agreed to go with you upstairs?”

Well, if it isn’t Stephen fucking Prescott. I square my shoulders, toe-to-toe with the man. He smells of expensive cologne, and a hint of scotch on his breath. He’s my height, crow’s feet decorate the edges of those piercing blue eyes, the only true indication he’s older than I am. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

This baffles him, even in the flashing changing lights, I can see the pale pink that creeps along his cheeks. “Stephen Prescott.”

“Pleasure to meet you. If you’ll excuse me, I have someone waiting for me.”

“And you are?”

I take a sip of my watered down Macallan and place the tumbler on a tray of a waitress passing by with empty glasses. “Just a flame with a moth waiting for him.” I reply.

“How did you get her to agree to go with you?”

I shrug, catching glinting gunmetal eyes to my right and I smirk. “Lucky, I suppose,” I reply and simply step around him. Before bypassing both Damon and Jonas, I keep my hand low, making a motion for them to not follow.

I take the stairs two at a time, rushing even though I’ve paid for her entire night. But I want this, God I want this. Even my minor moment with Prescott hadn’t lessened the almost excruciating erection I have had since the moment I saw her in her gilded cage. I have to admit those wings of hers… The monster in me wants to tear them off, to pluck them, so she can never fly away from me again.

I have nothing prepared. No apology of any sort to spew out. No heartfelt words that come to mind other than a simple ‘I’m sorry’ even though I know that will never be enough.

But I have one thing and one thing only I can ever offer her. My heart. My devotion. My worship. Weeks she spent kneeled at my feet like my pet, ready and willing to serve me, beautifully. And I was an asshole. Every time.

“Daddy didn’t love you enough, did he, Siren? That’s why you warm my cock with your sweet mouth like my good little whore. So needy. So willing. So beautiful… Always so fucking ready to drink my cum. Such a good girl the way you crawl to me…”

She took my degradation along with my praise wonderfully. Like wax, melting into my mold – made for me with every spank. Pushing her plump ass back into the palm of my hands, seeking the comforting pain and pleasure I willingly provided.

Fuck.

I should have recognized what I felt for her then. Should have told her I loved her then. I should have… there were a lot of things I should have done. Even more I should have said.

I could crawl to her. Beg her to give me another chance, to love me the way she once did – but that is not what she needs and that is not our dynamic. I need her subservience, crave it more than I need air to breathe like she needed my dominance and my aggression. No. I know once I open the door to Room Seven she would already be waiting for me bootless, and in position with her hair braided.

I pass the guards standing outside of each room, looming closer, my pulse quickens with each step, my dick aching to be released, to feel her lips, her hands, her pussy, her ass squeezing me, tasting me, fucking me, taking me the way I’ve taught her how I love it.

So malleable, my Siren.

Made for me.

I open the door to Room Seven, and just as I suspected she’s kneeling, bootless, heart-shaped ass on her heels, hair braided back loosely, head bowed and hands on her stocking covered thighs, wings resting on either side of that perfect fucking ass. I swallow a groan of satisfaction.

“Palms on the ground and slide forward, forehead to the ground, Chloe. Ass up.”

She obeys, baring herself to me, that strip of fabric from her body suit and her fishnets the only barriers hiding her from me. I hum lowly, allowing her to know she’s pleased me. I swear I see her tremble in anticipation as I remove my jacket, hanging it on the coat rack behind me and lock the door.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” I stand behind her, admiring. “This is the humble position. But when I order for you to be in this position,” I tap her inner knee with the tip of my shoes, and she spreads her thighs further. I hum in satisfaction when I see just how easily I could pull it to the side and bare her to me, but when it comes to her destruction at my hands, I have always been a patient man.

“Perfect.” I praise, kneeling behind her. I lightly hover my fingertips from the backs of her knees, up her thighs. I don’t touch and she doesn’t move. No, she knows better than to move, but she quivers so much her wings shimmer in the low light of the dimly lit room.

I stand, unbutton my sleeves and roll them upwards, the inked runes on my forearms a dark contrast to the olive tone of my skin. My fingers itch, tremble to touch her, dying to feel her smooth skin underneath my palms, to tangle those silky strands of chocolate and silver in them. “Rise slowly, Siren. Palms back on your thighs…. Good.” I round her until I’m front row and center at the devastating sight before me. Head still bowed, hands on her thighs… those wings… God, those wings of hers instill every fucking image of ruining her in my brain. Image after image like a reel of an old film.

Room Seven is not only the only suite without a voyeur window, it is also the room least used. After every couple leaves, each room is disinfected, new sheets brought in even if the bed wasn’t used, in the corner, a side table of unopened toys sits with cleaning and disinfectants. On the wall next to it, whips… chains… restraints. And beside it, a first aid kit, along with a mini-fridge containing small bottles of water and cooling packs.

It is the only room with a saint Andrew’s cross and ties that are lowered from the ceiling, along with a breeding stand. It’s sick. I’m sick. I’m a horrible man with sadistic tendencies, but the only one I have ever wanted to sic them out on was her – my fallen angel.

I make my way to the sidebar, choosing various instruments to use on her, to hurt and heal, to cause both pain and pleasure. To help her unravel just a little bit more but only for me. “To make this easier for you, we will be abiding by the color system. Green is good. Yellow is to slow down or yield and Red… red is absolutely your safe word.” I say, opening the packages then spraying what I’ve chosen down with the cleanser and washing it in the basin provided by staff. “Use your mouth and say the words for me. It will be the only time it is used freely before we begin. Now, Siren.”

“Gree..nn. Ye..llow… Re…d.”

My heart thrums with pride at the rasp in her voice. “Utter it, whisper it, scream it, stutter the word and I will stop. Do you understand?”

“Ye..sss..sir.” The way she hisses it makes me think she tried very hard not to fuck up. To speak. For me.

I feel nothing but astounding pride race through me as I finally, delicately, crook a finger and place it under her chin, tilting her head back so I can look at her. Brown eyes like caramelized bronze meet mine and it’s nothing but a dagger to my chest. There’s makeup on the scar on her temple, removing it from sight but I know it’s there. I’ve placed my lips upon every perfect flaw that mars her body. The silver streak in her hair shines beside it, strands like spider silk I wholeheartedly adore, and I know I will love her even more when she sprouts them all over and not just this one spot.

“You are so tragically beautiful; it hurts every atom of my being to look at you. To be near you and not touch you and yet I can’t stop craving you. A drug to an addict. I have tried to rid myself of these feelings and yet they stay. Persistent so that I can’t think. I can’t eat. I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep, unable to function because you haunt me… these eyes, your lips,” I pause, running my thumb over them, her lipstick not smearing like I want it to. “Memories of how good you feel squeezing my cock when you come for me… your scent… god, your scent is everywhere as though you still float around my house like the silent little specter you are.”

I leave out the part where I haven’t changed my sheets or pillowcases because they still smell of her. Unable to wash the clothes she left in my hamper, t-shirts of mine that I need and still… can’t bring myself to rid me of her scent. Jasmine and berries and a hint of cinnamon or something akin to that.

I am pathetic and the frustration of not having her eats away at me and darkens my mood into something foul.

“Rise, Raven. On your feet.” I growl instead of cradling her in my arms the way I want to.

She rises, my finger still under her chin. The top of her head reaches the bottom of my chest, and I ache, ache, ache to kiss her. Holding back hurts me more than touching her does. Squirming to rut, to fuck up into her delectable little cunt, I reach for the restraints that come down from the ceiling, ordering her to show me her wrists and tie them on. I know things touching her wrists bother her, but we had made slow work of this before everything went to shit so I check in.

“Color?”

“Yel..low.”

I nod once. Progress. I make my way to the wall and turn on the pulley system that tugs at her restraints, watching her arms slowly rises above her head. When they pull up, I watch until she stands on the balls of her feet and toes. She gasps softly so I check in, stopping the pulley, the soft whirring above us dying down.

“Yellow.”

It seems many a thing will be yellow for her as this is all new until they’re green or red, but I’m willing to find out because she’s strong. She’s as resilient as she is tired of being resilient, but like me fucking her with Damon and Jonas, this needs to happen. Letting her see the darkness that resides in me… yes, this, along with other things, needs to be just between us so we can move forward, and trust can be built.

For each other.

I place myself before her again, she’s now to my chin. One hand on the warm curve of her hip, the other on the underside of her jaw so she can look at me, so I can drown in her thick caramel stare. “I should apologize, shouldn’t I? For the way I’ve kept away from you… I should grovel at your feet and beg you to take me back into your harem. But then I would spend a lifetime walking on eggshells, afraid one thing could go wrong, and you’d cast me out like a dog on the street. I should apologize and yet I won’t. When I was kind, you ignored me. When I gave you preferential treatment you decided to abuse it. Slapped me. Spit on me. A monumental brat. The worst kind of brat. Do you know why?”

“No.” She winces.

“Because you enjoy my punishment. You seek ways to torture me because you know even though I push you, I discipline you and fuck you like the wanton slut for my cock that you are, you know that I… love you. Isn’t that right?”

She gasps and a tear slips free. I grip her, stepping closer, my lips a mere inch away from hers. “Please…”

I was going to kiss her but to hear her beg for me… fuck. I inhale, my hands going to the low V of her bodysuit and I pull it apart, ripping it from tits to pussy, a little yelp escaping her, then reach between her legs and flick my fingers into the sopping wet gusset of the strap that hid her from me and tear it, too, marveling at the new display below the light casting down at this venomous, dark little angel of death.

“Are you ready?”

She raises her head as though squaring her shoulders and then simply says, “Green.”

Chapter Ten

Raven.

He’s so close to me, I can smell his anticipation rolling off him in waves, can see the way he trembles with a need to touch me and my god…

He licks two fingers and reaches between us; his jaw clenches and his eyes darken when he feels how wet I already am for him. My shoulders already ache from how they’re stretched above me, but fuck if I give in. Fuck if I look away for even a moment. God, the way he’s looking at me, it makes my skin feel on fire, ready to burn for him. I never want to look away.

“Just like I remember,” he grits, fingers spreading my lower lips, circling my clit, so sensitive and- “so fucking needy.”

Teasing my entrance with something bulbous, I gasp when he shoves it into me I can’t help but grip the restraints and flail a bit. My mind blares to get out of them, that I can’t stand the feeling on my wrists, to flee, but he’s here. In the flesh. My own personal Hades. A king of hell and I am his prisoner. And fuck I love it. I’m starved for it.

He steps away from me, and I whimper, whatever he shoved into me is still inside, latched onto me from the inside out. I watch him going back to the wall and coming back with… I’m not sure. He holds the handle and there’s leather tresses. He flicks his wrist, and they land on my breasts, stinging, but when he drags them, they cool as well. “This is a flogger. Color?”

“Gre..een.” I swallow. And he does it again. And again. My breasts, my ribs, my stomach, my pussy. I tremble with a feral need with that one, but instead of doing it again, he flogs my thighs, my ass, back to my breasts. Everywhere except for where I really liked it.

“Please!”

He knows what I’m asking for because all he does is smirk wickedly, going back to the sideboard and I hear a tiny ‘click’ before whatever he shoved in me begins to vibrate. My hips buck, the sensation shooting up and forward, concentrating on my clit and I let out a low moan. He pushes a button, and it resides to a low, bearable hum against me. My thighs shake, and I watch as he crouches down on his haunches, spreading my lower lips with his fingers, moving the thing in me so it settles right where he wants it, and then turns up the vibrations so I cry out.

“Look at that.” He chuckles darkly. “Raven, you’re creaming down your legs already and I’ve barely touched you.” My pussy pulsates, and I try to close my thighs, but he pushes them apart. “Be a good girl, Siren. Take what I give you.”

“Yessir,” I groan.

He lowers the vibration setting, and I exhale. I don’t know how I’m going to last. He gets up and grabs the flogger again, messing with the vibration settings as he strikes. God, I can feel my arousal dripping down my inner thighs, catching on the material of my fishnets. I flush with embarrassment and with wanton lust when he stops behind me, flogging my ass four times on each cheek. I hear it clatter to the ground and his hands are on me.

Rubbing. Soothing. Spreading.

I moan when he stops only to crouch down, spreading me apart, and I feel something wet and slick on my ass. I almost orgasm knowing it’s his tongue wriggling against my asshole. “M…ore.”

He hums. “More what?”

“You…”

His fingers prod the entrance to my pussy, making me feel fuller with the toy inside me, but he pulls them out only to feel them rimming my ass all along with his tongue. He pushes, gently, using my arousal and his saliva as lube, inch by inch he fucks into me with his fingers past the ring of tight muscle and I moan for him.

“Such a filthy girl, letting me stretch your ass with my fingers. You’ll let me do whatever I want to you, won’t you?”

“Yesss.” I hiss when he stands behind me, fingers still in my ass.

“That’s right. On your tippy toes, Siren.”

I grasp the restraints and do my best to en pointe like a ballerina.

“Perfect.” He purrs in my ear and shivers shoot down my spine.

I groan when he removes his digits, but soon I feel something else going in me, round and cold and the vibrations on my clit elevate, buzzing. His free hand goes to my lower stomach as another ball slips into my ass. “These are anal beads. They’re on a string. The largest one is already inside of your tight ass.” He nuzzles me, inhaling my scent and he groans, that deep rumble in his chest causes me to salivate.

One by one they go in until I feel so full and I’m so close to coming I’m shaking. “Please…” I beg.

“A little more, Siren.” His voice caresses me like the finest silk, blanketing me and right as my thighs begin to quiver, right when I’m about to implode, he reaches down and removes the still vibrating toy and it, too, clatters to the floor.

“No!” I scream.

“Yes,” he growls, rounding to be in front of me and pulls what looks like rubber clothesline clips connected by a chain. He puts one on my nipple, and it clamps down, then the other. “Color?”

“Green.” I moan when he pulls on the chain – it burns so fucking good. It’s too good. There’s so many sensations buzzing alive inside me.

“Beautiful.” He replies, eyes glittering with approval and then he easily drops to the ground on his knees. His mouth finds me, slick and swollen and so fucking hot. I thrust onto his waiting tongue, and he smacks my backside, pulling away from me and God. “You’ve always tasted so fucking good. Pretty little pussy. Fuck.”

“Please!” I cry out, but I don’t know what I’m asking for.

“Desperate little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckles against my sensitive flesh.

How do I answer that? Honestly. “Yes!” I sob, writhing, desperate to come on his tongue.

“If and when you come, it’ll be on my cock. Not my tongue. Not my fingers. You’ll be gripping and squeezing my dick when and if I let you come, Raven. You left me in a dark place. You left me in the dark.” His voice is hoarse and there are so many emotions swirling in the dark of his eyes I want to break out of my chains to hold him.

Because he’s right.

I may have given him a binder, but I left him with more questions I was barely able to answer, and my heart burns with regret. I should have told him everything from the beginning.

I inhale slowly, trying to compose myself even though this is so difficult. “Green.” I rasp. “Green.” It comes out as a curse and a plea.

He shoves his fingers into me, and the hot, wet silk of his tongue finds my clit again as he curls it, licking and laving and lapping as if he’s trying to drink me until he drowns. I shake and quiver, earning every fucking smack against my ass when I buck into his mouth ‘accidentally,’ seeking the comfort of his torture. His hands go to my hips, gripping so tightly I know I’m going to bruise.

I almost shatter at the thought of knowing he’s branding me with his touch. That I’ll be able to skim my fingers over the bruises later and know this was real. I let out a sob.

Every time I reach the brink, get closer to ecstasy, the heat in my core coiling, my abdomen tightening, he pulls away from me, laughing when I cry out in frustration.

Maddening.

I don’t know how much time as gone by. Minutes. Hours. My arms ache, my feet hurt, I can feel my slick dripping down my legs, reaching my ankles. I’m sobbing in exasperation. “Please…”

“Poor, filthy little rich girl… not getting what you want. Look at you, crying for my cock.” He stands, and I relax on the balls of my feet as much as I can as he leaves me again, bringing back a handkerchief to wipe my nose, but my tears he leaves. He tosses it to the ground and his fingers find me again, caressing where I’m so needy I feel like I’m going to die. His other hand goes up, fingers tangling themselves in my hair, his nose to mine. I’m a mess. I know I am. Pulling me closer to kiss my jaw, under my ear, my collarbone and back up. I melt into him only for him to withdraw his finger and I whine. I can’t help it.

I want his brand of torture to settle into my bones and latch onto the marrow. I want him forever but why can’t I just say that? I whimper and it makes him grin so wickedly like a predator about to attack, but then his smile falters and I swear, his gaze sears me from the inside out, so hot and full of desire and anger, I can feel it.

“I don’t think you understand the maddening effect nor the gravity of this situation, Siren. I don’t think you understand exactly how deranged I’ve become just by loving you. If you run, I will chase you. If you hide, I will find you. If you jump, I will catch you. If you fall, I will be there when you land.” He purrs against my skin, sending goosebumps to ripple. I’m afraid to move even though I’m aching. “There is no escaping me anymore and if you want to burn your world down, then I’ll hand you the match and fan the goddamn flames as you set it ablaze. But you and I, we burn together.” He growls, crashing his lips to mine.

There’s a bit of movement and he finally, finally picks up my legs for me, and shoves every thick, hard inch of his cock inside me in one almost bruising, brutal thrust, swallowing every noise I make when I scream at the glorious stretch of him. I’m so full, so incredibly full of him, more tears burst from my eyes and when I open them, I find him already staring at me, bursts of gold and black flecks in his green eyes watching me break for him.

“Always my good fucking girl taking every inch of my cock into your hungry, desperate cunt.”

I shiver, wishing I could break through and wrap my arms around him. “Mmm-more, pl-pl-please.. d-d-don’t.. ss-stop.”

He doesn’t. He thrusts deeper, harder, shorter strokes.

I’m at his mercy but I don’t fucking want it. My back and shoulders are so tender, but every thrust brings me so much closer to heaven. To hell and back. “You want me to let you come?”

“Please!”

“That’s my sweet fucking girl. Exactly how I want you. Come, Raven, so I can fill you up. Come with me. Be a good girl. There you go. Take every fucking inch of me you desperate, dirty, little cumslut.” He tugs on the string in my ass, and the movement of the anal beads sends me spiraling.

I moan his name when I feel him thicken inside of me, throbbing as my pussy contracts around him, begging for his seed. I want his cum to fill me up, to leak from me for days and he fucks me, harder, faster, when come so hard I think I’m going to pass out and he stills inside me, grunting and cursing my name, coming so much I can feel him leaking out around his shaft still hard inside of me.

And then… he holds me while I sob, my heart erupting, like he’s letting my soul cling to his for a few more desperate moments, like he needed this more than I did.

“Forever my pretty girl,” he shushes, “Forever mine.”

He withdraws only when he softens, letting me down, and carefully goes to the wall, and turns on the pulley system they have this room rigged with. I slowly come down to my feet. “Lower your arms slowly.” He commands and I follow.

I let out a small yelp at the feeling of my tender arms coming down and the whirring is off immediately. He runs to me, and only then do I notice he’s still fully clothed. He takes off my bindings quickly and I’m in his arms as he carries me bridal-style to the four-poster bed Inferno provides. But he’s not done. Soon I’m being cleaned and wiped with a warm, wet washcloth. He’s looking over my body from head to toe, removing my wings, my torn body suit and my fishnets. Going back to the closet I’m just now noticing and comes back with what looks like a cashmere robe and a bottle of cold water.

He shrugs off his clothes until he’s only in his boxer briefs and climbs into bed with me, still looking me over. I finally see what he sees – there are pink whelps all over my body from my chest to my thighs. “I need you to turn over, Angel. I need to remove the anal beads.”

My cheeks run hot, but I do as he says, getting on all fours and then, in his preferred version of the humble position.

He groans as he gets behind me, and I gasp when I feel his tongue licking my pussy. Hard, fast licks to my clit. The sounds of his slobbering and slurping make me cry out with need again. I grasp the sheets, aching for more, I open my mouth and beg for it.

He tugs on the beads once, twice, and they slip out only to be replaced with his fingers as the tip of his dick glides into my slippery entrance still weeping. I moan as he swiftly, fucks me, lazily thrusting. “You are mine, Siren. I have never wanted anything or anyone as much as I want and love you.”

He pulls out, only to flip me over and positions himself between my aching thighs. He doesn’t bother to hold up his weight and I love it. His strokes are deep and lazy, his lips on mine, seeking some kind of comfort only I can provide, and I melt around him and he sinks further into me. Making love to me.

We find oblivion together.

       _______

I wake up in my bed. Naked.

But not alone.

I have no recollection of how I got home. I only remember falling asleep in Maverick’s embrace. There’s a body to my left and another to my right and a very full bladder alerting me to relieve myself now. I creep out of bed and go to my en suite, relieve myself, grab my robe and brush my teeth, wash the remaining makeup off then go look at who exactly is in my bed.

Humph! I almost let out a squeal when I see Jonas and Maverick cuddling.

“Adorable, aren’t they?” I hear from behind me and turn to look at Archer. I kiss him good morning and he lifts me, stepping out into the hallway. I circle his waist with my sore legs, draping my arms over his shoulders immediately and he unties my robe, pressing my spine against the wall. “Good morning, Amourette. Did Harrington fuck you properly?”

“Yes,” I moan when I feel the thickness of his cock straining against my quickly slickening pussy.

“Are you sore?”

“Yes.” I breathe as he reaches between us to release his cock. Because fuck, even if I am, I need him.

“Let’s check, shall we? Shh Amourette, I’m a doctor. Let me feel this pretty cunt around me so I can check for bruising.”

Fuck me that’s so hot.

I groan when he slips into me, ashamed of how wet I already am for him. Slow, easy, unrelenting thrusts is all he gives me.

“So beautiful. I love you. Were you a good girl for your grumpy professor?”

“Mmhmm.” I nod as he keeps his pace, dipping his head so his tongue can curl around my nipples, sucking and feasting.  

“Stay quiet, Amourette. Harrington didn’t come home with you until a few hours ago and I want you to myself this morning.”

“Damon,” I whisper his name as a plea, when he thrusts deeper.

“That’s right, Little Bird. Look at me. Does it hurt?”

I nod softly.

“Too much?”

“No. Ssslower. Want.. to f-feel… more. So big.” I reply, because God, his dick stretches me to max capacity. “F-feel.. so full.”

He grins against my lips, “Is that what you like? How fat my cock gets when I’m inside of you? Hmm?”

I clutch him closer, nodding, feeling my impending orgasm with each maddening slow pump of his hips, making me feel every ridge of his thick, rigid length. “Deeper, please.”

“Always so polite. So wet… that’s it, milk me. I want you to feel me coming and leaving my mark inside your delectable little pussy. I love fucking you like this because I feel everything, Amourette. Every groove, every pulse, every squeeze - everything. I love how your little pussy looks and feels stretching around my cock. There you go, such a good girl fucking me back. You take my cock so well,” he whispers.

His words are always so dirty. So perfect. My orgasm rushes through me at his praise, his head sinks between my shoulder and he laves his tongue, over and over again as I contract around him and he shudders, biting my neck softly, leaving his mark. He lets me down gently once he slips out. We go to his room so he can take care of me, cleaning me up. “One day I’m going to plug all of this inside of you for the day. I’ll only remove it to fill you up again. Would you like that?”

I nod, enthusiastically, mindlessly scratching at the spot in my arm where he placed my birth control rod while he grabs one of his shirts for me to wear. My stomach growls embarrassingly loud once it’s on and he grins from ear to ear.

Damon is devastatingly beautiful.

At Lorne Wood Mental Asylum, the moment my brain fog had lifted from the amount of drugs I was on, Damon was in the room, checking my vitals. I still remember the moment I saw him, my lungs felt as though they had crashed. The pulse monitor I was connected to went haywire. I kept blinking, wondering if this gorgeous man was a hallucination. He was wearing black scrubs under his white coat. Brown hair was freshly cut, only a few grey hairs on the sides, silver eyes glittering, sharp jawline and a French nose.

He looked at me… and smiled. Dimples showing on his clean-shaven face and I almost fainted, heart stammering in my chest. It was the first time in a while anyone had smiled at me without their lips slightly rolled inward or their face pinched, as if the sight of me wanted to make them vomit. No, Dr. Damon Archer brushed my hair away from my face, lifted the gauze on my temple, frowned at it, but then parted his lips and smiled down at me as if I were a living, breathing person again.

“Good morning, Raven. I’m Doctor Damon Archer. Lead psychiatrist on your team. How are you feeling this evening?”    

I had closed my eyes and cringed. Lead psychiatrist. Of course. They had to have drugged me while I was at Lorne Wood Falls Hospital and transferred me here.

Here.

Wait. What if… what if this is a dream? What if… what if this isn’t real? Panic rises in my throat, and I claw at it.

“Raven, Raven, what’s going on?” he shakes me, his strong fingers gripping my tender shoulder. I can hear his voice but I- “Raven, breathe. Stay with me, Amourette. I’m with you.”

Amourette.

This is real.

I look at him, searching his silver eyes for any chance that he’s a hallucination, a sob escaping my throat. I point between us, the words on the tip of my tongue but like a child all that comes out is “Real? This?”

“Yes, Little Bird, this is real. I am real. We are here. Can you tell me where here is?”

“Kingston. N-not Lorne… W-Wood.”

His nod is big. “That’s right. We are here. In Kingston. You and me.”

“Jonas!” I scream. I need to make sure. I need… Damon could be lying to me. I could be… I could be in a straitjacket. I could be – there’s a fumbling in the hall and Jonas appears in the threshold only to sink to his knees, grasping my hand in his without hesitation.

“I’m here, baby. What’s wrong?”

Maverick turns up next, leaning against the door, eyes wide in alarm. “What’s happening?”

“Real?” I rasp. “Real?”

Jonas tilts his head in confusion like a puppy with a solemn dip of his chin. “Real, baby.”

Maverick’s dark brows furrow, green eyes filling with concern when he realizes what’s happening. But I can’t trust it. What if this is all in my head? I could be dreaming. I could be so drugged up this is all just a figment of my imagination.

I lift a trembling hand to touch Jonas, and he kisses my palm, leaning into my touch as his eyes flutter closed. “Jo..nas Anderssson... nummmber nnineteen. Sssix f-foot four… two-hundred a-and thirty ssseven p-pounds. Wide Receiver f-for Rayne…Mmmoore Y-yellow Ja..ckets.”

He grins and my heart rewires. “That’s me. Except now it’s more like, two hundred and fifty-six pounds. Damon cooks like he’s paying rent.”

Maverick snorts. “You made her remember your stats?”

“Nope.” Jonas answers, popping the p. “It was on a roster poster for the Athletic Holiday Banquet. I was nominated as MVP. Asked her to be my date.” He kisses my palm again, glowing, not removing himself from where he sits, kneeling at my feet. Then he waggles his brows. “Think you’ll be up for it? We can fuck in the custodian’s closet if it’s too boring. And you know we’ll leave quick. I hate those guys. My mom will be there.” He reassures me.

I love Elena.

“Christ. Alright, I’m making breakfast.” Damon rolls his eyes and laughs then kisses my cheek. “Coffee?” He offers but the smile on his lips doesn’t reach his eyes again. He’s worried for me. It’s the same look he used to wear all the time when I first got to Lorne Wood, or when I had my outbursts, wondering what he could do to break through the poor broken little dolly's fucked up brain.

I nod at his question. Maybe I’ll feel better after coffee…

Because I wouldn’t be making this up, right?

I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t create two other characters and a whole house and have explosive orgasms in my head…

Would I?

Chapter Eleven

Damon.

I’m so lost in thought, peering outside of the window, watching the snow fall, I don’t smell the bacon burning until Maverick shoves and then pushes me out of the way, grabbing the handle and throwing it into the sink. I finally think to look at my surroundings. The air is smokey and tinged with the smell of the burnt strips of turkey bacon.

I blink at him as he grabs a dish towel and fans the air, turning on the ventilator above the stove.

“Christ, Damon, we’ve already been through one house fire. Let’s try not to burn this one down.”

I blink again, watching the disaster.

“You want to talk this out?” He asks.

“You want to tell me why you left Paris without letting us know?” I retort.

“You first.”

I sigh. “She thinks we’re figments of her imagination.” Like an asshole, I left her upstairs with Jonas, seeing as how he tends to lighten the mood. “Christ, I feel like I’m running in circles. She gets better, then she self-harms. These episodes are worrying me. I have to find a way to help her before she regresses.”

“Wouldn’t you?” He asks sincerely, going to the coffee bar, (Amourette’s idea) grabbing a mug from the top shelf, placing it under the Keurig’s drip, and pressing the start button. He moves about the place as though he’s lived here the entire time and I definitely don’t mind that he’s here. This is good for him. For her.

However, when the kitchen begins to smell like burnt bacon and coffee I almost gag. “Think this is all a dream, I mean. I saw the medication she takes last night on the bathroom counter when I went in to brush my teeth. If she woke up in your ward while she was doped up and now she wakes up and sees you, I’m sure it’s a hell of a mindfuck. Not to mention you said there was a small contusion in her brain.”

I open the window I was just staring out of to rid the smell, letting in the bitter cold and I shiver. “I’m slowly weaning her off her medication.”

He turns to face me, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest, and leans against the counter. “All of them?”

“She’ll always have to take some form of anti-anxiety medication. She’s gone from taking them daily to only when she feels an attack coming on.”

“How are her episodes?”

I sigh again, closing the window because it’s too damn cold. “Infrequent. But when they do come, they’re…”

“Violent?”

I shake my head. “Maverick… she’s only violent to herself.”

He nods solemnly. “The time she wasn’t with Jonas. When they broke up for a month… she didn’t eat, did she? That’s what you meant when you said she self-harms.”

I let out another sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We just have to find a way to make sure she doesn’t… have an episode while she’s… fulfilling her… agenda.”

He doesn’t say anything, just reaches to grab his steaming mug of coffee and blows on it, takes a sip, looking at me over the rim. “I think I read a sleep study while I was doing part of my psychology courses that when we dream, we think we recognize faces, but they’re usually distorted. Words, letters, numbers… they’re squiggly, right? They don’t exactly spell or say anything, but your mind thinks it does. It’s why strangers in your dreams are often faceless."

“Shadow saw… Shadow was there… Raven bled for Shadow.”

I keep that portion to myself as I break out in goosebumps at the memory of the tired rasp of her voice. But I nod at the former FBI agent standing in my kitchen. The article he talks about was released almost fifteen years ago.  “Faceless people and words without meaning.”

“So then we get her a bracelet or something with our names on it and she can look down when she’s unsure. If the words make sense, she knows she’s awake. She knows we aren’t a hallucination.”

“It’s a good idea. But if she drops it or forgets it or simply doesn’t feel like wearing it because it’s a trying day,” I shrug. “We need something more permanent. Something she can see and touch.”

I watch as he tugs on the cuff of the Henley he’s wearing that hugs his body a little too well and remind myself to hit the gym downstairs with Jonas later. I know he’s uncomfortable. Not about being in my house. Maverick seems to be right at home here. No, he seems to be looking for the right words to say. There’s a bit more awkward silence and then, “I left Paris because I… I just kept thinking, ‘fuck. She really lives like this, you know? She left her shitty marriage, her shitty, backwater town, her shitty son so she could wake up in Paris or London or her fucking sky rise overlooking some city every day while dad could barely keep a roof over our heads.’

“It had nothing to do with Raven and everything to do with me, Damon.”

It’s the most he’s spoken about his mother and as soon as I open my mouth to tell him he’s wrong, there’s no possible way he could have been a shitty child, there’s a clatter upstairs, and then, “Baby!” Before there’s another thunk and then Jonas laughs. “I’m gonna win! Hey, wait!”

Maverick and I both stare as Jonas races downstairs and Raven slides down the banister with a gorgeous smile on her face. They’re both suited in snow suits like they’re going to go skiing. She jumps off the banister and does a summersault on the ground before Jonas gets to the landing. “You cheated!”

Raven shakes her head furiously. You said the first one down wins!

“In a race!”

You’re a Wide Receiver!

“And you’re a sneaky little fox.” He replies with a roll of his eyes, helping her up.

She turns to face us and then points at Jonas. Tell Jonas I win!

“That’s not fair! He’d be on your side because you blow him.”

She feigns shock, throwing her hand over her heart as though she can’t believe him. Maverick hides his smile behind his mug.

Jonas said whoever gets to the bottom first, wins. He didn’t specify how.

“Seems she wins on technicality.” Harrington huffs and Raven is smug. I love this side of her. Playful and light. Little by little she blossoms daily. I just hope it stays this way.

“You’re all against me. I hate it here.” Jonas replies dramatically.

If you hurry up and help me build a snow family I’ll blow you in the shed. She’s wiggling her brows with a mischievous look on her face.

“Oh, fuck yeah. I love it here. Let’s go!” He grabs her hand, brushing past us to get to the door where their boots and gloves are. They open the door and before they close it Jonas says, “Damon, nix the coffee, make some of your chocolate!” And the door slams shut behind them.

“You live like this?” Maverick chuckles.

“Never a dull moment,” I reply dryly as we watch both Jonas and Raven run around the yard, throwing snowballs at the other outside from different sections of the kitchen.

A phone rings from upstairs. Maverick sets down his cup and takes the stairs two at a time to retrieve it but seems to answer the call instead. I can hear his muffled voice from where I am as I watch the young lovers rolling a snowball to massive proportions, laughing together. My heart feels like it’s exploding at so much tenderness and all I can hope is that Raven is replacing every terrible memory she ever had with new and happy ones. We aren’t in a place right now where I can guarantee her happiness, there are still so many demons she has to fight but regardless, I want her to be so incredibly happy Lorne Wood is nothing but a faint memory.

A bad dream.

“That was Jonas’ phone. Seems there’s a blizzard set to come through and the animal shelter Kronos was transferred to in Boston wants to know if you can pick him up before tonight?”

I don’t draw my eyes away from the love birds. “Tell them yes.”

I see Maverick nod from my periphery. “Hey. Yeah. They’ll be there in a few hours. Yeah. Okay great. I’ll let him know. Sure. Sure. Sounds good.” He hangs up and places the phone on the counter. “Who’s Kronos?”

“A surprise for Little Bird. Jonas… adopted a former veteran’s service Doberman for our girl in New Jersey but had him transferred closer. He’s been getting called more and more often to do… things for the Syndicate. He comes back at odd hours and she’s alone a lot if I have late sessions. This place is secure but if we can have something else that protects her as well as helps soothes her, we’re willing to do whatever it takes, Maverick.” I say, hoping he understands the double meaning there.

“She can… I mean, I can… I need my TA back.” He blurts.

This time I do look at him, deadpanning to meet his nervous gaze. I’m beginning to believe he’s the one who needs speech therapy since he never says what he truly wants to say. The tops of his cheeks flare with a tinge of pink. I roll my lower lip in, biting it, and then nod. “Actually, Kronos is supposed to be a surprise for Raven. He and I need to pick him up.”

“Yeah, I think I know the perfect way for Raven to be able to differentiate between real and dream or hallucination. I can take her to distract her. I’ll drop her off afterward.”

“Or you can just stay, Maverick.”

He visibly tenses before taking a sip and then relaxes. “Or I can stay.”

                  _______

“Hey, Lisa!” Jonas greets.

“Jonas, hey.” Lisa is a petite thing with too many nasal piercings and pink hair. “Thanks for coming all the way out here. As you can see, the transfer went smoothly but unfortunately, our generator has been faulty, and the property manager hasn’t exactly been around unless it’s to grab their check. The last thing we want is for your new best friend to freeze if the power goes out.”

Jonas grimaces when he hears that. Lisa kindly walks us to the back where the cages and kennels are mostly empty.

Kronos is a beautiful all-black Doberman whose head reaches my waist when he’s sitting. He has not a spot or speck of color anywhere except one chilling blue eye, the other a soft golden brown with a splash of blue in the corner. He looks scary as fuck, but as soon as the pup spots Jonas, his tail wags so hard his entire body shakes. It’s when he stands that I see he’s not alone.

Lisa turns around, clasping her little hands together, and gives a small shrug. “So this little guy came to us last week while you were gone… and… well… it seems they’ve become best friends.”

It’s a cat. It’s a tiny, itty bitty black fur ball with big green eyes and white paws.

The hope in Lisa’s eyes makes me crinkle my nose. “His name is Luci, short for Lucifer. We put him in his cage, but he manages to slip through the bars and goes to Kronos every night.”

“We’ll take him,” Jonas says easily, bending to pick up the fur ball. “Hey, little guy.”

“Jonas-“ I warn.

“Damon they’re the only ones left. Plus the house is so big.” He argues with a whine.

Fucking hell. He’s learned how to pout like my Amourette, and I groan, waving a hand in resignation. These two will be the death of me.

We let Lisa lead us back to the front and Jonas signs the paperwork, Lisa informing us the cat – Lucifer – had been de-wormed, vaccinated, neutered, and is flea-free. She also gives us enough food to last the storm, toys, and kitty litter. He writes a check out to the animal rescue for forty thousand dollars and leaves with an “I hope you have a really great Christmas if that’s what you celebrate.”

“Happy Hanukah,” she replies with tears in her eyes, still staring at the check in disbelief. I pull out my own checkbook and write out a check to her, specifically, as a tip. When she says she can’t take it, that Jonas' donation was enough, I merely tell her it’s a gift for taking care of Kronos for us while we were away and if she doesn’t cash it, I’ll feel terrible. When she tries to decline it again, I make sure she feels extremely guilty for not wanting to take my money.

And we leave, Kronos staying beside me on a leash as Jonas carries Luci’s kennel in his hands, covering it with a blanket. Unfazed, Kronos jumps into the back of my car, laying down on the leather seats.

“I think we should decorate the house before she gets home from whatever it is that Maverick has her doing.”

I shrug, looking through the windshield, watching the sky above us darken as I drive. “Check the app,” I reply as a light turns red and the first snowflakes begin to fall.

Jonas laughs and says “Oh, duh,” his ability to laugh at his mindless tendencies makes me smile inside. He’s so carefree and easygoing, yet when it comes to defending Raven he’s always so serious, fierce in protecting her. “They’re still home.”

“I’m sure they’re making up for lost time.”

He scoffs at that, and I understand his reluctance with Maverick. After all, Jonas was partially right when he accused him of throwing us away like trash. Mostly Raven. I’m sure his annoyance was more so towards Raven’s blatant acceptance, but we have no idea what transpired in that VIP room. All we know is he could’ve taken her to his home, but he chose to bring her to us and then stayed.

Where he belongs – with us.

The reminder of how easily he fit in with us as he traipsed around my kitchen already knowing where everything was this morning as if no time had passed was a breath of fresh air. While still a bit awkward, the cloud that consistently shrouds him when it came to us seems to have disappeared. He hasn’t apologized to us, and he won’t be apologizing to us. Men like Maverick speak better with their actions than their words and on some level, I’ve aspired to do the same. To simply do and be better when it comes to her.

The last thing I want to do is lose her due to my own stupidity. I consistently have to remind myself of the bigger picture. That soon, all of this will be behind us, and I can’t help but hope Simon Hoover has the last remaining answers she’s looking for.

“I texted him to let him know we’ll be home in an hour or so, but to keep her away for a bit longer so we can put up all the holiday décor. Remind me why you don’t have a maid to help us, again? I’m pretty sure all of this would go a lot smoother if you did. Oh! I know!” He swipes at his phone quickly and it chimes with an incoming message not even a minute later. “Mom’s sending Lottie to our place, but she has to leave before the storm hits. She said her favorite weatherman is anticipating eighteen inches of snow.”

“Alright.”

He taps the kennel with his fingers, drumming them to a beat only he hears, then begins to tap his toes on the floorboard.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

“Nope…” He pops the P and looks out the window as we drive away from the storm and closer to Kingson. “Just get antsy being away from her too long.”

Isn’t that the fucking truth. I clear my throat, “When Raven gained bi-weekend visits home, I hated it. I used to count down the hours until she was in my ward again. I had a camera installed in her bedroom at Monroe mansion the day I went to inspect it and make sure it was safe before I could approve her visiting home again – asked Sofia for privacy while I inspected every square inch of the room. I mean, I saw her every day for three and a half years.

“For six months leading up to that fourth year, every other weekend I would pace or try to keep myself busy, but I would find myself sitting there, watching her sleep, play cello, draw, read… but it’s nothing like having her with me.” I admit, letting him know I understand his separation anxiety.

“You really had it bad, huh?”

I chuckle darkly. “You have no idea. The first weekend without her I watched her via camera for almost the entirety of her 72-hour visit. I barely slept or ate. I just had to make sure she was okay. At Lorne Wood it was easy for me to lie to myself and say I was just watching how she interacted with the general population but again, it was a lie.”

He stays quiet. "I had this girlfriend a few years ago. My first serious girlfriend. I thought I loved her. She did really bad things to me, and I forgave her a lot because I thought that was what love was, you know? Just kept thinking if I was a better boyfriend, or just a better man, she would get better at loving me, too.”

“But it didn’t get better?”

He shakes his head. “It got worse.” He swallows with a grimace. “Raven… I think it’s so easy to love her because she’s so multifaceted. Every day is different and even when we argue it’s so easy to find common ground. I got so lucky. I got to fall in love with my best friend. Even when she’s having a bad day, I feel lucky that I get to make it better for her… Maverick is an asshole, but so are we. It seems all of our common ground is her. I just hope he doesn’t fuck up again. Or me. Or You. We can’t afford any more mistakes and Riordan and that fucking detective aren’t making this easier.”

“Riordan?”

“He was at Inferno last night with his uncle. I thought you saw him?”

This is news to me. I shake my head. “What’s he doing back?”

“He was only on house arrest for thirty days.”

Ah, the privilege of being wealthy. I can’t exactly talk but then again, after Maddie was murdered, I never truly did anything that warranted my parents to worry about me until I was in college. Even then, everything I did that was considered “rebellious” was done within reason. I was sensible with my stupidity.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by Jonas’ phone ringing. He stars at the screen, the name Axehole popping up.

“You should answer.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Could be important.”

He sighs, answers but puts it on speakerphone. “Yeah?”

“Hey Jonas. My mom just wants to know if… you’ll be joining us for the Monroe holiday party since you’re… dating Raven.”

“No.” He answers sternly. His ability to keep his boundaries is astounding and it makes me proud.

“Jonas-“

“We’re spending it out of state. We’ll be gone till campus opens back up.”

“I… you can’t keep her from us.”

“Well, seeing as she’s not a dog or a child and she doesn’t want to be around Sofia, and I don’t want to be around Sofia or John or you, plus the Prescott’s will most likely be there since they were last year and all the years before we were allowed to attend, there’s no reason for us to attend.”

“What’s going on with the Prescott’s?”

“Riordan is off house arrest, and I don’t want him anywhere near Raven.”

“I didn’t know that. I’ll try to get him off the guest list.”

“If you do, then we can talk.” He says, hanging up without a second thought. His knee bounces and soon he's pulling the tracker app back up. “Looks like they’re finally leaving.”

The rest of the car ride back is quiet, with Jonas baby talking to both Kronos and Lucifer. When we get home, Mav's Navigator is gone but a silver car is waiting by the gate.

“That’s Charlotte. She helped raise me. She’ll tell you to call her Lottie if she likes you.”

“Alright,” I say, opening the door to let Kronos out of the backseat. He stretches, yawns and shakes his body dramatically as though the hour car ride was too long even though he slept for most of it. I roll my eyes.

“C’mon boy,” Jonas calls, and the horse-like dog trots to him. He greets Charlotte, a waif of a woman with a grey puffy jacket that reaches her ankles, thick, carrot-colored hair, green eyes and a Scottish lilt. He introduces us, then introduces her to both pets as we walk up the steps to the front porch.

“Dannae what yer thinkin’ takin’ on a dog as big as an ass, boy.”

“Ahh Lottie,” Jonas laughs. “He’s just a puppy. He’s only two. He’ll get bigger. Besides, I can always buy a bigger house.”

Lottie gasps. “Yer lying.”

Jonas grins. “Yeah, I am.”

Charlotte huffs at him as I open the door to the house. We take off our coats, hanging them then make it to the foyer where I switch on the lights. Jonas sets Lucifer down, letting him out of his cage as Kronos immediately begins to sniff out his new surroundings, settling to circle in front of the unlit fireplace and drops. Luci mimics him and finds a place to circle beside Kronos before he too, decides to drop on the ground and take yet another nap.

How odd.

Granted, I studied human behaviors and not animals but all in all, odd.

“Okay Lots, this is for my girl. We have… two hours to make everything perfect and three before the storm starts rolling through. Mom said you have to be gone before then or she’ll worry.”

“What? Don’t want me to meet the woman I’ve already heard so much about?”

“You’ll meet her soon enough, Lots. I’m gonna marry her. I ask her every day to marry me, and she laughs me off.”

“Hmm. I like her already.” Jonas growls at this but Charlotte scoffs and waves him off, but I can see she holds him dear to her. “As fer yer mother, it’s just a bit of snow. It’ll be fine. ‘Sides, yer ma also sent a few decorations.” I decide I love the way she rolls her R’s. “Go, boy. They’re in the boot of the car, tucked in. Priceless, she said, so be careful. Don’t want them to go out of my wages.”

“Yes ma’am.” He kisses her cheek. In a low voice he murmurs, "If they came out of your wages, you know I’d replace them, Lottie.” Before he leaves us alone.

She looks at him fondly but when we’re alone she stares me down, green eyes sparkling in the lighting. I have to admit, I'm a little afraid of the five-foot-nothing older woman. “Yer taking care of my boy?”

“Yes, Miss Charlotte.”

She inclines her chin in a curt nod once, turning to look at the space she’s been provided to decorate. “Agh, four weeks till the holiday and naught one piece in sight.”

“We’ve been busy,” I defend as Jonas comes back in, setting down about six bags and a large container full of ornaments.

“Looks like all those muscles are finally good for something,” Lottie grumbles toward the Wide Receiver and I can’t help but laugh.

Jonas raises his arms and flexes in response.

She hmmphs with an eye roll, totally unimpressed, then claps her hands twice only to open her arms at the undecorated space. “Alright boys, let’s get to work.”

I decide I like Lottie. Er, Charlotte.

Chapter Twelve

Raven.

“Jonas and Damon have already left.” Maverick says, taking his time to wash every inch of my body in the oversized bear-claw bathtub in my bathroom, he sits shirtless outside of the tub, muscles in his arms and shoulders tensing while paying special attention to my very sore bits. This is a side of him I’ve never really gotten to see. Yes, he’s cared for me after some rough sex before but nothing like this. I love him like this. “So, you’ll be with me today.”

I blink at him and quirk a brow in question.

“There’s a blizzard coming and I’ve made us reservations somewhere. It’s a little outside of Kingston city limits but I’m pretty confident we’ll be back before the storm hits. I need you to dress properly but comfortably.”

“Oh…kay.” I reply and it earns me a kiss to the temple.

“Such a beautiful girl.” He whispers against my skin then rises to his feet, going to the spare linen closet, coming back with a towel, and holds out his hand to help me up. “Come on, let’s get you dry and ready.”

After he dries me, I let him pamper me as he orders me to lie face down on my bed. Staying completely still, I’m gnawing my bottom lip as he rubs my expensive lotion all over me from my shoulders down to the soles of my feet. I’m so relaxed I almost fall asleep, but he spanks me and I’m awake and needy again. I’m learning it doesn’t take much to get me ready and willing to please my men.

Just a submissive, un-breedable slutbag. It should probably bother me, but when these men look like this and start touching you, it’s so hard to say no. I don’t want to say no. I love the way they’re crazy for me. It makes my crazy justified.

“Turn over, angel.”

I do, and the process begins all over again except this time, when he gets to my thighs, he spreads my legs, pushing my knees to my chest, and orders me to hold myself open for him. He carefully apply lotion to my calves and legs down to my toes as he stares at my fevered sex – probably dripping again from simply feeling him touch me with so much care. He leans down, hovering over my exposed clit, and inhales deeply, holding eye contact with me, green eyes flashing dangerously.

“Beautiful. So pink and abused.” He kisses my clit tenderly and I buck unwillingly. “Shh, Siren. What are your rules?”

“T..ake what you gi..ve m-m-me.”

He smirks in approval; his lips lightly brush against my sensitive skin as he speaks. “That’s right, Siren. You know your limits and you’ll tell me if it’s too much. Now, color?”

“Green.”

“Good. Now watch me taste you. Keep your eyes on me.” He stays outside of me, licking and kissing and teasing perfectly, sucking my lower lips into his mouth before diving to my clit, curling his tongue only to flatten it from my entrance and lick up slowly, tasting every centimeter of me, taking his time to drive me to the brink of insanity.

“You.” I moan. It’s only one word but he understands me. Has always understood me.

He stands, shoves down and steps out of his sweatpants and boxers, climbing over me but then turns around. I’m about to ask what he’s doing but then his thick, heavy length is over my face, and I automatically open my mouth to accept him.

“Oh fuck.” He grits out when I swirl my tongue to coat the fat, bulbous crown in saliva, wetting my lips in the process. “That’s right. You know just how to please me,” he bends forward and covers my pussy entirely with his wicked mouth, spreading my ass further until I feel his fingers rimming my hole that’s already wet and coated with my arousal and his spit.

I relax and a finger slips inside easily, making me moan around him.

“So fucking good. You taste like sin – like delicious liquid hellfire, Siren.” He growls and I buck, fucking back onto his finger, needing it deeper. God, I’m sick and he knows it. And he loves it. He was right. I’m nothing but a filthy, dirty cumslut but I’m his cumslut.

He gently pumps his hips in time with the finger in my ass, slipping another in, his tongue on my clit and I have to take more of him inside of me. I need more of him. I suck harder around him, reaching to cup his balls, weighing them in my hands, and he praises me.

“Put your other hand at the base so I don’t hurt you. You’re supposed to be resting, Siren. I’m supposed to be taking care of you. But you don’t want that, do you? You need to get this gorgeous ass finger fucked while you try to breathe with my cock in your throat, don’t you? Filthy fucking girl.”

I would say he is taking care of me, but I have a throat full of dick, exactly how I’ve needed to be. So I nod instead. It’s kind of nice, having someone fuck my face without worrying about my throat or my vocal cords. I’ve needed this.

I deserve this.

I’ve been a good girl, haven’t I? Needing to be selfish, I suck him like his cum is my reward, flicking and wiggling my tongue, closing my eyes, feeling his weight on me even though he’s hovering and I hate that.

He said I know my limits and I do.

I remove my hand, reaching to his strong glutes and encourage him to fuck my face more, swallowing when I want to gag and he groans louder, the vibrations of each grunt taking me higher. To give me more while I rock my hips to meet the lashes of his tongue. I’m so fucking close. I need my professor to come for me, to make a mess of me. I want to break for him again. Need to break and shatter. I wrap my legs around the upper part of his back, shoving him closer, and I’m rewarded with a third finger.

There’s no room for words, just the two of us grunting and moaning loudly, pleasing the other to high ecstasy. Every lick, every kiss, every suck is done with purpose, because when he groans out, “Raven, I’m going to- oh, fuck! Take it, take my cum… ugh, good fucking girl. All of it, Siren. Don’t waste a drop.”

I don’t. My legs tighten around him, drinking every drop he produces until his thick, muscular thighs are shaking above me and he jerks with each hot, salty load and I scream around him as waves of hot, searing pleasure coils in my belly and my womb, and I tighten around his fingers, not letting them escape until I’ve given all I can give.

He rolls off me, immediately coming up to check my face and when he sees I’m alright, with a kiss he lays against the pillows and tugs me to his chest, running his fingers through my damp hair, breathing heavily. “You are… exquisite, little succubus.” He praises between breaths.

I smirk, settling deeper into him, his fingers trailing lightly from my ribs to my hip and back up, goosebumps rising in their wake.

“Okay. We need to go. I don’t want to be late to this appointment.”

After I put on a high-waisted thong and bra, he clicks his tongue in approval then dresses me in a loose-fitting long sleeve shirt, sweats and my thick, comfy socks. Downstairs, he kneels to shove my Ugg boots on my feet, then puts my puffer on me, my scarf, my beanie, and finally my mittens. Which means I’ll have to use my words because they cover my fingers.

Tricky professor.

He then dresses himself in similar winter gear, except his gloves have fingers. I’m so excited at the thought that he and I are going out – together. As a couple. For the very first time. I’ve been on dates with both Jonas and Damon, together and one-on-one, to various parts of Massachusetts. Unfortunately, due to our relationship, me being Damon’s former patient and him being on Rayne-Moore’s faculty staff, we can’t exactly walk around the surrounding parts of RMU without possibly being caught.

Jonas, on the other hand, loves to have me everywhere he goes. Usually if I can’t go, he just won’t go, or he’ll wait for me to be available. It never matters how small the errand is.

We leave after I input the alarm code, and he opens the passenger door to the Navigator open for me, helping me up and in. He rounds the front of the vehicle and climbs in. Once the Navi is on, we sit in silence for a moment before he exhales and we’re driving off, leaving our safe haven behind.

We drive past Kingston, away from Salem, towards Peabody.

I can tell he’s nervous, so I use my teeth to pull off a mitten and take his hand in mine, offering a smile. His kisses the top of my hand and then threads his fingers through mine. “I’m not… the kind to go out with women,” he starts. “But you and I are different. I know you, like myself, would be more than happy at home, reading or playing your cello or watching a movie. While I love reading, and watching movies with you, and listening to you play, I do want some things to be… just for us. I’m not promising a date night every weekend. I also may not be able to afford every luxurious thing life has to offer, but I do promise to show you that I want us. I know there will be ugly days ahead of us, but I want us to come out of it together.”

Holy hell. I squeeze his hand. I don’t know what a professor at an elite university’s salary is and I don’t really care. I would love the man beside me if all he had to offer me was his heart. We started out in a frenzy and when he’s with me, every facet of the man beside me turns me into a feral kitten. It will never be over between us. I knew this then and I know it now.

“I… love you.”

His eyes stay on the road, but he still smiles. “I know. I love you, too. I’m not like Jonas and Damon where I can fling those words around, Raven. I know they mean it. But words and promises have never meant much to me. Growing up…” he grimaces, “I told you my mother left when I was young. She left me behind with my father when I was six years old. My father ran a mechanic shop in a tiny town in Texas called Adelaide. As you can probably tell, we barely got by by the skin of our teeth. I grew up on the right side of the tracks but just barely. The house we lived in was my grandmother’s, which he inherited upon her death, otherwise, I’m sure we would have been two streets over those tracks and in one of the rotting mobile homes of the trailer park. But that didn’t mean I didn’t see what no child should see.

“My father always promised this and that. The very little contact I had with my mother, she did too. But those promises were always broken and the ‘I love you’s’ were scarce, if any. They were mostly written on a postcard here and there until the postcards simply stopped coming.”

My heart breaks at imagining Maverick as a child waiting outside for his mother to show up and never did. Deadbeat moms exist as well. I should know. But then again, could I categorize Sofia as a deadbeat? There was a roof over my head, food in my belly, lessons in Latin and French, she made every cello recital… but where was she, really, when I needed her? I had so many things I took for granted, but at the end of the day, didn’t I run to Galvina, our chef when I was hurt or sick? Wasn’t it Maximo our House Manager when my father died or I went to to play with when Axel couldn’t because he was sick?

Wasn’t it Rosie our housemaid that taught me everything I needed to know about being a woman when I woke up bleeding between my thighs the first time, when I was thirteen because Sofia couldn’t bother to answer my phone call while she was in France?

Wasn’t it her again, that held me when I cried the first time my mother pointed out the small pooch in my belly or the way my thighs jiggled disgustingly when I was twelve and had to have my meals supervised?

My pain is different from Maverick’s, but it was pain all the same. And I knew pain well. Physical, emotional, mental… maybe that’s why I trusted him so much sexually because he knew not to give me more than I could handle. I knew my limits, but it seemed he knew mine more than I did.

Because he sees my strength.

“I was sixteen when I graduated high school with a seventy-five percent scholarship to UMass. I applied there because I wanted to get as far away from my father as I could. I wanted to go away and never return. I had even applied to the University of Alaska, if you can believe that. Anyway, thanks to working at my dad’s shop, I knew my way around cars. So the kids at UMass would hire me to not only work on their cars if they broke down, but fix them up, too. I worked my way through college, earning a degree in psychology. But I was fascinated by” he swallows with a wince before he says the next word, “criminals. So I applied to work for the FBI. I was essentially a grunt and a rookie in every sense of the word. But I had always been a quiet kid, entertained with puzzles and books too smart for the average adult. I was always the odd one out, never picked first because I was a small thing. Always smarter than others because I saw things others didn’t see. I worked hard, Raven, to be who I was. Respected.

“I was twenty-two when I ran into my mother in New York City while I was on assignment in some small, bougie cafe. I recognized her from the photos my father had kept of her. He loved her, Raven, truly loved her. Never got over her. Never dated once she left. He simply deteriorated. Let himself go even though he still had a child to provide for.

“That’s the Harrington curse, Mav,” he says in a mocking voice with a country accent, gripping the steering tightly. “We’ll love a woman with our entire soul, give it to her and she’ll take it with her when she finally leaves, because they know a Harrington just ain’t good enough for them to love back.” He scoffs with a bitter laugh and all I can do is clutch his hand tighter, knowing this is the pivotal moment where I will always show him I love him. Remind him I love him until he knows he deserves my love. That yes, I’ll take his soul, but I’ll give him mine in return. In fact, I gave mine first. Dark and twisted as it may be.

“My mother didn’t recognize me whatsoever… but she would have, if she had ever kept any of her promises.” He breathes. There’s so much turmoil on his face but then his features relax. “Which is why I’m going to show you my devotion, Angel, because you have my soul and my heart. But I’m better at this than I am at… words.” He laughs and I know it’s at the irony of who he’s saying this to – me. The girl that stutters.  

I giggle at that, too, and when we reach a stop sign, he finally looks over at me, smile still bracing his face. God, he’s fucking handsome. The SUV lurches forward, as we drive at a snail’s pace through a somewhat busy small town.

“Just know I do love you. I’m a mean fucking devil with twisted desires Raven; I am not a good nor a kind man, but I’m your devil. Nobody has ever captivated me nor held my attention nor has sucked my dick like it holds the elixir of youth like you do. I want you for as long as I live, until I croak. And even trapped in the ether, will I love you… if you’ll have me.”

I inhale and form the words on my tongue. “Sso mmuch f-for not b-being good a-at w…words.”

He laughs lowly and it makes my pussy tingle because his smile is radiant and rakish, and it does so many things to me. “And for the record, what you said to me a few nights ago, I never stopped loving you. If I’m completely honest, you fucking terrify me, Siren. Loving you terrifies me – but it’s the best fucking adrenaline rush I’ve ever had.” He parks the SUV, (finally) and I wait as he gets down and opens my door. “Ready?”

        _______

I could scream!

We’re at a tattoo parlor!

I wiggle up and down excitedly in a happy dance as he opens the door and the bell jingles above us. Heavy metal covers of Christmas carols play softly above us as we walk through the door, his hand on the small of my back, pushing me forward.

It’s a classic tattoo parlor, drawings of traditional and non-traditional tattoos are hung along the walls, bead curtains are hung above another doorway and a petite, blonde woman with red tips and what looks like ten piercings on her face pops through. She looks cool until she squeals, “Mavie!” then bites her lip, clasping her hands together to push out her generous chest as she jumps a little, making them jiggle.

Mavie? What the fuck? Jealously flares through me and I go rigid. I let my gaze bounce between the barely covered woman in her late twenties and my professor.

“Hey Cherry.” He says without glancing her way, keeping his eyes on mine and honestly, that helps her not get stabbed. With a smirk, because I’m not doing anything to hide my immediate dislike of Cherry, he shrugs out of his coat and starts helping me out of my winter gear by the front door. “This is my girlfriend, Raven.”

Her smile falters and I beam at her. Glowing. I am radiant. I am a full harvest moon on a cloudless night.

That’s right, bitch. I am Maverick Harrington’s motherfucking girlfriend.

“Oh, hi.”

I give a small wave as Maverick tugs me to him by my scarf. His brown hair is tousled, green eyes glittering with a knowing happiness. He kisses me but not before whispering, “You look beautiful when you’re jealous, and no, I’ve never fucked her.”

I let my rage simmer down but not before I see her try to hide a face of casual annoyance.

Same, bitch.

“Damon says he thinks you think we’re hallucinations sometimes.” I grimace, hoping Cherry didn’t hear him even though he’s whispering to me. “When I was in my third year at Quantico, I saw a lot of shit. I was shot at for the first time. I started getting protection runes tattooed on me and they made me feel better. But sometimes, I also had issues differentiating from real life and my dreams. Maybe that’s why I was so ballsy. But the more I got, the more they helped. Because I could look down and know I was awake.”

He goes on to tell me about a sleep study, ending it with, “So what do you say?”

“Listen, it’s starting to snow, and Tiny is getting antsy.” Cherry says, all the fake gone from her tone.

We both look over at her, noticing the not so tiny, very large, mountain of a man with tattoos covering every inch of skin that we can see. Including an upside down cross on his cheek. He has to be over six-foot-seven-inches because he has to duck a bit to not hit his shaved head in the doorway. His blonde brows shoot up as if asking me if I’m ready and I nod. Tiny turns away, and he has more tattoos on the back of his head.

Children could use this man as a jungle gym.

We follow Tiny through the beaded curtain, and into the room with the usual black tattooing chair. “Do you know what you want?”

I sign, asking for a pencil and piece of paper. Maverick interprets for me, and Tiny delivers. I sit for a little, looking at the blank sheet and let it come to me. I tell Maverick to turn around, swirling my finger in the air, and he heaves out a long sigh, but he does so, and I get to work. I show it to Tiny, brows furrowing. “Alright. Any particular color or just black?”

I nod at black. But then scribble down ‘Can you make them different shades of purple?’

He bobs his head and gets to work. He sits on my side and Maverick asks if he can turn around now and I nod though he can’t see me.

“She says yes.”

Maverick turns and grins and I can’t get enough of this side of him. He grabs the extra rolling chair as Tiny asks where I want it. I point to the inside of my wrist, where my thumb is and I gesture towards him the size I want.

Tiny isn’t much of a talker and soon, I’m being shaved, cleansed and dried, the needle going into my skin as Maverick holds my other hand. I don’t really need him to, this is nothing compared to when my knee was being done, but I like the way his calloused hand feels in mine. It’s so big. Like his dick.

I look at my thigh, the spider lilies and lotus flowers. That was impulsive, I made Axel stop at a tattoo shop on my twenty-fourth birthday as soon as we left Lorne Wood in the rearview mirror, finally being able to do something about my scars. But I love my spider lily and Lotus tattoo. I love the vines that go from my ankle to my outer thigh. 

Tiny finishes within an hour and once it’s cleaned I show Maverick, beaming at him and once he sits back after seeing it, he looks at me with so much pride in his eyes, I almost think I see them well up.    

It’s a thirty-second music note. It’s a lone note, with three flags but instead of the flags, I scribbled their names.

                Jonas.

Damon.

Maverick.

It’s legible enough I’ll be able to tell the difference between if they’re squiggly or not. Whether this is all real or not.

“It’s beautiful, Siren. I love it.” Mav says, kissing my temple.

While Tiny wraps me, he looks over at my boyfriend (AH!) “So are you getting one, too?”

Maverick says yes and pulls off his shirt, “I already sent you what I want.” He says, taking my hand when Tiny leans over his chest, prepping him the way he prepped me.

His takes longer.

Except the anus doesn’t let me see it when it’s done.

“You’ll see it later, Siren, don’t worry.” He grins, and soon we’re paying, dressed, and back on the road heading to Kingston.

“Are you hungry? Never mind, you’re always hungry.”

I would be offended if it wasn’t true.

“What would you like?”

“Burger.” I reply immediately.

“Alright, we’ll pick some up for the guys, too.”

We stop at a diner, the only thing open, and order double bacon cheeseburgers and fries to-go. I dip into the bag every now and then to steal a fry, feeding my love fries, his lips lingering a little too long on my fingers and fuck if it doesn’t make me want him.

We make it home just as the snow is accumulating, at least three inches has gathered on the snow that was already on the ground. After he helps me down, he grabs the brown bag of burgers from my hand so I can put in the code to the alarm. It smells delicious, like snickerdoodle cookies and vanilla, a soft glow coming from past the foyer. I remove my coat and all the extra when I hear a bark and I tense.

“Shh!” I hear Jonas whisper.

My heart beats a little wildly, inching closer to the living room, I see lit up garland wrapping from the bottom of the banister and when I turn, tears spring to my eyes. “SURPRISE!” they all yell and I can’t catch my breath.

It all glitters! The enormous, twinkling Christmas tree has a shiny purple and silver bow with tresses tucked into it, all the way to the bottom branches, large and small ornaments hang from it as well as purple candy canes. The mantle of the fireplace has garland and purple ribbon and of course, more lights, candles, and picture frames that weren’t there before.

But the biggest surprise of all that makes the whooshing in my ears almost rattle my brain?

There, in the now ready-for-Christmas living room, are Damon, Jonas, a gorgeous giant Doberman with a just as large red bow tied to its spiked collar, and a small kitten by his feet with a tiny bow on its collar. I run, skidding to a stop and drop to my knees, wrapping my arms around the Doberman, touching him, feeling his silky coat and breathing in his scent, feeling little paws on my ribs and I look down to see the tiny thing reaching up for me. I pick it up and through my tears of joy, notice the name in the collar says Lucifer. The one on the pupper says Kronos.

“I guess she likes them.” Damon chuckles.

Like them? I’m fucking sobbing. I love my guys and my fur babies so much.

“Holy shit, he’s huge, Jonas!” I hear from Mav.

“I know. Isn’t he awesome?” he chuckles.

I look up at the loves of my life through blurry vision, bursting into tears all over again. “Th…ank you.” I say, rising to kiss them all.

“You did a great job keeping her distracted. A tattoo parlor? Really?”

I sink back down to acquaint myself with my babies. Kronos is just perfect, and Lucifer is so soft. I hug them repeatedly, promising to love them forever.

“You said permanent. Besides, you’re gonna love what she got.”

“Baby, what did you get?”

I raise my wrist to show him it’s still wrapped, breathing in Kronos’s doggy breath. He snuggles into me, letting me touch all over him, putting his paw on my hand when I stop petting so I can pet some more. He’s perfect. They both are.

They all are.

“He’s a service animal, baby.”

“I love him!” I cry out, a new wave of tears flood my face. And I wrap my arms around Kronos’ neck, clinging to him, surprised he lets me as I tremble.

“Luci was the last kitty left at the shelter because he hid behind Kronos and with the storm coming through, I couldn’t leave him behind. Damon said it was okay.”

I am so happy. I sign because I clearly can’t talk right now. I’m so overwhelmed with emotion all I can do is tug Kronos closer, Lucifer climbs into my lap.

Kronos, my big baby, sticks to my side as we eat, never asking for a scrap of food, and goes back to the living room when he sees I’m okay, taking a curious Lucifer with him by the neck like an annoyed big brother to let the adults speak.

“That’s not normal, is it?” Damon asks about the fur babies.

Jonas shrugs. “Does it matter? At least they’re not trying to kill each other.”

I concentrate on my food, eating rather quickly so I can get back to them. I get up from my seat and Damon holds me down.

“You aren’t done eating.”

I look longingly at the living room and back into his warm silver eyes.

I ate on the way here.

“She’s lying. She plucked a few fries, and I ate the majority of them.”

I stare daggers at Mavie, the tattletale, scolding him mentally.

“Adorable,” he smirks, sending a wink my way.

“They’ll still be there when you finish eating, Little Love. You didn’t eat breakfast, you ate an apple before Jonas, and I left. You need to eat. Please. Kronos and Luci are yours. They aren’t going anywhere.”

They’re really mine.

I want to cry all over again.

“Come here, baby. I’ll feed you.” Jonas says happily, holding out his hand. A demigod wants to feed me? I sit in his lap and eat the few fries he holds out and get up when I swallow. He tugs me back down.

I lean back into his chest in frustration with an aggravated sigh and let him feed me until I only have a few fries and a quarter of my burger left. I feed it to him and Jonas’ cheek dimples when he smiles down at me. I could get lost in those eyes. Green and brown with hints of a golden sun.

“Hey, Axel called today wants to know if you’re taking me to the Holiday party Sofia is hosting.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to go.

“That’s what I told him. Plus, my mom wants us to go to the family lodge in Vermont for Christmas. Go skiing…” He swallows his food down. “All of us, by the way. Dad will be in Singapore on business until the day after Christmas. I don’t want her alone.”

Damon’s brows furrow. “She knows?”

“She kind of does but my dad doesn’t.” He lifts a heavy shoulder and lets it fall. “I thought… your parents know about all of us and they’re older than my parents, why wouldn’t my parents be cool with it? Anyway she knows it’s not just me Raven loves, and that I’m okay with it because we all take care of her. You’re with her when I can’t be because of Syndicate matters.”

“And your mother said?”

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “She waved me off saying she grew up in the eighties. And that an orgy is the last of her concerns.” He holds back a gag, and I laugh.

Although Elena is a beautiful woman now in her late fifties. She aged gracefully and I can only imagine she was an absolute knockout in her day.

Don’t gag. Our children will grow up with three dads. I sign his way.

This makes Jonas look at me with full desire, growing hard beneath me. “Fuck, baby. You can’t say that. I’ll take you to Vegas and marry you just to put a baby in you right now. Marry me.”

I laugh. He’s so funny. I know he means it, but children can wait. I have more things to do and make sure we’re safe before I can even think about that. For now, Kronos and Luci will more than suffice.

________

The wind is howling outside; every gust of ferocious wind makes unsettling noises in the house. I slip out from Jonas’ strong hold and down to the ground in a crouch, petting Kronos who lazily yawns before laying his head back down on his paws. No matter how much I tried to get him to get up on the bed, he refused.

Luckily, Jonas has no qualms about cuddling the night away. Except Jonas is a live furnace. A beautiful, hot, handsome, sexy furnace. Even when he only sleeps in his boxer briefs which I make him do otherwise I wake up sweating.

I tiptoe out of my room, down the hallway, past the guest bedroom I had personally designed to fit Maverick’s style, (although he believes it’s a guest bedroom) and slip into Damon's bedroom, happy the doors here never creak. My deranged doctor sleeps on his back, one heavy, muscular arm draped over his face, the other loosely by his side. The sheets are down and over one leg, the other sticking out because he too, runs hot when he sleeps.

I stand at the edge of his bed for a minute watching him sleep.

I fell in obsession with this man four years ago. On my good days, when there wasn’t so much fog in my brain, I tried to make him proud of me even when my words wouldn’t work. Where they’d form on my tongue, but my tongue went lax, and my vocal cords shut down so my brain would go blank.

I fell for the way he’d look at me with interest, as though every single one of my catatonic blinks and stares were infatuating. Like I held the key to all the answers in the world. Every soft touch of his, his soothing voice, all of him. He showed me a never ending kindness even in my moments of severe self-hatred.

My anchor in the turbulent sea of my mind.

It must be difficult to love me.

That’s why I don’t take every moment we’ve had since we left Lorne Wood for granted. I cherish every day like it’s our last because we never know.

I climb into his bed, feeling his soft skin and the grooves of the muscles underneath as I slip my hand and tuck it under his ribs, laying my head on his chest as his hand comes up and lands on my hip. He blinks slowly, awakening from deep slumber and his brows bunch together in concern.

“This is a nice surprise. Are you okay?”

I smile, stretching up to kiss him. “Mmm…issed… you. Come… to bed?”

“I can do that.” He grins, gone are the furrowed brows and the worrisome look on his face. He spanks me lightly, getting up then taking my hand in his to lead me back, but surprises me when he stops by Mav's and knocks on his door.

It takes a minute or two but then the door opens, and a shirtless, delicious Mavie stands there, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah?”

“To… bed?” I ask, reaching to take his hand in mine.

I’m rewarded with a devilish smirk. “To bed.”

We settle into my bed after waking Jonas. He scoots down so Maverick can slip in beside Jojo, and I fall into a dreamless, restful sleep again with my head on his chest, Damon behind me, arm over my middle, listening to the howling wind with my anchor, my beacon of light, and my devil, as the storm outside rages on but I’ve never felt safer.

Chapter Thirteen

Jonas.

Being snowed in for three days goes like this.

Day One:

Damon wakes up Raven by fucking her senseless, praising her for taking dick like a champ till she’s as limp as a wet noodle, and then makes us breakfast.

We shower together where I make sure she’s extra clean and dirty her up again.

We play with Kronos while Luci stares. A lot.

Axel calls her but she doesn’t answer.

Axel leaves a voicemail.

Axel texts.

Axel texts me and I ignore it.

Axel calls me to see if she’s okay.

I say yes and then hang up.

We all go into the basement where Maverick shows Raven a few ways to knock someone's weapon out of their hands in case it’s ever needed by using a banana as “the weapon,” while Damon and I watch and I make dick jokes using said banana.

I tell Raven to marry me.

She sucks me off. I’m pretty sure that meant yes.

The power goes out, but the generator kicks on.

Day Two:

It’s more so the same as Day One but now, minus axel calling and because it’s Tuesday, Maverick starts hosting his lectures via Zoom calls in the study.

Damon's uses the library to host his sessions via Zoom.

Raven and I attend our classes via Zoom on the couch playing footsie.

I go down on her during her Music Theory class.

She goes down on me during my Sociology II lecture.

We study together, eat together and fuck, fuck, fuck throughout the day. She even lets me put it in her butt.

It’s official – I fucking love blizzards.

Day Three:

It snowed another two inches while we were sleeping.

The snowplows are finally making their way through Kingston, the salt spreaders right behind them.

Day Three is more or less the same as the last two days. Kronos gets a little stir crazy, and we find out Luci gets the zoomies.

When I go through the back door to let Kronos out, I head to the fence to brace myself from the wind, and notice a black Sedan parked away on the street but close enough to the house through one of the cracks of the tall wooden fence that’s hiding me. I let myself think it's Ivan, mom's old bodyguard, but there’s this gross, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know how to explain it other than it feels the same way before every Syndicate matter I’m forced to attend.

I don’t like it at all.

Later that day, Raven's still in class and I’m bored out of my fucking mind in the den waiting for her when I hear a floorboard creak. Both Harrington and Archer fill the doorway until they’re completely secluded with me. I decide now is the time to tell them while my baby is still upstairs being cute and studious.

I don’t beat around the bush. “I think we're being watched.”

Maverick, dressed in sweats and a button up since he’s only being seen from the chest up looks up from where he's standing in front of the full-length mirror (my request when we moved in just in case Raven lets me plow into her in here) (she does) to look at me through his reflection. “You're sure?”

“No, but every time I’ve taken Kronos out, I’ve seen a black, four-door Sedan. It’s been there. Sometimes it’s on. Sometimes it’s off. But it hasn’t moved an inch and there’s no snow on the windows. That’s weird, right?”

Damon flicks those silver flames of his to Mav's. I know I’m goofy and sometimes childish, but when it comes to my girl, I’m an over-protective asshole. Nothing skips by me. So this little intimate look they’re having, tells me a little too much. “What are you hiding from us?” I say us, because I know this means they’re hiding it from my baby girl, too.

Damon sighs, “Are you sure it hasn’t moved?”

“No. But every time I see it, I get the same hopeless feeling I do when I see Stephen Prescott. I don’t trust it.”

Damon turns to me while he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and he has that look on his face that says he’s about to tell me I’m fucking paranoid.

I stand up from the chaise I’m sitting on. “Oh no, fuck that, Archer. You made the mistake of not believing Raven once, don’t make the mistake of not believing me. I-“

“Calm down, Jonas. I believe you. Maverick already told us one of us is being followed, remember?”

I nod.

“There’s a Detective that was made aware of Maverick going with me to my father’s for Thanksgiving and then to Paris for the weekend. Whether they followed us all the way to Paris or just to the airport is unknown. But, for now, we’re assuming it’s just us. So… Harrington let the Detective think he and I are…”

His pause is nine months pregnant.

“Are…?” I shrug, gesturing to him to continue, letting the question hang in the air.

“Together. As in… we’re dating and serious.”

Oh my god.

I burst out in a laugh so loud and ugly it makes my sides hurt and my abs burn. “This is fucking great!” I laugh, breaking out in tears.

Damon clears his throat. “We’ve already spoken to HR to… make it official.” He groans out.

“Well, don’t say it like that.” Maverick pouts.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re… I don’t know,” he shrugs, twirling a wrist, “ashamed of dating me.”

“I’m not asha- We aren’t dating!” Damon scowls.

Now Maverick bursts out laughing and it is the oddest thing I have ever heard. I didn’t even know he could do that. “I’m fucking with you. You and I would never work.”

Damon’s face falls. “I- What’s wrong with me?”

Maverick and I burst into laughter again, Damon realizing he’s fucking with him again and shakes his head in annoyance, throwing his hands up. “Children. Both of you.”

“Awww, c’mon Daddy Damon, you could do worse than Mavie.”

“I- don’t call me that.” Damon doesn’t take the crumb, almost growling my way.

Our laughter is set aside; Maverick does quirk a brow in thought. “Other than Detective Arlo, who could be staking us?”

“I’m thinking Riordan. He’s done it before. He’s off house arrest. His family's estate is in Salem.”

Mav nods, doing his casual one-arm-over-his-chest-the-other-resting-on-it-to-put-his-chin-in-his-hand-while-he-thinks thing that makes me think that’s what he used to look like while gazing at a victim board trying to string the pieces together. “He has motive…” I’ve never seen him so pensive. “But, if he’s embarrassed the family enough… would he risk sleeping in his car during a blizzard to stake us out?”

“No. Riordan's on the spectrum. He has a routine and hates being uncomfortable.”

“And nobody saw you?”

“I doubt it. I was in full gear when I let Kronos out. If anything, whoever is in the car wouldn’t have been able to differentiate us. We’re all of a similar build with winter gear on. I beat Damon by barely an inch and beat you by two, maybe.”

“D-Damon?” We hear from the stairs to see my baby with her hand on the banister, those eyes all big and doe-like when she steps on the landing. Fuck she looks immaculate, wearing my sweats, Mav's RMU sweatshirt and her hair in a messy bun. She kisses Mav who she’s closest to, then me, and stops in front of her old doctor.

Damon looks down at Raven and an easy smile spreads on his face. “Hello, little bird.” She goes to him, and they share a kiss, but he holds her a little longer when she pulls back to rest her hands on his chest. “What is it?”

Just then her stomach let’s out an inhuman growl and he grins.

“I left you a charcuterie board of fruits, meat, cheese and snacks ready. I was going to bring it to you after your lecture. Go up, Little Love, I’ll bring it to you in a moment.”

She jumps happily and gives him a big kiss that turns into soft nibbles before she turns to me, does the same, rubs her nose against mine and then to Maverick, whispering ‘I love you,’ against his lips. He swats her on the butt, grabbing a handful and I regret not doing the same before she’s taking the stairs back up two at a time.

We all watch her leave.

Mav wastes not a breath before returning to our conversation. “If the person outside is watching and aware I’m here… I need to make a show of leaving. Damon and I are supposedly together. It makes sense if they see me leaving. They won’t question it. I’ll need to leave tonight. Come back tomorrow. Which is fine, I need more clothes anyway.”

Damon shakes his head. “To make it more believable we both need to be seen at the other's house.”

“Damon, if you’re questioned-"

“Fortunately, I’m a very honest person. I give just enough of the truth where it won’t make it seem like I’m lying.” Damon interrupts the professor.

Mav cants his wrist to check is watch and grunts. “My last lecture of the day begins in twenty. There goes my lunch break.”

Spending the last few days I’ve noticed he has a lot of pent-up aggression. I understand – in so many ways – why Damon once said he’s more Neanderthal than man. Damon makes a motion for me to follow him to the kitchen. I sit on a barstool as he goes to the coffee maker and starts putting everything together for our girl. He opens a cupboard and reaches into the tallest cupboard, reaching so far inside he’s on the tips of his toes. He pulls out a little K-cup.

“What’s that?”

“I give Little Bird decaf in the afternoons.”

I gasp dramatically. “You monster!”

He tips his head back and laughs, “She’s already riddled with anxiety, this helps her with that and with her sleep. This way she isn’t tossing and turning.”

“And you can wake her up the special way with your big old dick? I gotta tell ya, kinda sucks sometimes when I want to roll over and wake her up with mine but you’re already in there.”

He turns to face me as the Keurig begins pouring water into Raven’s purple “I Went to RMU and All I Got Was Anal” mug I purchased for her at a novelty shop that always puts a smile on her face. “You can always do your best to slip inside, Jonas.”

I raise a brow and smirk. “Is that an invite?”

He rolls his eyes and goes back to making her cup of lies. “I’m just saying she wouldn’t say no. C’mon. While this cools down a bit why don’t you show me where the sedan is located so I can also keep an eye on it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

I lead him to the living room, to the farthest window by the Christmas tree, pop open a blind with my index and middle finger and step away so he can take my place when I spot it. He does, and his head inclines to the side, until I know he sees it and he stands up straight. “You saw it before or after the snowplows came through?”

“After. It’s on the side of the street. Wouldn’t the window be covered in snow if it was empty? I mean, the rest of the car in covered but you’re telling me just one window was safe? Damon, we don’t know if they saw baby girl get out of Mav’s Navi with him the other night. I know we haven’t let her step foot outside; I’ve worn my gear-“

“When Lottie came.”

“Huh?”

“The car wasn’t there when Miss Charlotte came to help us decorate. I would have seen it. Even now it sticks out like a sore thumb. But in any instance, they’ve seen Maverick’s car here. He’s right. Now that the streets are clear, we’re gonna have to make a show of him leaving. We’re all now tied together. If they’re watching us now, we have to be even more careful with both of you. He and I are… out.” He says with his jaw clenching.

That still makes me want to giggle.

“We’re expected to be seen together now. But keeping you and Raven as a secret has to stay exactly that.”

“So what do we do?”

He shrugs. “I have no idea. Keep her safe to the best of our abilities. Pray for the best and prepare for the worst.”

There’s a sinking in my gut all over again at his words that make my heart slow and a ringing in my ears begins. “This is gonna get worse before it gets better, isn’t it?”

He shakes his head in that way where he simply doesn’t know what to say or do, lost in his mind, afraid to say the words. “If we can keep ourselves in line for a few weeks or months, until the snow melts, maybe they’ll get bored.”

“Maybe they’ll get bored? That’s your best solution?”    

“Christ, Jonas, what do you want from me? I’ve never been in this situation before but mulling it over and over and worrying about it until I’m dizzy and sick isn’t going to help us either.”

“He’s right.” Maverick says from behind us, Raven on his arm. I can’t help but grin at my gorgeous girl. Her lips are puffy and bruised like she’s been kissed to death and Mav’s hair is messed up, sticking out at odd angles. “Don’t worry, I got her up to speed when I dismissed my class for the day.”

“I’m sure you did,” Archer murmurs from where he stands. He sounds irate and a bit frustrated, but Raven goes to him and when she places a kiss on his chin, I can see him visibly relax.

“I just got the email that campus will be opening again tomorrow now that the roads have been plowed and the bridge is free of snow and debris. So, I’ll go to my house tonight and pack a few more essential items to bring here. If the need strikes within the next few months and Archer needs to stay at my house for whatever reason, he’s more than welcome to do so. But the more he and I are seen… as an item, the better.”

“Nothing to hide, nothing to fear.” Damon swallows thickly.

I warm up (just a little) towards Maverick calling his house a ‘house’ and not a ‘home.’ Because he knows where home is, just like I know it, just like Damon does.

Home isn’t always a house. Sometimes it’s a person. Sometimes it’s a dysfunctional family that somehow makes it work because the love there makes it home.

________

We have dinner, Damon making a delicious Italian meal for the four of us, complete with salad, breaking open a bottle of red wine and we talk about anything that doesn’t involve what’s going on outside.

But that fucking feeling in my stomach just won’t go away. We put on a front, we laugh when it’s funny, but all in all, it’s in the back of our minds. It’s there. We’re just ignoring it but to me, it feels like a fucking ticking time bomb.

When Maverick is leaving, Damon walks him to the door and just like he did me at Inferno when we were seducing Tyler to his death, Damon grabs him and kisses the ever-loving fuck out of Mav. They pull apart, breathless, mouths open and lips glistening. I cast my gaze over to Raven who’s kneeling on the sofa backwards, holding the edge of the couch, everything but her eyes hidden by the oversized grey microfiber cushion. Her lids are heavy as she watches the display beneath her lashes, a wicked smirk on her face. She catches me staring and blushes, quickly turning around and settling back into the couch. I fall back, landing beside her and we both giggle like schoolchildren.

                         ________

It’s midday on Friday the next week when we’re trekking across the freshly shoveled walkways next to the snow-covered bell tower to our last class of the day. I’m talking about playing against Yale tonight. I know she probably doesn’t care about the game, but she listens to me intently and it makes me feel all warm inside. She squeezes my hand like an interruption, and I know that’s when she’s asking a question.

I love it so much when she’s responsive. I know my poor baby girl has been sleeping roughly these last few days, but she still listens. She still cares. Whatever I have to say, it’s as if it’s the most important thing ever.

I stop talking and pause in my steps to simply admire her before I tug down her scarf and reveal her lips to me so I can kiss her properly. We’re lost, there in our own little world, nothing but us when we hear a scream, specifically, “RAAAAVVVVVEEEENNNNNNNNNN!”

We look up to see two hooded figures in the bell tower.

It happens in the blink of an eye.

Something heavy drops.

Screams are heard everywhere

I cover Raven as quickly as I can, pulling her to my chest.

Then that something heavy sways, back and forth.

A rope.

Long and sturdy as it swings from George’s neck.

Desecrated.  

A second wave of screams.

Because in the next breath, the rope breaks and a body falls into the pile of hardened snow. She whimpers when she sees what I see. The hood had been thrown back during the second fall. Crimson pours, and she takes tiny little steps away as it reaches her fur-lined boots, and I pick her up and tug her away.

But Riordan’s dilated, pale blue eyes follow us.

An image that will forever haunt both of our nightmares.

Chapter Fourteen

Maverick.

I drive home with the feel of Damon’s lips still on mine. I knew he was going to kiss me, but I didn’t think he was going to kiss me like that. I’ve never thought of a man in that way before, never kissed one. Shared a woman with one, obviously but it never… went farther.

I wake up in my house, yearning for the weekend to hurry and arrive so Damon can bring Siren here. While I’m with them, my routine is disrupted, and for once, I don’t mind it at all. But while I’m here, it goes the same as always. The clouds outside my windows look heavy and promising this morning but I push the thought aside and go down to my basement for my morning run. My thoughts bounce between Raven to my lecture today as I continue pushing myself to hit the three-mile mark on my treadmill. On an incline. My thighs are burning but it feels fucking good.

After my run, I shower then carefully peel off the saniderm from my tattoo, rubbing the Aquaphor on it then do my morning routine in the deafening uncomfortable silence of my house, my thoughts on the probable chaos ensuing over at Damon’s that happens each morning and I have this anxious feeling to get back over there. Leave this house behind and just… begin the new chapters of my life. I don’t let my mind wander to… the closing chapter of hers.

I know she’s not done… doing what it is she needs to do, and it’s not about incriminating myself, but… I suppose I wish she didn’t have to do this.

And there’s another part of me that wants to see her exact her pound of flesh.

I simply live in her world now.

________

The wind is bitter, and it feels as though it chills even your bones.

Simply saying that it’s cold is an overused understatement. It’s days like this I miss Texas. But I won’t go back. Even the few cases I worked out there were brief, and I usually cut them as short as I could. While I missed certain aspects of the state, I did not miss the blistering heat.

The drive to Rayne-Moore was dreadfully slow, everyone crossing the bridge at speeds of twenty to thirty miles an hour, me included, as the sun inches its way up over the horizon and my playlist bounces from cello covers of old rock songs to newer popular songs. My usual twenty-minute commute is almost an hour which is why I left thirty minutes earlier.

I park in the already full faculty lot and tug on my winter gear, mentally preparing myself to walk into the bitter breeze. The quad is filling with students ready for the weekend, the Koffee Kart already has a line, and I can hear the marching band practicing on the soccer fields ready for tonight’s home game. The air feels light and almost cheery the closer we get to the end of the semester. Next week is the Athletic Holiday Banquet, Raven said yes to being Jonas’ date, and although I was a bit jealous that I simply can’t have her on my arm as a date, Damon and I can at least go as faculty and protect her from afar.

I spot my little fallen angel sans wings and Jonas walking through, holding hands, lost in their little bubble, heading to the Koffee Kart. Which I’m sure she’s already had her morning cup Damon provided for her, but Jonas has a very tough time telling Raven no.

I sigh, my breath creating little puffs of fog.

We’ll have to work on that.  

I decide instead of interrupting them, I’ll go to the lecture hall and set up for the Nurture vs. Nature debates. I’m honestly pleasantly surprised she’s on campus today given she doesn’t need to be. But I’m guessing this is just another way for her to be near us and safe.

Once I stroll into the psych department, I’m almost surprised to see Damon standing outside of my locked classroom door with a thermos in his hand, but I suppose it’s not as weird seeing as his office is on the third floor. He waits for me patiently to open the door and then steps inside, looking around as if it’s the first time he’s truly taking in my space.

The ancient, tiered seats and wooden desks, the one large window on the side, my podium, the screen behind it, the projector screwed into the ceiling, the old hardwood flooring, and finally, the door that leads to my medium-sized office where more than once, I had Raven on my desk, legs spread and feeding me her delicious ambrosia for lunch or dinner. The mere memory has my dick thickening in my slacks.

Damon holds out the thermos for me when we enter my office so I can set down my things.

“Oh, I already had my coffee this morning.”

He grins. “It’s willow bark, ginger, peppermint with a few drops of honey for your headaches…”

I take it from him with a thank you and take a sip. There’s a bit of a familiar musk to it, but it’s overpowered by the sweetness of the honey.

“It also contains a few drops of Little Bird’s nectar. That’s for the beast in you.”

I almost choke. I look between him and the thermos with a question on my face. “How?” I croak out in short spurts.

He shrugs, a wicked grin on his lips.

He thinks I’m a beast? The man is demented.

“I had Jonas sit her up on the counter and play with her until she was so creamy it just dripped and dripped and dripped into your thermos. I figured you would miss her, and what’s better than drinking her essence early in the morning?”

“Are there remnants of you in my tea as well, Doctor Archer?”

He steps close to me, his scent invading my senses. “Would it bother you if there was, Harrington?”

“Seeing as you’re a fan of your own flavor, I suppose not really.” I say, recalling the day I watched him slurp out his own seed from her puffy cunt from behind while she swallowed Jonas’ dick to the hilt before we all took her together, making my dick ache. Christ. I am a beast. Fortunately, without his answer, he’s right. This is exactly my favorite flavor.

He laughs and steps back. “No, I promise you, we were exhausted last night. She’s been sleepwalking since you left.”

I finally see the bags under his eyes and shake my head. “Her medication not working?”

“The pharmacies have been closed. I won’t be able to pick up her prescription until tonight before the game.”

“Which reminds me, I assume since we’re ‘out’ now we’ll be going to the Banquet together?”

He chuckles. “You’ll be correct in your assumptions. Her dress is lavender. Do with that what you will.”

I incline my head once because of course her dress is lavender and he turns to leave and I follow him out of my office, seeing students beginning to fill the tiered seats as he stalks out, arrogant and slightly entitled. When I spot Raven signing in, she sees my Raven-infused tea and blushes so hard she goes from pink to crimson.

Adorable.

Once all of my students have entered, signed in and every seat taken I close the door to my classroom and let the debates begin.

Or so I thought.

“Professor Harrington, why isn’t Raven participating? Doesn’t really seem fair to the rest of us.”

The question comes thirty minutes into the debates from a brunette sitting behind her… Morgan Smithe, I believe her name is. Her father is in fishes or oil or fish oil – I don’t exactly care. Everyone shushes and some sneer down at her from their seats, others begin whispering in agreement. She doesn’t bow her head, instead leaning into Jonas who kisses her temple and whispers something into her ear I can’t hear from where I’m standing.

“Miss Monroe and Dean Whitmore and I had an agreement.” It’s a lie and I don’t owe them anything but fuck it. I’ve become a great liar lately. What’s one more? “If you have an issue with it, please, let him know.”

Morgan’s vile trap opens and closes like a fish, so I guess I was right on some point about what her father’s industry is in and finally shuts it for good. I take a delicious sip of my Raven-infused tea which sends her into another squirming blush and Jonas smirks my way.

It takes everything in me not to send a wink her way. Jonas leans in to whisper something in her ear, maintaining eye contact with me, her eyes fluttering before looking up at me through her sooty lashes, and the beast in me is ready to fucking rut.

God, I’m like a teenager all over again.

It’s not enough to take her once. I always need her at least twice to feel satisfied. A third to feel properly emptied. And it’s been two days since I’ve had her. I call up the next two students to hurry it along so I can pull her into my office.

After the hour is over, she and Jonas are slowest to leave. I call Jonas into my office, and he tugs her along by the hand. He sits in the chair behind my desk, aloof with a slight arrogant grin as soon as I shut my door, dick already throbbing to be sheathed inside my siren.

I have her against the wall, a small oof escapes her plush lips before I’m on them, molding them to my own. “Has she been a good girl?” I ask but my question is directed at Jonas.

“She’s been… okay. A little moody this morning.”

I reach behind her and grasp the hair on the bottom of her skull and pull it for her to look up at me. Caramel eyes full of lust and a little afraid. Fuck. I shouldn’t love that. My other hand stretches between us, and I hike up her skirt, grateful she wore thigh highs instead of her fishnets, although, I’m a bit more particular and lean toward those a bit more since our night at Inferno. I run my fingers through the soaking gusset of her panties and sneer.

“You’re soaking, Miss Monroe,” she shudders, and my insides burn with need. “Do you need an attitude adjustment this morning?”

She nods as much as she can, with her hair still in my grip.

“That’s the right answer, Siren. Spread your legs.”

She obeys sweetly, but I kick them further apart, pulling down her panties in time and she steps out of one hole, but they remain attached to one ankle. I then reach and unfasten my zipper, my pants, and tug them down only for my dick to jut out, strong and hard and aching. I hike her thigh over my hip and coat my mushroom tip with her arousal, groaning with how utterly wet she is, the warmth of her body always so fucking inviting.

“You know I won’t be sweet to you, don’t you?”

“Maverick-“ she moans softly, and I shush her.

“You’ll remain my little mute in here, tongueless. Do you understand? Hmm? Anyone could walk in, overhear and if you aren’t quiet, I’ll have to have Jonas stuff your mouth with his cock. Do you understand?”

She nods.

I grit my teeth in preparation for the groan I know I’m going to need to hold back and in one, rough, agonizing thrust I’m wrapped in her slick, tight warmth. Her lips part, an agonized gasp reminds me to cover her mouth with mine and I capture her lips, making them my own, thrusting my tongue into her mouth to dance with hers. “Quiet, Siren. Be a good fucking girl for me just once. Take my cock and let me fuck your little pussy until I drown it with my cum.” I whisper into her mouth, pumping my hips wildly into her, not exactly caring that even in her silence the sounds of her cunt and her little breathless pants, and the sound of Jonas jerking his dick behind us are all obscene.

I let go of her hair, pull out, let her foot find the floor and then spin her roughly by the arm to face my desk, bending her over, flipping up her teasing, slutty little uniform skirt, then use my cock to guide myself into her and thrust, deeply. Again and again in deep, short strokes. Her gasp is short and caught in her throat, same as my growl. I flick my gaze to Jonas for a mere second and give him a nod, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.

One moment it’s just us, the next, Jonas is ready, and we move around once more. I step back, wrap her silky hair around my wrist, the other on her ample hip and guide her head to Jonas’ waiting dick. “Suck, then, little mute, the way I taught you. I’ll be punishing you later for your disobedience.”

Truly, this is a simple reward. I would spank her, but we’re running out of time. Who knows if students have already begun taking their seats and the thought of someone being outside of my office listening in, brings me so much closer, a white-hot heavy feeling as my balls draw up, reading to coat her insides.

“Jonas-“

“I’m close. Don’t stop fucking her. She’s doing so fucking good.” His praise is quiet murmurs, but his eyes never leave hers, inundated with love and pride. I feel her pussy ripple around me, and I dive, reaching around for her clit to stimulate and rub.

“Christ,” I mutter, on the brink and when she grips me like a fucking vice, I don’t hold back. I still, my hips jerking, legs shaking, filling her perfect cunt, shoving her head farther down on Jonas’ thick cock.

I have to give it to him – the man is fucking packing, and it pleases me when she gags and I can feel her pussy clench around me.

Jonas’ head tilts back between his shoulders and a shudder runs through him. He leans on my desk, tucking himself back in while I help Raven back into her panties, kiss her hip when she wiggles them up over her hips and settle her skirt, and then tuck myself in. She turns to face me, bleary eyed and all smiles and I kiss her softly. She leans into me, and I do such an odd thing – I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a hug.

“I’ll see you later, angel.”

She cuddles into me, and I brush the few strands on her face behind her ear.

“I love you.” Words I’m not used to saying but true.

Jonas opens the door and seeing it’s empty, he tugs Raven to him, fist bumping me on the way out.

I settle behind my desk and take a quick sip of my tea, regretting not going down and tasting her but I… well, I really needed that.

________

It’s midday when I hear an inhuman scream as I’m leaving the cafeteria and I rush out of the doors and onto the quad when I see the body drop the first time, right in front of Raven, swaying. But with how thin the rope is, I know it won’t hold. I’m almost to her when another wave of screams begins and the body drops a final time. I watch as Jonas pulls her away from the body, more accurately, the puddle of blood pooling toward her. My eyes finding a dead Riordan, pale eyes bulging out of his sockets, red and bleeding.

I take her from Jonas’ grip. “What happened?”

He looks scattered, wide eyed and pale, as he shakes his head. “There was someone on the bell tower with him. Maverick, he didn’t do this.”

“He was forced?”

“The scream wasn’t his.”

“Take me. Get me into the bell tower.” I rush. “We don’t have much time.” I look at my girl. “Can you go with us, or do you need to sit down?”

“Fuck that. We don’t leave her. The person that dropped Ri screamed Raven’s name. We’re not leaving her alone.” Jonas whispers harshly.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“What the fuck happened?” Damon rushes out when he sees us leaving and going toward the back, where the abandoned chapel connected to the building stands in almost beautiful ruins. Vines crawl up the side of it, and if I weren’t more preoccupied in finding out what’s up in the belfry, I’d want to dig into the ghosts Rayne-Moore keeps hidden.

Jonas quickly explains everything as he finds a boarded up opening and tugs it three times.

“Wait.” I say, noticing the faint boot print when he moves it. “Fuck. This is a crime scene. Let me take a picture but everyone be fucking careful.” I hiss. “Look where you’re going and don’t contaminate anything. Let your feet slide when you step so the bottom of your shoes can’t be identified.”  

One silent nod from everyone and I take the picture with my phone, and we ascend the concrete, spiral staircase. Nobody touches the railing, and we take great fucking care to not step where there’s drops of blood. Whether it’s Riordan’s or the perpetrator’s I’m not sure, but as we get closer to the actual steeple, the blood leads to the arched window that looks over the entirety of the campus.

“George.” Jonas whines and I look at him with an arched brow as Raven rubs his back, shaking her head at me, letting me know now is not the time.

The place is a mess, and I pull my phone out, snapping picture after picture. Old crates are scattered about, turned over, and it’s dusty, but there doesn’t seem to be much else in here. The blood on the ground is littered but looking at the mess, it’s sufficient to say, “They fought.”

Jonas looks around and says, “Good.”

“Didn’t you want him gone? He’s a Prescott, isn’t he?” I ask.

Raven shakes her head, pulling her mittens off. Tyler was the one that hurt me. I needed Chase gone to get to him.

“But he had plans on hurting you, Riordan, I mean, didn’t he? He set the house on fire with you inside, Raven.”

She grimaces at my use of her name, but this is entirely serious. Damon stays quiet in the corner, looking at it all and Jonas won’t stop staring at the gargoyle with the rope around its neck as we hear sirens in the distance.

“We should go, get away from here and reconvene at a later time.” I say, pulling Raven to me and slipping her mittens back on quickly.

________

We make it down the stairs in time, having to hide behind one of the rotten pews while cops pull away the loose plywood where the entrance to the belfry is, taking pictures exactly where I did. We stay crouched, walking on haunches as Jonas leads us out. I should not have ran those three miles this morning. My thighs are practically quivering by the time we make it out, past the garden full of weathered statues and we make it into a graveyard leading toward the woods.

When I stand to my full height, Raven doubles over and grabs her leg, rubbing it harshly, pain etched on her face. She shivers and simply says, “Hurts,” before Jonas squats before her and she climbs onto his back.

“I’m taking her home.”

“Was admin ever made aware she moved off campus?” I ask.

Raven shakes her head.

“Jonas you’re going to need to take her to her dorm. They’re going to come asking questions.”

“How do you know?”

“Because there were probably over three dozen witnesses that heard what they think is Riordan crying out her name before being forced off.” He looks like he’s about to argue, but I shake my head at him and his mouth shuts. “Listen to me and trust me – they’re going to come looking for her to ask her questions. It’s not the first incident between them.”

“You make it sound like it’s her fault this happened.” He growls.

“No, what they’re going to do is try to ask her what happened so they can get a better idea on if this was a suicide or not. It will be better if you’re there with her to answer. Do not let them interrogate her alone and do not, for the life of you, let them know she doesn’t live on campus. You give them as little as they need to know.”

He nods, taking my words into consideration. “Okay. There’s just one problem. Her dorm is empty but her bed and the furniture the school provides. It doesn’t look lived in and that’s fucking weird for a college student that’s been here for months.”

“Damon, is the house in your name?”

He nods.

I say the next words without thinking. “Take her to Damon’s.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “When they find you, because they will, they’ll find a way to corner you when you least expect it, tell them you took her to her former psychiatrist’s home immediately. You do not give them more, and don’t give them less.” I look at Raven with grief for the next words about to leave my lips. “In the state of Massachusetts, her case is well known. They’ll chalk it off as her… having an episode. And they’ll believe that and shouldn’t bother you anymore.”

Damon nods along. “I took out an LLC so I could start taking patients in the privacy of my home when I first bought it.”

I arch a brow.

He shakes his head. “In case Raven or Jonas were seen entering and leaving my home.”   

Fucking smart, deviant man.

We break without so much as nods, going off into different sections, Damon and I going toward the psych department, Jonas taking our girl home.

Damon and I barely make it to lecture hall, splintering off in different directions so he can go up to his floor when my phone rings. I use my teeth to tear off my gloves and grab my phone from my front pocket so I can answer. I’m surprised to see an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Mav,” her voice is low and hushed, almost a murmur. “Mav, I have that thing you need but I’m in Boston. I wanted to make it to you but Mav, I think we’re being followed.”

Just then an alert comes through my phone. I pull my phone away from my ear.

RMU CAMPUS CLOSED UNTIL MONDAY – HOME GAME CANCELED.  

“Tasha where are you?”

“At the Four Seasons where you booked us.”

“Is this a burner?”

“How long until you can get here, Mav?” She sounds terrified, ignoring my question like it was rhetorical.

“With this weather? An hour. There’s a diner off Broadway and I-95. O’Malley’s. It’s a halfway point. Can you get there?”

There’s a pause and then a shaky breath before she replies, “Okay. I think I can do that but Mav-“

“Don’t waste time, Tasha. I’m already heading to my car.”

“Okay.” She replies and hangs up.

________

O’Malley’s is an open twenty-four-hour steeple in South Lynnfield with its yellow rooftop and blue lettering. It’s old and the grease in the fryers is probably just as old. It’s delicious in the moment but hell on you later. My cup of black coffee is steaming in front of me. The more I stare at it, the more it reminds me of motor oil in a cup.

The waitress, Sally, is wearing an old-timey waitress uniform has bags under her eyes and stained fingers that point to a smoking habit. A light fluorescent light that hangs behind her flickers in and out as she pops her pink bubblegum. She turns away from me with a shrug when the cook behind the window calls out an order and the bell dings.

I’m sure I look out of place. I haven’t taken off my coat or made myself comfortable whatsoever, the only thing I’ve ordered is the motor oil. My eyes keep darting to the door whenever someone pushes through the double glass doors – which is now.

Tasha comes in, hood over her face, wearing all black, her eyes wide, darting all over the place and when she spots me, they narrow into slits. She sits in the cracked vinyl seat across from me in the booth. Hands shaking, she pulls out a manilla envelope from the inside of her jacket and almost throws it in my direction, the coffee spills but thankfully not on the envelope.

Tasha looks frightened and I can feel waves of tension rolling off her. I worked with this woman for years and even at gun point, has she ever shown that she was scared or intimidated, always joked that growing up in Brooklyn made her fearless.

“I want absolutely nothing to do with this.” She hisses. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re looking up, but I seriously think I don’t ever want to see you again.”

I expected that.

“Were you followed?”

“No.” She stays silent for a second as if trying to figure out what to say next. “Mav- whatever you’re doing… are you safe?”

I almost scoff but I keep my composure. “I don’t know, if I’m honest.”

“Mav-“ the concern in her voice makes me almost cringe because she didn’t deserve for me to bring her into this mess.

“Tash, I thank you and Tom so much for helping me with this, but this… you’re right. I didn’t know how deep this was going to get and I rather you stay away from this and myself until it’s over.” I stand, lay down way more cash than the coffee is worth and shove my wallet back in my coat pocket.

Before I can escape, she grabs my wrist harshly, not letting go until I look down at her. “Will you just fucking listen to me for once in your goddamn miserable life, Maverick, for fucks sake!”

The diner hushes to a whisper. I nod once.

“You can’t save her.”

“I’m not trying to save her, T. I’m letting it happen the way it has to. I’m letting it unravel.”

She looks at me incredulously as though she has no idea what the fuck I’m talking about, and I’m glad she doesn’t.

“Drive safely, Tasha. Give Tom my best.”

“You’ll die, Maverick. These people… this… You’ll die.”

I pause at her words but not for long, remembering what happened on campus earlier. I lean down and kiss my former partner on the temple. “Then you’ll at least be able to sleep knowing I didn’t go down without a fight.”

Chapter Fifteen

Raven.

It’s still early and I’m still a ball of nervous energy when Damon finally slips into bed with Jonas and me and pulls me to him until our noses touch. In the purple glow of the fairy lights Jonas hung for me from the bookshelf they built me that is slowly but surely being filled again, I can see his gunmetal eyes skating over my features. He leans closer and rubs his nose against mine, and his lips gingerly tap on mine in the softest kiss ever known to mankind.

“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas, Amourette?” What’s wrong, little love?

Maverick never came back, although he did send a text he had to go to Boston and he would be back either later or in the morning, but his tracker shows he’s home. But I don’t tell Damon all of that, I simply say, “Je’t..taime t-t-ellement.” I love you so much.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Oh, yeah, I can definitely see the issue.” His hand comes up to my head, but he cups my face. “I think it’s time I suggest a therapy session, Little Bird. A real one, where you actually tell me what’s going on instead of staring at me or blinking your answers.”

I groan and climb onto him instead, straddling him then rest my head on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. There’s a shuffling beside us and soon, Jonas is blinking at us, propped on an elbow.

“You okay baby?”

I nod, reaching out to him, and he scoots closer. I hate that I constantly wake them up. They’re up all hours of the night with me and my… antics. I just sleep better knowing they’re all with me, and with Maverick being gone and lying about where he is unsettles me. I mean, his tracker did show he was in Lynnfield earlier but… whatever he’s doing must be important otherwise he’d be here. Right?

“I suggested a therapy session and she groaned and rolled onto me instead.” Damon tattles but places his large hands on my back, and begins to rub soothing circles up and down my back, landing on my ass. He squeezes a handful but goes back to rubbing on me. It sends shivers down my body and a surge of desire pulsing through me.

“Baby, you’re not taking advantage of the free, live-in psychotherapist?”

I laugh and shake my head.

“Baby…” he says it in a tone so soothing I exhale happily when his hand comes up to my face and his thumb grazes my cheekbone. “It might help. I still do my sessions every Tuesday. He even knows about Paris now.”

I look at Damon for confirmation and he nods. I did not know this. I contemplate it as Damon’s hands still go over every inch of me he can touch, hardening underneath me and the mere thought that simply touching me makes him hard sends all those good, warm fuzzy feelings to my insides like they would when I’d wake up in his ward, or walk down the long, blindingly white corridors of Lorne Wood to his office for our daily appointment. As far as I knew, I was the only one that had daily appointments. Everyone else only had them once or twice a week.

I grin to myself.

What a conniving sneaky doctor.

Kronos sits up and barks twice, alerting us to something and we hear the front door slam.

“It’s just me!” Maverick calls from downstairs and I sit up as we hear his steps on the stairs. I’m so ready to jump off Damon and fly to Maverick, happy to see him but I’m still mad he lied. Did he lie? I can’t seem to care. I’m just happy to see him. Damon pulls me back down and keeps me in place by holding onto my thighs and I squirm against his dick still hardening, feeling myself grow slick. He pulls my thong aside and plunges barely knuckle deep into my hole, and I let out a soft moan. Silver eyes darken, giving me a look that tells me to be quiet.

I’m pretty sure I’ve been conditioned to get wet with their touch and I don’t hate it.

Maverick sets his duffel bag and his work satchel by the door and strides over then leans down to kiss me. “Hello, pretty girl.”

I hum happily, Damon fingering me under the blanket, pulling out to circle my clit only to shove his entire finger in my pussy, playing, making room for the other one.

“Well, so much for our alarming system.” Maverick turns to glare at a happily snoozing Kronos and Lucifer then turns back to me. “Did you read tonight?”

“Yes she did.” Jonas states happily and kisses my cheek.  

“Have you been a good girl?”

“Yes.” I reply, Damon shoving another finger into me, scissoring and stretching, his other hand holding me open by an asscheek so he can get deeper. I bite my lip, feeling Jonas’ hand crawling up the back of my thigh, eyebrows furrowing when he figures out what’s going on, but I feel the pad of his finger swirl over my clit. He shakes his head, pursing his lips together in a silent ‘shush.’

“Only on technicality. She refused another therapy session,” Damon tattles on me again.

“Hmmm…” Maverick replies, none the wiser, then begins to undress, going to my closet to hang up his sports coat, his belt, taking off his shoes and putting them neatly away before heading to my bathroom to shower. When the door closes, Jonas shoves off the blanket and climbs between Damon’s parted legs to help Damon flip me over only for his fingers to spread me open for Jonas’ tongue.

But then Jonas says, “Damon, sit up a little and put your dick in her but don’t move. I want her desperate to come.”

Damon has no rebuttal as always when it comes to Jonas’ plans and my body. I think they both revel in finding new ways of splitting me in half. Damon needs no other instruction. I’m shifted, my back against his chest, then his boxer briefs are off and soon he’s coating his dick in my wetness, rubbing it all over my slit, moaning when he finds my entrance and thrusting slowly until he’s fully seated.

“Hold her open. Fuck… that’s so beautiful Raven. Your pussy is so pretty baby.” He leans forward and- oh fuck- licks from where Damon and I are joined and then sucks my swollen, needy clit into his mouth.

“Jonas!” I moan.

Autumn eyes meet mine, as he flicks his tongue then curls it around. Jonas doesn’t simply eat pussy, he fucking makes out with it, swirling and licking and kissing while I tighten around Damon, unable to move because he has me in a vice grip while Jonas tortures me.

“How good does it feel Amourette?” Damon asks, pumping just a tiny bit, adding more pressure exactly where I need it.

“Sooo good… mmmore, p-please.”

“Use your hand, baby. Tell me where you need me. Eyes on me baby. Watch me torture you.”

I reach down, my fingers in his hair, the other flies up and under my shirt so I can pull on my nipples the way Jonas does. He sticks out his wide, strong tongue and I guide him to my core, pressing him onto my clit harder and when he sucks me in again, the pressure builds and builds and I’m “so close,” I whisper into my violet room.

The bathroom door swings open, Maverick coming with just a towel rolled around his waist. “Well. This is a nice surprise. I’m starving. All I had today was tea.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk and goddamn, he’s fucking handsome.

Oh I blush something fierce at the memory of Jonas playing with me while Damon held Mav's thermos underneath me this morning.

Maverick makes his way to us as Damon says, “Wasn’t it delicious?”

“Yes, but I prefer getting it from tap. Scoot over Jonas.” With one knee, he sinks on the bed beside my Wide Receiver and then bends to kiss my inner thigh. Green eyes flash and then darken. “What’s the plan, Jonas?”

“Mmm,” he licks his lips, “torture. I want to see how many times we can make her come before she passes out or she’s so exhausted she sleeps through the night.”

The smile that spreads on Maverick’s face is pure evil… and then he lays beside Jonas and begins lapping me up. I jump, at the feeling of two tongues tormenting me, sliding beside the other as Damon unwillingly pumps his hips every time I tighten.

“Little Bird, be a good girl. Let them make you come so I can fuck you. I need to fuck you, Raven. You feel so fucking exquisite around me. Always so wet and ready to get fucked like the good girl you are, aren’t you?” Damon whispers darkly in my ear, making goosebumps erupt everywhere on my body.

“Please… f-fuck me!” I squeal, wanting to move but between Maverick and Jonas eating me alive like rabid dogs, shoulders between my legs and Damon holding my thighs open with his large hands, I can’t move.

“You can come baby. You just can’t get fucked yet. Hold on… let me see if I can…”

Oh god, his finger is slipping inside to join Damon's cock.

“Great idea.” Maverick moans against my clit, and he joins them.

“So… full.” I gasp, the need to move, to take them deeper makes me ache. I undulate my hips as much as I can, and when my doctor nips me on my earlobe, liquid heat pools out of me.

“Keep doing that, Raven. Warm and tighten around my cock like the slutty little vixen you are. All three of your deranged men in your pathetically needy little hole.”

Christ, why is that so hot to me? Because it’s so true. I crave them to the point of licentious absurdity. One touch, one word, one look and I’m salivating, pussy drooling, ready to be on my knees for them, to be used and fucked like their special sex doll. I’ll have to ask Damon later if that’s a thing. Right now, I don’t care. I want to be used and abused and made to come and be filled with cum until I can’t fucking walk.

“So fucking creamy, baby. So perfect. You want to come for us?” They pump their fingers, sliding in and out.

“Yes!” I sob. “I need it!”

“Such a greedy pussy, Siren.” Mav growls before diving back in, laving his tongue around my clit and I-

“Maverick!” I scream his name in a sob as I constrict around Damon but instead of stopping they keep going, licking me through my orgasm and into the next until I fall limply against my doctor.

They move away, but prowl around the bed like predators hunting their prey, eyes dark, chins glistening with my orgasm.

Damon moves quickly, and I’m face down on the soft blanket, and Damon fucking pounds into me, holding me by the hips, unrelenting and mad. Pleasure spikes and surges through me with each thrust. I claw at the blanket trying to find purchase, but he shoves me down by the nape of my neck, and all I can do is watch Jonas and Maverick, a dangerous hunger in their eyes.

“God I fucking love this pussy. Every hour I go without it drives me to the brink of insanity, Little Bird.” I hear him spit then feel his thumb prods my asshole, rubbing, dipping in until he's fucking me in both holes.

“Feel what you do to me, Raven. My good girl. Such a perfect ass.”

I cry out every time the head of his cock hits something in me, so I push back, greedy for that feeling. I want it abused. I want to be left a fucking mess. I want to be devoured and praised and degraded and I want to be full of his cum. I want to drink it. Keep it in a vial and hang it around my neck.

I’m crazy! Who wants that?

“That’s right. We're mad together aren’t we, Amourette? Take my cock, such a good,” thrust “fucking" thrust “girl for us.” Thrust.

“Damon!”

“Say my fucking name again, Raven. I waited years for you to say it and when I’m inside of you, you scream it.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.

“Damon…” I sob out, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Ssso… bi-ig!” I come with a scream and a shiver that racks through me in drowning waves.

“Fuck!” His grip on my hips is now bruising and every thrust brutal and exact, drawing out my orgasm to meet his.

I tremble with every harsh piston of his hips, feeling him grow and pulsate inside me, knowing he’s filling everything up and when he withdraws, I’m laid on Jonas's chest, straddling him, and his lips are on mine. I reach between us and sink down on his thick shaft, groaning into his mouth with the stretch of him. I’m so sensitive but I can’t stop.

I undulate my hips, one of his hands go to my nipple the other on my ass, his finger slipping into my ass. “Yes! More!” I beg.

Crazy, crazy, psycho Raven.

“Fuck baby, you needed my dick, didn’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Say it, baby.”

“I love you.”

He groans, attacking my lips and I feel Maverick behind us. Can smell the soap on his skin, still fresh from the shower even though I know when he has me kiss him he’ll taste like me and Jonas' saliva, and it does something to my brain.

“Fuck baby, again before Damon's dick is in your slutty mouth.”

I close my eyes, wishing that were true, that he’d fuck my throat into oblivion but Damon and I both know he won’t. I grind onto Jonas instead, my clit on his pubis, searching, seeking for my next orgasm and it’s right there. Right fucking- “I love you!”

“Good girl when you come for me. I love feeling your pussy squeeze me.” Jonas laughs, slapping my breast before diving and tugging my pearled nipple into his mouth only to lick from there and up, under my jaw and back to my lips.

I’m so sensitive. So sensitive everywhere. And sweaty.

I hear the light click of Jonas' nightstand lube and practically keen when I feel my professor’s cold, slick fingers play with my ass, gliding his fingers across then in, and out, finger fucking me in time with Jonas' slow torturous strokes, preparing me for the head of his girthy, fat cock. They’re relentlessly teasing and when Damon leans then pulls me to kiss him, tongue diving into my mouth, Jonas grabs my ass and pulls me apart to accommodate Mav.

His fingers leave my hole, and I feel the pressure and slight burn from the stretch as he fills me in one languid, achingly slow stroke. He groans behind me, and I moan in Damon's wet mouth. Maverick pulls me by the nape of my neck, one hand sliding across the swell of my stomach, the other goes around my neck and when I tense, he shushes me.

“You’re safe, Siren. It’s me. I won’t hurt you in that way, ever.” He rubs his thumb on the column of my throat before lightly squeezing with each, slow thrust into my ass. “Relax… trust your devil, Raven… breathe, princess… that’s it. It’s just us.”

“What are you, baby?” Jonas asks, hands on my breasts, fingertips grazing over my nipples, pinching and pulling.

“Sssafe.”

“Mmhmmm…” He thrusts up but because Maverick’s hands are around me, holding me close. I feel it so fucking deep I can feel Jonas hit my cervix.

I begin to move, needing more friction and Damon lowers his hand to find my clit, swollen and sensitive and I’m so fucking drenched but I scoot to seek his touch.

“Filthy little bird, such an insatiable little thing. Riding Jonas' cock, my fingers, pushing yourself to seek more of Mav inside your sweet ass.”

My eyes roll back with Damon's filthy words. “Yes.”

“She's a needy slut, aren’t you, princess? Deplorable, desperate for cock, our filthy cumslut.”

My cheeks flame bright with embarrassment and when Mav squeezes my throat, Damon pulls away to stand before me, my other men grunting, filling me, in… out. The push and pull, the sudden emptiness just to be filled to the hilt again makes cry out.

“Mav, switch me. I want me and Damon to take turns fucking her gorgeous pussy. I wanna see her taking my dick.”

I’m lifted slightly and whine at the loss of Jonas but soon I’m on Mav, he hasn’t let go of my throat, like a permanent necklace. My legs are pushed back until my knees hit my chest.

“You look so pretty and pink baby.” Jonas settles between my thighs and spits – only to lean and slurp it up – apparently not caring that he’s tasting Damon, too. I buck against his face once and he rises just to fill me balls deep and I squeal. Damon comes, settling beside him and soon it’s one thrust from one and then the other, matching Mav's pace. Damon puts his hand on my lower stomach and press down as they fuck into me, and the pressure is building up. “Damon, look. Look how abused she looks.”

“She needs more… let’s see. Come here. Yeah. Hover over her – good. I’ll put my tip in and you – fuuucccckkk.” Damon let’s out an animalistic growl when Jonas settles above me, joining him and the pressure builds to be too much and I scream, liquid fire squirting out of me.

“Baby…” he thrusts, Maverick grunts, Damon hisses. “You have all three cocks in you, baby. You’re so fucking perfect, Raven. You’re so pretty, baby girl.”

“Dirty little slut.” Mav groans out wickedly, slamming into me from below.

I squirm again, drenching Jonas.

“Do it again baby. I want it so bad. So fucking creamy, you’re dripping baby. Do it again. Mmmm fuck, it’s so tight, you’re just letting us use you baby? I wanna come baby…” He licks his thumb, so much saliva on it a string of it connects when he reaches down and starts to press little circles on my clit. “Fuck, Raven… baby.” He moans. “God you’re gonna make me fill your pretty pussy up with so much cum. C'mon baby…”

“Siren…”

“Amourette-"

Jonas is thrusting, pumping into me harder. “I want you to come again. I wanna watch it. Fuck I can feel it. Give it baby. Oh, fuck. That’s it. Right the fuck there. Ohhhh goooood fucking girrrlll.” He praises me when I shatter, legs shaking, thighs quivering, gasping, begging please, falling limply in Maverick’s hold with a kiss from Jonas.

He slips out, Damon shoves in completely, and Jonas shoves a finger into me with him, searching for that spot, hooking his finger and his other hand rubs my clit quickly. “Do it for Damon, baby. Squirt for him.”

Damon groans above me, eyes like silver flames burning through me. “One more, Amourette. Give me one more and I’ll let you sleep.”

“He's lying, Siren… because I still need… to fill this ass… and shower us… Christ, you feel amazing. Break Raven. Break for us. I’m so fucking close. Milk your professor”

I feel them, simultaneously working me into a frenzy and just when I think I can’t, when there’s absolutely nothing left in me to give, Maverick squeezes my throat, praising me, the edges of my vision blacken, the pressure inside me builds and I fucking let go with a guttural groan with them, and I’m able to breathe. Labored, shaky pants and I fall back against Maverick, feeling him soften inside of my ass, slick with so much sweat and cum and tears.

Damon withdraws, sitting on his ankles and keeps my legs open and spread, watching with fascination as the river they created leaks from me and if I could blush harder or even react, I would. I’ve been obliterated.

“Such a messy, filthy, good girl.” Damon sighs happily.

“Take her. Let’s get her cleaned up.” Mav says weakly, kissing my cheek.

I try to protest. I need sleep. I need… but I’m ignored. I’m lifted and bathed and cleansed and dried and clothed and then very carefully, like I’m a fragile, priceless artifact, placed in Damon's bed because mine?

Well mine is fucked.

_______

“Little Bird?”

I huff out a small breath. I don’t want to be here. Rayne-Moore opened its doors up bright and early Monday morning, announcing another vigil for a Prescott. Everyone mills about as if nothing had happened, running to their next class, standing in the Koffee Kart line. Clearly, he wasn’t as loved as his twin, Chase, and it saddens me. So many conflicted emotions weigh me down today. 

I stare up at the spirals, the massive arches and windows of the grey stone university built in 1827. Every time I see its structure in its entirety I remember how tiny and insignificant we all truly are. The vigil is being held today in one of the gardens because, unlike his very outgoing twin, only a few will truly mourn Riordan.

Unlike his loud, obnoxious twin, Riordan was the lesser of two evils, like a snowstorm- quiet but mighty.

He and I were the same in that regard.

So that’s what I’m doing now.

Pondering existence in itself.

I read once there are tribes that burn their chiefs in a funeral pyre, dig out the bones that remain, and make a type of broth and the natives drink the broth so in a way they live on in their tribes.

Never forgotten.

The few that show up for Riordan today are the ones that were most impacted by him.

That’s why I’m so conflicted.

I didn’t want to hurt Riordan. I understood his hatred toward me. I took away the only person that ever probably gave a damn about him in his world. His protector. His best friend. The other piece of his soul.

But what about my soul? My mind? My heart?

I live in pain daily. My leg, my headaches, night terrors, hallucinations. I lived in a goddamn mental institution for a whole three and a half years before I was deemed “fit” to visit family. They did this to me, and they were free. They went about with their lives. It was only fair.

Right?

Villainous thoughts form in my mind, and I hate the way they make me feel inside.

Maverick had a point. Riordan would have hurt me if given the proper chance.

And so I stare at the spot where he landed, the crimson scrubbed clean, new snow fallen over where he was splayed out like a puppet. If he didn’t die by hanging, the fall certainly killed him.

“Amourette,” Damon says my name sternly. Authoritative like when we were at Lorne Wood and I cringe inwardly and outwardly. “Do you need to talk about this?” He lifts a hand, and I know he wants to touch me, but he can’t. Not here. Not in public. Another reason I loathe this place.

I give him one solemn nod.

I haven’t been very forthcoming about my thoughts because the last time I told him how and what I felt, he told me I was manifesting my guilt into a shadow and then my house was burned to the ground. I hold a modicum of resentment towards him for that, and he knows.

Except I haven’t the time for guilt.

Only plotting.

I look up to search his eyes and he looks almost relieved that I agreed to a therapy session. I haven’t been back to see Ada since before the storm. I’ve been reading my poems out loud, (thankfully no more Dr. Seuss) to anyone who’s home for thirty minutes a night now.

It’s finals week, the last of them Wednesday. The Athletic Holiday Banquet is Thursday and then we’re off for three weeks. Three glorious weeks of me being home with my three, insatiable men.

I can’t wait.

I spot Jonas coming around the corner from one of the athletic buildings, bundled up, handsome and mine. I love that he’s wearing the black, fur-lined ski cap with the removeable mouth and nose covering I got for him that matches my purple one. I can tell when he sees me because his forest eyes immediately crinkle at the sides and I know there’s a huge grin behind the mask just for me. He comes to my side and pulls down his mask, full smile on show.

“There’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

I will never cease to blush at his compliments. I pull down my matching purple covering and kiss him, and he shoves his arms around me. “I missed you, too, baby girl. Need coffee?”

“She most certainly does not need any more coffee.”

I pout.

Jonas pouts. “She can do with one more cup, it’s finals week. We’ve been studying nonstop. My brain is frazzled. Her brain is frazzled. A caramel macchiato made with oat milk is a nice little treat for studying so much.”

“If you get anything, get her tea. For her nerves.”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Daddy Damon is putting his foot down.”

I giggle.

“Jonas…” Damon warns.

“I know, I know. Don’t call you daddy. Hey, are you the top or bottom? Maybe Maverick is daddy.” Damon huffs out an exasperated breath. “C’mon baby, let’s get you a tea for your nerves.” He winks.

I tilt my head back in silent laughter, wave goodbye to Damon since I can’t do more and pull my mask back over, buttoning it on the side of my face below my ear, let him take me by the hand and he leads me to the Koffee Kart, ordering for me. And as we wait around, he steps closer to me, my back against his chest, arms around my waist, chin on my head, and it feels so good to be in his embrace. He lets out a soft contented sigh as if just holding me is all he needed to feel alright. And I feel that so deeply in my soul, I relax against him just a little more.

“Are you ready for Thursday?” he asks and without getting away from his embrace I nod. Our order is called we shuffle together to get our drinks. “Simon Hoover is going to be there.”

I almost drop my macchiato in surprise and excitement. I haven’t seen him very much around Inferno and when I do, he doesn’t speak very often. He also leaves as soon as Stephen is done talking so I hardly have any new intel on him other than that he lives in D.C. with his wife, Clarissa. No children yet. Which is great – I’d hate taking a father away from his children, but at the same time… Meh.

“His grandfather, Walter, is still one of the biggest donors. He’s an Elder, and when Simon played rugby here, he won MVP two years in a row. He’s a big motherfucker, baby. He still plays rugby. I don’t want to say you aren’t strong enough, because you did carry Tyler and dump him all the way to bathroom, but I’m thinking we might need to think of a way to use a bit less physical force to do what it is you need to do to him.” He says, his voice a muffled whisper as we get to Maverick’s class.

Well, shit.    

I want to ask him about Riordan’s funeral tomorrow night, but because I still don’t talk to anyone but my men in the comfort and safety of our home or vehicles. I let my thoughts wander to all the different ways I’ve learned to kill from taking Maverick’s class. The only reason I took this class.

You know what they say, “learn from their mistakes so you can do it better.”

Chapter Sixteen

Jonas.

“Are you really going to the funeral?”

I give him a sly smirk. “You worried about me, old man?” Maverick scowls and my lips lift higher in a wider smile but then it drops. “I know you wouldn’t understand, but this is business now. It’s not personal. Besides, there’s a meeting afterward I have to attend. I have to know what they know in case they think Raven is behind it, Mav. It’s not like I’m going to fucking shake hands with them all and kiss them. I’m still a legacy by surname.” I say, packing my cloak and mask, shoving them into my backpack haphazardly because I don’t give a fuck if they’re wrinkled.

“How far away is this meeting?” He asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“It’s in Salem at the Prescott estate. Don’t worry. Raven put a tracker in me back in October. Her and Damon will be able to almost see every move I make.”

“A tracker? They what?”

“Don’t worry. You have one, too.”

“I what?” he replies hoarsely.

I chuckle, zipping up my backpack and leaving it by the door. “That’s how we knew you were over the Atlantic before we even left our hotel room in Paris. You have a lot of making up to do for that, by the way.”

“You’re going to have to backtrack everything you just said to me.” Maverick pales.

“So, when school first started, Damon put a bio-tracker in Raven-“

“The man is demented.”

“The man is proactive.” I retort. “Anyway, when shit started going down, more Syndicate members were showing up to attend funerals, and initiations. So, our pretty girl wanted to be able to keep her eye on me, make sure I was okay. And then, since we both had one, she wanted Damon to have one, too. Then she sucked us up in his office. It was great. I came so fucking hard all over her tits. I’m talking gobs of cum-“

“Where do I fit into this?” he interrupts.

“Oh, duh. The first night you finally decided to talk to us at Inferno.”

“When you drugged me.”

I make a face because I didn’t really drug him. He was pretty wasted already. “It was just a baby drop of GHB. You were fine. Damon only put you on an IV because you were faded and he didn’t want you to have a hangover. See? Proactive.”

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“We had to pull over twice so you could puke.”

He rolls those pretty peridot eyes and grimaces, crossing his arms and leaning against my doorframe. “So you’ve been watching me this whole time?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Raven peeps in sometimes when she misses you, but other than that, it’s just a safety precaution. She watches over me when I’m doing Syndicate things, Damon watches over all of us to… okay, he mostly watches over her because if he doesn’t know where she is, he gets bad anxiety, but he won’t admit that. He’s just used to being able to see her all the time from the cameras during their time at Lorne Wood. And I mean it when I say he’s proactive. He put in her birth control while she was there and before she got out. Did you know he didn’t fuck anyone for three years to make sure he was clean for her before he took her virginity?”

“Damon took her virginity?”

“Well… we kind of… both did.” I admit. “It was so hot. I came all over her tits then used Damon’s cum as lube to reclaim her. I came so fucking much, she was covered in it. I’m talking gobs of cum everywhere. Fuck, she did this thing where she scooped up my cum from her tits and tummy and tried to shove it into her pussy. So obviously I had to give her more.” I smile, reminiscing at how my sweet baby girl turned out to be such a sick little cumslut.

His eyes go wide. “Raw?”

“Yeah. I’ve never gone raw before. I always suited up. But with her, it was a spur of the moment thing and I’m so glad I didn’t wear one. It made everything better.”

“Interesting.” He says.

“Still mad you got a tracker in you or…?” I ask, trailing off, throwing on a tight thermal, tucking it into my slacks.

“Yes.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes while I find my button-up. “You can be mad about it, but if shit goes down, you’ll be glad you can see where she’s at at all times no matter where you are.” I give him the name of the app, to which he sighs, grabbing his phone from his sweatpants pocket and downloads it immediately. “So, that’s her, that’s me, that’s Damon.” I point us out. “You can also change our dot colors. She’s purple on my app. Hey, did Damon tell you the theme for the Holiday Banquet is Roaring Twenties?”

“No, but I received an email last week from faculty. I have my suit ready. Are you ready to receive your award for MVP?”

I sigh. “It’s not for sure mine, yet. I’m only nominated.” I go to my closet and grab my boots, the ones Raven got for me, my other shoes forgotten, shove them on, and then bend when I need to lace them up.

“Jonas, you’ve played wide receiver, running back and played quarterback interim when River was hurt last game. Short of taking Coach Sutton’s position, you’ve kept the Yellow Jackets afloat. Scouts are watching you.”

“I know and in a perfect world, I’d be playing for the Baltimore Ravens.” I don’t tell him that their scouts already reached out, interested in “getting to know me.”

“If the Syndicate was dismantled-“ he starts but I stop it.

“We’d all be in the spotlight, Mav. You, Raven, Me… I’m sure Damon wouldn’t like his patients to know he’s in a polyamorous relationship. I’m sure he’d like to keep his private life just that – private. The last thing Raven needs is to have more people trying to invade her life. Sure, Rayne-Moore is secure. There’s security and bodyguards everywhere to keep out the scum. But stepping out, say in New York City, we’re socialites. Paparazzi catch a whiff of where we are, and it’s bomb after bomb of cameras flashing in your face, trying to ask you the most private of questions. I mean, just look at what happened with the paramedic that took pictures of her on the night they found her… I can’t protect her at all times. But if I can protect her by not shoving us into that spotlight, I’ll do it. My dreams be damned.”

Raven chooses this exact moment to brush past Maverick into my room and steps up to me with a scowl on her face. She’s so cute. And hot. Oh my god, she’s wearing this tight little white camisole that show her hardened nipples, her pink satin sleep shorts that show off her fat little pussy and fuzzy socks. Her hair is down and free in these luscious chocolate waves and fuuuck I’m getting hard.

Fuck Riordan. Fuck the funeral. Fuck the Syndicate – I’m staying home.

Her little hands go up. I don’t care about being in the limelight. No matter what I do or where I go, they’re going to follow me once I leave Rayne-Moore. If you want to play for the NFL, you should play! You dreams are my dreams… “I w-want you… hap..py.”  

My heart melts. I hate that she overheard our conversation but it’s exactly what I needed to hear. I take her in my arms, placing my hands on her juicy ass and tug her even closer, making sure to squeeze then rub, because fuck, I love the way she fills my hands. “You are my dream, baby. Don’t you get that yet? Where you are, I are. Coming home to you every day is the dream. I thought we settled this before Homecoming?”

She rolls those magnificent honey eyes at me, and I only get harder. “I w-would t-t-travel w-w-with… you.” She pauses and, seemingly getting frustrated with herself, I bend down to rub her nose with mine, encouraging her. She exhales, her breath on my lips and then, “P-p-pap…parazzi… c-can ssssuck mmmy d-dick.”

Closing my eyes, I throw my head back and laugh, my entire being vibrating, filling with joy. I was not expecting that, nor the weird sound that comes from Maverick. He’s laughing, too. It’s a normal fucking laugh, rich and nice sounding, but goddamn, I hardly ever hear it that when it does happen, it’s so fucking strange. I shoot him a grin. “Careful, Professor, you’re losing your perpetual scowl.”

His smile stays but his eyes twinkle at our girl. He points at me. “You have a funeral to get to and you…” he turns his hand and makes a come-hither motion to her. She kisses me quickly and drops to her knees, crawling to Maverick like he has her on an invisible leash. When she reaches him she sits back on her heels, hands in her lap and she looks up at him, ready for instructions. “You owe me thirty-five uninterrupted minutes of Edgar Allen Poe.”

Her shoulders slump.

                 ________

I leave the house in Raven’s luxurious Audi, knowing I need to get my own since all I have is my bike sitting in the garage, waiting for me to ride her, but I wasn’t exactly expecting to move off campus with my girlfriend. I let my playlist play as I drive out of Kingston and into Salem, finding the procession already in motion and just like with Tyler’s, I cut some anus off and cut in, following them to the burial site.

The cemetery is beautiful. It’s a weird thing to say, but so many of the tombstones and angel statues are untouched and covered in snow. Some of them glisten in the sun when you turn just right. It looks like a haunting snow globe. The reverend utters the same words he did at the wake, and soon, we all take a handful of dirt and throw it on Riordan’s casket, following with white roses, muttering goodbyes. I step to the side, giving the Elders a chance to congregate before tonight’s meeting at the Prescott estate. I am surprised to see that neither Monroe is here.

I keep my gloved hands clasped together in front of me, taking in the peaceful scenery for a moment before he opens his mouth and can ruin it. I catch my adoptive father’s gaze, and he looks away as Stephen Prescott opens his mouth to say whatever to him. I’m sure he’s aggravated and on no sleep because he just touched down at the airport before coming here.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I know you and Riordan were close once.” I look over my shoulder to see Andrew Mikaelson, a former teammate and Sigma Delta Chi frat brother. He graduated three years ago after my freshman year. He looks good. Dirty blonde hair, blue-green hazel eyes, a strong, clean-shaven jaw. I don’t remember seeing him at the last gathering but then again, I wasn’t really looking. I also tend to leave as soon as I can without a backwards glance.

At least he sounds sincere. “It wasn’t always great, but it wasn’t always terrible, either.” I turn to face him. “You look really tan.”

He grins, all white, perfect teeth. “Yeah, I was in Bermuda for work, I just got back a few months ago before hurricane season hit.”

I try to reach for what his family does, but they’re so low on the pole I can’t remember. “What is it you do again?”

“Oh, corporate financing for companies that either buy out smaller companies or merge with another. I was in London before Bermuda. Before that I was in Australia. Only flying in for initiations since they’re so infrequent.”

I nod. “That’s right. Sorry. I just haven’t seen you in a while.”

He shrugs as much as the tight peacoat he’s wearing will let him, shoving his hands in the pockets and burying his face in the scarf around his neck, surely having forgotten how cold the winters get here. “That’s all right. I don’t think we really talked much before except at practice. And that was mostly grunts, roasts, and calls.”

He’s right. We didn’t ever really talk. We both see the Elders stepping away from each other and the older Mikaelson, not an elder but still his father, and mine, walk toward us. They look almost identical except Mr. Mikaelson has brown hair and isn’t tan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Mikaelson has a slight Swedish accent, having been born here but raised in Sweden and returned to attend Rayne-Moore.

“Ah, Jonas. How good to see you.” He says, extending his hand. Yup, there it is.

I shake it, firmly. “Mr. Mikaelson, likewise. Father.” I nod to my dad.

“Jonas. I suspect you’ve spoken to your mother?”

I flash him my sweetest smile. “Unless Raven takes the phone from me so she can talk to her, yes, I’ve talked to her.”

Dad’s eyes that look like mine but aren’t, glimmer. He loves Raven, too. He’s just… wary of everyone. With her episodes and mine, I’m sure he thinks we’re a fucking catastrophe waiting to happen. I miss George. He’d say the right thing about my relationship – fucking nothing.

“Come, son. Let’s get a move on, the sooner this ends, the better. I’d like to fu- uh, see my wife before I have to leave again.”

I grimace but hey, as long as I don’t see it, whatever.

We tilt our heads to the Mikaelson’s and head to the Audi since he was dropped off by Towne Car. Once we’re in the safety of the Audi with no extra ears listening, he takes off his gloves and we begin our journey to the Prescott estate.

“How is my future daughter-in-law?” he asks.

“She’s great. Getting better every day.”

“And you? How are you dealing with Riordan’s death?”

I blow the air out of my lungs. “Do you really want the truth, or do you want the lie?”

“Well, the lie is always much more interesting. Let’s go with that one first.” He answers, looking out the windshield.

“Alright. I’m not fine with it.”

“See? Interesting.”

“Dad, there is so much happening.” I can see him looking at me from my peripheral, but I keep my eyes on the traffic ahead, the red lights blinking through the snow now falling. I hope I don’t get stuck out here and have to stay at the estate.

“We have twenty minutes or so before we arrive. Paraphrase it for me, son.”

I groan.

“Okay then, since you’re being so forthcoming, does this have anything to do as to why Ivan is following you?”

“You know about that?”

“Did I notice my wife’s most trusted bodyguard is being paid double since Thanksgiving, and hasn’t been around just as long? Yes, I do know about that.”

I groan again but this time inwardly and let myself think of a way to tell him everything without incriminating ourselves. When I’m done talking, we’re at the old brownstone mansion and I’m parking in the long circular driveway behind a dozen other luxurious vehicles.

“Riordan was quick to point fingers. But son, it doesn’t look good that he dropped over eighty feet while screaming her name.”

I shake my head, looking at the snow-covered mansion harboring evil. “He didn’t do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before he dropped, there was someone else up there with him. I… Dad, I think he was dead before he was thrown over.”

“You’re sure of it?” he asks, hazel eyes meeting mine.

I nod.

“Then you need to tell them everything you saw, or they’ll be out for blood, Jonas. Hers.”

My stomach recoils into itself, feeling like it’s plummeting. I’m about to ask for more, to tell me more about whatever he can since it’s the first time we’ve truly been alone together in months, but someone begins tapping at my window makes me look back.

Stephen fucking Prescott.

My father and I both unstrap ourselves but not before dad says under his breath facing away from the window, “You keep that girl close to you, son. Do you understand? Don’t let her out of your sight. If any of them even get a whiff, I don’t know if I can help you once you’re in their grasp.”

My stomach squeezes as we tug on our coats quickly, opening the doors to slip out into the brisk air. I greet Mr. Prescott, to which he gives me a curt hello back and then we follow him up the steps to his lavish familial home. I pause, beside one of the gargoyles, remembering the scream before Riordan dropped from George’s neck and almost let out a soft whine.

Did the person that did this to Riordan choose the belltower because it was my safe space? Did they do that to ruin it for me? It’s been days and there’s been no crime scene tape anywhere. No cops have shown up around campus or come to question us. It’s fucking bizarre.

I feel sick, putting on my cloak and mask, stepping into the room where everyone else is waiting and take my place between the cloaks. Like during the last initiation, I feel eyes on me and look up to see Axel’s green eyes peeking over at me from his half mask. I guess he was able to make it in after all. From the way his eyes crinkle, I know he’s offering a small smile. I nod back and bow my head again.

Stephen begins to talk, his voice a low, monotonous booming noise to me, droning on and on, bringing up Riordan’s murder when he calls my name. I step forward, out of line, my head snapping up to meet his icy blue gaze. It sends chills down my spine and throughout my body, but I hold in my shudder.

“Sir?”

“Witnesses said he cried out your… girlfriend’s name before…” he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Yes sir.” I flick my eyes quickly over to my father’s and back on Stephen’s. “If I may give you something to think over?”

“Proceed.”

I inhale, letting it calm me. “They called out her name and when I looked up, I saw a hooded figure behind Riordan before he dropped. It wasn’t Ri that called out for her. When the rope snapped and landed, I made sure to lead Raven to safety before going to up the belfry and I saw signs of struggle. Blood on the ground. Not a lot. Riordan did not do this… If I’m honest, sir, I believe he was dead before he was… over the railing.”

He nods, slowly as if taking in my words. “Yes, we already had someone from the police department check out the scene. We’ve decided to handle this… internally.”

Chills. Chills erupt everywhere from beneath my cloak, and I step back into formation.

“Thank you, for speaking up about what you saw, you confirmed what we already knew.”

I simply bow my head and wait for it to all be over.

I just want to get home to my girl.

I’m desperate to feel her in my arms and hear her tell me she loves me while I come inside her. It’s all I ever want.

Chapter Seventeen

Raven.

I swallow around my professor’s engorged, heavy dick while he reads and not to me, just simply reading to himself for pleasure.

I’m doing my best not to swirl my tongue around the fat head so I can take him deeper. It’s when I’m swallowing my drool and my tongue flattens under the girth and I move, that he lets out a soft, masculine groan. It fills the quiet space and rings in my ears like a symphony.

Wicked green eyes flick to me from beneath his book and he sighs. Sighs at me as though I’m a nuisance and liquid heat pools between my legs. He sets the book down, one finger between the pages so he doesn’t lose his spot. I love that Maverick reads more than I do. I love it even more that he does it shirtless where I can see every rune, every Latin phrase etched into his skin. He’s a masterpiece.

The freshly tatted image of me, head bowed, hands bound above my head, black wings on, breasts out and nipples hard, kneeling before him on his chest gleams at me from above. I can see the faint lines of my usual fishnets and I know that’s what I must have looked like the night he took me to Room Seven at Inferno. I soared when I saw it, honored he chose me to be inked on him forever, wanting to kiss all over it, but afraid to mess up the healing process.

This must be what it felt like for Jonas when he saw his number tatted on my ribcage. He wanted to touch it so badly, but I kept pushing his finger down, shooing him away. Now, he always rubs his thumb against it before playing with my breasts and always kisses it before going down on me.  

“What is it you need from me for you to just be a good girl and warm my cock, Siren? Hmm? It’s a simple task - I feed you my cock and you keep it warm like the perfect little cocksleeve I know you can be.” The aggravation in his voice makes my heart plunge.

I want to tell him to fuck my face. To please, please for the love of God to fuck my face. I whimper around his length instead.

He bucks his hips, slowly, letting me take more of him in until he softly hits the back of my throat and I swear I feel it like he’s in my pussy. My clit tingles and I’m aching to play with myself. But I’m not allowed. Something he’s been doing since our night at Inferno is he ties my wrists behind my back and then gives me a task to focus on to keep from freaking out. I also know he’s doing this to keep my mind off Jonas. He retreats, settling again and I follow, laying my head on his thigh. He pets my hair, and I promise myself to do better…

But then I swallow again and keep my smirk to myself.

He slams his book shut then places it on the end table and puts both hands on either side of my temples, fingertips in my hair, lightly pulling. It almost feels like a scalpel massage, sending tingles everywhere and pumps his hips once, twice, so irritatingly slow, I have to clamp my thighs together. My eyes involuntarily close and I moan. Angry, brutal Maverick is to die for but Maverick slowly teasing me is like the eye before the storm.

“My greedy girl. This is what you wanted, isn’t it, my cock past your tongue and in your throat?”

I’m afraid to nod but I do it anyway.

He pulls out of my mouth, and I whimper again at the loss of him. “Stand, Siren.”

I do. I’m naked, save my knee-high socks and his silk tie around my wrists. I need to buy him more of these. He leans forward, hands on the back of my thighs, my sex now at eye-level to him but he pushes his nose into the trimmed curls of my mound and inhales. I watch a shiver race through him as he sits straight, hands curling in on the fleshy part of my inner thighs and he pulls outward, spreading me open from behind.

“I can smell how wet you are. Is that what holding my cock in your pretty mouth does to you?”

“Yes… sir.”

He hums pensively, looking at me over the frame of his glasses that sit on the end of his nose. “Do you think, you could warm me with your slick pussy and not move an inch?” he pulls back, letting go of my thighs and sitting back, a king of torment on his throne.

“Yes.” It’s a lie.

We both know it.

One large hand grips his length, jutting it out toward me. It’s so thick and beautiful and veiny and it looks so fucking strong. I almost too quickly climb into his lap. He brushes the fattest part of him across my wet clit over and over again until I quiver and then he gently guides me down. I moan happily, practically keening at how fucking good he feels stretching me.

“Shhh, Siren. Rest your head on my shoulder and relax your gorgeous pussy around me… That’s my sweet girl. All the way down,” he growls when I’m fully seated to the hilt, his balls are firm against my ass, and I purr for him. His arms go around my waist and he lifts his book and opens it again. “Now, the plot is… thickening. I need you to be very still while I finish this chapter. For every chapter I read without you squirming, I’ll give you one fuck.”

I sigh, annoyed but content to play his game.

“Don’t give me that. You know why I do this, don’t you?”

I shrug against him, snuggling my face deeper into his neck, one of his warm hands on my back as he rubs soothing circles up and down to the small of my back, then down my ass, caressing in the best ways, kneading my cheeks, growing harder inside me.

“Because I’m the only one allowed to clip your wings.” He rasps.

It’s an ominous feeling, one smoothed away by a kiss to my shoulder before he leans back further into the cushion. I feel so safe.

As safe as one could feel with their hands tied behind their back and a dick stretching their pussy, anyway.

Minutes pass by, with my professor deep in my cunt, his scent in my lungs, his warmth radiating through me and I’m floating away into sleep, feeling so weightless when I feel this first pump of his hips retract then push into me.

Yesssss.

Soon it’s another thrust along with another kiss to my shoulder.

On the third, he licks my clavicle and sucks, licking away the tenderness, eyes still on his page.

On the fourth, the hand on my ass finds purchase around to my other hip, pushing me down when he goes up. I squirm with that one and it earns me a spank. I spread my thighs a little farther, hoping my needy clit will rub against him, getting friction and he figures out what I’m doing all too soon. A dark chuckle escapes him.

“Smart girl.”

I coo, opening my mouth to lick the taste of him from his neck, swirling my tongue, which earns me another buck of his cock diving into me.

Ohhhh…

I unwillingly contract around his hard, thick length, and he hisses. I’m so tempted to fuck. To just rise on my knees and let myself fall over and over again but he grabs my hip and bares down again, keeping me in place. I let myself rest against him again, but I can’t help when I squeeze around him. It’s instinctive. Another page, another pump, I’m going crazy.

“Please…” I beg.

“You know I’ll give you what you ask for when I see fit, Siren. Be good. What did I say?”

“Only you… c-clip m-my w-wings.”

He hums in satisfaction, reading silently to himself, and I melt into him further. I should be studying right now. Learning how to cook something other than frozen pizza, learning a new language (ha) but when he bucks into me and sets his book down, I forget all about what I was thinking I should be doing, and feel perfect where I am.

I pull back slightly, away from his embrace, clenching when I feel him pulse and peer at my handsome devil, hair tousled, green eyes darkened behind his glasses, waiting for his command.

Where I was made to worship Jonas and made to be loved and worshipped by Damon, I was made to serve Maverick.

He unbinds my hands, the sweet relief of having my shoulders relax fully makes me moan. He tucks his hands under my thighs and in one swift movement, I’m on my back on the coffee table. Taking my hands again, he ties my wrists behind my knees and then withdraws from me.

“Such a beautiful fucking sight every time. Like my own gift.” He whispers into the empty room.

I cry out when I feel his tongue lick me from hole to clit, sucking my lower lips into his mouth and cry out again when he roughly shoves two thick fingers into me, turning to hook, and his tongue lands on my sensitive flesh, feverishly licking. I’m shaking, the heat running through my veins settling in my womb and so fucking ready to erupt when he pulls away and I cry out again, ready to beg for more.

“I’ve had to fuck my fist to memories of you these last few days while this tiny pussy rested, Siren. I’m going to take my time. Look at how gorgeous you are, clenching around nothing but air, seeking me. Such a filthy little angel, aren’t you, so fucking greedy for more cum. Did you not have enough?”

“No!” I answer honestly because they’ve done this to me – turned me into a wanton slut, always in heat. When he plunges his digits back inside, only to pull out again and slap at my clit, I can’t help but yelp. “Maverick!”

“That’s right. You call out my name when I’m ruining your wings. Look at yourself.”

I do. I turn to face the full-length mirror Jonas had installed in every room and I look so fucking vulnerable. Knees to my chest, hands bound, hair splayed over the coffee table I’m not sure can actually bare my weight, my inked devil looming over me, stroking his dick as his wicked glare clashes with mine. Sexy. Powerful. Beastly. Drops of sweat accumulate and run down his bare chest and I salivate, wanting to lick up every drop.

He lines the tip of himself to my dripping sex and in one powerful thrust, I watch our reflections join as one, as his muscles ripple. He snarls and I scream.

“Take” thrust “every fat” thrust “fucking” thrust “inch.”

I feel alive, every nerve ending electrified and begging for more. More slaps to my clit, the backs of my thighs, just more. And I plead for it. One orgasm runs through into another when he thumbs my clit, pressing down on it, all words out of his mouth nothing but degradation and praise, my arousal so thick and creamy I can see it dripping down to his heavy balls in the reflection and I go mute with every orgasm, only to cry out for more.

“This is my pussy. When I am inside you, you belong to me. Don’t you?”

“Yes!” I scream. Where’s my stutter now?

“So call out my name, so I can fill you up.”

“Maverick!”

“Again.” He demands, thrusting so violently the coffee table shakes beneath me.

“Maverick!”

Pounding harder in short, deep strokes, my voice goes hoarse crying out for him and in one, loud masculine groan he curses me, every thrum of his dick unloading into me. When he withdraws, he kneels, inspecting the mess he’s made. Whatever pools out, he pushes back in, keeping me full.

“My messy girl.” He says with pride.

The coffee table breaks as the front door opens and Damon walks in. “What the fuck happened?”

I burst out in giggles, even tied up and on top of a broken table, I feel… I feel free.

It’s when Jonas steps in behind Damon in absolute confusion and his brows draw up in concern that Maverick unties me and helps me up on wobbly legs.

What a perfect fucking day.

                 ________

Much like the Annual Homecoming Ball, the Athletic Holiday Banquet is a lavish, gorgeous soiree, due to all athletic departments bringing in a bogus amount of money. Everyone from donors to the players, their parents and their significant others are here. It’s much more crowded than the ball was.

Like before, we go in separate vehicles, Jonas pulls the Audi up to the front of the roundabout and after opening my door and helping me out, he gives the keys to the valet person, and tugs down my lavender cloche hat I specially ordered from a boutique in New York, along with my flapper dress. The waist cropped and the hem short and of course, my gloves. The dress itself has crystals woven into it, making it shine and glitter in the light. I love it and Jonas has barely been able to keep his hands off me.

“This just goes to show baby, I would have loved you in any decade. You’re timeless.”

I blushed at his words, looking over at Damon who simply stood muted into place, desire in his glacier eyes melting me on the spot and Maverick? Did the same, although he looked a bit angry at first, like he was mad I wasn’t the one on his arm tonight. And that’s exactly what he admitted to before we left.

“One day Siren, we won’t have to hide, and I’ll be able to take you out without worrying about how it looks that I’m dating my student.” Then he kissed my jaw and walked away. Damon and Jonas agreed.

“That’d be… the cat’s… pajamas.” I grinned but a part of me was sad that I couldn’t incorporate an old transatlantic accent into my joke.

All of my men look fucking fantastic tonight. Each one in vintage tailored three-piece suits. Maverick in navy with a lavender tie and pocket square, Damon in black with the same color pocket square and silk tie, and Jonas in a charcoal suit with a lavender button up, but a grey and lilac silk tie and pocket square. They look delicious.

And all mine.

Before entering the dining hall, each side of the door has a blown-up picture of the Prescott twins and Dean Whitmore on easels. Candles are lit in memoriam, and we pause for a moment to pay our respects. Otherwise, well, it would look weird, wouldn’t it?

The dining hall is decorated in luxurious heavy gold drapes and curtains, large flamboyant crystal chandeliers hang, glittering in the light along with what looks like suspended bubbles in the air. There’s tall, ostrich feather centerpieces, clashes of silver and gold with black trim, and beads are scattered on every table and on the sides. There are sidebars full of food, and desserts, and fruits that are out of season – strawberries, grapes, mandarins, watermelon. It’s all so beautiful and light.

There’s a swing band playing, people dancing what they believe is the Charleston, and of course, so much schmoozing.

“Oh, there’s my mom. C’mon!” Jonas says, pulling me in the direction he saw Elena – Mr. Anderson nowhere to be seen. As though he’s read my mind, he says, “Dad went back to Singapore, remember baby?”

I nod as Elena takes me into her arms. “Oh! My darling girl you look so fabulous! I love this dress!”

I grin, wide, forming the words on my lips I practiced hours before in the mirror, knowing I would be seeing her tonight. I whisper in her ear, “You… look… b… beautiful.”

She gasps and I swear I see tears rim her eyes when she pulls away, but all she does is smile, not making it a big deal that I’m speaking, but she looks so proud. “Thank you, darling. This was my grandmother’s dress if you can believe it. Come, I found where we’re sitting.”

Elena and I sit on either side of Jonas. It just so happens to be where there’s a large table reserved for donors, MVP nominees and their families. So conveniently close to the one and only, Simon Hoover, and his wife, Clarissa, along with other members of the Syndicate. I don’t know them all, but the conversation seems to flow easily between them.

“Did it touch your strawberry?” I hear come from Simon as his wife tries to feed him a grape.

“No, I kept them all separated, look.”

I look at her plate, and yes, all of her fruits are in a different crystal bowl.

“Did you use a different utensil to scoop them?”

“Yes, babe. Oh my god. Relax.”

Simon, who is obviously handsome, dark eyes, brown haired, usually stoic makes a face. A totally unrelaxed face. “I think it’s just safer for me to not eat that. I mean, why would you even serve yourself strawberries?”

“As if you’re going to kiss me anyway?” She snaps back and the table grows quiet. She gives out a nervous chuckle and blushes something close to crimson, her brown eyes tearing up a bit. “I am so sorry. Heh. Excuse me.” Clarissa gets up from the table in a hurry and flies out of the dining hall.

Jonas and I give each other a look. His arm comes around me and he squeezes my hip when I relax into him. Simon eyes us, calling for the waiter handing out champagne and he take a glass, asking him to also, take away the bowls of fruit away to which he does, and Simon seems to forget about us, going back to the guy he was talking to. Roman… Rossi. I think that’s what his name is. He’s in my Music Theory class. I did not know he was an athlete. Roman throws a smile my way and Jonas tugs me closer, bringing his lips to my cheek and kissing me possessively.

Elena winks at me.

The lights dim down then go back up and the chattering cuts off, everyone giving Mr. Wilkerson, the dean interim, their full attention as he begins his speech. He goes off, talking about what a strange year it’s been, blah-blah-blah, thanking the school board for voting him in as dean until it’s official. I don’t even know who this guy is. Does he teach here?

I catch Maverick leaning over to Damon at the far side of the room, Damon’s eyes widening and he looks back at Maverick, in what seems to be surprise. Hmm. I wonder what that’s about.

There’s feedback on the microphone that draws my attention back to the stage, and I’m just now really seeing all the trophies behind Coach Sutton. It feels like a blast from the past watching the older man step up to the stage. He looked so much younger six years ago when Axel and I were freshmen. He also drones on about the loss of the twins and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes when a screen comes down and he talks about how wonderful Chase was while showing pictures of him and Riordan in candid shots. Everyone in the room grows misty eyed.

Riordan, yeah sure.

But Chase?

I almost gag.

Feeling me squirm, Jonas squeezes my hip again, murmuring that it’s okay. He starts feeding me instead, telling me how he wants to eat strawberries out of my pussy, and I squirm in my seat for an entirely different reason. We’re going to have to make that happen somehow. Soon, the rugby and soccer coaches join Sutton on the stage and they’re handing out awards. Applause is rounded, quieted, raised again, and so on and so forth. I don’t remember these banquets being so boring when Axel was younger but then again, I had friends. I would sit with them, and we would gossip and talk about who was dating who, who was caught fucking who, etcetera.

Fuck I miss Brina.

After a good hour, the time has come, and the lights dim down once more before brightening and the room hushes once again. I can feel Jonas trembling beside me, anxious as his mother Facetimes Mr. Anderson so he can watch his son win the award, even though it’s only a nomination and not set in stone. But when the envelope opens and Coach Sutton calls out Jonas’ name, the applause is thunderous.

My heart leaps with pride as he stands, buttoning up his jacket, grinning so wide his dimples pop. Coach hands him the large Yellow Jacket Trophy as the crowd quiets down and Jonas clears his throat then begins to speak.

“First of all, a farewell to both Chase and Riordan. Chase… you were many things. But your love for the game was also an inspiration to me and your brother. My best friend, Riordan. We didn’t always get along, but we always had the game, and for that, I do thank you.

“Next, I would like to thank my mother, for always pushing me to do my best, and if she thought it wasn’t my best, for pushing me to try it again. I could give a sob story, I could give so many reasons why a man like me shouldn’t or couldn’t be up here right now accepting this award but in all honesty, I will say, I wouldn’t and couldn’t have done this without love.

“Love from my parents, love for the game, and love, from my beautiful, soon-to-be wife, Raven. For also always pushing me to do better. For waking me up on days when it was hard, when my alarm would go off and you’d make sure I got out of bed when I didn’t want to. For making me buckle down and study and making it fun. For being there, even in your resilient silence and helping the rest of the world outside of our bubble quiet down as well. You have made me a better man, a better friend, and a better player by allowing me to be myself and simply loving me as I am. I adore you.”

The women in the crowd ‘aww’ and Elena reaches over to grab my hand, Simon watching our every move.

“To the rest of my teammates, I know it’s been a wild year. We’ve had more downs than ups, winning by the jerseys on our backs but we’ve made it. River has stepped up amazingly as QB, Jacobson as RB, and I know, with this team, this coach, your undying support and loyalty, we’ll be making it to nationals come February.”

The room goes crazy with applause as he steps down and returns to me with open arms.

Elena hands him the phone so he can say hello to his father. When he’s done, he leans down to kiss his mother goodbye and takes me by the hand. I barely get to wave goodbye to her before I’m lead out of the dining hall and then the coat closet to grab our things as valet grabs the Audi.

I hear footsteps behind us and see Harrington and Archer quickly striding to us, “Is everything okay?” Damon asks.

“What? Yeah. I’m just done being around those pretentious assholes. I’m ready to go home and eat my girl’s pussy from the back.”

Christ.

Oh great. I’m wet.

________

Jonas has me exactly where he wants me – fucking into me from behind in front of the bathroom mirror. I didn’t even get to take off my dress that’s bunched up around my hips or my makeup that’s absolutely trashed now. My eyes are on his face, contorted in pure blissful torment, teeth gritted together when he pulls me by the hair, my back to his chest and he reaches over, fingers on my clit when he sneers.

“Did you hear Simon tonight, baby?”

Who?

“He’s allergic to strawberries.”

Oh… Simon.

Jonas pounds into me harder, the items on the counter falling and clattering down into the sink. “Fuck this pussy is so goddamn good. You looked so pretty tonight. I couldn’t wait to get you home and watch you come for me.”

“Jonas!” I cry out, taking every thrust with a gasp, fighting to keep my eyes open and on him as my climax peaks, driving me off a ledge suddenly with a stifled gasp. He rips the front of my dress open, crystals skittering everywhere then goes right back to rubbing my clit with one hand while the other palms my breast. He looks so fucking large and so masculine behind me.

“That’s it baby, eyes on me when you come for me. So fucking pretty when you come for me. Oh fuck, say it, baby. It drives me so fucking crazy when you say it… please, baby.” He groans like it hurts him to hold back from filling me up, pounding into me so hard the veins in his forearms pop, every delectable muscle I can see flexes. “Say it baby, I need to come for you. It’s all I think about, all day.”

“I love you.”

He looks like a fucking god when his head tilts back, narrowed eyes still on mine, and he comes, shoving every thick, delicious inch into my pussy I cry out, feeling his muscular thighs shaking, dick pulsing, muscles twitching and watch his jaw clench. “Fuck yessss! Always so goddamn good. Fuck!”

He breathes, not withdrawing, staying semi-hard in me, the aftershocks of our orgasms still pulsing through us. He puts his chin on my head, keeping me in his embrace, autumn eyes hooded and dark. “I think it’s time you text your brother. Let him know we’ll be at your mom’s holiday party. I think I have an idea.”

Chapter Eighteen

Damon.

Eleven minutes.

Eleven minutes have passed since Raven perched her gorgeous, heart-shaped ass on my sofa, crossed her strong, supple legs, her arms over her ample chest, and stared blankly – not at me, but at the clock on the wall behind me.

I clear my throat, and her gaze flicks to mine.

“You promised you were going to try,” I say, picking off imaginary lint from the notebook I keep all of my personal notes on her progress as of late. As her doctor, I’m proud of how far she’s come in just the few short months she’s been out of Lorne Wood. As her boyfriend, I’m upset she doesn’t want to talk to her doctor.

It’s a vicious cycle.

“You… won’t…” her cheeks turn bright pink, and she turns her head away.

“I won’t what, Raven?”

“Not mmy na…me.”

Her snarky tone warms my heart. It is the sass I knew she kept hidden for so long. I like it. “Okay then, Amourette, I won’t what?”

Her blush is close to crimson. “F…fuck mmy throat.”

My dick definitely heard that. Doing my best to keep a straight face, I inhale as slowly as possible. I blink and jot down, ‘Patient is upset I won’t fuck her throat.’

I exhale slowly.

“I see.”

I take a look at the note above it that says, ‘patient responds very well to outer and inner stimuli during night terrors. Prefers cunnilingus during sleep state to awaken.’

“And this upsets you?”

She deadpans, meeting my gaze straight on. “Yes.”

I jot down, ‘minimal stuttering with less syllables although slightly resentful.’

“Can you tell me why this causes you grief?”

“You… treat mm…me like I’m f-f-fragile. I’m… not… fragile.” She pauses, and I can see her jaw moving, putting the right words together and her eyes well up with tears as her hands, although tucked into the creases of her arms form into fists.

‘Patient silently exhibits anger through body language, doing better on tapering emotions when directed at loved ones.’

My heart shudders. Christ. Is that what she really thinks?

“You… tr-treat mme like I’ll… br… break. I’m… not” She bites the T “crazy. Sh…shadow was real t…to me. And then he… was v-very real. Not only in… my mind.” Raven looks away again but then turns her focus back to the clock behind me.

Good. We’re finally having this conversation, and I didn’t have to bring it up. I still feel guilty over it even though I apologized. “When did you start seeing your shadow person, Little Bird?”

She shrugs. “Af…ter my dad… died. I th-thought he w-w-was back to… watch o…ver me.”

“What changed? When did you begin to feel as though it wasn’t benign or maybe more?”

“I fed it my fears,” she says clearly, and when I quirk a brow, urging her to continue, her lips roll inwardly and then she says, “And It grew.”

Slivers of chills splice through me.

“Did it ever speak to you or touch you or make you feel unsafe?”

“No.”

“Could you tell the difference between your shadow and Riordan?”

She nods. “And you… a-and Mmmaverick.”

My chin inclines once in understanding and instead of writing down what I want to, which is that ‘patient has a hypervigilance sense to danger… possibly a conditioned response stemmed from childhood,’ I simply ask, “Did your shadow ever… appear while you were at Lorne Wood?”

She squints as if trying to remember but shakes her head. Her hands fly up. I was lost a lot in my mind. Always foggy. And I was drugged to sleep during lightning storms.

I growl. “You were what?”

You would leave for the evening or the weekends, and when there were storms, I was sedated… pretty much until you returned.

My guts churn, a vile sickness sweeping through me. There was never any mention of meds or new meds on her charts when I would return to work in the mornings. And I worked every day. I didn’t show my face at the institution every day, but I checked her charts and watched her through the camera feeds every day.

Under my very watchful eye, Raven hadn’t been sedated by me unless extremely necessary. And even then, those were very far and very few times in between. When she first transferred to my ward, she had just had multiple surgeries, her leg was still in a cast, and she was bandaged everywhere else. When I stepped into her room, she was bent in a V position half hanging off the bed as though she had tried to crawl her way out before the medicine took effect and she was a drooling mess. Her used-to-be chocolate and caramel highlights all over in tangled tresses. It took a day of me brushing them out so the orderlies could tie it back.

I will admit – I did not love her then. No. My curiosity for her grew over time and the more I watched her, the more I obsessed, the more I grew attached, like she were a missing limb of mine and the more my need for her grew. I understood so much about her that I became hyperaware of her. Every twitch, every blink, every side-eye, every sharp inhale, every tear, everything that is Raven Olivia Monroe is embedded in my mind like an inoperable brain tumor and that’s exactly how I want it. I will never rid myself of her and she will never escape me.

“Do you trust me?”

She nods without hesitation.

“I never gave the order to dope – to have you sedated unless I was the one pushing the needle into your vein, Little Bird. Even then, it was small doses because the more clarity you had, the better I was able to get to know you. Do not ever think I would ever harm you.”

“I d…don’t.”

“No. You’re just upset because I won’t fuck your throat.” I come full circle.

She smirks.

“Come here, kneel before me.”

She gets up, strides to me in ten short steps, and kneels before me.

“Good girl. Undo my belt, unfasten my slacks, and take me out. I want to grow in your mouth,” I order.

She obeys and I let out a soft hiss when her cool fingers tentatively wrap around my thickening length. I shove away her hair from her face and hold it in my hand, tangling my fingers in the silky strands.

“Mon Coeur,” my heart, “if I am ever too gentle with you it’s because I treasure you. Even when I have you bent over, ramming myself into your sweet cunt, sharing you or calling you filthy names, je t’adore.” I adore you. “I want to own your orgasms, your pleasure, and looking at you when you come for me is what I live for. Mine doesn’t matter. Even when I dream of your lips wrapped around me,” she swirls her tongue around the crown of my cock, licking up a pearl of my pre-cum already accumulating, pulling me in and sucking on my tip like it’s a pacifier while wiggling her tongue on my frenulum, driving me crazy already. “Like that, Amourette, I still prefer to see you a whimpering mess beneath or above me, watching your face contort in pure pleasure and agony and love and desire. For me.” I rasp.

Using her hair I tug her lower, pumping my hips to feel her gag around me but she swallows, her cheeks hollowing on every retreat to suck me deeper and I stand so I can fuck her pretty little face properly.

“Your every wish is my command, Little Bird. All you have to do… is open your slutty lips and I’ll grant it.” I push forward until I reach the back of her throat, cupping the side of her face and keep her there until she relaxes around me and then I thrust, deeper, hold. I pull away until it’s just the tip of me and do it again, losing myself to the way she gags and slurps her saliva. So sloppy, so messy, it runs down her chin, but my good little slut doesn’t give up, doing her best to swallow and relax and hold her breath only for me to plunge again and again, watching her eyes water and spill over.

My balls feel so heavy when her hand comes up to cup them, tugging, making them draw up, my lower spine heating, my balls tingling. Her index finger finding that sweet spot behind my sac and pressing. “Is this what you wanted, Amourette? Twisted little bird wants my seed down her throat?”

She moans a resounding mmmhmm! Practically squealing in delight like my perfect little cumslut and the vibrations travel up my cock, adding to my pleasure.

“Jerk the base, so good, Raven, so fucking good. A little goddess at my feet, look at you. Beautiful, beautiful little bird. I’m going to… oh, fuck… just a pretty girl… yes… yes.. oh fuck. Gonna make you take me… deeper. Hold your breath. Oh fuck, Raven!” I shove every fucking inch of my dick past her tonsils, curling over her and a torrent of my hot, thick cum spurts to the back of her velvety throat, contracting around me to drink every fucking drop I give her, humming in absolute delight. My vision blurs and my thighs tremble from the force of my orgasm still receding when I pull out of her slick, hot mouth and fall back. She follows, lapping up whatever she missed like a hungry kitten and I jerk when she licks the head of my cock, overly sensitive and so, so sweetly does she tuck me back in my slacks and then climbs into my lap.

I’m panting, clutching her to me and I kiss her temple. “You are… everything to me, little love. Everything. If you had been transferred out of my care and into another asylum, I would have followed you there without a second thought for merely a glimpse of you. No metal doors or barred or even locked windows could have kept me from you. Which I’ve proven to you already. I would have found a way in even if it meant admitting myself under voluntary hold.” And then, because I mean it, I say, “When this is over, I will do my best to love you out loud.” And then I promise, “I will do my best to tell you the thoughts that swirl in my mind when it comes to us, but Amourette,” she pulls away to look at me, plush lips still swollen. “You have to tell me what’s going on in your pretty head, too. You have to remember I will always look for clues as to what’s bothering you but I’m not in your head. You have to talk to me.”

“I’m sc-scared this is… a dream.” She whispers, tears gathering in her eyes.

I tug at her wrist and softly rub on her fresh tattoo, feeling the raised ink marring her pretty flesh. Seeing my name on her body fuels me with a deeper desire to have her come for me so I can watch her face screw up in total ecstasy. “Even in your nightmares, your dreams, your hallucinations, my love for you is the realest thing. Cling to that every time you feel lost, and I’ll always find a way for you to come back to me.”

“Jus..t d-don’t tr..eat me… like… I’m frag…ile.”

“You exquisitely sweet little monster, let me repeat myself. If I’m ever too gentle or stern or serious with you it’s because I treasure you entirely too much, and with everything you have ever faced, you deserve to be treated like I love you because I do. I am irrevocably fucked for you. I’m sure I’ve heard the word ‘demented' thrown around here and it’s because I am. For you. So when you squeeze my cock with your delicious pussy so perfectly, of course I become deranged for the only woman I’ve ever loved. The rest of the world can fuck off entirely.” I conclude and she giggles. The sound is too enchanting. It calms me and relaxes my soul; it makes my chest ache. I press my lips to hers, the door to my office opens, footsteps on the hardwood alert me it’s both Jonas and Maverick entering.

“Ohhhh… is this the kind of therapy you do here, Doctor Le Douche?”

I don’t bother looking away from my sweet blackbird, just throw Jonas the finger and he laughs, plopping down on the couch. “If you ever tell me that me not fucking your throat is causing you grief, then yes, Pup, I’ll fuck your throat,” I growl.

“Christ.” Maverick laughs. “That’s why you’ve both been moody? You wouldn’t fuck her throat?”

“We came full circle-“

“I bet you did.” Jonas interrupts and I finally turn to glare at him. “I like Pup, by the way. Suits me just fine, doesn’t it, Little Bird?”

Raven throws her head back and laughs, the sound again making my dick jump beneath her beautifully sculpted ass and I clutch her tighter, molding her body to fit mine, uncaring if her jagged pieces don’t fit me because mine fit hers. I mean what I said earlier. She is utterly exquisite and so utterly mine.

Are there women out there with less trauma that don’t stutter when they speak and could tell me immediately when something is bothering them instead of taking weeks to ruminate over it and being forced to tell me? Yes.

Are there women out there more beautiful with less mental, emotional and physical scars? Probably.

Although I highly doubt it.

Besides, I want the one woman with the scars I’ve watched heal in a humble resilience so strong and silent it’s shaking earths and leaving a blood-soaked path in her wake.

I possibly need therapy myself, but I love what I feel for her. I choke on the air she breathes, inhale at her exhale and soak mercilessly in the depravity she makes me feel. Now that I’ve had her and know these maddening emotions exist, and have felt them myself, why would I settle for anything less?

“So, anything you want to share with the class, baby?” Jonas interrupts my thoughts of Raven and I’m a little teed he has such audacity.

She gives a little shrug, unwilling to share, and I’m fine with that. I don’t mind keeping her secrets. I’ve kept them for years. Inky pieces of her soul I’ll never give back to her because I’ve kept them for myself.

“Jonas?” I ask. “Anything you’d like to share?”

So very nonchalantly he scoots further down the suede couch and frowns, laying his hands on his stomach and interlocking his fingers. “I’m an open book. I don’t have anything to hide.”

I nod and turn to Maverick, who has his eyes on our girl and he too, settles deeper into the far end of the couch away from Jonas and looks wildly uncomfortable even though I made sure the oversized sofa would be to Raven’s liking – which means ultra comfort. “Harrington?”

“You’re telling me I still have a free-standing session?”

I grin inwardly but keep my features steady. “Up to an hour. Then it’s four hundred and seventy-five a session. And no, your insurance doesn’t cover me.”

He rolls those peridot eyes and sighs. “Alright then. But I’m not going to talk about my mother if that’s what you’re going for.”

“We can talk about anything you want.” I assure him, wishing I had my Maverick notebook.

He hums in contemplation then inhales sharply, looking at the ground. “What Tasha wrote about the Ackles Farm wasn’t all true. I read her memoir, and yes, she was my partner on this hunt, but I was on the hunt for this sicko for years. I was finishing up my degree in psychology when twin girls from UMass disappeared without a trace. Mandy and Jennifer. Regular girls. Beautiful. Barely legal freshmen.” He grimaces. “They were a buddy of mine’s little sister. Good kids. I helped him put up so many Missing Posters everywhere on campus with him. You couldn’t spit in one direction without landing on one. They’d gone on a road trip during Spring break, going home to see their parents in Washington.

“They’d stopped for gas in Idaho… only there for maybe twenty-three minutes. The gas station showed their rental car leaving, the taillights blinked red, signal light turned on to go left, and that’s the last known footage of them… their car was found with everything inside on the side of the road. Phones, wallets, just the passenger side door open.

“I’d watched true crime documentaries, but this was the closest I had come to anything like this ever. It was… fascinating. Not the fact that they went missing it’s how they went missing. I wanted to solve this. Unfortunately, with podcasts on the rise, theories went from strange alien abduction to they simply didn’t want to be found and disappeared on their own. But the car was on a long stretch of highway that was somewhat lit, I mean, someone must have seen something. Right?”

He doesn’t wait for us to answer before continuing.

“Jerry and I graduated, he went home to Washington to be closer to his family so that in case anything came up, he wouldn’t have to fly out. He could just be there for them. I mean, after so long you can really only expect… anyway. I’d already decided to use my degree to get into the FBI and after twenty weeks of rigorous training and tests, I was simply a rookie trying to find my way around all these older people that had been in law enforcement for so long that I felt a little lost. I would sit in the back of a room during briefing, stay after everyone left home and always looked over the victim board. Always looking over details someone could have missed. I kept a notebook with me always in case someone said something during interviews that didn’t sit well with me.

“After my first year there, I helped catch I three serial killers and was able to make one admit to their crimes during interrogations. But Mandy and Jen’s case was always in the back of my mind. Every time someone else went missing in the same area, or close to it, or even along that same stretch of highway, I paid attention. I wrote it down. Even when the notebook was yellowed and almost tattered, and Jerry had moved on with his life and even married and had children, I kept it in my briefcase just in case theirs got a matching MO or even a tip to their hotline, I would be ready to bring it up to my team.

“When I finally got the balls to bring it up to my boss, he said there wasn’t enough evidence to group them together. Plus, the girls going missing in that area were getting… younger. There were a few older women, mostly in their early twenties, but the girls…”

He looks pained, like he swallowed something sour, and it settled wrong in his stomach.

“A mother and child went missing… we got the call, and I had my briefcase ready. Over twenty missing women and girls, same MO. Only the car was found. Except finally, finally it seemed one thing had changed. A little girl’s shoe was left behind and there was a drop of blood. One. Drop.”

“People think sending something off to a lab takes a few hours like it does on TV, but the reality is, is that it can take weeks. We were scouring everything, everywhere, questioning everyone and nobody saw a goddamned thing… it took another year for the same thing to happen. This time a mother and her twin six-year-old daughters driving back from Disneyland in California. Their neighbors were the ones that reported them missing. The mother was recently divorced from her shitty spouse, had gotten her dream job and was finally able to afford a family vacation if they road-tripped instead of flying. It was a dream come true for her. This time the mother was left behind at the scene of the crime with skin under her fingernails where she fought against her attacker. But everything else was the same MO, and the specimen from under her nails matched that one drop of blood from the year before.

“Whatever was going on, the perp was escalating mentally, and we decided to search that stretch of highway and found seven farms. Hundreds of acres where someone could hide their victims. Hide their bodies…”    

Raven squirms in my arms.

“We finally had enough evidence point to the surrounding areas and we were able to get more cops to help question and search.” He clears his throat and his hand trembles along with his voice when he swallows thickly before proceeding. “When I walked onto the Ackles farm, it had just rained, and it immediately smelled like death. We had cops from three different cities helping us but when I walked on that farm… this whooshing in my ears wouldn’t stop. My stomach fell through my ass and all I wanted to do was leave. I don’t know what made me ignore Tasha who was going to the main house to speak to the owner, but something told me to go to the barn. Call it divine intervention or simply intuition, but it felt so heavy. Evil. The air was so thick and dense, and the mud was making me slip but I kept going. The barn looked like it hadn’t seen any upkeep in decades and the closer I got; the hogs were making this… sound. They were feeding and the splashing and crunching noises- I-” he looks like he’s going to be sick.

“I saw little blonde curls in the mud. I thought, ‘oh no, she fell, I have to help her before she’s trampled…’ and I pulled her to me but the pigs - I didn’t understand at first. It didn’t make sense. I was there! I was right there!” He points to the ground in frustration. “But she didn’t cry out, didn’t talk… didn’t… she didn’t…” an angry tear rushes down his face and it makes Raven jump out of my lap and dive to him as he wipes it away quickly.

She doesn’t climb into his lap to hold him. No, our perfect girl sinks to her knees and immediately puts her head in his lap, and holds his leg to her chest, subservient to him, waiting for a command to give him what he needs but our perfect girl has done just that. His hand goes to her silky strands, and he clears his throat, sniffing once, keeping his gaze on the top of her head, avoiding ours.

“I heard three gunshots go off by the time I had pulled her out of the pin.” He blinks thrice and clears his throat one last time, a man battling his memories. “I wrapped up Mia, the girl, in my jacket and placed her into an officer’s arms, handed in my gun and badge to Tasha, and walked away. I walked and walked and walked until I got to the police department, asked to use their showers. Stripped, vomited everything I’d eaten into the drain, and then called my boss and put in my resignation effective immediately. I learned later on what they had to do to those pigs for evidence…” he shakes his head. “Dozens of shoes and articles of clothing were laid out for the victim’s families to come and be able to identify them. Jerry’s parents weren’t able to identify them, but he was. I mean, he saw them almost every day on campus.”

We’re all quiet for a moment, Raven content with letting him pet her until he taps her head and then taps his thigh with two fingers when she looks up at him. She climbs up and settles into him, her face into his neck and he inhales when his arms curl around her middle, breathing in her scent. “So I didn’t go back. Couldn’t go back. That type of evil… it shouldn’t exist.”

“So then you decided to teach others how to better catch a bad guy.” Jonas finishes Maverick’s story.

“Precisely,” he swallows, “hoping someone out there will do it better than me.”

“Why haven't you told anyone, Maverick?” I ask.

Maverick looks down at his trembling hands. “Guilt. Shame. I knew what had been happening and it took me so long to bring it up to my boss, but he was right. There wasn’t enough evidence to group them altogether. I should’ve gone to someone else, but I didn’t want… I didn’t want to be wrong and lead a manhunt for nothing. I also didn’t even know where to start until that drop of blood was found. It was a stroke of luck Mia’s mother had fought back before she died and the DNA came back as matching.”

“You must know finding the Ackles farm, your partner shooting him, you saved countless more young women and girls.”

“But I could’ve saved more if I hadn’t been a fucking coward.”

“Nobody here thinks you’re a coward, Harrington.” I say softly and his eyes finally meet mine. He doesn’t believe me, but his gaze softens. I know this is something he’s going to fight with himself for a very long time.

“I killed my pregnant ex-girlfriend and her stepbrother-slash-lover on their way to eloping.” Jonas says quietly. “It’s how I was initiated into the Syndicate. I didn’t have any witnesses, but my father signed as mine.” He tells us about how his ex-girlfriend almost raped him before having to go to Ireland to be with his parents for their summer holiday but getting a message from Riordan that Paris was telling everyone he had been violent and tried to rape her. He sent a PI out and between the pictures of her and her stepbrother, Jacob Cartwright, fucking against his bedroom window and a hacker getting into the girl’s medical records, he found out she was pregnant. He flew back from Ireland in his family’s private jet and wanted to scare Jacob out of being with her.

“I just thought it was him in the car alone. I loosened his lug nuts, driving behind him in this huge SUV, swerving, making him drive off the road. I hadn’t meant for that to happen, either. I just wanted to scare him. To leave her alone. I was going to raise the baby as my own. Adopt it. You know? Like I was. He hit the rail guard, and I watched as paramedics pulled up their burnt bodies from the crash. That’s how I learned I had killed all of them. I didn’t know she was in the car with him. I didn’t know they were leaving to elope. It was the only time I hated my dad. Sometimes I still do,” Jonas sighs then looks over at Maverick. “I struggle with it every day. I get nightmares, too. Especially on the nights after an initiation or I have to go do a job for one of the Elders.”

I let him speak, Raven reaching over to place her hand on his thigh and squeezing just a bit and he places his large hand over hers, sending her a small smile.

“We all deal with things differently. When I found out Jacob had been the one that stabbed our girl, I felt a lot better about having killed him and getting away with it.”

“And Paris?” Maverick asks.

“Some days I feel terrible. But knowing I didn’t know, and that her death was an accident… I’m coming to terms with that on my own.” He nods at me with gratitude. “Damon’s been helping with that.”

Raven pulls her phone out of her pocket and when Maverick peeks over her shoulder he chuckles. “I don’t think a trip right now would be the best idea, Angel.”

She frowns and then hands her phone to Jonas. “A standing reservation, huh?”

She nods excitedly. “So..fff…ia w-w-won’t be… there. Too… busy w-w-with the… h-holiday p-party.”

“I think after all that sharing, we deserve a vacation. I’m game. Let’s fucking go!”

I quirk a brow. “Go where?”

Maverick’s eyes flash somewhat excitedly. “Barcelona. Paloma Hotel.”

“That’s her grandfather’s main hotel. I’ve never been to that one, only the ones in New York, Cali, and Australia.”

Maverick deadpans at the rich boy.

“But I’ve always wanted to go!” he says excitedly.

“You ever been to Spain, Mav?” I ask.

“No, but I’ll finally be able to use my Spanish.”

“You speak Spanish?” Jonas asks.

“I grew up in Texas. It was either Spanish or French and nobody in our town spoke French.”

“Well, I could teach you.”

“We all can.” Jonas says.

“Quell b-belle idee!” Raven exclaims, bouncing in Maverick’s lap.

“Fuck, angel, stop.” Maverick groans, gripping her hips tightly, baring down so she grinds on him instead.

She moans, leaning back so her hand is on the back of his head, arching so her breasts push out and her toes are on the floor. She looks like a fucking goddess in her oversized hoodie that’s cut so it hangs off one naked shoulder, her tiny little black shorts and her scrunched up black socks. Her hair flows behind her, resting on his shoulder. Tilting her head back, he looks down at her adoringly. “W-won’t you let mmme make mmy sssad man… h-happy?”

“There are various other ways you make me happy, Siren.”

“Yeah baby, I’m so sad, too.” Jonas pouts.

All she has to do is crook her little finger at him and Jonas crawls to her.

In a flash, I watch Maverick pull down her hoodie to reveal her dusty pink nipples pebbled and begging for attention, and Jonas has her shorts down and on the floor next to him.

Animals.

And then of course, I’m quick to join Jonas on the floor and plunge my fingers into her wet heat while he devours her.

I’m a hypocrite, easily seduced and it’s minimally pathetic at just how one little smirk my way has me descending upon her to make her cry out in pleasure. I’m a little upset. This therapy session did not go as planned. And yet… I wouldn’t have it any other way because when my cock is shoved so far down her throat while Maverick takes her ass and Jonas is so deep in her cunt and tears are streaming down her lovely face, she looks up at me like I just made her Christmas and New Year.

All because I’m throwing caution to the wind, not giving a damn about her vocal cords, which are working overtime right now.

Jonas grabs her throat lightly and when he squeezes. “Fuck baby, I can feel both of them inside of you like this. Are you my happy girl?”

She can’t even answer, only more tears run down her beautiful face.

I pull out of her wet heaven. “Answer him, Little Bird.”

“Yes!” she screams out before I shove my cock back into her delicate mouth, watching her lips stretch around me to accommodate my girth and she screams, eyes rolling back, toes curled and the image is so wondrous, so beautiful, like a renaissance painting of devils torturing (worshipping) a woman, my balls tighten up.

“Jonas, switch me. I want to come inside of her. I need to feel her come for me.”

He growls but does it anyway, slamming into her one last time before getting up and trading places with me. I kiss her, licking the essence of my precum and her drool off her lips, so hard watching how it drips down her chin to her naked chest, tits glistening in the twinkling Christmas lights adorning my office.

I give her a warning slide, the fattest part of my dick slipping against her clit and I dip inside, and pull back out, needing to torture her. she whines around Jonas who already looks like he’s losing the battle, telling her how pretty she is. I do it again to watch her little hole contract around nothing, so hungry for me. I bite my lip, holding back a shiver every time I line up to enter her and only stick the tip inside, I know her muffled screams are pleas, and on the last one, I thrust in one, hard jab, feeling Maverick’s length and how much tighter she is because of it, separated by the thin wall of tissue, I thrust again, watching her stretch around me, perfect puffy lips encasing me, her little clit engorged and begging to be played with.

“Fucking hell, Siren.” Maverick grunts, swiping her drool over her tits, pinching them roughly as she tightens around us, her liquid heat gushing out and he begins to pound into her asshole, balls slapping against mine, but I don’t give a fuck. I know this is driving her mad, his frenzy, and my slow strokes. “I’m going to fucking cum so deep in your ass, Raven. So fucking good. I can’t fucking take it.” He groans, and I feel when he begins to thrum, shoving as much of himself as deep as he can, grabbing her tits to hard his knuckles go stark white, and I know she’ll have more loving bruises on her.

She squirts on me again, making a mess, and I lick my thumb and press down on her clit in quick circles as I begin to pump my hips harder. Maverick grabs her thighs and spreads them for me, giving me more access. Jonas comes with a silent roar, his hand fisting her hair and I watch her throat bob as she drinks all of him. I press deeper, harder into her, white hot sensations begin at the base of my spine and my balls draw up, so heavy, so ready to explode and when I do, I creep my mouth down and rove my tongue all over her slick, delicious center, full of me and lick, slurp and lave, cleaning her up until her legs are shaking, shoving three fingers into her slick heat, hooking them, so she can squirt every ounce she has left onto my tongue. I lap up the nectar that shoots out of her as her back arches like she’s being exorcised, and she screams my name clearly.

I lick through the tresses of her orgasm until she’s a limp, sweaty mess. I pull her off Maverick. She gasps when he withdraws, a river of cum leaking from her holes, so beautifully abused. I carry her bridal-style, Jonas opens the door of my office, and we walk past both Kronos and Luci who’ve been patiently waiting by the door and head upstairs where Maverick begins a bath for her in my large bathtub, and Jonas gets her things ready. I take off the last remaining articles of clothing off her, and dip her into the clear water, take off my clothes and slip in behind her.

I put her hair up before it has a chance to touch the water and pull her to me. “Such a pretty, perfect little Raven.” I murmur to her temple, kissing where the strands are silver. “I love you.”

She hums happily in response.

“Maverick and I are going to start packing. Jet leaves at four. We need to be back in time for my game tomorrow.” Jonas comes to tell me.

I don’t move, only nod at him in silence. I simply hold her to me, like I’ve always wanted to, like I should have in her dorm when I bathed her after finding her so malnourished and so sad. She pleaded with me to love her then, and so I’m showing her now… and I’ll show her for the rest of my life.

Chapter Nineteen

Maverick.

Raven stands at the edge of the balcony overlooking the sea, hands on the railing. The heated pool to the left of us has steam rising, the water so clear and blue you can see the bottom of the pool. It is unfairly pleasant here compared to Massachusetts.

We’re tucked in, facing away from the city for privacy. Paloma Hotel in its entirety is deliciously rich and lavish before you even enter the ridiculously small castle. Granted it isn’t one of the resorts like in other countries, but it is still very large and very beautiful, somewhat secluded on a mountainside.

On the way here, I learned the old tycoon, Raven’s grandfather, purchased the castle when it went up for sale, and immediately began pulling things out, putting a lot of things up for auction and then began to rebuild then refurnish the old castle, making it one of the first unused lavish castles to be repurposed as a hotel, and other tycoons began doing the same thing.

We flew in, leaving at four PM eastern time, our flight was less than eight hours, but the time difference bring us to just after six AM here. The last of the moon’s rays shines against her skin makes my heart stammer in my chest. I have to hold my breath just to take in the beauty of my woman in its entirety, or risk going into heart failure.

We had to take two separate vehicles, which I hated. One was Jonas and Raven, in case the paparazzi were watching, then Damon and I were in another vehicle right behind them. I did not like that.

I’m beginning to believe I do not give a fuck about what others would think of my sexuality nor my relationship with my girl. It’s private. It’s ours. If she wants to flaunt me as much as I want to flaunt her, so be it.

The breeze makes her hair flutter around her, and I have to take a second to compose myself, while I take in her profile in the sun rising over the pinkening horizon. When I can feel my heart beating regularly again, I step closer, placing my hands on her hips, then slip them around her middle, and rest my chin on her shoulder. Her fantastic scent of jasmine and berries fills my lungs, and I am complete. She turns in my arms and wraps her arms around my shoulders, leaning into me, whiskey eyes locked on mine and fuck. I think I’ve developed a heart murmur.

“I… wanted to sssay th…thank you f-f-for sh-sharing y-your st-story w-with… us. I… mmm…” She grimaces but I could cry at how hard she’s trying. I am so proud of her. “I know… it w… was hard… for you… and…” She cringes again and pulls her arms down, but I don’t let her go. She can sign perfectly from here, stuck in my embrace. I think you are so incredible. If you ever decide to tell your side of the story, I think you should.

“Siren…” I groan, tipping my forehead to hers.

“Not… for you.”

I arch a brow in question.

For them. The victims. “Be… their… voice.”

I sigh, then ask “Did you know what happened to you and what happened to me was about a few days apart? I didn’t know about what happened to you because for months after I turned in my badge, I didn’t look at my phone or even turn on the TV. I went off grid. I missed Tasha’s wedding.”

She nods, turning her head and placing her cheek on my chest, but pushes away so she can lift her hands and sign.

“Siren…”

You don’t have to do it now. But when you’re ready, the world will be ready, too.

“What if I do it wrong?” I ask, allowing myself to be vulnerable.

You know what happened. The truth of it all. From the first missing teens to Mia. Not only would you be a voice for the victims, but you could be the reason law enforcement takes missing teens more seriously, not just cast them off as runaways. You could save more by being the reason they’re more aware of their surroundings.

I give barely a few bobs of my head and pull her plush against me so I can breathe her in again. “It may be a long time so you might have to be patient with me.”

She hums in acceptance, leaning into me again, circling her arms over my shoulders.

I take in the view from where we stand, drinking it all in, the feel of her in my arms, and really regret leaving Paris now. We could have worked so much out so much sooner but me and my idiotic need to hold onto my anger, letting it fuel me in the wrong ways was something I needed to work on. Really work on if I wanted us to be us forever. I know I should deal with the abandonment issues my mother left me with, the only thing she left me with other than my barely-there father, and if I’m honest, there doesn’t seem to be a reason to reach out. She made her life without me, and I made mine without her. The only thing I have to do is leave my past in the past and look forward to my life with Raven when this is all over.

So I turn her, and we stay, watching the sun rise above the glittering sea, when we hear footsteps behind us. I cant my head to the side and see Jonas out of my periphery, hands in his jean pockets, looking at us with a longing on his face. The poor kid looks absolutely miserable when she’s not in his arms. I tilt my head at him, a motion for him to come over and step aside, kissing her scarred temple where the strip of silver is tucked behind her ear.

“Little Bird, we have a visitor.” Damon comes from behind us after a few moments of solitude.

She’s quick to nod and moves away from us. We follow, as she goes to her luggage and pulls out an outfit I’ve never seen before. It’s very… light pink and not her. she kicks off her combat boots and wiggles out of her skinny jeans, throwing off her black turtleneck. The dress she slips into is a dusty rose, and it hugs every one of her curves magnificently. The neckline drops just above her breasts in a straight line like a square. She pulls out sand-colored wedges that strap around her ankle and she completes the fit with an oversized knit open cardigan that’s as long as the dress itself that hits the middle of her thighs.

She makes a nod at Damon, and he takes her by the arm and he leads her out of the room into the ensuite living area. It’s incredible the wealthy vacation like this, like they’re just going to another home. It doesn’t even feel like a hotel suite.

“We aren’t here just to relax, are we?” I ask Jonas.

He faces me, his head still turned in the direction of the door Raven has gone through and then those meadow eyes of his look back at me. “Are you still on a need-to-know basis?”

“I’m on a need-to-know basis?”

“Aren’t you?” His stare is dangerous, almost challenging. Even though I know he trusts me, I know there’s a small piece of him that will maim and destroy me if I even thought about hurting our girl.

“No, I’m not. But I have a feeling the less I know about this, the less I have to lie about to Detective Arlo when he shows up at my door, am I right?”

He nods once and leaves me behind, but I still trail after him into the other room, a clatter is heard and a shuffling of feet when I hear an older booming voice cy out, “Mi Vida!”

Raven’s smile is radiant, transforming her face as she goes to the older man, a little over average height but still tall and imposing. His hair is mostly silver, with dark dashes of ink-colored hair, like the neatly trimmed scruff of his beard that doesn’t hide how deep his dimples are, and barely any crow’s feet crinkle at the corner of his eyes. It’s not even nine in the morning and the man is already dressed in a casual suit, the shirt unbuttoned as if he couldn’t be bothered to put on his tie. He’s relaxed and in his element. This is his domain, of course.

Hotel waitstaff are rolling in so much food and different types of beverages on the large cart, setting everything up for us to feast.

His eyes flick to mine and the honey-hue of Raven’s eyes are the same on this man. It becomes very apparent that I am standing before the very distinguished Hotel Tycoon Enrique Paloma. His arms are over Raven in a tight embrace, he too, seems to finally register it isn’t just he and Raven in the room and when he pulls away from her he cups her by the chin and looks her over. “Hermosa.” Beautiful. His smile doesn’t falter when he looks down at his granddaughter, only brightens, and he pulls her in once more for another hug.

“Quien son?” Who are they?

“M-m-mis… pre…tendientes.” My suitors.

He arches a thick silver and black brow at her, obviously noting her stammer but instead of making it a big deal, he only smiles down at her, a fierce pride on his face and he shakes his head. “Vamos, muñeca, a desayunar mientras que me dices la razón de tu regreso, si?” Come, doll, let’s eat breakfast while you tell me the reason for your return.

Her arm goes into the crook of his and we all take our seats around the table in the dining area, the long table that could sit twelve is set for five, Enrique taking the chair at the head. Jonas sits beside her, Damon and I across from her and I am beside Enrique. On serving platters there’s assortments of sweetbreads, toast, eggs, bacon, coffee, juices. I almost moan when the ensaimada I bite into coats my tongue and I fist my hand on the table.

I decide I’m going to take these with me when we leave.

“Good?” Enrique asks me, an amused look on his face, Spanish accent light. He must have been speaking English for a very long time.

I nod. “Very, thank you.”

We resume our meal, he asks each of us questions, our names, our professions, doing the grandfatherly thing to verify if we’re worthy enough for his granddaughter and when Raven begins to sign, asking Jonas to translate for her, he’s about to, but Enrique interrupts.

“Your mother told me you refused to learn to sign.”

Damon chuckles, bringing the older man’s gaze to us. “She had us all fooled. She very much knows how to sign; she just kept it to herself for years. Cunning little thing.”

Enrique smiles at Raven adoringly and puts a hand over hers, squeezing it and she smiles back at him as though her grandfather hung the moon. “That she is. There was many a time when she terrorized the staff here as a child, playing pranks. Sneaky little fox.” He shakes his head. “And yet, I could never bring myself to discipline her.”

I almost blurt out for him not to worry, that I do a pretty good job of disciplining her, but I bide my tongue. It is also incredible to see my usual dark and dreary siren so lit up by someone that loves her so unconditionally and I wonder if this is how she was before her attack. I once likened her the Persephone to my Hades, and the more I am around her, the more I want to see my woman happy. Although I do love the darkness within her and the fishnets… they make pink fishnets, don’t they?

Fuck, I’m getting hard under the table thinking about her wearing pink fishnets and little fairy wings, how delectable she’d look hanging from the ceiling at Inferno. I almost miss the entire conversation. Damon squeezes my shoulder, standing from behind me and I tear my gaze from Raven, so pretty in pink. “Hmm?”

The handsome psychiatrist grins, “We’re no longer needed.”

“Oh,” I stand, stretch out my hand to shake Enrique’s hand, which is firm and lightly calloused, thank him for the amazing breakfast and then grab the plate of sweetbreads and refill my coffee mug, and that causes him to chuckle.

“My kitchen is always open to my granddaughter and her… friends.”

“We aren’t her friends, sir. I’m going to marry her.” Jonas says matter-of-factly, and this makes Enrique give Jonas a double take and he stands as well, uncaring that his chair slightly screeches as it pushes back with his legs. “We all are, if it’s possible. We love your granddaughter, Mr. Paloma. We will do whatever we can to protect her, do whatever we can to make sure she’s happy and we’ll do whatever we can… to make sure the people that did this to her are brought to justice. That’s why we’re here.”

Enrique eyes Jonas, taking an unusually long perusal of him from eyes to toes and back up, only to look at Raven who gets to her feet, a lot more graciously than Jonas did and threads her fingers between his, obviously letting the older man know it’s true, and when his gaze meets mine and Damon's we nod. Enrique surprises me by simply nodding his head in understanding. “Then we must talk.” He replies to Jonas.

Damon once again squeezes my shoulder and jerks his chin to the door. “Come on. We're not needed. This is between them.”

________

The flight back to Massachusetts the next morning is serene.

Jonas and Siren are sleeping soundly in the pod-like chairs, not even the slight turbulence we encounter wakes them, letting me know they’re so used to this, boarding private jets and taking off on a whim to not just a different time zone but an entirely different country and I can’t help the small feeling of envy that eats at me. Damon is on his tablet, entranced by whatever he's doing that he pays me no mind. It’s quiet, save for the low whirring of the plane's engines and Jonas' soft snores.

My thoughts go back to walking the historical paths of Barcelona while Raven and Jonas spoke with Enrique behind closed doors and then left to God knows where.

We're casually walking through the throngs of tourists and townsfolk in the Spanish square, the old cobblestone streets beneath our feet a visual and physical reminder of how much history was around us when Damon stopped in front of an old boutique’s window, looking at the Christmas display. “What are you getting Raven for Christmas?”

“Uhhh…” what an asinine response, I know. “I hadn’t really thought that far into it, yet.” I reply honestly. “What does one give someone that can afford the world?”

Damon looks over at me as though I’m the world’s biggest idiot. “Something from the heart.”

I roll my eyes. “Christ you sound like a jewelry store chain commercial.”

“And yet she’s anything but a plain, white diamond, isn’t she?” He said, moving toward the next window. A full display of little marionette dolls hang loosely in what looks like sixteenth century fashion.

I grunted at him in agreement as we stopped at a Café, ordered a strawberry smoothie and kept walking. “What are we doing here that we couldn’t do in back home?”

“Getting supplies so they can’t be traced back to her.”

“Guns?” I asked and Damon threw his head back barking out a laugh.

“Christ, this isn’t a mafia movie. No. Not guns. Just something that’s in still in season here.”

I grunted again as Damon hailed a taxi to take us back to a different part of the city and I threw away my plastic smoothie cup in a recycling bin.

Jonas and Raven were gone with Enrique for almost six hours by the time we got back from touring, having had a delicious crustacean dinner by the sea, and returned barely four hours before we boarded the jet with a new briefcase holding something inside that clinked just a little every time it was moved.

My knee bounces as I stare at the thing, feeling like Poe in The Tell-Tale Heart, hearing the clinks every time the turbulence is subtle but there.

“Quarter for your thoughts?” Damon says and I snap my sight to his silver stare. I know his little joke is from when I once told him my thoughts were worth more than a penny.

“What’s in there?”

“Vials.”

This vagueness in his tone irks me. “Of?” I practically snarl.

“It’s not drugs.”

“Oh, what a fucking relief.” That one is a snarl.

Damon sets down his tablet and focuses solely on me, interlocking his fingers together and settled them on his abs. “We will tell you it all once it’s done and over with, Maverick.”

I take off my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m honestly surprised I haven’t had a migraine since we’ve all come back together, but that doesn’t mean being out of the loop grates on my nerves at times. “Could you just give me peace of mind?”

“It’s strawberry extract.”

“We flew across an entire ocean for strawberry extract?” He has to be lying to me. he probably should be lying to me.

“No. Raven and Jonas flew across the ocean so he could meet her grandfather, where he took them to Huelva by helicopter to see where the strawberries he pays good people to tend year-round for his hotel grow and they brought back samples of the extract they use for their desserts.”

“You and I both know she doesn’t bake. Our little heiress can barely make the bagel toaster function properly.”

Damon bites back a grin. He knows I’m right. Our girl is beautiful, but she can’t cook worth a damn. “Be that as it may, that’s all you need to know.”

“And if they ask why we were all together?”

“I’m her counselor and was asked or paid to come along just in case. You and I saw this as an opportunity to have another mini vacation as a couple.”

I need a fucking drink.

By the time we land, it’s barely two PM our time and fatigue is settling in my bones. Jonas is playing tonight, which is why we’ve let him sleep so much during our flight and in two days, it’s Sofia’s extravagant holiday party.

Something Damon is invited to, and I’ll be going as his plus-one.

I’ll be meeting the great, John Weston Monroe and his wife, Sofia Paloma-Monroe, my girlfriend’s parents… as her doctor’s boyfriend.

What the fuck have I allowed my life to become?

Chapter Twenty

Raven.

Yellow Jackets Win 27 – 21

I watch as Jonas takes off his helmet and lifts it on the jumbotron, the crowd of students and former alumni roars behind me but I’m too captivated by my handsome Wide Receiver that puts two fingers on his lips and holds them out, for me to hear them. 

I swoon, watching my big, strong demigod all sweaty and delicious and so very mine, get lifted by his teammates. His yellow jersey and super tight football pants are dirty with splotches of turf grass where he was tackled a few times. Before the crowd begins to dissipate, I rise from my seat in the stadium behind the team by the center walkway where they go through the double doors to enter their assigned locker room at Yale’s football stadium and when they begin to go through, Jonas is the last to go in, running up, catching the ledge with his fingertips like a monkey and begs me for a kiss. I lean down, and the crowd once again goes wild behind me.

“I always win for you, baby.”

Oh, I’m definitely blowing him tonight. I blush something horrid amidst the cold, and he hops down, heading in behind his team. I stand, deciding to head to the locker room to wait for him like I usually do, making my way through the swarms of drunken RMU and Yale students, almost skipping to get to him. He never takes long. I know Coach talks to them after every game before he comes out to greet me so by the time I get down there, flash the security guards my VIP lanyard, and find where the damn thing is, he’s already freshly showered and walking my way.

The way Jonas smiles as soon as he spots me always makes me feel like we’re in a movie. It happens in slow mo each and every time. Meadow-like eyes on the ground, slowly look up to search for me, and when he sees me, it’s like time stands still just for us. It starts with one corner of his lips hitching up, and then both perfect lips widening so much they part, flashing those teeth of his, gorgeous with incisors a bit too big. His head leans back a bit, his eyes narrow and there is absolutely nobody else on this earth but him and I.

Two souls destined to collide.

I grin and as soon as his long legs reach me, his arms go around my torso and he lifts me. My arms immediately go around his neck and his lips are on mine; he pulls away to rub his nose to mine then our foreheads touch and he lets out a soft moan as though he can finally breathe again. “Did you have fun, baby?”

I nod enthusiastically. I really did.

“Good. I’m starving. You hungry?”

Fucking duh.

“Don’t answer that. I already know. Let’s go.”

He sets me down and as soon as my boots touch the ground, he grabs my hand and tugs me through the double doors, helping me put my coat on like always right before we get to the last set of doors. He surprises me with having our driver stop (he took the team bus, and I took an Uber because Mav and Damon went to his house to keep up pretenses and they don’t like me driving on snowy nights without them) for a nice romantic dinner at some top-notch French seafood restaurant in West Haven on our way home. It’s by the sea, and we can see the lighthouse, tiny but still there, from where we’re seated.      

He orders a bottle of champagne for us and then once again, surprises the waiter by ordering half of the menu since the portions are small. We feast in the quietness of the restaurant, most of the patrons already leaving. I feel almost panicked to eat my food quickly, but Jonas puts his hand over mine.

“Relax, baby. I called ahead while I was on the bus earlier and paid for them to stay open a little later.”

I sign a ‘thank you,’ and dip a cracker into my lobster bisque. It’s fucking delicious and I almost moan out loud at how good it is when it hits my tongue.

Jonas chuckles, “You’re so fucking cute.”

I blush, continuing to munch on.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?”

I make a disgruntled face, scrunching my nose. No, I most certainly am not ready to spend the night at the Monroe Mansion in preparation for the party the evening after. I don’t want to see any of them, other than Axel, who was way too happy to receive the message Jonas sent him that we would be attending and staying the evening prior to the party now that Riordan is dead. Elena will also be there, and we’ll be leaving to meet her in Vermont, where Damon and Jonas will be with us. Another reason Maverick and Damon stayed behind tonight was so they could go shopping for ski-gear while we… did our thing.

“It’s just one night, and it’ll be over before you know it.” He assures me but it’s already soured my mood. “You still got that sexy little balaclava?” He smirks and fuck, if I don’t blush again remembering the night he wore it after Tyler’s funeral while he fucked me on the kitchen counter after playing hide-and-seek and he caught me in the pantry.

I gulp down my champagne and give a slight nod.

“Good. I have my own. Do you know if Damon got access to the cameras?”

I nod again, pulling out my phone to show him the message I received from Damon earlier while at his game. It’s nothing major, really, and probably excessive but Damon just wants to have extra eyes and ears everywhere.

He should’ve been a spy.

Dirty Doctor: I’m in.

“Dirty Doctor, huh? What am I in your phone?”

Ah, fuck. I show him his contact; it’s a picture of us in Paris under the Eiffel Tower just as the snow started sticking to the ground. He hums in delight when he sees Demigod and smiles widely.

He shows me what mine says and it’s also one word – Wife with a little raven emoji beside it.

Why does that make me so wet? I clench my thighs together under the table, remembering the way he told my abuelo he wasn’t just a friend but my soon-to-be husband. He keeps asking and I keep saying yes in every way I can. A blow job here, a blow job there, letting him fuck my ass. How many times can a girl say, ‘Yes, I’ll marry you,’ while a thick dick stretches apart your insides?    

I don’t really need a ring, but it would be nice to have one.

I’m scared I’ll have one of my nighttime episodes while we’re there, I sign honestly. That they’ll try to say I’m unfit and try to send me back to Lorne Wood.

“Then I won’t sleep to make sure if you do, I can wake you... and I’ll never let that happen. I’ll break in and kidnap you.” He grins.

You shouldn’t have to do that. I argue, sighing. You should be able to sleep and not have to watch over me like I’m a baby.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have to, baby, but I will, and I’m going to. It’s an honor and a pleasure. Hey, hey, look at me.”

I do.

“I love you, baby. We always get through everything together, don’t we?”

I nod.

“This isn’t forever. And we all get nightmares. Yours are just a little more… vivid. If I have to hold you a little tighter, so be it.”

I melt and don’t argue. What’s the point? He does what he wants when it comes to protecting me and haven’t I done the same? The man let me put a fucking tracker in him without a question. I finish my tuna tiradito with aji amarillo leche de tigre, and sit back, ready for the next course. He grabs my plate, setting it aside and puts the four-layered caviar dip in front of me.

It’s a good night. It’s been the perfect kind of night; the kind I wish I could have openly with Maverick or Damon without anyone knowing us. But for now, I’m okay with it just being us. I hate that I wasn’t able to show Maverick around my old stomping grounds in Spain, that going to Huelva had taken all of my time, but it felt so good seeing my abuelo again.

We end the evening with a chocolate souffle and by the time we’re back in the car, I’m practically waddling with how full I am. I unbutton my jeans as soon as we get into the car and Jonas chuckles, rubbing on my stomach. We fall asleep on the two-hour drive home, me in his arms, and him against the door.

Once we’re in bed, he lays on me, hand curled around my tummy, head on my chest and I scratch his back, letting him fall asleep on me and soon, I’m drifting, thinking of all the ways this could go very right… or very, very wrong.

________

It’s almost dark when we finally reach the Monroe mansion. The three-story, Tudor-style mansion has impeccable landscaping from the front gate to the home itself. I stare at the thing, once large and imposing, remembering the first time we drove through, and it was so dark. Dark shutters, dark siding.

Climbing out of my car, I look at all the changes Sofia has made over the last twelve years. White shutters, pale pink siding, the roof changed to a pale grey, but it’s currently hidden under a blanket of snow. On the outside, it appears to be so light and happy, but the inside is always different, isn’t it? My anxiety skyrockets as we get make our way to the large white front door, large enough to fit a car, probably, always wanted to find out if I’m honest.

I sigh as Jonas knocks, then grabs my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine as Axel opens the door, his smile faltering when he sees Jonas, but he fixes his smile. “Hey Cookie! Hey, man.”

A housemaid I’ve never seen before goes to grab our bags, but Jonas stops them, letting go of my hand to carry the bag the driver put on the ground beside us. She holds out her hands in order to take our coats instead. When I don’t take the first step across the threshold, Jonas does. It feels forbidden to be back here. It feels wrong in so many ways I can’t even explain. Even though it’s warm enough in the house, letting my feet touch the white and gold marble flooring Sofia had installed after we moved in feels foreboding, and it makes my stomach curl.

Jonas and Axel don’t do that fist bump thing guys do.

He just patiently waits for me to simply drink it in. The staircase that splits to the second level, going in different directions with light oak banisters, the rails painted gold, the wide-open floor plan of the first living area where the party will be held, a stage already set up for a string quartet in the back, of the room where they’ll be playing, tables already covered in red and gold linens, centerpieces made of ornaments, twinkling lights and garland are already set along with plates and dinnerware. The middle of the living room will of course, be the dancefloor but nobody’s danced at one of these fucking things that I could remember.

“Sofia had Galvina set up your room. It’s just like you left it.” Axel says and I turn to face him. Chameleon eyes that change from moss to cerulean, a tide hitting an algae-laden shore, with a flick of his mood or a change of his shirt, they’d switch color. I used to think they were some of the coolest eyes I’d seen, until I peered into silver eyes that gleamed. Until I stared into green-brown hazel eyes that merged with a ring of sunset between them. Until I clashed with eyes so light green they made my heart stop.

“I’ll just be in the theater room. Mom’s still out getting last minute things ready. Something about the parting gifts.”

I lead Jonas up the stairs, past the second floor and going up to the third floor, past Axel’s bedroom, down the hall, and into mine. It smells… sanitized. Like it did when I would visit from Lorne Wood. It doesn’t smell like home anymore. Jonas places our bags gently on the floor and circles his arms around me.

“Don’t over think, baby. It’s almost nighttime. Just thirty more hours and Damon and Mav will be here tomorrow night. Then we’ll be in Vermont, okay? Spending Christmas with my mom, skiing, opening presents…”

He trails off, kisses my temple and I just nod, looking around my room. The first cello my grandfather gave me sits in its stand in a corner of the room. Another one, larger and custom made from mahogany wood so dark it almost looks black in the light, sits beside it.

My desk is clean, the shelves above it still hold old paperback novels I was obsessed with, turning them into my personality while I nursed book-hangovers until I found the next best thing. Heavy, velvet violet drapes hang from the curtain rod, open from where I would sit there for hours watching the snow or rain fall while reading or practicing. My king-size platform bed sits in the middle of the room, the side table behind it is also cluttered with books where I would put them when I was done reading for the night. Jonas sits on my bed, kicking off the boots I got him and lays back, putting his hands behind his head.

“Are those… stars?” he asks.

I nod. They glow.

“That’s fucking cool.” He holds his arms out to me, and I go to him, kicking off my boots. I settle beside him, laying my head on his bicep as we look up at the terrible constellations I created on my ceiling. We lay there, patiently waiting, as the sun goes down completely, and the first few stars begin to glow and my sleep light turns on behind my cellos, casting slightly eerie shadows but none that make me feel frightened. He rubs his large hand up and down my side, and when I gaze up at him, my heart stutters.

There’s a serious look on his face, one I’ve never seen before when he isn’t being a growly asshole towards someone, and I slide up to reach him. Our lips meet and even though we’ve kissed thousands of times, this one feels different. It feels heavy with need and… validation. Desire pools between my thighs when his lips part and I get the first taste of him. Our tongues collide, deepening our kiss, and his hand goes to my head, clutching my hair between his fingers. With his other hand he hikes my thigh over his torso, sliding back down to grab the meat of my thigh and slowly inching his fingers upward, over the silk of the tights I’m wearing, pushing up my skirt and tearing into my tights. I’m so glad I decided to forego my panties.

All I am, is lost in the sensations he creates within me.

Always good. Always so fucking good.

“I love you,” I moan between kisses. “I need you.”

“And I need you, baby.” He bites at my lower lip, tugging it into his mouth, his kiss becomes more frantic, needier, as though it’s not enough. He dips a finger into me from behind, barely knuckle deep and groans when he feels what how wet he makes me. “Can I fuck you like this? Please, baby?”

As if I’d tell him no. I moan into his mouth, barely lifting my lower half so he can get undressed, hearing the zipper of his jeans smoothly go down the teeth and he fumbles quickly without letting go of me, only tightening his grip on my hip. I hike up my thigh higher as he reaches over me to plunge two thick fingers into my pussy. The squelching noise is obscene, but it makes him groan.

“Fuck I love that.”

He pulls his fingers out only to shift slightly and the tip of him enters me, hot, hard and so fucking thick, I moan out his name.

“That’s right, baby. Just let me fuck you,” he moves my thigh over his forearm, both hands on my hip and he thrusts, so deep and delicious. We’re face to face, side by side, and I am so enamored by this man. The strong cut of his jaw, his lengthy lashes, the lust in those autumn eyes. “Take off your shirt. Please, baby, I need to taste you.”

It’s an awkward movement since I’m still on my side but off goes the lacey long sleeve shirt I’m wearing and I unclasp my bra, throwing it who knows where, then settle back how we were. My arm goes around his head and clutch him to my breast as his tongue seeks my nipples, latching on and sucking, his tongue curls and swirls with each thrust. One hand leaves my hip, and I feel his fingers going to where we’re joined from behind me.

“So fucking wet, Raven baby. You’re so fucking wet every time I get in your little hole. Fucking dripping.”

I should feel ashamed of how true that is, instead I push down when he thrusts upward, and I reach between us to stroke my clit.

“There you go baby, play with your pretty little clit. Fuck, I want to lick it. I love eating your pussy. But I want to eat your creamy come. I want to taste it over every flavor we have at dinner. I want to be able to smell it after my shower. Fuck you make me so sick for you.”

“Jonas!” I cry out, grinding my hips down on him. The pleasure builds, and I chase after it, needing it more than air. My orgasm rips through me when he forces my hip down further, shoving deep inside me, fucking harder.

“God, yes. Good fucking girl, keep coming for me. Give me all of it so I can clean it up. Fuck I can feel you trying to milk my dick. I’m such a slave for this pussy, baby. For you. The way she tastes, the way she feels wrapped around my dick, the way she squirts for me, creams for me, comes for me. Fuck, I love you.”

He doesn’t flip me on my back, only slides out of me and down, keeping me in this same position, still on my side, burying his face between my thighs and when he’s done cleaning everything I gave him, he rises to his knees behind me, finding my hole with the tip of his dick, and shoves every inch in one hard stroke, until his hips are flush against my ass. He lifts my leg, draping it over his thigh, grabbing onto it and slams into me over and over again.

I look up at the demigod through my lashes as every muscle in his torso tightens, he looks so fucking serious, drinking the image of me at his mercy in like a depraved madman. “Say it, baby. Say it.”

I know what he needs. “I love you.”

He’s so fierce like this. His jaw ticks, watching every ripple, every bounce of my skin meeting his, slapping away so loudly. He spanks me only for him to grip the fat of my thigh harder and I repeat myself, over and over with each thrust, commemorating him to memory. He throws his head back, shaking it then looks back down at me, almost sneering but his eyes are so dark and full of lust it makes me come again and that drives him over the edge, filling me with so much cum I can feel it leak out of me before he’s even pulling out to lay beside me and tugging me to his chest again.

“I’m so fucked for you.” He pants, grinning down at me.

There’s a knock at the door. “Raven?”

I sit up, pulling the comforter over me at the sound of Axel’s voice. Jonas gets out of bed, uncaring about his state of undress and opens the door, in all his glory, our cum still coating his softened dick.

Axel looks at him, me, Jonas’ dick and back at me. He sucks in his cheeks and then before turning to leave he says, “Dinner’s almost ready. We’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

Closing my bedroom door, Jonas has a smug smile on his face, almost too pleased with himself.

You didn’t have to state your claim like that.

“State my claim? Baby you’ve been mine. I’m just reminding him who you belong to. Just like I’ll remind any motherfucker that even tries to look at or talk to you who you belong to. Don’t like the way I do it? Don’t be so fucking friendly.”

He’s my stepbrother.

He rolls his eyes. “And I got trauma surrounding stepbrothers, babe. If I want to fuck you in front of him, I’m going to.”

I sit up, this time holding my arms out to him and he sighs, getting into bed with me.  Nothing has ever happened between us. I love you.

“Don’t tell me you love me if you’re trying to make it to dinner on time. You know what that does to me.” He grins, “Oh fuck yeah, I’m ready for round two.” He waggles his brows, and I swat him with a pillow.

________

Dinner… is held in the dining area that isn’t set up for the party but is set up with the same holiday décor. At the table long enough to seat twelve, John sits at the head, Sofia to his left, Axel to his right and the two places set up, are beside Ax. I take my place beside him, Jonas beside me and keep my head down, not meeting any gazes.

I want to go home. I want my daddy, and I want my beast. I want pizza. I want my books and my bed. I want Kronos and Luci – even though I’m sure he hates me, but I can’t ever tell with him.

“Raven, it’s good to see you. Jonas.”

I look up at John, shoveling food onto his plate from the platters before us. I’m so twisty on the inside I can’t fathom eating an actual meal. I serve myself small portions, but Jonas grabs my plate and piles more food onto it. I want to tell him to stop, that I’m too anxious and don’t want to eat too much or I’ll get sick, but he smiles at me and my heart twists.

“Thank you for having us,” he says, setting my plate down to start adding food to his.

I see meat and potatoes and other veggies, but I don’t want any of it, even though I know Galvina probably spent so much time in the kitchen preparing this. I feel bad they made her set up my room. I should say hello. I should go and thank her.

“Nonsense, Raven is always welcome here.” Sofia scoffs, taking a sip of her wine. “This is her house.”

Jonas' smile turns wide and almost creepy as he stares the woman that gave birth to me down. We both know this is not my house. “Good to hear it.”

The conversation is awkward to say the best, with me avoiding the parts of the food I don’t really like, plus the entire conversation. I’m mostly drifting in and out, keeping my thoughts on Maverick and Damon, wanting to go upstairs to call them. I don’t like being away from them. My knee starts bouncing and I can feel the anxiety rising.

A hand on my thigh squeezes and I look up. “Baby?”

I arch a brow at Jonas in question.

“I told your mom you’re playing your cello again.”

Truth be told, I never stopped. They were just never home during my visits from Lorne Wood, so how would they know?

I nod once to confirm and go back to pushing my food around my plate.

“It…” I stare at Sofia, so posh, so beautiful, so perfect. So unlike the woman that laughed when things were funny and cried when she was sad. She breaks my heart. Where did my mommy go? “It would be nice if maybe… you played something tomorrow night?”

I look over at my handsome demigod that fingered his cum back into me while we showered then tried to fill me with more just forty minutes ago. He shrugs, telling me it’s my choice and I… I look back down at my plate. It’s chicken. The meat Jonas served me, I mean. Chicken. Christ, where did I go?

I push my plate forward, putting my napkin over it then grip Jonas' hand that’s on my thigh, letting him know I'm done and would like to retire immediately to my room. I can feel Axel’s eyes on me, but I can’t meet his gaze. Not because I’m ashamed of what happened upstairs, although that does make my cheeks heat, it’s more like… I just don’t have anything to say anymore.

I do miss him, and I do still love him… but I miss me more. I love me more. Maybe that’s selfish or brutal of me to even think… but sometimes holding on to someone just because they were in your past causes more damage than just letting go.

I cast a glance at the boy that knew my deepest, darkest secrets and fears, held them close, never judging me for them, simply wanting us to succeed together.

He looks so perfect. So well put together as he swirls his wine in his glass. Pristinely pressed white shirt, not one strand of dirty blonde hair out of place, clean shaven with not a scar nor acne. He’s beautiful, my Axel, and as much as I wish we could go back to who we were, I’m too far gone and he’s in way too deep for me to drag him out with me.

In a way, I guess it is how it once was – I’m a stranger in his home again. Except now, the tables have turned. Now I’m the sickly one dipped in darkness and death.

And yet, there’s no music when I look upon him – only longing for what I could have been – perfect and well put together.  

Jonas takes my cue and kisses my temple. “Okay, baby. Let’s go. Mr. And Mrs. Monroe, thank you for dinner, Raven and I are exhausted, and we’d like to retire for the evening.”

“Yes, my father did tell me you stopped by the other day to meet him then flew straight home in time for your game.” She says but I don’t dare look at her. I don’t look at anyone. I tense, and Jonas' hand does too, but on the small of my back so it’s hidden from view. “Said you asked for her hand in marriage.”

This time I do look, at the way her light green eyes shine a bit with… pride?

“Gave me the green, Mrs. Monroe. Expect my mother to extend an invitation to the engagement party.” He lies. A beautiful, wonderful lie.

What my grandfather really said was, “break her heart and I’ll make sure you and every hijo de puta in the Syndicate are  murdered.” And a surprised Jonas replied, “Not if we get to them first.”

And then they shook hands, like they were old business partners and friends. My abuelo then kissed my cheek, told me how beautiful I still am, and then whispering to me, he found Jonas and my men worthy of me. And that I always had a home with him in Spain.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll be happy to attend. We will be happy to attend, won’t we, amor?” She says to John but there’s a certain timbre in her words.

“Yes, of course.” John replies, cold stare meeting mine.

I’ve concluded that Axel must look like his mother because he barely resembles John. Although there were never any pictures or portraits of her that I can remember, not even in the attic. Neither of them ever spoke of her like she was just some dirty, repressed secret. There’s ghosts at the Monroe Mansion and I always thought one of them was her.

John seems to be choosing his words carefully while sipping on a glass of wine. “I suppose congratulations are in order.” He lifts his glass and tips it in our direction, the smile never reaching his eyes “To the happy couple.”

I bow my head in small thanks as Jonas says it out loud, and up we go, back to my room, to replace old memories and create new ones.

________

If you thinking slipping around your old mansion in the middle of the night while there are twinkling lights in almost every room is easy, you’re fucked in the head.

Even though Damon has access to the cameras now, we can’t be too careful. Slinking around in a balaclava from my room on the third floor to the kitchen in the back of the house where all the champagne is being held, is still tricky. Jonas maneuvers easily enough except every time I turn, he bumps into me and the man is sporting a raging hard-on. What even causes that? It pokes me in the back every time I have to stop and make sure the coast is clear. I’m pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose because he keeps groping me.

I stifle a giggle, really wanting to laugh at how silly we probably look wearing all black clothes and balaclavas – two Grinches wearing fucking fanny packs about to ruin someone's Christmas and one of them has tented pants.

The fanny pack of course holds a fuckton of syringes. Mine is holding the vials of strawberry extract, courtesy of my abuelo, who, after Jonas told him everything I’ve been up to, (little traitor) simply told me I was adorable, and he was so proud of me for taking back my life and bringing down those ‘hijos de putas.’ Sons of bitches, if you will.

I stop at the edge of the hallway to make sure there are no staff wandering about, Jonas stabbing me with his dick, and his hands land on my hips. “Can I cut a hole in this later and fuck you in it, please?”

I nod. Absolutely, he can.

“Fuck, I feel like I’m gonna come just thinking about it.”

Now my nipples are hard.

I roll my eyes, and push back against the wall, using my arm to push him back too when I spot one of the housemaids, Lucinda, venturing out of the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. Jonas moves my hand down to his dick. I give him a firm squeeze (or seven) and when I’m sure she’s not coming back, I stop fondling him long enough for us to tiptoe past the sunroom and make it to the kitchen through the back entrance.

The lights in the kitchen are off, but very convenient crates of white wine instead of champagne are everywhere, perfectly opened and ready to be placed in the large ice boxes Sofia rents that will be here tomorrow.

Did Damon cut the cameras? I ask with my hands.

Yeah, before we came down here. He signs back. He has them looping back-to-back.

I breathe out and give a quick jerk of my head. That was our biggest concern – anything coming back to us via CCTV.

We get to work immediately, filling the syringes we got from Damon, full of the extract in the vials to the brim, shove them through the corks, only letting but .01 ounces into each one.

It takes us two hours, but all two hundred bottles of wine are now laced with strawberry extract. Not enough to change the taste. Not enough to change the color. Only enough, that if someone with a severe strawberry allergy consumed, say four half-poured crystal flutes could begin to feel a certain itch that needs to be scratched.

________

Jonas is still asleep when I wake up in the morning, lightly snoring but highly naked under the comforter. I put my pajamas on, then my robe because where I’m going, there’s always a chill.

The house is eerily silent. No shuffling of house staff shoes on the marble floors, or even orders coming from the kitchen. Just me and the old ghosts of Monroe Mansion tiptoeing around. I wonder if Axel’s mom is watching me. I’m tired, unable to sleep, afraid we didn’t pull this off properly, paranoid that someone was watching us from the shadows, but Damon would have texted Jonas if that were the case.

I find myself in the sunroom, pulling my robe a little tighter as I stand to watch the snow land and billow around the glass ceiling and large windows. I used to pretend I was inside of a snow globe when I was here. For a moment, it feels like I’m eighteen and I never left, and I was perfect. So, in my snow globe with the statues and the plants, I let myself pretend… until I hear footsteps slow and steady coming. The only other person that ever joined me in here was – Axel.

He grins and my heart sighs at the sight of it. “Thought I’d find you in here.” He says quietly, putting his hands in his pockets, stepping closer to me.

I shrug. Old habits die hard; I sign.

He inclines his head. “You could say that.”

And suddenly we’re too close, he’s taken all the air in the room, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body. He looks up, and I let my gaze follow.

There, hanging from the only beam in the room, is one branch of mistletoe with a large, red ribbon tied around it, hanging loosely but low.

Axel peers down at my lips then draws his eyes slowly back up to mine. He places his hand on my hip and when I close my eyes, putting my hands on his chest to shove him off, to tell him no, he bends. The kiss is half on my cheek, half on the corner of my lips and then he pulls me in for a hug, kissing my cheek then my temple, sliding his hands slowly from my hips to my back.

“I love you, Cookie. That will never change. You’ll always be home to me. I miss you, but I can see that you’re happy now. Truth be told, you could do a lot worse than Jonas Anderson.” He jokes.

I shudder a sigh in his embrace. “I love you, too… Ax.” I whisper.

He tenses in my arms for barely a second, then lets me go, taking his warmth with him, like he was never here in the first place. I look down at my wrist, making sure it was a real moment.  

________

The party is in full swing by the time we get to the last set of stairs (a little late because Jonas looked entirely too good in his suit to not give him a blowjob and then I had to redo my makeup) there are at least seventy people gathered, some sitting, some standing, drinks already in hand, talking amongst themselves, as the string quartet lightly plays to our right.

I hold the banister with one hand, the other in Jonas,’ keeping my eyes down on the black, shimmering satin of my gown. It has a plunging cowl neck that goes just beneath my breasts, cinching with the waist that gathers to hide the pockets on the sides, and the small train of the dress drags behind me. The back of it, like a halter dress, is held up by a string of large Swarovski crystals that glimmer like diamonds in the light. It was always my favorite dress, and I never thought I’d wear it again. My breath hitches when I see Damon and Maverick standing near the landing

“Just a little longer, baby and we’ll be in Vermont. Okay?”

I whimper just a bit over the music, my eyes bouncing between green and grey, the grins on their faces makes me feel feral, I almost run to them, missing my guys so much. I want to leap into Damon’s arms and the anxiety of not being able to makes me tremble. I smile at them, but the new cluster of people coming through the foyer ahead catch my eye and I almost stumble again.

Sabrina.

She looks different. Fuller. And her hair is different. More caramel than platinum. I try to remember what she looked like at Tyler’s wake but all I remember was she was still wearing her coat when she came to speak to me. She sees me, the man beside her is tall, dark and handsome. He looks familiar as well, but I can’t remember where I know him from. He looks… dangerous. She clutches his bicep, and he looks like he would rather be anywhere but here.

Same.

We reach the landing and not being able to say hello or kiss my men deeply, I do a simple nod in their direction. Jonas puts his hand on the small of my back, the heat of his palm on my skin soothes me, reminding me this isn’t forever. This is just now.

I have to get through the shitty part, in order to get to the good part of my life. It won’t be like this forever.

I search for Sabrina in the crowd. I may not be able to talk to her, but I… I want to say… I want to… pat her hand? Ugh.

I can feel my frustration wanting to get the best of me. One day… one day I’ll tell her everything. Until then… I don’t have much to offer. Not that our friendship was ever conditional. I loved Sabrina like the sister I always wanted.

Jonas spots his mother in the crowd and soon we’re on our way to greet Elena, leaving Damon and Maverick behind.

“Hello, my little darlings!” She greets, pulling me in first for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I feel eyes on me and when I look up, Sofia is gripping her flute so tightly her knuckles are white. Elena looks wonderful in a cream dress, much like mine, it has a cowl neck, but it stops at her breasts. Her red hair and lips are done perfectly in 1950’s glam, and she’s smiling so brightly she has to be the most radiant thing in this room alone.

I love her.

“Oh, Raven you look exquisite! Then again, you’ve looked wonderful every time I’ve seen you. Are you ready for tonight?”

I nod enthusiastically, scrunching my nose up.

“Elena… how lovely you came.”

I stiffen, hearing my mother’s voice behind me. We all turn to face her.

“Yes, well, I thought, one last little shindig before we leave on our ski trip!” She says merrily.

My mother blinks. “We?”

“Oh, yes! Right after the party, we’re going to my cabin in Vermont!” Excitement radiates off the older woman and it gets me a little excited, too.

My mother smiles but shakes her head, eyes boomerang between the three of us. “But tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Raven always spends Christmas Eve with us.”

“Raven said she was at Lorne Wood last Christmas. Alone.”

I shouldn’t have told him that.

“Yes, we spent our holidays in Australia.” My mother smiles tightly, blinking.

Jonas’ head snaps back a bit before his eyes narrow. “Did you visit her at Lorne Wood before you went to Australia?”

I shake my head before I can stop it. No, they didn’t.    

Sofia laughs nervously, deflecting the question by gritting out “She’s no longer at Lorne Wood. I was hoping she would spend it with us this year, you too, Jonas,” through her flawless smile. Her million-dollar smile. So beautiful, my mama. But not very mine… not anymore.

“Oh, Raven, sweetheart, did you want to spend the holidays with your mother?” Elena asks me, hand squeezing mine. I look down at our hands clasped together. The blue of her veins and the small freckles all over. There are a few wrinkles, but not a lot. She’s so warm. So kind. She touches me like I’m not broken. Not fragile. Fierce hugs and kisses that leave little lipstick stains on my cheeks. I love those. “The last time we spoke you seemed so happy to be spending it with me. I don’t mind waiting until Christmas day to have you with me.”

“She spoke… with you?” Sofia’s voice trembles.

I look back up but not at her, at Elena, whose brows are furrowed and her eyes filled with concern. For me. It’s a silent reassurance that if I choose to stay with the Monroe’s another night, she’ll be okay with my decision, but I don’t… I don’t want that.

I’d rather spend a night in solitary at Lorne Wood in the dark.

Jonas’ grin is fucking triumphant and smug as all hell. “Mom learned sign language to be able to talk to her. Did you? As her mother, I mean. Did you pay six hundred measly little dollars for an online ASL course to be able to communicate with your only child who went through something extremely traumatic and probably wished she could talk to her mommy? Needed her mommy to comfort her? Do you see at all where you continuously fail as her mother, or do you just not care?”

“Jonas!” Elena quietly scolds to not bring attention to us, smiling at passersby looking for their next glass of strawberry infused wine.

Her face turns a bright red and again, Sofia laughs but it’s so bitter I can almost taste it. The tension is so thick I choke on it. She turns her attention to me, dropping her silicone smile and something like regret or shame creeps across her features. But I wouldn’t know. I don’t think she’s ever regretted anything when it came to me. But if it’s shame… I know that look well. Except I don’t think it’s directed at me this time.  

“Raven darling?”

I flick my gaze to Elena.

“Did you want to spend the holiday with your mother?”

Before I can even begin to shake my head and sign that I’m excited to spend Christmas with her in Vermont, there’s another presence beside Sofia.

“Hey mom, sorry, but the caterers are asking questions I can’t answer.”

Sofia plasters a smile on her face again, turning to Axel then back to us. “A hostess’ job is never finished. Please, enjoy the party.” She leaves us, heading toward the kitchen, her heels clacking loudly in my ears.

I should probably feel sad. I should feel angry that no, she didn’t bother to learn sign language. Instead the longer I stay here, the more I feel like a stranger. This isn’t my home anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. The more I think about it – it probably never was.

“Raven!” A feminine, mezzo-soprano voice with a faded English accent calls out to me.

Brina. I go to her, putting my hand in hers, noticing the lace covering her hands but this is a fancy party, so I try not to think of it too much, instead offering a smile. I look up at the man that towers over the both of us and back down to the girl I stayed up nights with gushing about boys during our freshman year at RMU and raise a brow in question.

“This is my betrothed – Maksim Giordano.” Yes, she’s definitely fuller in the face and body. Her mulberry dress hugs her curves and honestly, she looks fucking hot. Gone are the sharp ridges and protruding bones, nothing but softness. Her usual green eyes are darker now, and she has bags under her eyes blotted with concealer.

I can’t shake the feeling that something’s happened to her.

Something bad.

Intuition or just PTSD, but… the smile she has on her face, as pretty as it is, feels like the other fake ones plastered around here. Living statues amongst humans.

Maksim holds his hand out and I take it. “Lovely party.”  

Dark hair, dark eyes. Velvet voice like sin. He has at least a day's worth of stubble and his hair is pushed back like he ran his large fingers through it one too many times. He smells expensive and his expression remains bored as though this was just an obligation, and I feel that.

“Oh, she doesn’t talk. I just wanted to introduce you two since I’m hoping she’ll be my maid of honor come Spring.”

My mouth drops and I shake my head at her. I want to tell her that just being here is giving me hives underneath my dress. I don’t know if I could be her maid of honor at something that will most likely be the event of the year, knowing her.

God, there are so many people here, when did more show up? If it weren’t for the tables, it feels like we’d be shoulder to shoulder. Maybe that’s why it’s getting so warm in here. Or maybe I’m flushing with embarrassment.

Someone calls Sabrina’s name, and her attention goes to them. “We’ll talk later, Raven, okay?”

What can I say? I nod and watch them walk away. It’s like watching a Kane Corso and a Chihuahua walking together. Seriously. How tall is that man? He beats Jonas by an inch at least. Broad in the shoulders, looks menacing. I mean, he’s definitely her type. She ever wanted a nice boy. Kind, yes. Nice? She used to tell me nice guys were the ones that ended up as a docuseries on Netflix.

“You’re drooling.” Jonas singsongs.

I laugh softly and keep my hands low. No, I’m trying to figure out how they’re going to have sex. He’s a giant.

Jonas dips his chin and laughs out loud, causing Axel’s attention to turn to us from across the room. There are so many people now, but I can see him between the shoulders of others and the person he’s talking to also decides to slowly turn and look at us.

Why do I know him?

How do I know him?

It’s low… so fucking low when it starts… the other part to my symphony. My Death Lullaby. The melancholy song coats my spine like warm wax from my atlas to my coccyx, and slowly receding back up into my skull, settling in and spreading through my grey matter, smoothing out the wrinkles. Fuck. I shiver, keeping my eyes on the man, dirty blonde. Clean shaven. Chameleon eyes like Axel’s.

How do I know him?

“Excuse me, everyone?” I almost growl when I hear John’s voice, booming to be heard over the chatter and music, which both die down. His smile is wide and lizard-like, and that sends chills down my spine. Jonas must have felt my tiny shiver because he rubs little circles on my lower back with his thumb, soothing me from the outside in. “We have a special treat for you, our daughter, Raven, is going to play for us.” He points to my cello waiting for me by the stage they made for the instrumentalists.

What the actual fuck.    

All eyes are on me as applause erupts from partygoers. I grab a flute from a passing tray and gulp it down quickly. Okay. I can play this game. I was a party trick once. I can do it again. But if I’m going to play, I’m going to do it my way. Really shake them up. I turn to Jonas and tip up on my toes for a kiss on his cheek where I whisper to him to tell the crowd I’ll be right back when he leans down. I then speed-walk to Axel and make a motion with my arms for him to grab his guitar and amp upstairs.

“You want me to play with you?”

I grin, nodding my head.

The surprise on his face is warm and ecstatic, almost child-like that I want to do this with him. We run upstairs together like we did when we were children - him to his room, me to mine, and grab my black binder full of sheet music from where it’s always been. It’s the only majestic Christmas carol we’ve ever played together, that we mastered for a string quartet plus a guitar during my unfinished second year at RMU for my Music Composition class. Which was supposed to be played by the string quartet I was in during the RMU Holiday Concerto, accompanied by the man himself, Axel Monroe.

Darting back downstairs, in my three-inch heels no less, my leg biting at me, (I really should go back to physical therapy) a little sweaty, I see Axel is already setting up and the string quartet is pushing their chairs back to make room for him and the celloist is rising and making a getaway to the restroom. Yeah, I remember those days. Playing for hours without a bathroom break.

I pass my men, all standing together, smirks on their faces in encouragement, and pass out the sheets of music to the violinists, the violist and take my seat, bending to pull my cello from the stand where she sits, beautiful and shiny. Settled, I look at Axel, electric guitar strapped and ready to play.

And give him a nod.

He begins, plucking the strings of our version of Carol of The Bells as if four years have never gone by. The violinists pluck at theirs, before readying their bows and I lift mine, eyes on my men, not needing the sheet music. This song is already in my memory. In my soul.

My fingers touch my strings and…

There goes Simon Hoover.

My lips lift at the corners of my mouth as he sets one glass of wine down on a server’s tray and picks up another, throwing it back like a shot. His wife hangs on his arm, beautiful and definitely sober. But he looks annoyed. A little red in the face, even.

The guitar crescendos as does the viola, one violin is playing the harmonic, higher pitches, the other, the lower and me, my fingers almost cramp at how tightly I’m playing, concentrated, watching, never wavering, as Simon tilts his head to the side and tugs on his pristine white shirt collar with one finger. All eyes are on me, and that includes Simon’s.

His upper lip curls back in what might be disgust but I only smile when he grabs another drink.

But God, I want to laugh.

Axel holds his note, letting it linger in the air, where one thinks the song would stop, it loops back to what would be the chorus if a choir had accompanied us. I can hear it in my mind, the need to dance, to sing, to clap and twirl around. It’s everything. Everything. My arms tremble, my fingers and wrists ache – but it feels so goddamn good to hurt. To feel so alive again.

“Ding dong… ding dong…”

He breaks our eye contact, grabbing his wife by the wrist.

“Ding dong… ding… dong…”

He says something, and she shrugs at him.

“Christmas is here…”

He shoves her forward lightly.

“Bringing good cheer…”

She stumbles but not nearly enough to fall and he catches her by the elbow.

“To young and old…”

Through the crowd they go.

“Meek and the bold…”

To the coat closet.

“Ding dong… ding dong…”

And out the front door.

“Ding dong… ding.”

The applause is ear-splitting. I have to blink to remember where I am. I bend, to place my cello back in her case along with her bow and close the lid, not letting my mind wander to how badly this could go. I haul my cello case, but Jonas takes it from me and motions with his head for me to follow him upstairs. But we’re stopped.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” Blue eyes like endless skies clash with mine and I almost lose my balance, but Jonas catches me, never letting me look weak in front of others.

I would kill for Jonas Anderson.

I will kill for our future together.

“Mr. Prescott,” Jonas greets. “Thank you.”

“Raven, what a lovely performance.”

I blink up at him. He’s so much taller when I’m not in my thigh-high boots. A bit imposing, actually, since we’re toe-to-toe and not… crotch-to-face. I catch myself before I can cringe.      

“Uh, she says thank you. That was her thank you blink.”

Stephen eyes me up and down, from the silver stripe in my hair to my breasts, down to the tattoo on my wrist and back. “Fascinating.”

The way he says that, like I’m a mouse at a lab that hasn’t been fed in days and he’s my keeper makes me feel a little sick. I balance from one foot to the other and then looks at Jonas.

“Yeah, we’re gonna take this up to her bedroom. Happy Holidays, Mr. Prescott. It was nice seeing you.”

“January third, Mr. Anderson.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll need you.”

“I won’t be in town. I’ll be… elsewhere with Raven.”

“Another time then.” He replies sternly. It’s not a question. And it’s definitely not a request. It’s an order.

“I’ll let you know when I’m back in town.”

“See that you do.” He says, walking away.

“C'mon baby, let’s get you upstairs so we can go.”

It doesn’t take us long.

When I open the door to my old room, I’m surprised to see a familiar woman sitting on my bed. She smiles a small, sad smile that makes my chest ache and when Brina bursts into tears, I run to her, my leg be damned. My arms go around her new-to-me plush body and her head immediately goes into the crook of my neck.

She’s sobbing so hard her entire body shakes. I make a motion with my hands at Jonas so he can give us some time.

After a few more minutes, she pulls away – face red and blotchy, mascara ruined – but still, so stunning. She catches her breath but more tears well in her eyes. “Can I please, please just talk to my best friend?”

I keep her gloved hands in mine and nod.

Even if I can’t talk to her yet, I can still listen.

Chapter Twenty-One

Simon Hoover.

Sixteen Weeks Prior

Ty: Chase just confirmed that Raven is back on campus.

Me: WTF is she doing there?

Ty: She re-enrolled.

Thadd: There’s no way my father allowed that. I’ll go talk to him.

Me: Keep us updated. The last thing we need is for her to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong.

I set my phone on the nightstand, in my seedy Brazilian hotel, wiping the sweat off my brow, and go back to the girl tied up and in the fetal position on the laid-out tarp now at my feet. I kick her, lightly in the ribs. She whimpers and the sound makes my heart beat out of my chest. I squat down and brush her dark hair away from her face. Fresh tears roll down the sides of the bridge of her nose and drip to the tarp I have laid out on the grimy carpet. She’s a bit younger than I prefer, being seventeen, but she’s the right size.

I like them a little pudgy. They get so pink and bruise even prettier.

The fatter ones don’t break as easily. I mean I would know, Raven survived, didn’t she?

“Tudo bem. Tudo acabará em breve.” I shush. It’s okay, it’ll be over soon.

“Porfavore-“

I like that. When they beg.

She just made it so easy; you know? Walking the streets of Rio. Just trying to make a living by spreading her thighs. I don’t usually go for the locals, but she reminded me so much of my first kill, the one I used for my initiation after Raven survived… really, I could blame Raven for this affliction of mine. What we did to her that night. God, the delicious crunch of her leg breaking under my boot and her scream… fuck it did things to me. It made me feel… powerful. Strong.

Then the next girl, Amber, my initiation, was a dream. It’s when I realized this wasn’t sexual for me. Just a stress release I was really, really good at. Besides, I had my little wife at home.

Another reason I’m doing this.

All that negotiating my father did with someone of her caliber, all the wedding planning, all the money spent on said wedding… and I got a fucking dud of a woman. We’ve been married just over a full year, and we just found out she can’t have children. Not even IVF. Her eggs are dry at age twenty-one.

And I’m not allowed to divorce her because my idiot father forgot to put it in the clause that should this happen; we’re allowed to divorce.

So it’s either murder her and spend my life in jail… or take it out on someone else.

The girl at my fingertips gives a shuddering sigh, but it’s no good. She’s seen my face. She has to go.

I grab my Polaroid and snap a picture to add to my collection, then set it to the side and begin.

Twelve Weeks Prior…

Ty: Chase is dead. He was found on the RMU campus, OD.

Thadd: Riordan is saying something else.

Ty: My uncle has one of our coroner’s doing the autopsy. We’ll know more during the meeting.

Me: Funeral?

Ty: Wake is Wednesday. Funeral’s on Thursday.

My palms are sweaty, watching my wife dance with some man, her hands on him, swaying her hips, her head leaning back, and his hands smooth over her short dress, downward, under the hem, touching what’s mine. It used to work for me. Someone touching her would set me off on a jealous rampage and she would get so wet we’d end up fucking like rabid animals on any available surface.

Now she just tries too hard and it’s just sad and pathetic.

She’s a beautiful woman. Magazine cover worthy. Actually worked with Sofia Monroe’s agency for a while. But you know what they say, one man’s barren wife is another’s cum dumpster, or whatever.

Past my wife, I see a gorgeous little brunette bombshell sitting at the bar. Fake tits, fake ass, fake lips, and while someone like her could never be in the same tax bracket as me, it doesn’t mean she won’t be a good fuck. A hole is a hole. She lifts a brow and tilts her head towards one of the VIP rooms of Inferno, sliding off the stool and heading that way. I set my glass of vodka down and stand, buttoning my suit jacket before giving my wife one last eye roll and following the bitch in heat through the sweaty, dancing bodies.

She’s a screamer, and the banging on the other side of the two-way window is none other than Clarissa, I’m sure. Watching me pound into this fake beauty from behind. I come with a roar as she screams, filling the condom to the brim. She giggles, pulling up her panties that only made it to her knees, and kisses me on the cheek. When she opens the door, a teary Clarissa enters, slamming the door closed behind her.

She slaps me.

Cute.

“You’ll fuck her, but you won’t fuck me?”

“You want me to fuck you, Clarissa?”

“Please!”

“Then suck my dick clean.”

She looks at me in horror. “Her juices are still on your dick, you asshole.”

“Then clean it up with your tongue or let me get the fuck out,” I growl.

The lame bitch sinks to her knees and puts my spent cock in her mouth, licking and sucking but fuck, it just doesn’t work for me. She sucks harder, cups my balls, throating me the way she knows gets me so hard it feels like my balls are going to burst. But I don’t feel a goddamn thing when it comes to my wife.

I laugh, pulling my dick out of her mouth. “Damn, Clarissa. Even your mouth is as useless as your cunt.”

I leave her there, on the floor, without even a glance back.

Ten Weeks Prior…

Last week we buried Chase. This week it’s Tyler. Ashleigh and Thadd won’t shut the fuck up beside me as we watch Riordan give his eulogy by Tyler’s body at Grimm & Sons’ funeral home. I can feel eyes on the back of my head and when I turn back, I can see Axel and beside him, Raven stares at me, caramel gaze so striking it sends an electrical spark down my spine and straight to my dick. Fuck she looks good. I smirk at her and turn back around to face a whining Riordan.

God, he looks terrible.

Grief does not do a person good.

________

We throw moist, cold dirt over Tyler’s casket along with a rose. My hands feel disgusting, and I need to cleanse myself. But there are no bathrooms here. I avoid everyone, get to the Towne Car waiting for me, and tell the driver to head to the Prescott Estate. I need to wash my hands quickly. Truly, I need to bathe but, I highly doubt I’ll have the chance to do so. I summon control over my tics and the urges I get. I haven’t gotten laid since that brunette at Inferno, I haven’t killed in months, and now I’m fucking dirty.

My mood is sour at best.

The Syndicate meeting ends after the Prescott’s interrogate Jonas, and he leaves too quickly after some commotion in the hallway. I don’t care. I can still feel the grime of the dirt on my hands even though they’re clean and I need to fucking shower. I need to fuck someone besides my dirty fist.

Eight Weeks Prior…

The dancer on Stephen’s lap is new and kind of awkward, albeit hot as fuck in a super tight, almost see-through bodysuit. She leans a lot and can barely dance but obviously, Stephen only purchases her as arm candy. I can see why. Again, she has an ass I want to shove my face into until the pattern of her fishnets are imprinted on my skin.

Fuck, I need to get some pussy soon.

“My son has been your lackey on both occasions.” Mr. Anderson spits at Stephen, I’ve never seen the old man so worked up. “Wasn’t it your nephew that burnt her house to the ground with her inside?”

I’m bored of this entire thing.

As soon as the dancer’s hour is over, and we’re all set to leave, Stephen pulls me to the side. “Have you been in contact with Mikaelson?”

I nod. “He’s in Bermuda. Next project in Australia.”

His voice lowers as if the music blaring throughout Inferno isn’t loud enough. “And my half-breed?”

“New York. Where you left him.” I inform the Elder.

He nods, lips rolling inward, eyes to the side. “Pull him away from whatever job he’s working on. I need him as a Watcher.”

“Who is he watching, exactly?”

“Raven Monroe.” He sighs, taking a dip from tumbler, the amber liquid settling and he swirls it before eyeing me again. “I’ll send you more details later this week.”

I nod, and we part ways.

7 Weeks Prior…

Father: You need to come back. The entire Whitmore clan is dead except for Vivian.

Not really what I want to read while I’m eight miles out in the Indian ocean in the middle of disposing of… what was her name? It doesn’t matter. Her polaroid is in my duffle bag back at the hotel. She was a fighter. I loved that. Got me good across the temple and almost got away.

Fortunately, I was able to slash across her heels, and she slipped in her blood and fell. It was fun.

Although it makes sense now why Thadd never made it to Malaysia where I had to kill off some asshole that owed the Prescott’s too much money to simply be written off anymore. Their bodies I left to be found like a good little Syndicate soldier. This girl? Well, I shove the rest of this girls body off the back of the boat I rented to a fisherman that was probably shadier than I was. I knew I should’ve gone with someone plumper, but Thadd likes them… petite.

I watch the black water begin to churn where I dropped her bits and pieces. Chum. I can’t even enjoy the way the great whites make the tide foamy and tinged red with whatever blood was left of… Aisyah? Amira? Again, it doesn’t matter. Because there’s only one name I can think of.

Raven.

I’m not too sure but I’m fairly certain I may have seen her signing to Elena during Tyler’s wake. I’ll have to let Stephen know.

Six Weeks Prior…

“What the fuck do you mean I’m no longer allowed here?” I stare up at the wall that is Maksim Giordano, the owner of Eden, Inferno’s sister club located in New York’s meat-packing district. It’s a high-end casino on the first floor and the second floor, which I need to get into, is like Inferno, complete with VIP rooms and girls down to fuck everywhere.

His jaw clenches as he peers down at me, a cold hard, already calculated stare. “You almost killed the last girl you had here. Go home. You are not welcome here.”

“I pay my dues just like everyone else.” I argue. I really need to fuck someone. I have a meeting in the morning, and the anxiety is killing me from the inside out. Not to mention, they placed me in the wrong room at the Tower and my sheets smell wrong.

“Your money is no longer good here, Hoover.”

“But it’s good enough at Inferno and Pandemonium?” Pandemonium being the last of the three clubs located in Chicago.

“You can’t hurt my girls at Inferno. But you’ve been revoked from both Eden and Pandemonium.”

“We’re almost family. I know you have made negotiations to marry Sabrina.”

His jaw ticks. “I’m marrying Sabrina. Not you. You and I are not family. We will never be family. I want nothing to do with a sociopath.”

“I’ll be telling the Elders about this.” I threaten. Childish, I know.

He looks bored with me now, but I can’t exactly tell. He always has the same expression on his face. Menacing as all fuck and I’d be lying if I didn’t say he scares me a bit. That’s what happens, I guess, when you’re the byproduct of the two heads of the mafia and bratva coming together to stop wars from waging. He smirks and shivers skate across my skin. “Do as you please. It will make no difference to me if you run back to your secret brotherhood like a little bitch, Simon, because the contract has been signed. I’m set to marry the Syndicate princess. I’ll still gain more power, and you’ll still look like a pussy.”

I fuck my wife that night and never again.

Three Weeks Prior…

“We've decided to investigate this internally.” Stephen says, his voice low like thunder and Jonas steps back into his place, bowing his head. I hate how fucking happy he looks, I mean, well fucked. I keep my smirk to myself, Andrew Mikaelson keeps shifting from foot to foot. He always hated having to stand around at these meetings. You’d think with all the Adderall he’s on, he'd be able to keep his shit together.

He finds me, after the meeting, cloak off and hair a mess from the hood. “Looks like I missed a lot while I was gone.”

“No shit, Andrew.”

“I can’t make sense of it.”

“Of what?”

“Jacob Cartwright died what, two years ago?”

I nod.

“Even if Riordan was right and Raven is doing this, that’s impossible. She was at Lorne Wood. It couldn’t have started then.”

“Jonas killed Cartwright. It’s in the ledger.”

“Didn’t anyone contend it?”

I shake my head. “Mr. Cartwright died the year before. That’s why Jacob was so gung-ho about killing Raven and taking his father’s place, keeping the legacy going. She was supposed to be an easy kill. I mean, five plus the witness.”

His face is somber and then he shakes his head. “Now there’s someone between the cloaks killing us off one by one.”

I grunt. “Everyone who signed their name beside hers.”

His eyes darken, still staring at me as he’s called away. Because he knows what I know. There are only two of us left that were there that night.

Two weeks prior…

Me: I’m pretty sure Clarissa is trying to kill me.

Father: ?

Me: I found strawberries in the refrigerator.

Father: That’s not enough evidence to end the contract. Are the strawberries touching any of your food?

Me: No. But I’m also pretty sure she’s cheating on me.

Father: You’ll have to dive deeper. Put a cloak on her. Have her followed.

Me: *OK hand emoji*

I throw my head back, looking at the ceiling in exasperation as Cheryl, my executive assistant, brings me another cup of coffee despite it being five in the afternoon. I thank her and turn to look out of the window Hoover & Sons Enterprises’ Boston location. I’m here, instead of D.C., because Father is in London for some charity gala on behalf of our company since I’ll be going to the Athletic Holiday Banquet at RMU. We’ve poured millions of dollars into the athletic department, even though RMU doesn’t really need more money. At this point, it could be considered a bank.

“Mr. Hoover?” My assistant calls for me from outside of my office.

“Yes, Cheryl?”

“Your wife called, she’s on her way to the banquet.”

I thank her again, still looking out at the Boston Harbor, wishing I didn’t have to go to this thing. But, as luck would have it, I arranged for us to be sitting by the Andersons, seeing as my father and I donated over ten million dollars alone. I’m sure that could have gone to the poor or… their spawn, made the world a better place. But in the end, their money goes back into our pockets so why bother?

I grab my coat from the coat rack and begin dressing myself to step out into the bitter cold the Northeast has to offer.

My wife (of course) looks beautiful. You’d be an idiot not to think she’s gorgeous. She’s a wet dream… with a small hickey on her collarbone.

Aren’t I a lucky motherfucker… Raven is five seats almost caddy corner away from me.

Clarissa comes back with more than one plate of food, another thing she’s been doing – eating more than usual. At first, I believe she’s brought me a few things to snack on, and it may seem like that to others – but she brought a bowl of strawberries. That’s fine, I won’t be kissing or fucking her, so it doesn’t matter. But then the dumb bitch tries to feed me a grape.

She makes a spectacle and excuses herself and I get the waiter’s attention and have him take away the bowls of fruit she brought. What a fucking waste of human space. The conversation continues around me, but I watch as Jonas dotes on Raven, feeding her grapes and bits of strawberries and whatever else is in front of her. For God sake’s she mute, not invalid. She tries to shove him off, but he feeds her anyway, not partaking in the conversation unless he’s asked a question and has to.

A part of me is a little jealous, another is slightly happy for him, and the rest of me, a major part of me, is fucking sick at the disgusting display of affection. Jonas finally ceases to feed her and drinks from his champagne and his water when the lights go down.

With all of the attention on Coach Sutton, I can look at Raven, see the silver stripe of hair on her temple, the scar she tries to hide but can’t. Instead, Jonas is watching me. I incline my head and force myself to listen to the different Coach’s speech. Awards are given out and yadda-yadda-yadda… Jonas wins the MVP award, and Clarissa comes back to the table in time to watch him receive it.

Of course he did. He deserves it, honestly. Stepping up for Chase and Riordan. I heard great things from my father when he would speak to the coaches over the phone.

After accepting his award, he steps off the dais and returns to the table only to kiss his mother on the temple, practically scoop Raven up into his arms and they leave.

“It must be nice,” my wife says as she watches the duo, “to be loved so fiercely.”

Elena, Jonas’ adoptive mother, just grins.

Three Days Prior…

“Has Clarissa RSVP’d to the Monroe Holiday party?” My father asks, settling in the chair before my desk. I look up from the next merger we’re working on for the Mikaelson’s, which is what we specialize in.

“I believe she has.”

He nods. “Good. Your mother and I won’t be able to attend.”

I blink up at him. “Because?” I trail off.

He stares at me. “Your mother’s sister is in hospice as of this morning, so we’ll be with her.”

“You know, for a big CEO, you sure do take a lot of days off.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “When you have your son as COO, you’ll be able to do the same.”

This boils my blood. “Not funny,” I growl.

“Breed, son. When the time comes, raise the child through financial means and then bring the child forth when it comes of age to take your place.”

“Our world doesn’t constitute of less than quality half-breeds. Just look at Stephen. Having his hiding in the shadows only being called upon as a Watcher.”

Father clasps his hands together and rests them on his stomach. Still flat with exposed ridges even in his old age. I would know. I work out with him five to six days a week downstairs in our facility’s gym. I may be biased but we have great genetics. If my darling little wife didn’t have a fucked womb… we could have probably negotiated later on to get more powerful within the Syndicate. With Clarissa and my children, it should have been Tyler and Raven’s offspring but… you know.

My father has been quite for too long just staring at me, I think he’s having a brain aneurism. But I don’t blink and neither does he. “Go to the party. Try to have a good time, and we’ll reconvene when I get back. The hospice nurse that spoke to your mother said it could be any day now. So we’ll probably be back before you even remember we were gone.”

“Have a good Christmas, dad.”

He gets up, fixing the sides of his suit jacket. “Come, let’s go to lunch. I had your assistant make us reservations at Fulmine.”

Present Day

You know that feeling when you’re doing something you know you probably shouldn’t be doing, like your body is forewarning you not to enter the abandoned home that’s dilapidated and barely hanging on or enter the dark tunnel to see if you come out at the end?

Driving to the Monroe estate feels just like that. I decided for us to stay at our familial estate just fifteen minutes away. Where all my trophies are. I’ll be able to reminisce while my useless wife sleeps. Or slips out to cheat on me while I sleep.

The valet person comes to take my keys as we slip out of my Aston Martin, freshly detailed, washed and waxed. She’s a beauty. One of the only things I’m proud of owning. Sleek and shiny.

“Watch your tongue tonight.” I say to my wife as I grab her elbow and reach the front doors. “What did we talk about earlier?”

“I won’t be drinking.” She replies quietly.  

I don’t respond, just plaster a million-dollar smile on my face as the door opens and we’re greeted by the house staff. They take our coats and the first thing I do is grab a glass of wine from one of the passing trays. And down the entire thing. It’s good, but that’s no surprise. The Monroe’s always have the best of the best.

“Simon! Clarissa, how good to see you! Thank you so much for coming!” Sofia says, kissing us both on either cheek. God, she looks fucking good. Spanish bombshell. I bet John takes extra Viagra just to fuck this woman into pieces. That’s probably why he looks so happy and well rested all the time. I mean look at her, great hips, a great ass, great pair of tits, a tiny waist. This was why she was so great in the 90’s. Plus her face – wow. I mean, I know she’s had a ton of Botox done, but geez, what a MILF.

“Thank you for having us, Mrs. Monroe.”

“Oh, Simon, it’s just Sofia.” She flirts and Clarissa turns pink beside me. “Please, have fun.” She says and walks away to be a good hostess, and I watch the way her red dress clings to her every fucking curve. Fuck.

“Why don’t you just fuck her and save us all the trouble of you gaping after her with your tongue hanging out like a drooling dog?” Clarissa gripes.

“Why fuck her when I can fuck her ripe daughter? Her hips just scream ‘made to bear your children.’” I snap back. I wouldn’t fuck Raven. I like a screamer and Raven can’t speak. But I don’t say that. I just like to make sure my wife knows she’s fucking useless.

I see Maksim towering over everyone with my second-cousin Sabrina on his arm, talking to the unkillable mute bitch and my mood sours even more. So, I do the sensible thing and grab another drink, throw it back and look around, seeing even more Syndicate members from California, Seattle and Chicago and go to say hello.

I grab my next glass of wine when I make my way over to Leo, an Elder in the California chapter and his son, Rudolfo, who is now eighteen and set to graduate high school, attending RMU in the fall of next year when John is standing on a small stage the string quartet is gently playing. Everyone stops and stares at the Elder, a low hush is heard and then he grins, letting us know Raven has decided to play and entertain us for the evening.

I couldn’t think of anything more fucking ghastly than the little dead bitch, who looks delectable, of course, putting  on a show for us.

She looks surprised though when she reaches for a glass of wine, throws it back in one gulp and reaches up to kiss Jonas. I swear to God I see her lips moving but she runs toward Axel and makes a quick motion of her hands. He sets his glass of wine on a tray passing by and they both run up the stairs with Jonas saying, “They need a moment to get ready.”

They come down not five minutes later, Axel with his guitar that he plugs into a portable amp and Raven with a black binder. She opens it up, passing sheet music out, and my wife finds me.

“I guess I see why you’d go for the daughter.” She hums, taking a sip of water from a crystal tumbler, jealousy in her tone.

I don’t say anything. I don’t feel like arguing. I just let myself relax and watch the show. It’s good. But they’ve always played good together. Axel with his guitar, looking like a pretentious rock star in his suit and Raven in black, her arms poised and ready.

Her eyes rove over the crowd and find mine, and I tip back my drink, grabbing another.

Her lips lift at the corners, and my heart stammers in my chest.

Does she know?

“Are you okay? You look a little blotchy.”

“Yeah, it’s just warm in here.” I tell my wife, clearing my throat. I throw back the wine again to clear it out and loosen my tie as much as I can without it being less than pristine. “Fuck, I think the wine is getting to me. Do you think you could drive the Aston?”

“Christ, Simon, again? You’re always so worried about my tongue, but your drinking is getting out of control.”

“What’s out of control again is your fucking mouth.” My stomach gurgles. Fuck. “Let’s go.”

“We just got here! I want to enjoy the party!”

I grab her by the elbow and use a little force to get her to start moving. “Did you touch anything that had strawberries?” I ask.

“What? No. I haven’t even eaten and there aren’t strawberries by the buffet.”

My stomach grumbles loudly again. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll drop you off then come back. There’s a few friends I want to talk to here.”

By the time we get to the coat closet to grab ours, I’m clenching my asshole. We’re five minutes away when I shit myself so hard it goes up my back and Clarissa screams, then vomits over my steering wheel at the stench, gagging but doing her best to keep her eyes on the road. But I’m worried about other things, such as my throat is closing up and my vision is blurry and I’m fucking itchy everywhere. We reach our house in minutes, the tires screeching in the driveway, and I’m leaping, trying to get the front door open in a panic.

I can feel my eyes closing at the sides, I’m going to fucking die in the foyer of the house I grew up in. Images of Raven’s smirk, the holiday lights behind her, wind around my brain.

“Get my epi pen!” I rasp out, but it comes out guttural. I can’t fucking breathe. My heart feels like it’s seizing. Oh god, I can’t-

“I have one in my purse!” My thoughtful, beautiful wife says.

She pulls it out and stabs me in the thigh with it.

“Oh my god!” she screams. “It’s been used!”

“You stupid bitch,” oh fuck. My heart rate is up, too high, I can feel it pounding in my temples. “Get the other one, it’s in my desk upstairs!” I gurgle out. I watch her blurry dress and heels glitter in the dim light as she runs out of sight, but the bile is rising, and my throat is closing, my fingers are too fat to loosen my tie more.

There it is.

I choke on my bile, trying to gulp it back down, but my throat’s closed off, feeling it drip out of my nose, my brain feels like it’s imploding, melting, heat everywhere. I’m burning.

Dying.

Glittering white heels come into a blurred focus.

Thank God.

They nudge at me.

“Honey?”

But instead of helping, Clarissa squats down, tilts her head to the side, a fuzzy smile spreads across her face. And it all fades to black.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jonas.

“Baby, holy shit, wait baby. Oh, fuck you’re gonna make me come and my pants aren’t even off yet. Oh, fuck it. Find it, baby, God yes, put those pretty titties in my face. Fuck. Fuck.”

God she smells so fucking good. One hand is on the headrest behind me, the other holding onto the back of my head pushing me to suck her gorgeous pink nipples while I hold her hips. The silk under my fingertips nowhere near the softness of her skin. She’s dry humping the fuck out of me, the taste of wine still on her tongue, and I’m so fucking dizzy. My dick is so fucking hard under her and every time she slips right over the head of my dick, so much pressure I’m close to coming. I try to think of anything but the heat of her pussy through my slacks – like the conversation she had with Sabrina that I may or may not have eavesdropped on accidentally when I was packing up our shit.

“Jonas.” She moans my name when I bite on her nipple, so I do it again.

“Baby, please, I want to fuck you. I want to feel you choke my dick. I want you to feel me come for you.” I groan. I’m amazed Maverick or Damon haven’t said anything since they’re both sitting up front but I’d tell them to shut the fuck up anyway. God my baby is frantic. I know killing doesn’t exhilarate her. I know she’s merely celebrating this is all over now. “Raven baby…” I use the voice she can’t resist.

She slows down, her face flushed and so cute.

“Who gave her the extra glass of wine?” Damon asks. “She can only have one with her meds.”

I keep sucking Raven’s nipples, getting them super slippery with my spit, while I reach between us, going through the folds her dress created, pleased to find her wet and naked underneath.

“Baby… you’re not wearing panties? If I would have known you needed my dick this bad I would’ve fucked you at the party.” I pull the zipper of my trousers down and tug out my cock, helping her settle over me and we both groan when I feel how hot and wet she is, slipping inside so fucking easily because of it. My eyes cross but I sit back on the seat, slouching a little so she can ride me better. “That’s my girl. My sick little slut couldn’t even wait to get to the cabin, could you, baby?”

She shakes her head, putting her hands on my chest and then up to my throat. “Need you.”

I pinch her nipples roughly, twisting them but deciding to let her take the reins tonight, watching her use me. “Take it, baby. Fuck my cock like you own it. Play with your pretty little clit.” I groan when she reaches down and obeys and when she clenches around my length it takes everything in me not to buck up. But I want her to “use me, Raven. Fucking own my dick. It’s all yours baby. Take it. Fuck me harder, pretty girl.” My balls draw up and I practically whimper when her head falls back. So fucking pretty like this. I wish I could feel her hair brushing the skin of my thighs.

Her little gasps while she rises and falls, each bounce of her tits fucking heavenly. She moans my name, one hand coming to meet mine on her tits, pinching her nipple between her fingers. God, she should be wearing a tiara right now.

“My dick feel good baby?”

“Yes!” She cries out, squeezing around me.

“You want to me to come in your little cunt? Hmm? Is that what you need?”

She nods, pushing her titty up and sucking on her finger.

What a fucking goddess. She grinds harder, rubbing her clit faster whimpering with every rise and fall. I wish there was a mirror so I could watch her use me like this. I love watching her pussy stretch and grip my dick in every position, love watching her flesh recoil and bounce back to meet me over and over again. It drives me fucking crazy.

“Such a pretty girl. Come for me, baby. I’m so close. Kiss me.”

And she does.

Her lips land on mine, tongue shoving into my mouth, it’s sloppy, borderline animalistic and so fucking good white sparks dance behind my eyelids. She flutters around me, spasming. And then she does the sweetest fucking thing ever, she makes the I Love You sign with her hand and presses it on my chest between us, so she doesn’t break away from our kiss. I’m so fucking gone. Toes curling in my shoes, I throw my arms around her to clutch her closer to me, feeling that I Love You sign like a brand on my skin, and God, I fucking want that feeling forever. “Don’t fucking stop. I’m gonna… oh fuck, don’t stop, baby. Oh god, yes, yes, yes!”

She squeals my name when I shove up into her, every flutter of her pussy milks me fucking dry and I sit back, holding her, feeling the aftershocks of one of the most powerful orgasms I’ve ever had. It’s so hot when she wants me. When she initiates sex I feel so fucking desired it’s an instant hair trigger to my balls. She winds down, kissing my lips, my cheeks, my temples, my neck but instead of getting off me, my girl keeps her arms around me, nuzzling into the dip between my neck and shoulder, humming then sighing happily.

I open my eyes to see Damon peering at us through the rearview mirror and Maverick smirking, although he looks jealous as fuck. He could’ve been back here, but he decided to let me ride with her instead.

Dumbass.

I run my hands on the small of her back, feeling her breath even out.

“She asleep?” Maverick asks.

“Yeah. Did the dog sitter text back?”

“Everything is great.” He replies, flashing me a picture of Kronos and Luci in bedazzled Santa hats.

“Good,” I reply, my eyes closing. “How much longer till we reach Vermont?”

“We just passed the New Hampshire state line so a few more hours. Thank you for getting the snow chains installed, Maverick.” Damon thanks.

Maverick grunts and since I’m almost fluent in Maverickese, I’m pretty sure it means ‘you’re welcome.’

“Hey, how do you stay hard inside her all night?” I ask, feeling my gummy dick trying to slip out.

“Practice.” Both older men reply, looking at each other and then chuckling.

Dicks.

“No, I’m serious, I want to do it. At least until we get to the cabin or have to stop for gas. The last thing I need is for my mom to see me hard in my future wife.”

“Seeing as it’s your turn to drive next, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Damon shrugs.

“I… don’t want to drive,” I say, not wanting to be away from Raven. “It’s uh… scary.”

“You said you’d take the second stretch.”

“I have nighttime blindness.” I lie.

Maverick snickers in the passenger seat.

“Jonas.”

“Yes, daddy Damon?”

“Jonas.” He warns.

“Okay fine. But you have to tell me how you do it.”

“Touch her.”

“I am.”

“No I mean, keep touching her. Your favorite parts. For me, it’s the meat on her thighs-“

“Hips for me.” Maverick interrupts.

“Smell her. Every time you start slipping out, touch her. Feel her under your fingertips, remember how good she feels coming around you. But don’t fuck her. Just… stay hard.”

“Don’t fuck her?”

“Nope.” He replies, popping the P.

“That’s crazy,” I reply, looking out at the snow falling in fat, beautiful flakes, but I do what they say, touch her everywhere because I love all of her, lazily circling the hardening nipple with my thumb, and soon enough, I’m hard again, and happy because she feels me filling her up in her sleep and I hope I’m giving her nothing but good dreams.

________

We reach my family’s cabin before seven, Raven still sleeping on Damon’s dick, Maverick driving, and me in the back passenger seat, fuming because Damon kept her all night. (Three hours but still.)

Maverick whistles lowly when we arrive, looking up at the cabin. “This is not a cabin,” he murmurs.

Technically, he’s right. It’s a lodge. Big enough for twenty people. Okay, it’s like a mini mansion. But it’s made out of huge logs and has that rustic vibe with enormous pine trees all around. There are huge windows so you can watch the wildlife and overall, it’s one of my favorite places to be. My parents usually rent it out during the holidays but I’m glad they didn’t this year. Damon withdraws from Raven and wakes her up with kisses.

My mood sours until she opens her pretty eyes and reaches over to kiss me good morning. Her hair is a mess, but she looks like she slept well. Damon reaches behind us to her small purple bag in the back and pulls it forward, opening the knapsack, and starts pulling out clothes for her.

“Here, Little Bird. Let’s get you comfortable and warm, okay? It’s colder here than at home and I don’t need you getting sick.”

“Okay,” she hums happily but not before nestling into his neck again and it makes Damon so happy, he can’t help but smile.

She lets me unclip the crystals in the halter part of her dress and she slips out of it, completely nude and I look over at Damon. “Did you pack me one of those?”

“Blue bag. Grab Mav’s. It’s the green one. Mine’s the red.”

I lean over, pulling all the bags forward and handing them out. I open it, happy to find my thermals, sweats, the beanie Raven got me, and thick wool socks.

“Your boots are in the back, too.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“Your throat, my punch, Jonas.”

“Geez, fucking hostile even when you slept with your dick inside of Raven for six hours,” I mutter under my breath.

I feel a thumb and a finger under my chin as Damon gets me to look at him, gunmetal eyes smokey. “When and if you ever call me Daddy, it’s because my dick has been so far down your throat, and I’ve fucked you every which way to Sunday you can’t remember my name, much less yours.” He growls, letting go of my chin to focus back on dressing our girl.

Holy fuck.

I gulp, my heart stammering in my chest, blood flowing a little too quick down to my dick and back up. What the fuck? “So only Raven can call you daddy.”

She smiles at me and then turns to him. “Daddy.”

“Yes, Little Bird?” He smirks.

She coos at him while rolling her socks on and he slips her a kiss before getting dressed himself.

It only takes us another fifteen minutes before we’re outside of Raven’s Audi, walking up the shoveled driveway and knocking on the front door beneath the silver and gold wreath.

It takes a few minutes, but Mom opens the door in her cashmere robe and jammies, to welcome us inside, uncaring that we probably look like hell.

“Oh, Merry Christmas Eve! Come in! Lorenzo is already making breakfast!” Hugging Raven first, of course, then me, forgetting societal norms of shaking hands upon introductions she hugs Maverick and Damon as well. The entire house smells like gingerbread, vanilla and… it smells like Christmas. There’s a large, decorated pine tree from the skirt to the tip in silver and gold, the ornaments reflecting the bright lights like disco balls. It’s lavish and divine and I already know every room will have a tree just like it.

“Mom this is-“

“Oh, I know, I met them last night. How was the drive, Maverick, dear?”

He looks a little confused, but he sniffs, pushing his glasses up his red nose and then smiles down at my mom. “It was fine. Hardly any traffic.”

“Oh, good. I hope you’re hungry. Damon?”

“Starved, Mrs. Anderson.”

“Oh, please. Mrs. Anderson is my mother-in-law, and I told you last night to call me Ellie. Now, I’m sure Jonas told you all about how many rooms we have here but if you don’t mind taking the second-floor primary bedrooms, it would be much easier for me on the knees.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. A… Ellie,” Maverick corrects himself when Mom cuts him a glare and I want to die laughing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him shut up that quickly. “Thank you, by the way, for having us. I’m sorry we showed up empty-handed.”

“Oh, Maverick, darling.” She reaches up to cup his cheek and pats it. His eyes flutter but he leans into it. Yeah, straight up mommy-issues, that one. “All of you showing up and not letting an old woman spend the holidays alone is enough. I was almost frightened Raven would have stayed home to be with her family. Now, about that breakfast. Go settle in and meet me in the dining room. Lorenzo has been cooking up a storm. Raven, I remember you prefer a French breakfast.”

She grabs our girl by the hand and then links their arms together like they’re the best of friends. “Come, darling, let the men take your bags, and you and I will start snacking. Your cello playing last night was divine…”

They walk off, and the sound of my mother’s voice turns into a low chattering hum as they disappear. Maverick turns to look at me. “You grew up with her as your mom?”

I grab mine and Raven’s suitcase and start lugging it up the stairs, lit garland and silver ribbon curled around the banister. “I wasn’t adopted until I was twelve, Mav. I was in foster care for years because my bio-mom was too addicted to drugs to even remember my name. I had lice for two years straight until the school nurse got fed up with me and shaved my head while I was at school.”

“I didn’t know.” He says.

“I know. Just don’t… don’t think I take this or my parents for granted. Okay? Even with all the Syndicate bullshit, I owe them my life.”

“How long were you in foster care?”

“Six years. After that head-shaving incident, they finally took the nurse’s claims seriously and took me away. I had good families, and I had shitty families. I was surprised my parents wanted to adopt me to replace their son as a legacy when he died of childhood cancer. I mean, there were infants where I was staying.”

“And your bio-mom?”

“Died when I was eight. Overdose.”

“I’m sorry.” He says as we reach the landing, passing the second living area decorated to the nines and then entering the main upstairs bedroom.

I throw my bags down, Damon beside me, and look at him. “I’m not.” And it’s true. “Don’t worry. Damon and I have talked about this during our sessions. And Raven knows. Now you do, too.  I’m not ashamed of where I came from and I’m not ashamed my parents can afford to give me a better life just because I look like their dead son. But I want you, specifically you, Maverick, to know I am ashamed of the things I’ve had to do because they chose me as their son. Do you understand?”

He nods, pushing up his glasses so they sit on the bridge of his nose, but a curl of his brown locks falls forward. “I do.”

I incline my head. “Good. Now, let’s get some breakfast. I’m starving and I need a nap.”

The news is on, playing softly in the background on the huge TV big enough to be a movie theater screen when we make it downstairs. Mom and Raven are giggling like schoolgirls when we find them in the kitchen and there’s so much whipped cream in Raven’s mug, when she takes a sip it ends up on her nose and she gets a mustache. 

I laugh, happy she’s so carefree around Elena that she’s using her actual voice to laugh out loud. I swipe at her nose with a napkin and then kiss her cheek, doing my best to not lean over and lick off the whipped cream from her lips in front of my mom.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” Mom says at the same time Raven signs the word for nothing.

Plates of French breakfast items and eggs and bacon are on the sidebar, ready with serving utensils and I go and start piling food on a plate for Raven and myself, keeping my eye on the news outlet. I catch Raven signing, and my mother moves her lips as if she’s reading Raven’s hands. Oh, she’s telling her about our trip to Spain.

“Oh, I haven’t seen your grandfather in years. I’m glad he still has a sense of humor.”

“Oh my god, are you telling her about how he almost killed us?”

It was a prank! She signs. And the look on your face was priceless! She makes a face of horror and then tipping her head back to cackle silently at one of the worst moments of my life.

“Wait, what happened?” Damon asks as we all settle around the dining table to eat.

“The old man pretended to have a heart attack mid-flight in his helicopter. I almost shit my pants.”

Damon laughs, almost choking on a bite of eggs, and coughs, Maverick does too.

“Language, Jonas. We’re eating.”

“Sorry, mom.”

“So that’s where she gets it.” Maverick chuckles, patting Damon on the back. “Little hellcat.” He looks so proud of her.

“Anyway, Raven knowing it was a joke, took the cyclic and started guiding us, laughing.” I roll my eyes, grab the OJ, and pour myself a glass. “It took me a full thirty minutes to calm down.”

You were fine! She signs.

“Babe, we were a mile up in the air, clenching my ass-“

“Jonas!”

“Sorry – trying to hold myself together – while trying to make a good impression. I was not fine.”

Okay, I’m sorry. Make it up to you later? She winks.

“You absolutely will,” I grumble back at her. I will totally hold this over her head for the rest of my life it means a blow job every time I do.

“Oh, wait, did you hear that?” Maverick asks, standing, and going over to where the TV is.

“Turn it up, honey, please.” My mother says, while standing also, joining Maverick. I do as I’m told, finding the remote, setting it down then sitting on the arm of the brown leather sofa where Damon and our pretty girl join me.

“Hoover, just barely twenty-five, was allegedly murdered by his wife, Clarissa Hoover, twenty-one, last night…” A helicopter view of live footage shows the girl being led out of their house in handcuffs and into the back of a cruiser. “Cops say there is an ongoing investigation, not because of the wife but because of what they found in Simon’s basement. Over forty Polaroid pictures of what looks like young women, tied up and being either tortured or killed.” All of our jaws hit the floor. “The FBI is now on the case and will be going through everything to verify if they are any of the missing girls reported in the area. This is Wendy Taylor, bringing you more news at five.”

“Oh dear, I need to call your father,” Mom says, racing to her room.

“Holy shit, that’s Tasha,” Maverick says, still staring at the screen, having flipped over to another news station that’s still broadcasting it.

My eyes flicker over the giant screen to the corner where I see a familiar face. “Hey, wait. Can you pause it?”

“The live news broadcast?” Maverick asks.

“Yeah. Just… let me see the remote.”

He hands it over and I push the button, walking over to the dark-haired guy behind Mav’s old partner and then tap on the screen. “This guy. I know him from somewhere."

Maverick grunts, displeased. “That’s Detective Arlo.”

I look over at him. “Mav, she looks scared of him,” I say, pointing out how rigid his former partner looks. Her body language is all wrong, and the scowl on Arlo’s face looks like he’s trying to hide from the cameras.

He gives a quick nod. “Have you seen him around campus?”

“Yeah, but… somewhere else, too,” I say, squinting, trying to remember from where but it’s not coming to me. “Like I know him from before everything started happening.” I turn around to face the trio staring at the screen. They all look as unhappy as I feel. I shake my head. “I can’t remember.”

“Well now that I know what he looks like I can keep an eye out for him,” Damon says and Raven nodding along with him.

“Jonas, darling.” I hear my mom call out to me from her bedroom.

I turn away from them and walk down the hallway to see her standing at the threshold of her room. “Yeah?”

She swallows thickly and motions for me to join her in her room. When I do, she shuts the door behind us and then juts her chin to the bathroom where she shuts and then locks the door once we’re in there.

I don’t like this.

“You’re making my stomach hurt. What’s going on?”

“Did Raven have anything to do with this?”

I swallow, completely unprepared for this. “No?”

She rolls her green eyes and sighs. “Darling, please. I’m old, not stupid. I know she’s had a part to play in all of these deaths in the Syndicate. I mean, she strolls onto campus and bodies drop like flies? I’m not judging her, and I don’t blame her. What they did to her…” She trails off before meeting my eyes again. “I’m proud of her, Jonas. Why do you think I let you in on my findings? I knew you would tell her. For our sake, I protect her, too. She’s family. But this, Jonas… if the wrong FBI agents are all over this, what Simon did could lead to an investigation so deep you could be incriminated for… Jacob.”

My heart falls out of my asshole and down to the basement. “What do I do?”

“Campus is still closed?”

I nod.

“Darling you need to find that ledger and burn it. Your father, despite what he’s had to do, is a good man and after almost thirty years, I love him more than I did the first day of our marriage. You are a good man. If I could have written my name in that horrid book instead of yours, I would have taken your place. But that isn’t the way this world of ours works. So I need you to find that ledger and burn it to ash, then bury those just to make sure.”

“Okay,” I reply dryly.

“Oh, my sweet boy. What a fucking predicament we’re in.”

My mouth gapes at her cursing and she laughs. “Seems your father will be home for another funeral soon. The poor thing barely flies out of the country and has to return because our darling Raven is a vicious little thing.”

I grin. “Isn’t she perfect, though?”

“Oh Jonas,” she says while turning to the mirror and fixing her hair, “if you would have chosen a different woman, she would have never made you happy. Raven is absolutely bewitching, and I am so glad you found each other – even if it means two more in tow. But we aren’t always fortunate in finding our soul mates in mint condition and without any damage or baggage. Truth be told, if she had been a proper Syndicate princess I probably would have loathed her, much like I did that Paris girl and for good reason.” She blinks at me through her reflection.

“If this is the life you’ve chosen and the woman you’ve chosen, then as long as you’re happy, so be it. I mean that Damon is quite nice on the eyes.” She scrunches her nose in the mirror and turns back to face me, then reaches up to pinch my cheek.

I don’t have anything to say about that last comment, still trying to figure out exactly how it made me feel when he gripped my chin like that in the car earlier.

“Now dear, let’s go have some tea while you figure out a way to tell your… flock, that you need to steal the ledger. That Maverick looks quite daring. Take him with you. Something about him looks a bit lost and you need to include him in your… little activities.”

“He’s former FBI,” I inform her, rubbing where she pinched. “And kind of an ass- a jerk.” I correct myself.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she grins, and I can’t help but think maybe she has a screw in her head a bit loose or if she even heard me at all. “Including him means he’s more likely to keep your secrets. That’s the entire motto of the Syndicate, isn’t it? To build a better bond within your brotherhood, let them witness what could be your downfall but trust them enough to not let that happen?”

I grunt in agreement.

“There is nothing more important than your future family, Jonas. Make sure he understands that, yes?”

“Okay.” I agree.

“Okay.” She sighs happily as if we didn’t just talk about something so serious, clasping her hands together and thrusting open the door of the rustic chic bathroom. “Now, about that tea…”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Damon.

“You want me to go where with you?”

Jonas stands with his hands on his hips, his sweatpants slung low on them, sweat dripping down his abs and I swallow the saliva that pools into my mouth. We’re all sweaty, having used the gym in the basement to prepare for the Christmas Eve feast Elena is having her chef prepare for tonight. I called my parents earlier and yes, my father has chosen to resign and retire and stay in Paris with my mother indefinitely, having asked me to sort out his home in Hartford. While Tabi, his chef, will no longer have a job, she’s going to have severance pay that will ensure she never needs one ever again and only has to cook if she wants to.

Raven is on the ground, in ‘corpse pose’ her “favorite” yoga position which just means she’s laying on her back like a starfish, still panting after the rigorous strength and conditioning course Jonas led us through.

“It’ll be quick. But you can get us into the restricted section, can’t you?” Jonas asks Maverick.

Raven sits up. “I can… do… that.” She pants out with nary a stutter, reaching for her leg and rubbing at the tatted-over scar.

I keep my grin to myself, remember when I followed her through the disguised book door and watched from the shadows as my Little Bird rode Maverick on the floor of the restricted section like a wanton slut needing to find God. My dick begins to harden in my sweats just remembering the way her little cheeks turned pink, asking myself if I had a cuckolding fetish and realizing, I simply had a her fetish.

Everything that is her from her little toes, the silver stripe in her hair, and the mere scent or sight of her gets me hard enough to want to fuck her senseless. Detaining myself and watching her get fucked or fuck like she’s searching for her next high tests my willpower and watching her climb through her peak and crash back down to earth is glorious. Every. Single. Time.

So yes, I have a Raven fetish.

I am utterly enthralled and obsessed with watching this woman come like there’s no tomorrow and I have absolutely no remorse or shame of it.

Maverick and Jonas peek over at her and I move to get to her so I can rub at her sore flesh, taking her meaty calf in my hands and pressing my thumbs to her tibia to smooth out her clammy skin over her leg. She moans and her eyes dart over to me.

“Feels… very… good.”

I beam down at her, entranced by her sweaty state in her little black biker shorts. Her praise also pleases me.

“There’s… a different way… to get” she bites down on the T, “in… A sssecret book-door th..at leads to… a ssst-staircase and… all the way d-down… to the restricted sssection. Don’t need… a key…tag to… ennter.”

I summon the tears of pride that are stinging the back of my eyes to not fall but when she notices none of us have spoken, the tops of her cheeks go pink, and she darts her gaze downward.

Maverick clears his throat, obviously swallowing down the same emotions I’m feeling to not embarrass her further. “So we just sneak in?”

Jonas is still looking at Raven like she’s the most incredible thing he ever set his eyes upon. “Kinda feeling like that’s our only option. With mostly everyone gone because of winter break, there’s less of a chance of us getting caught.”

She tips her head back to look at him and lifts her hands. I can show you how to get in and stay on the lookout.

“Thank you, baby,” he grins down at her. “Mav, if you don’t want to do this you don’t have to.”

“I didn’t say that.” He almost snaps. “I’ll… I’ll do it. I just wanted to make sure you had a foolproof plan.”

Jonas’ grin turns to a cocky smirk, “Well, two of my plans went down perfectly. So I have that going for me.”

“What plans?” Maverick asks.

Jonas puts up his middle and index fingers, “One, seduce Raven and make her my girlfriend, and two” he puts down his index finger so he’s flipping Mav off, “getting rid of Simon without using physical force so my girl doesn’t hurt herself.” He puts his down, so pleased with himself I let out a chuckle.

“That was you?”

“Easy when you broadcast you have a fucking strawberry allergy to the entire Syndicate in a public setting. By the way, what were you and Damon talking about so close and comfy and cozy together at the banquet?”

Maverick and I glance at each other, but Mav shakes his head. “Nothing important. The head of the school board asked me to be the new Dean, and I said no.”

“Why’s that?”

Slipping her leg out of my hands, Raven gets up on her knees and Maverick squats down, tucking a dark strand of damp hair behind her ear. “Because if Raven decides to go elsewhere, I’ll be readily available to leave. I won’t be signing a new contract at the end of next semester because I’ve applied to teach at Columbia.”

Raven grins, grabbing his hand and kissing the palm of it before he cups her face again, melting into his touch. “Julliard… accepted my… request to… re… audition.” She tells us and we’re stunned.

But then we break out in cheers with Maverick kissing her first, then Jonas dipping down to grab her and finally, I put my arms around her and kiss her firmly.

“Oh, my! What’s all the good tidings and cheers for?” Elena asks from the staircase. She’s dressed to the nines in a beautiful festive red pantsuit, her red hair is up in a tight bun, and her lips are parted into a confused smile.

If I hadn’t seen this woman in her pajamas yesterday, I’d think she woke up fashionably every morning.

“Our girl just told us Julliard accepted her request to audition for them!” He kisses Raven’s temple then helps her up.

Elena almost runs to Raven and pulls her in for a tight hug then kisses her cheek, leaving behind a kiss print. “Oh my darling, darling girl. You are going to be so wonderful!”

Raven lets out a small whimper. “Thank… you.”

And Elena’s tears well up and she smiles softly again. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” Her voice cracks but she pinches her face and then shakes her head, overcome with emotions. Her fingers reach down and thread into Raven’s. “Come now, dinner will be ready soon and I’ve gotten Jackie to set up the living room so we can watch Home Alone while we make cookies for Father Christmas. Have you seen it?”

Raven nods enthusiastically as if watching a movie and baking with her future mother-in-law sounds like the best thing in the world to her.

“Oh, dreadful, really, for the mother to forget her own son but, it does make for a silly movie….” Her voice trails off as they climb the stairs and we’re left alone.

“We’re not getting any Christmas pussy are we?” Jonas asks with a pout.

Maverick laughs. “Is that what you wanted under your tree this year?”

“And every day after that.” He answers.

I roll my eyes. “Come on, let’s go get ready. I’m sure we can find suitable ways to quench our desires during our remaining time here.”

________

A whimper wakes me sometime early Christmas morning.

“Shhh… you said you’d stay my good little tongueless whore, Siren. We have to be quiet, or you’ll wake them up too soon. Keep still.”

I arch a brow at what I’m hearing and look over to find Jonas sleeping closer to me in the giant bed. Behind him, I can see more snow falling through the windows, the sky is not bright due to the heavy clouds, but it is beautiful here.

I nudge him and the first thing he does is feel around for Raven. Not finding her and finding my chest instead, he opens his eyes in a light panic. I put a finger over my lips in a shush and jut my chin to where Maverick’s voice was coming from – the decorated tree in the room by the fireplace.

He tries to get up, but I pull him back down, the scent of his mint and citrus soap with a hint of Raven hits my nostrils, and I breathe the pup in. Fuck. I swallow down whatever words want to come out and shake my head at him to stay quiet.

“Aren’t you the most precious gift?” Maverick asks and a soft whimpering exhale fills the room, the sound going straight to my already hard length, always so ready to wake my Little Bird up properly every morning.

“Was that green?”

“Mmhmm.” She sounds muffled

“So soft and already glistening? Poor girl.” Maverick’s low condescending tone does nothing to help the ache in my balls. “No, no, Raven. You wore this as a gift for us, this isn’t a punishment, Siren. It’s a reward. For me, mostly. But it’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever worn, and I’ve seen every delicious inch of your naked flesh. Try to move. Oh you can’t, can you?”

There’s a small, muffled squeal and then two sharp slaps. “Hmmph!”

“Shhh Siren… I just want to taste you while you’re like this…”

A soft, breathy moan.

This grabs our attention. Jonas and I sit up, crawling toward the edge of the titanic-sized bed to see Maverick crouching on his haunches, and our sweet, naughty girl bound on the rug beneath the tree with colorful Christmas lights in a red little number, wearing a glittering Santa hat. She’s on her back, tits, pussy, and asshole completely lewd and exposed by her crotchless panties. Her ankles tied to her thighs, her arms bound to her sides, and a red silk tie is gagging her. She lifts her head, and Maverick, the beast, finally turns away from her pussy to see we’re fully awake and watching.

He grins salaciously and if the man had a beard, I’d liken him to a hungry predator, ready for the kill. “Merry Christmas.” He greets, dipping two fingers into his mouth, and releases them covered in saliva, only to shove them into Raven. Her back arches, mewling like a kitten into the tie.

She is the most erotic thing I have ever seen – a tied up, beautiful doll, created to be ruined, devoured and fucked mercilessly, and stuffed full of cum.

Jonas slumps down to the floor, crawling forward, every muscle in his back ripples. And when he reaches her, he doesn’t even say good morning or wish her a happy holiday. I follow on my feet in his wake. He settles his head between her thighs and removes Maverick’s hand, kissing the top of her mound and inhaling her, twinkling lights reflecting off his face and the sight of them together… fuck.

“Baby…” he groans, nuzzling his nose into her trimmed curls, and then his mouth all over her glossy slit, “Did you wear this to get fucked in on Christmas morning?”

“Mmm.” She jerks.

“Did Mavie find you so slick?”

She nods, her hips moving to follow his lips, but he’s just coating his mouth in her arousal. I know he’s doing that so he can smell her later, all day long, the scent of her pussy permeated in his nostrils no matter what he does.

I do the same.

He sits up between her thighs, his knees on either side of them, his sweats already tented. Using his thumbs he spreads her pussy lips open, covering them in her glaze before plunging one in to the knuckle. “Pretty little pussy,” he groans, shoving in his other thumb and working them in tandem. “So warm…” he grins down at her, removing his thumbs to display her further, spreading her lips open and I hiss at the sight of how wet and needy she already is.

He licks, then jackhammers his tongue against her engorged bud, and she does her best to buck against him, but she can’t. Our poor girl is bound, being tormented and I love the look of agonizing pleasure on her face. Maverick is a disturbed genius.

“Mmm!”

Jonas moans. “Shhh baby just let me taste you. Relax, baby girl. Mav, play with her nipples. She gets so fucking creamy when you’re mean to them. I want her messy.”

Maverick chuckles and puts his hands on her, “I know. That’s why I pulled them out of this little number she’s wearing.”

I should tell them to be kinder to her, my poor little bird isn’t meant to be tied up… but I’m fascinated with the way her thighs tremble, causing the lights to glimmer against her flesh every time Jonas dips his tongue into her desperate cunt, licking up whatever comes out. “You taste so fucking good, Raven baby. You taste like you’re mine forever.”

She makes a twirl with her finger, signing the word for always and it makes Jonas latch onto her clit.

“You want to come for me don’t you, baby?”

“Mmhmm!”

Removing one thumb to untie his sweats and pulling his cock out, already rigid, the tip angry and dripping. He strokes himself while massaging her clit with his tip, his cock drooling for her, and the sense of wanting to lick up both of their desires makes my mouth water.

“Damon?” He’s looking at me, twinkling holiday lights reflecting in his hazel eyes. He’s asking me if it’s okay if he takes her first in the morning. I give him a single curt nod.

He slides just the tip in, and they both groan. “Fuck you feel so good and so tight. No wonder Damon likes to wake up already inside you.”

I kneel on the fuzzy white rug she’s on, her hair splayed out like a halo of mahogany and silver. He doesn’t give her more, just the tip, pumping his hips slowly. I lean over and lick up the dew drops Jonas left on her puffy clit and moan, swirling my tongue where they meet up to her bud, sucking her into my mouth.

I’m lost in the sounds she’s making, the way she shakes, the scent and taste of her perfect cunt on my lips – the need to pound into her and not doing so drives me crazy.

“Fuck baby, I’m not even all the way in yet and I wanna come. I don’t want you to come. Can we play with you all day? Keep you full? You’re the best gift ever.”

I sit up, Jonas stops moving and we all wait for her to answer.

She nods, desire flashing in her cinnamon eyes.

Incredible.

He resumes the slow pump of his hips, pistoning gradually until he hits home. “Are you okay with that, Mav?”

He nods, leaning to ungag her, then removes his boxer briefs to unleash himself. How he’s been so restrained when she looks like this is as fascinating as it is a mystery to me. Then again, I have yet to be able to tell her no. I should work on that.  “I need her mouth.”

She looks at me, pleading.

“I’m here, Amourette.” I soothe, rubbing my hand on the available skin, pressing down on her abdomen then reaching lower to play with her as Mav grabs her tits in his hands and squeezes so hard his knuckles turn white, only releasing them to grip tightly again.

Jonas stops moving, lowering his hand to stroke himself instead, leaving just the crown of his cock in her wet channel. “Look at that…” he groans, “I wanna get this pretty pussy so full… so sloppy… fuck,” he strokes himself faster, his abs flexing, the veins corded along his forearm bulging, “just want to use you all day… watch my cum leak out on your thighs." His eyes close and his head tips back, “Oh my motherfucking god I’m already coming.” He groans, pecs flinching as he deposits his load into her. When he pulls out, he sits back on his heels. "Push it out baby, I wanna finger fuck it back in.”

I watch as she pushes and his seed flows out of her onto his fingers and he does just that.

“That’s so hot.” He says in awe.

Maverick grunts and I turn to see Raven’s head turned to the side as he holds her tenderly with one hand, half his dick shoved into her mouth, guiding her up and down his shaft. “You were such a good girl playing future daughter-in-law with Elena but look at you now – just a dirty little whore, tied up on Christmas day, your strapped pussy on display. So vulgar. Needy, tongueless slut aren’t you, Siren? You don’t even want gifts, do you? You just want your desperate little cunt to be filled – sloppy, and dripping don’t you? Hmm? Answer me, princess.” He slaps her lightly causing her to mewl beneath him. “That’s right. You’ll take every last fucking drop.”

I almost come just listening to him talk such filth, gathering my wits and moving between her legs, shoving down my pajama bottoms and fisting myself. 

Jonas drops down beside her and takes the nipple Mav isn’t pinching and sucks it into his mouth, her back arching as much as it can.

“Is Maverick right, Little Bird?” I ask, a small nod answers me, and I feed her cunt my cock, shoving in one brutal thrust. The tip of my dick hitting so deep my balls draw up, ready to come in one go. I hold onto a thigh, adjusting her just a bit so her legs shift a little further apart and I piston my hips, wishing I could kiss her, ravage her mouth with mine, and feel her entire body beneath mine.

Instead, I stare at Jonas sucking her perfect breast, feeling the way her sloppy pussy flutters around me, and I pump harder, touching the soft skin of her inner thighs, clutching to them, wanting to spread her further apart, using my thumbs to open her up, watching her arousal and what’s left of Jonas coat my dick in a delicious white stripe.

It takes me no more than six pumps before I’m groaning out my release, her pussy gripping me like a fucking vice. When I pull out, Maverick is quick to flip her around and I see why she’s bound like this now – the perfect way to take her on all fours.

He gets behind her but instead of letting her rest, he wraps her hair around his wrist and pulls her to his chest  as he sinks in. Tears fall down her cheeks, last night’s mascara leaving a sooty trail. What a fucking sight. And Jonas gets up and grabs his phone.

“Smile for Jonas, Siren. Shhh… it’s okay. It’s just us. Nobody else. Okay? Color?”

“Green,” she says, and Jonas snaps the picture. Sending it to us.

“That’s my good fucking girl, Siren. Are you ready to take my cum?”

“Yes!” She yelps when he thrusts, and her eyes roll back. “Maverick!”

“That’s right, Angel. Take all of me. Jonas, lick her clit.” He growls. Jonas obeys as Maverick’s free hand moves around her throat. “You were so good last night, Siren. The perfect girl. But this, this is how I love you – full of my dick, so willing and ready to take what I give you. Perfect… little… fucking… slut.” She quivers in his grasp. “Not yet.” He breathes, and I reach out to play with her pebbled nipples, dark rose against her creamy skin from being so abused. “Push back, that’s it… you like the way Jonas kisses your clit, and Damon loves on your nipples so much I can feel you milking me. Do you need more cum?”

She nods but he slaps her.

“Words, mute.” He rasps.

“Yes, please! Please f-f-fill… my pussy… w-with your c-cum!” She sobs.

“Thatta girl, Raven. Here it comes, deep in your tight, delicious cunt – oh, fuck!” He groans, latching onto her shoulder with his teeth, stilling as Jonas pulls back grinning.

“I didn’t let her come.” He grins proudly.

The beast laves his tongue over his bite soothingly then pulls out of her quickly. Making quick work of unbinding her, and we each do what we need to, to make sure she feels loved and safe. I clean her up and Jonas brings her silky nightgown that drives me crazy.

When she’s cleaned up, she climbs into my lap, straddling me, her arms around my shoulders, her naked sex on my now covered semi-hard dick, and I wrap my arms around her middle. “Merry Christmas, Little Love,” I kiss her nose and nuzzle into the crook of her neck.

“Merry Christ…mas. I love you.”

Those words never fail to warm every vein in my being. I kiss her temple. “You have gifts, Amourette,” I say, nodding at the wrapped boxes underneath the holiday tree.

She looks over at them and her eyes light up as if it’s the first time she’s noticing them and turns in my lap, getting on all fours, to reach for them, flashing me her still puffy pussy and I hiss at the lovely sight. She sits back on my lap and crosses her legs, shaking the small box gently and glances up at me through sooty lashes.

“That one’s from me.” I beam, feeling a weird sense of vulnerability. It’s the first time she’ll be opening a gift from me before me, instead of having to watch through a camera, pretending it was from one of her family members.

She unwraps it slowly, Maverick and Jonas making their way to us and sitting on the rug where we just fucked our sweet girl. She opens the jewelry box, and she turns and hugs me frantically, kissing me all over my face. “Th-thank you, thank you, thank you!” She squirms and I groan.

“You’re very welcome,” I say, kissing her back and pulling the box to pull out the 24kt rose gold charm bracelet I had soldered with a small #19, a football, a stethoscope, a book, a cello, a tiny pair of glasses modeled after Maverick’s, a little Doberman head for Kronos and a silhouette of a cat for Luci. I grab her hand and shut the clasp, loving how beautiful the rose gold looks against her skin. She hugs her hand to her chest, smiling so deeply.

Jonas grabs the box containing his gift next, but he looks nervous. “I think… this is probably the dumbest gift I’ve ever given anyone and I’m sorry it's not as cool as Damon’s.”

She eyes him curiously but takes the gift from him, opening it, and tilts her head back to laugh, the sound so great it makes me smile. She immediately puts on the sweater that’s of the two of them wearing balaclavas and flipping off the camera. She gets out of my lap, runs to her suitcase and pulls out three gift boxes. The one wrapped in blue she gives to Jonas – who opens it greedily and pulls out a sweatshirt covered front and back in pictures of the two of them they’ve taken together of the course of a few months, from sleeve to sleeve, and the words ‘Property of Raven’ in large bold font. He puts it on immediately.

“Can I get this as a shirt, too?” He asks, smoothing the sweatshirt out on his body and pulling her to him for a kiss. She nods, pointing to the box. Sure enough, in his frenzy, Jonas had missed the other small item wrapped in gift tissue. Opening it to reveal a T-shirt version of the sweatshirt. “Fuck yeah!”

Maverick and I chuckle, rolling our eyes when she hands me a box, and judging from it, I already know it’s a timepiece. I open the box that says Breguet, to see a luxurious watch and before I can thank her, she pulls it out of my hands and takes it out, showing me an engraving on the inside. It’s a date, from almost four years ago. I furrow my brows, confused but she lifts her hands to sign.

That was the day I knew I loved you for sure. It was the day after my parents left Lorne Wood after a visit… and the first time you sat with me in silence. Not asking for more. Just letting me sift through my inner turmoil. I never thought it would be reciprocated, but I loved you. “You once t-told me I w-would never love you mmm… more than you love me… B-but I’ve loved you… longer.” She whispers.

I let the tear fall and I wipe it down my face and clear my throat, leaning over to kiss her gently. “Thank you, Little Bird. I love it.” I unclasp my watch and put it on.

Maverick grabs his gift, and his hands tremble lightly over it. “Well,” he chuckles, “I don’t think I can beat that.”

Raven crawls to him, sits on her heels, and bows her head in subservience, holding a sleek black box in her hand. She waits for him patiently to take it and when he does, I can see her quivering from anticipation.

“Siren…” he says, holding up a new leather satchel.

“Inn…s-s-side.” She says nervously.

He opens the satchel and on the top flap, is a raven wearing glasses like his embroidered into the material. He chuckles at it, and she looks up at him, eyes large and wide. “I needed this. I’ve had my old one for almost ten years. Thank you.”

She lets out a deep breath in relief.

“Here you are, Angel,” he says, handing her his gift. I watch as she opens it delicately and holds a very old copy of William E. Henley poems. “This was my very first ‘luxurious’ purchase when I was younger,” he explains. “Henley was all about fighting his inner demons… it’s a signed copy. Very rare.”

“I love… it… th-thank you.” She rasps.

“And this-“ he pulls a second box from behind the tree, “is mostly for me because I’m a selfish bastard. I thought…” he lets her open the box and holds up a… I’m not sure what it is. A thick, rose gold necklace of some sort with hearts at the ends. He takes it from her and puts it over her head. One part of it dangles and then he pulls it. It tightens around her throat like a choker on a leash and she moans. He tugs her to him, the tension between them crackling like the logs in the fireplace, changing the merry mood to something dangerous. “I thought you could wear this while warming my cock or while you read to me.” He kisses her deeply, still holding onto the end like a leash. “But only when you’re our very good girl.”

“Mavie…” Raven moans into his mouth but there’s a knock on the door, interrupting them.

Jonas groans. “I’ll get it. That’ll be one of the maids telling us Mom’s downstairs waiting for us to open gifts.”

“More gifts?” Maverick says. “But she doesn’t know us.”

Jonas tilts his head toward Mav. “I talk about you and Damon all the time to her. At this point you’re an extension of me to her, Mav. We’re family.”

Mav’s eyes soften. “I suppose it’s a good thing I bought her a gift, too.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Raven.

Elena laughs at the sweater I got Jonas because he refused to take it off for breakfast until tears are streaming down her face, and her laugh turns into a gasping cackle. “That is the most… adorable thing… I have ever seen!” she says between gasps, trying to catch her breath. “Oh, I can’t wait to show your father when he calls later if you’re not too busy skiing.” She eyes my choker and says, “Oh, that’s an interesting piece.”

All I can do is thank her while feeling my cheeks heat as Maverick takes a sip of his coffee and smirks my way while Damon grins.

Jonas says nothing, simply grinning and touching the pictures, on his sweatshirt. “This is from a few weeks ago. And look, Mom, are you looking?”

“Yes, darling.” She winks at me.

“Okay, this one’s from after my game. We annihilated Harvard. Raven was wearing different boots, but you can’t see them in the picture. And this one…” he keeps telling her about all of the pictures we’ve taken until the food is served.

Soon, we’re in the living area and Jonas and I are helping her pass out gifts. It’s a large pile that wasn’t there last night and soon I have a lavender cashmere scarf, new combat boots with faux-fur lining, and grip for the snow (which I adore) and she gifts me “a day” at the indie author book shop outside of RMU – an entire day the book shop will only be open to me for me to browse and hang out with a friend, (or three) along with as many books as I want.

I squeal, hugging her to me and give her a big kiss on the cheek. Best Christmas ever!

Elena gifts Jonas an expensive thermos for him to take to practice, along with a few other things he’s been too lazy or too busy with me to grab for himself, to which he’s grateful for.

We gift her a golden locket with a picture of her grandsons inside which makes her cry. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a locket,” she says with a trembling voice. She hugs us both but keeps her hand in mine. Just holding it and it makes me want to cry.

Damon and Maverick are given scarves that match mine, Rolex watches, and a twenty-thousand-dollar shopping spree at Tom Ford. Maverick almost chokes on his coffee when he reads the certificate. “Thank you,” he sputters. “All I got you was a damn perfume.”

“Oh!” Elena’s eyes sparkle. “Which one?”

Grumbling, Maverick pulls out the small gift box and hands it over, to which she opens and smiles broadly. “Oh, Maverick, darling. This is the one from their collection I’m missing!” She says happily, spraying the thousand-dollar Creed Wind Flowers perfume onto her wrists. “I’m so glad I didn’t spray any on before so the notes wouldn’t clash! And to think, I was going to stop by their London store in the morning. You've saved me a trip. Now I can spend more time with my grandchildren instead.”

“You’re leaving?” Jonas asks.

“Yes, dear, your sister had last-minute cancelations and asked me to come this morning, but the jet won’t be ready until this evening. The pilots, thank God they don’t have families yet and paid handsomely, are too hungover this morning to fly. Unless you’d like to come with? All of you, obviously. Lord knows there’s enough room in your sister’s manor for us to mill about. If not, you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

“We came to ski,” Jonas says, with a look on his face that tells me we absolutely will not be skiing in the foreseeable future, and all she does is chuckle knowingly my way.

                       _______

We do end up skiing, much to my dismay. For hours. We come back just before Elena leaves to have dinner with her and wish her a bon voyage. She gives me another lipstick kiss, and when Jonas tries to wipe it off I smack his hand away. I hug her one last time as she gets into the Rolls Royce and we head inside the lodge as it drives away.

I close the door, not letting the tears fall because I miss her already, then turn and let my spine hit the large oak door. I look up and Jonas already has his sweatshirt off, and the look on his face is nothing but determination.

“Turn around, hands on the door, don’t fucking move, baby.”

Oh fuck.

I barely have time to whip around before my leggings are at my knees, he’s pushing between my shoulder blades to shove me, and I brace myself against the door. He spreads my ass and his warm wet velvety tongue dips into my core, groaning as soon as he tastes me. “Fuck, I’ve needed to do this all day.”

I moan out his name, along with broken curse words when he licks out of my sex, stands up, and plunges into me from behind. He covers my mouth with his hand.

“Shh baby, just us. Just need to use you. I’m so close already. I’ve been such a good boy today and I need to – fuck, oh god, it’s so good, Raven baby. I need to leave my cum inside of you. You’re gonna take it, right?”

I nod, cross-eyed at the feeling of being so full.

“My balls feel so fucking heavy every time I look at you. So pretty.” He releases his hold on my mouth. “You gotta say it, baby. Otherwise, I can’t come.”

Fuck that melts me. “I love you.”

“Again,” he grunts, reaching to my front and pressing down on my stomach to pull me closer. “I can feel my dick invading your perfect body like this. All that pressure, baby. Does it feel good?”

I nod, “Perfect.” Because it is.

Every thrust of his is so frantic, so powerful, his grunts are hypnotizing, and all I do is murmur how much I love him before he shoves every hard inch of himself inside me, throbbing with his release.

He rests his forehead on my shoulder, moving my hair to the side to plant a kiss on my neck. When I think he’s going to let up, he tightens his embrace around my middle. “I used to think I loved her…” I tense at him bringing up Paris, “but I don’t think I really knew that love could feel like this. Fucking divine and crazy and every emotion ever named. I want to fuck you, maim you, tear you apart… just to put you back together and then make you laugh when you don’t have the strength to smile.”

My heart riots in my chest. The back of my eyeballs burning at his words. I tilt my head so I can get a better look at him, hazel eyes searing through me so deeply it sends jolts of electricity everywhere. I love this man. I love him so much I can’t imagine ever being without him.

“You… make… me f-feel… alive,” I reply as best I can, and it earns me a softened look and another kiss to the neck. How do random kisses in random places feel so much more intimate than when he’s balls deep in my core?

He slips out of me. "Go get in the bath, baby, rest. I’ll be up in a while. I still have to call my sister, talk to my nephews, and then call my dad. Also, I was thinking we could do New Year’s here. Watch the ball drop on TV? I don’t want to go back home yet, and I know the guys don’t either.”

“O..kay.” I breathe out, remembering what Stephen said about seeing him on the third of January. I want to soak up all the free, uninterrupted time I have with them. Turning to face him, he kisses my nose before he kisses my lips softly. Then he bends to help right my leggings into place, kissing my hip and sliding his arms around my middle when he stands to his full height, towering over me, and pulls me close just to hug me.

He lets me go with a squeeze of my ass and walks me to the landing just as his phone starts to ring. He grins. “It’s the boys. I’ll be up soon. I’m not even close to being done using you today.” He does a quick swipe with his thumb. “Hello?”

I hear his nephews going wild on the other end and his face lights up even more. I head up the steps, taking them one by one, listening to Jonas’ laughter fade the closer I get to the upstairs master suite. Stepping through the doorway, removing my clothes, and letting them drop in my wake, I open the ensuite bathroom to find steam already filling the spacious bathroom.

Soft grunts fill the air, and my nipples harden into sensitive peaks. There’s nothing like the masculine groans of a man while he’s in the throes of pleasure. It’s intoxicating.

“Ugh, Raven…”

There’s nothing but a glass door separating me from Maverick now. I take in the sight of the water cascading down his muscular tatted back, facing away from me, one hand on the wall bracing himself, his other hand lost beneath the steam rising.

Ohhhh I want that.

Desire once again pools between my thighs as I slide the door open and sink to my knees before him, watching the way his hand curls over the crown of his cock, so red, so delicious, leaking so much precum it drips, and I stick out my tongue to taste.

“Oh, fuck… Siren…” he groans, and I swear my name off his tongue bounces off the walls and clings to my skin. His green eyes are so dark, and he looks so goddamn beautiful. “Just the tip, only lick the tip.”

I do as he says, swirling my tongue around the crown, moaning at the taste of my professor, enamored with the sight of him from this point of view. Water drips down the sides of his chest like little rivers to his hips as he strokes his velvet length.

“I want to spray my cum over every fucking inch of your flawless face.” He grits out.

I stick my tongue out, placing my hands on my breasts and pushing them up, pinching my nipples between my index and middle fingers, tasting him all over again. I wish Damon was here so I could ride him. I feel so empty. I want more.

Maverick’s eyes narrow into slits, head tipping back as he strokes himself faster.

“Reach one hand down and play with your sweet little pussy, Siren…”

I obey, reaching for the engorged bud, using two fingers to rub quick circles, dipping into my slit and back to my clit.

I hum. “Like this?”

“Yes,” he rasps, pumping into his fist. “Stick your tongue out. I’m going to come on your tongue. Let it drip down and rub it in. God… fuck yourself for me.”

I shove two fingers deep, riding my hand.

I’m so close, I need to come. I want to come. But whatever I’m doing isn’t enough. “Professor…”

His eyes snap back to mine as if he needed to hear me use his authoritative title, reminding him of the first time we came together in the library, he grunts, “Stop!”

I drop my hand and the first rope of his thick, white salty load coats my tongue, my cheek, and my chin, dripping down to my chest and tummy. It’s so much! I swallow what got inside my mouth, unwilling to waste it. I take my hands, and do as I was told, rubbing his seed into my damp skin as he watches, fascinated, and his eyes fill with desire.

“I will never tire of seeing you be such a filthy little angel on your knees for me.” He smirks, helping me rise to my feet only to help me wash my hair, and cleanse my body, soft kisses land on my clavicle when he shuts the water off.

It’s not much longer before we’re both dried off, he’s moisturizing me with actual lotion this time, and then we’re in bed with my new book of poems. I’m wearing his large Henley that fits me just right and the leg warmers Elena gifted me. I’m lying with my back on his bare chest, his hands on my hips.

“Damon?” I ask.

His chest rumbles. “He’s finishing up end-of-the-semester evaluations he did for certain students who are trying to transfer out for their parents. He should be done soon.”

I shift a bit to get a little more comfortable, his hands never moving from where they’ve found purchase on my hips, simply moving with me. I open up my new book, turn to the table of contents, and begin to read out loud, letting his favorite poem, the one etched across his body, become my favorite poem. Though I’m at peace, here, with all of my men under the same roof, and I should feel safe, I can’t shake this wiggling feeling in the back of my brain where soft alarms are still blaring. It’s an inkling I can’t get rid of.

Who was that guy Axel was talking to at the holiday party? Why did he look so familiar? Why did the music in my head begin when I saw him?

“Where did you go, Angel?” Maverick asks, the pad of his thumb warm rubbing circles on my hip.

“Hmm?”

“Just now. You were reading so clearly but your words began spacing out. Where did you go?”

I close the book of poems, and turn to him, trying to get on my knees but he refuses letting me go, so I twist to fit my body, molding it to his. I place my hands on the strong parts of his shoulders leading to his neck, loving the warmth against my palms, the way the ink on them stops where the collar of his shirts begin.

“It’s… not over.” I manage out, even though my voice is tired and my jaw is exhausted from reading out loud.

He eyes me curiously. “What makes you say that?”

And so I tell him. Using both my words and my hands, telling him everything from the party that I can remember.

“Did you ever find out who A is?”

I shake my head.

“Could this be him?”

I lift one shoulder and let it fall.

His lips twist from one side to the other, scrunching his nose. I lift a hand to push his glasses up by the frame and then run my thumb over his stubbled jaw, dying to feel the growth between my thighs. It suits him well. I love it. I place a kiss to his cheek and lean back again to look into his peridot eyes, waiting for permission to slip onto his lap. He gives me one curt nod, but I take it, opening my thighs to straddle him, putting my weight on him so I can snuggle into my beast, and love him the way he deserves.

But who out of the two of us is the real beast?

Where he’s had to kill in order to keep himself alive, or to get rid of real evil. I’ve killed because I’m a spiteful, angry, rage-driven woman. Fuck, I’m a psycho killer that hears music while she kills. How deranged can I be? If I ever told Damon this… ugh… he’d put me in a psych ward and then become the lead doctor on my team, probably.

Does Maverick still think of me as a monster?

“You think this goes all the way to the top, don’t you?” Maverick finally asks, breaking the silence and the way my thoughts are beginning to run rampant. “There’s still one last initial you need to… take care of in order for you to feel done? To be able to move on?”

I close my eyes, nodding into the crook of his neck. Because yes, that’s exactly what I’m feeling and now that he’s said it out loud, I feel like that’s what I’ve been too afraid to think of. When I had gone back to the Monroe Library on the RMU campus and checked out the alumni yearbook for the year I was assaulted, there were two hundred A names – seventy-two of them were women, and knowing Ashleigh had been one of them, that eliminated seventy-one of those names, and I eliminated her.

I hate feeling lost. I hate feeling like I don’t know where to begin. But I also love being underestimated. I’ve loved playing the dumb mute in the corner of the room these last few months, gaining intel. I’ve loved being the exotic dancer in moth wings learning secrets no one else is privy to. Being underestimated makes my kills that much more satisfactory.

“Is she asleep?” I hear Damon’s voice from the doorway.

“No. Just cuddling.” Maverick replies, gripping my tatted thigh, rubbing it up and down from the tip of my vine that meets my hip down to the outskirts of my knee. I know what he’s doing when he touches me like this, it’s the same thing I do with his – commemorating it to memory as though it was his own.

“When we get back to Kingston, we should probably stay a night at your place.” I hear his voice so much closer, along with articles of clothing falling to the ground. I turn my head to watch Damon undress. He’d already showered while Jonas and I were finishing our goodbyes with Elena, giving us privacy. I think he knows how much she’s come to mean to me in just these few short weeks.

“If you think that best,” Mav says, now squeezing where my hip and thigh meet. “You like what you see?” he whispers in my ear.

“Yes.” I rasp, seeing my very dirty doctor stripping to his thermal pajama bottoms. God he’s hot. Who knew all those muscles were under all those scrubs he wore at Lorne Wood? I face him in Maverick’s lap and make the sign with my hand. “Beautiful.”

Damon smirks, the small divot in his chin deepening and when he climbs into bed, I practically drool at the way he prowls toward me. The defined muscles in his chest and arms so pronounced, even the veins in his arms look extra juicy. A loose curl of his hair falls forward. When he reaches me, the kiss he delivers is chaste, but it doesn’t mean less.

After our ‘talk’ in his office before Spain, I’m doing better to let myself be handled like I’m treasure. His treasure. It’s hard. I just sometimes don’t know how to handle kindness. But I’m getting better at accepting the way he loves me.

“What do you want, Amourette?” he says, the soft of his lips still on mine. I can almost taste the mint of his toothpaste, and I want him to devour me.

“Please, j-just… kiss me.” I breathe anxiously. Is it a stupid thing to ask for?

His stare softens, still hazy with lust and desire but in this moment, I can see how much he just… loves me. He takes me from Maverick, putting me on my back, the mattress dipping under our weight, but he keeps one hand on the curve of my spine, the other on the nape of my neck. I moan when he settles his entire weight on me, draping my legs over his strong thighs, my arms over his shoulders, my fingers into his black and silver waves, loving how he feels - so big, so strong, so very, very mine. The thought alone gets me wet. That this man, so incredibly smart and kind and loving, loves me as deeply and darkly as I love him.

“Damon…” I moan, closing my eyes and he takes advantage of my lips being parted to nip my bottom lip, licking alongside of it, and then dipping his tongue into my mouth.

God yes, the man kisses like he’s starved.

“Every inch of you is so delicious. Inside and out. Every time it’s like I’m tasting nirvana.” He breathes and attacks my lips again, plunging his tongue deeper, his fingers clutching where he’s holding me. I arch my back to pull him deeper, too. We’re nothing but tangled limbs and flesh meshed together and when he hardens against my sex, I moan for that too, wanting to be filled in every way possible by this beautiful man.

“Please, Damon,” I groan, trying to find friction between my naked sex and the layer of thermals. “Need you.”

He pulls away only to take off the shirt I was wearing, resuming his position except the hand that was behind my back snakes between us and when he finds me soaked, he smirks against my lips, nipping my bottom lips, sucking it into his mouth and his kiss turns from sweet to frantic. “From a simple kiss?”

“Because it’s you.” I reply, moving my hips so his fingers can play with the pinkest part of me because that wasn’t a simple kiss and he knows it.

He moves to pull away, but I grip him tighter. “No.”

He freezes in my arms, continuing to ravage my entire mouth, a few more movements, and I feel the hot velvet of the tip of his thick dick on my clit, slowly dipping lower to find my slick entrance and when he pushes in, I moan into his mouth, spreading my thighs as much as I can to accommodate his large, looming stature above me, my knees closer to my chest as he finally, finally plunges all the way to the hilt, and places his hand underneath my head to join the other – cradling me.

My eyes cross behind my lids, the feel of my pussy stretching to fit him in always a slow, intense burn. “So big.”

He chuckles, sliding back, and my nails scratch across his broad back, causing him to thrust all the way in.

“Yes!”

“Little Bird-“

“D-don’t stop, need more, p-please, Damon.”

And he doesn’t.

After being edged all fucking day I’m so fucking close. I’ve been so turned on all day with the different ways my men have found to fuck me. Against the wall after breakfast in the pantry, (Maverick) bent over the kitchen island, (Jonas) on the couch while Elena was packing up her things, (Damon) it’s been non-fucking stop and I’m at my wits end. So I’m not afraid to beg. I’m not afraid to say, “Please, Daddy… let me come.”

The growl that leaves Damon’s throat is one I’ll never forget. Each thrust comes in brutal, agonizing, almost painful stabs and when I try to let up, he keeps me in place by my head. My throbbing clit is tickled by the soft thatch of hair above his dick and God help me, I just need more. And that’s exactly what I ask for.

“Is this how you want Daddy to fuck you, love?”

“God yes, don’t ss-stop!” I cry out, bucking my hips in time with his.

“Look at you, fucking me back like a good little slut. Is that what we’ve turned you into? Just a needy fucking thing for cum?”

“Yes!” Why deny it?

“And you want to come on Daddy’s cock?”

I almost begin to convulse at the tone of his voice. It’s so fucking condescending and almost tortured, but I fucking love it. “All I want.”

“Then come, Little Bird. Grip my cock like a fucking vice and milk my dick. I want to feel when you break for me.”

I reach high, high, high, my stomach tightening, hot liquid pooling from me. When his lips crash back to mine, they tear me apart from the inside out, seeking my soul and I fucking shatter, clenching around him, every fucking wave takes me under and I sob in gratitude, shaking through the ripples and aftermath.

He stills, pulling out of me so quickly, sitting back on his heels, I barely see through blurred vision when he comes all over my stomach, thick, white ropes of cum and he grunts with each one. Breathing heavily he stares down at me like an artist evaluating his masterpiece.

He takes his hand and begins to rub it in delicately like it’s my personal brand of lotion and I love that he’s marking me like this. Because when he’s all done, he doesn’t find a t-shirt for me to wear, he only slips me underneath the comforter between him and Maverick, and they both cuddle close to me, letting me sob until I’m just a hiccupping mess, one soothing away my hair and kissing my temple, the other rubbing on my trembling body.

“How was it?”

“I think I blacked out.” Damon says with a shiver and a chuckle.

“Think you’d be okay with only orgasming once a day if it’s that intense?” Maverick asks in my ear.

“Some… t-times.” I reply honestly, still trying to regain whatever consciousness resides in me, swimming through the fog of lingering emotions I can’t place.

“That’s okay, Siren. You did so good today. You were the perfect cocksleeve, taking our cum all day. It’ll get easier. You’ll be the best free-use bride ever.”

His words send goosebumps to every single hair follicle in my body.

He’s staying.

I haven’t scared him away.

And that means everything to me.

“Why the fuck is she crying?” I hear a growl from the door. “I was gone for thirty minutes.”

“She’s okay, Jonas. She just needs rest.”

“You let her come without me?”

“And it was glorious.” Maverick chuckles.

“I’m never talking to my family again.” I feel him move up on the bed and the comforter comes down to my shoulders. “Is that right baby? You came so hard?”

I nod.

“Too much?”

I shake my head and wipe a tear. “Just… a lot.”

He purses his lips like he’s thinking it over. “Okay. We’ll let you sleep.” He says, kissing my shoulder, then rolling over to Maverick’s side.

But it’s a lie.

In the middle of the night, I wake up to Damon needing to be inside of me and Maverick joining him, stretching me to my limits. When my moans wake up Jonas, we shift positions so I can take him in my mouth.

It’s been a very merry Christmas, indeed.

Chapter Twenty- Five

Shadow

She’s gone.

She left my line of sight after the little performance at the Monroe Mansion and slipped away. She was gone again.

I clutch my hand into a fist as the Elders make their rounds, networking for the upcoming year. New marriage negotiations, company agreements, everything they do is to rise in power. It isn’t even about money anymore. I mean, it is, especially with the way Monroe Senior is climbing the ranks. Almost toe-to-toe with Elder Prescott.

Who turns to me now but instead of greeting me, he makes a motion with those icy blues of his to move out of earshot from the others. We find a somewhat quiet corner; a fake grin still plastered on his face.

Man, his cosmetic surgeons did a great job. The man is reaching fifty-five and doesn’t look older than forty. “Were you able to do it?”

“She grabbed the wrong drink,” I lie, moving my lips as minimally as possible, keeping my voice as low as possible. “She’s slipped away. I don’t think she’s come back down yet.”

“You’ve been wasting my time.” He says, nodding as if we’re just having a grand conversation, catching up on everything.

My heart sputters in my chest. I’ve been wasting his time for good reason. I want her far away from here. I hope she stops at Simon. Yeah, I know all about that. I was supposed to get her to Prescott last night, but when I slipped through the hidden corridors of the mansion, she was slinking out dressed in black with her giant henchman behind her, groping her the entire time. Raising a brow in my own balaclava, I followed her cute little butt, staying twenty paces behind them, copying their every move. Once they were in the kitchen, I dipped through the secret passageway in the living area, and followed them there, watching through a crack in the door.

It was smart, brilliant even – better than something I would’ve thought of, not just simply slipping Simon something, but to make sure it was slow and painful, barely enough to cause a tickle in the throat before he could even think it was an allergic reaction. Seeing him turn red in the face made me want to giggle like a child.

But I can’t giggle right now. Not with Prescott’s death glare on me.

“You’re the last person alive that was there. None of this is a coincidence.”

I don’t respond. Everyone knows that’s true. Not that I was the last person that was signing my name to the ledger and had to stop after writing my first initial into the fucking book made of one of the first founding fathers of the Syndicate because they found her right as I started writing my name.

I’d never seen my father so disappointed in me.

Even now the mere memory of the look on his face makes me sick to my stomach.

“Get her to me quickly. I’m getting bored. I have a Watcher on her already. If you don’t get her to me in time, he will.”

“Who’s the Watcher?” I ask, taking a sip of my strawberry-infused wine.

“My half-breed.”

Shit.

“I haven’t seen him around.”

“He’s good at what he does.” He reminds me.

“You pulled him from the city just to follow her around?”

He looks at me as if I’m the dumbest motherfucker on the planet. “Surely you’re not that stupid.” He says dryly.

I’m not. If he’s having her watched, he knows it’s not just Jonas. Which is dangerous. One wrong look toward his future wife and Jonas goes crazy. I can’t imagine what a former FBI agent with a killer aim who still has access to a gun will do. Yeah. I broke into his place, too. Four guns hidden in easy-to-get places. All are registered in his name. Not to mention Damon. I mean the way he took care of the senior Whitmore was smooth as fuck.

Easy to say these fuckers don’t play. Especially when it comes to their woman.

Could have been my woman.

But that’s why I’m doing this.

To prove myself.

She’ll see.

That’s why killing Riordan had been so fucking easy.

Told him it was the best place to deliver a shot if he had a scope.

To even think he could get rid of Raven when he was already strung out on his prescriptions, popping Xanax and Bupropion like it was an immediate-release tablet. Insane.

I mean, he had every right, and all his ire was directed at the right person… but going after her, burning down her house with her still inside… her death would have brought more do-gooder cops sniffing around.

Couldn’t have that.

So maybe I lied to him a little.

Maybe I made sure he was a tiny bit closer to death by the time the rope snapped.

I shrug my shoulders at Stephen, tilting my head back a bit.

“Get me the girl. If I have to find other means of getting her, you won’t like the outcome.” He says with a smile, waving at someone who’s gotten his attention.

And so I’m left standing in the corner by the large Christmas tree that has fake, empty boxes beneath it, that’ll be thrown out come January.

I pull my phone out and bring up the app that pinpoints her exact location. Maybe I wasn’t able to drug her while her giant lap dog was around but downloading a secret parent app to her phone that connected to my burner while she was busy injecting the wine, was almost too easy.

The hard part had been sticking around to see Jonas rip open her little body suit, yank her tits out and fuck her like a rabid dog fresh off its leash, watch him FaceTime the other two while he fucked her bare, and dumped his entire load into her pussy, slurp it out then spit it on her asshole to take her ass, watching her climax for him over and over until she was a quivering mess made me burn alive with envy.

But I’m a patient man.

It’ll be us in the end.

Like it was always meant to be.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jonas.

I manage to grab Maverick by the shirt collar before he goes tumbling down the freaky secret staircase.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

I nod, continuing down, shivering when I realize the temperature has dropped incredibly the farther we get down.

“Now I know why those kids died back in the seventies getting down here and they closed it off.”

Wrong. They closed it off because too many people were becoming curious as to why the SDC house was hosting secret parties in the woods. So they created this secret entryway to get to the underground room before they were able to build tunnels connecting it from the morgue in the medical department. Those kids died here because they discovered something they shouldn’t have.

I always knew this was here, I just didn’t know how to get into it. Now I do.

And I hate it. It feels like there’s someone behind us watching our every move. I think Mav feels it too, because he tenses every few steps down. We reach the bottom step, looking at the bottom of the doors to see which one looks like the most used. One of them leads underground. I do not want to go underground. I spend enough time there as it is.

Spotting the one with the least amount of dust accumulated like our girl said we would, I turn off the flashlight from my phone, darken the screen, shove it in my pocket and turn the door handle.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Mav murmurs.

“Expecting fog and spooky synthesizer music? Bats?”

Mav holds back a laugh. “I mean, from the journey thus far – yeah, kind of.”

I let out a soft chuckle. “C’mon, let’s get this over with. You have your low light?” I ask, pulling mine out form my jacket pocket.

“Yeah,” he says, doing the same, clicking it on and we close the book-door behind us.

He leads me to the biography section, where Raven said she found it the first time around, and sure enough, glad I have my gloves on, I take the fucking thing and shove it in my backpack. I’ll be burning it, too.

We leave the same way we came in, taking the stairs up and out of the Monroe library.

At home, we’re sitting around the table in the den when I pull it out and place it on the table, the urge to retch growing stronger the longer I stare at it. Damon already had a fire going by the time we got back, slinking off RMU’s campus like a couple of shadows.

Maverick reaches out to touch it.

“NO!” We collectively scream.

He pulls his arm back like we burned him. “What kind of binding is that?”

“S-s-skin.” Raven replies and Mav stares at it in horror.

I sigh. “The story goes like this – Back in 1907, there were six men, the fifth generation of Rayne-Moore’s founding fathers. They wanted something that would tie them together. Something more than just a fraternity or memories of their time here, so they began the Syndicate. It wasn’t murders at first. It was just your run of the mill fancy secret parties in secret locations. Only the elite were allowed. There was another guy, Jacobson,” I point to the leathered flesh-book, “That wouldn’t shut up about it. Started just inviting everyone… people of… “lower” class. People that weren’t even students here. And the others weren’t happy about it, not to mention, this guy was a fucking skid mark of the group. Some say rape, some say he was gay, which back then, you know… Nobody knows exactly what happened, or how he ended up dead, just that he did.” I reach over and flip to the very first page.

1907 - D. Jacobson – J. Prescott, S. Monroe, A. Anderson, L. Rayne, T. Moore

“They were the first to get away with murder.” Damon concludes.

“So they took his skin?” The disgust in Maverick’s voice is unmistakable.

“Secrets will either bind you or break you.” I answer, flicking my gaze to his, hoping he understands what else I’m trying to say.  

The silence around us is deafening, the only noise is the crackling of the fire in the living room’s fireplace. The tension in the room is palpable.

Damon is the first to break that silence. “Are you ready?”

I am, because I feel so fucking sick right now. “It’s gonna stink.”

Damon nods. “You can go upstairs, if you’d like. I’ll take care of it.”

I shake my head. “No, I want to watch it fucking burn.”

________

Maybe it’s the snow coming down that makes the stadium lights seem brighter, or the fact that my girl, Damon, and Maverick are in the stands, that makes me feel fucking high. The noise of the crowd is a deafening roar even with my helmet on. River threw the ball right in my hands, forty yards… thirty… I jump over Hawthrone’s number forty-two, a big fucker that just tackled Zeke…  twenty… swerve to miss number twelve… ten yards… my thighs ache, my lungs burn… almost…

Touchdown!

I slam the ball down, doing my (now-infamous) touchdown dance that Raven did in her dorm room that one time, and when I know the camera to the jumbotron is on me because it always is, I put two fingers to my lips and look at the screen, where it shows Raven doing the same.

My girl.

My future.

Behind her is the lovely couple, Damon and Maverick cheering me on…. Behind them?

A scowling Stephen Prescott.

I don’t let him get to me because on either side of Raven are scouts. Scouts I’ve talked to before. Probably feeling awkward when they found out she’s mute and they couldn’t talk to her about me.

My perfect baby girl.

Hmmm.

I gotta think of something else to call her because what if we have a daughter?

Nah, that’ll be my little princess. God, I hope she looks like Raven.

Feeling even higher thinking of Raven having my babies, going into the next play feels as smooth as butter.

I hope her tits get huge when they’re full of milk. Can I drink it?

Maverick is right – I was born to play this game.

And that’s where I keep my focus for the next seventeen minutes – not on Stephen, who’s probably irked I didn’t show up to his office on the third. Well, that’s not exactly true. I showed up, he was in a meeting, I didn’t sit around and wait. So if he’s mad about that, then he should keep his appointment times.

We’ve barely moved ten yards during this play when Coach calls a huddle, though I’m paying attention, I just want to get back to the locker room so I can shower and find Raven waiting for me. It’s the little things that make me feel so loved. And I know she has a thermos of Damon’s hot chocolate for me, too so it’ll be even better. I hope he put extra marshmallows in there.

We break, and when the play is called I do what I do best, imagine Raven’s cello playing the symphony she’s been composing in her room – which now has a violin, a viola, a small piano, and this small little drum thing she uses to keep a beat. We thought about turning the garage into a recording studio for her, but Damon and Maverick think buying a house in New York would be better. We’ve been looking for a home big enough with two separate offices and a room we can convert to her recording studio. Which will probably take a while to remodel, and we want to surprise her with it. But I don’t want it to be a basement. I want her to be able to open the doors, let the sunlight in, and play to her hearts content like she did in Paris.

I want my girl to be and feel free to be her amazing self no matter how nerdy she is.

I chuckle, catching the ball River throws at me and making it toward the end zone.

I get tackled but my hand made it past the white line.

Touchdown.

I get up, a little bruised but I’m fine.

I do my little dance, touch my fingers to my lips, and when the jumbotron does a side-by-side of me and Raven, I smile so broadly, that it hurts my cheeks currently smushed to all fuck in my helmet.

I’m sweaty, gross, stained, bruised, and limping a bit by the time I reach the locker room. Trina, our PT takes me aside to look me over, stating something about “it’ll bruise ugly,” but I don’t care.

My girl’s waiting for me.

I shower fast as fuck, making sure to wash my dick, under my sac, and then between my asscheeks twice in case Raven gets horny and wants to suck the remaining soul I have left out of my dick on the way home.

“Anderson!” River screams when I get out, drying off my dick with the scratchy towel. Yeah, I hope Raven kisses it better. The whole teams starts shouting my name. “Made it to the bowl, baby!”

Championships.

“We won?” I ask, grabbing my clothes and throwing them on. It’s a stupid question but I really wasn’t paying attention.

“What the fuck are you on? Of course we won!”

“Awesome. Gillette Stadium here we come!” I yell out in my best frat boy voice and the boys start barking. Of course we won. That’s why I didn’t care. God it stinks in here. I shove my feet into the thermal socks and then the boots Raven got me.

Coach Sutton and his AC pop out, smiles on their faces. Oh great, a fucking speech. I groan.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lombardi asks me.

“Just want to get back to my girl.”

“Yeah, she’s a little hottie, man. I mean, usually if they’re disabled I don’t go for it, but not all of us are fucking weird like you. Does she sign your name when she comes or something? That get you off?”

I feel his jaw hit my knuckles before I even realize I’ve thrown the punch.

“Whoa!” River yells.

But I’m on him, throwing fist after fucking fist and when he’s on the ground and I’m pulled away, I start kicking.

“Anderson!” Coach Sutton screams my name but all I see is red.

I get away from River and squat down, pulling the useless defenseman up by the collar of his shirt. I spit on Lombardi’s busted bloody face. “If you ever even look in my girl’s direction, I’ll fucking kill you, you disgusting piece of shit lowlife. I’ll curb stomp you on a fucking football, and piss on your fucking dislocated jaw. Do you understand me?”

The sniveling little bitch puts his hands up, nodding.

“That goes for the rest of you fucking dicks. Don’t talk to my girl, don’t look at my girl, don’t even fucking walk by her. If you see her, run in the other direction. You hear me?”

I’m avoiding Sutton’s ugly mug, shaking my hand. Fuck, that’s gonna hurt in the morning.

“I’m skipping the speech, Coach.”

He nods.

And I’m out.

Imagine my surprise when I see Prescott walking my way. No, not my way. Towards my girl. Fuck that. I reach her just in time, throwing my arm over her shoulder, tugging her to me – trying to protect her in any way I can. Why the fuck is he here of all places? 

Stephen eyes my hand and then grins at my girl. I growl inwardly. “Raven,” he says, leaning to kiss her cheek. What the fuck? “Ravishing as always.”

Forward motherfucker.

She blinks up at him. It takes everything in me not to step away and take her with me.

He turns to me. “Jonas, good game as always.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Didn’t see the part where you hurt your hand.” He says, eyes flicking to my bloody, bruising fist.

I give one shake of my head. “Just part of the game, sir.”

There goes that sickening feeling again. The kind not even sex with Raven could cure.

“Take care of that hand. I’ll see you at the wake tomorrow?”

I will say this has been the worst part of my baby getting her revenge – all the fucking funerals.

“I’ll be there.”

He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Good, good. Glad to see we’re going to the bowl.”

“Two weeks.”

“I’ll be there,” he says, walking away.

I know he will.

Raven turns to me, quirking a dark brow, and whatever I said about sex with her couldn’t cure what I’m feeling was a total lie. Fuck, those light brown eyes kill me. I kiss her forehead, her nose, and then her soft lips. Yeah, my dick’s already threatening to get chafed by my zipper.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” I say, because it’s true and she leans into my hug further. I thread my fingers in hers and tug a little. “C’mon. I told Damon to order pizza from that gourmet place you like on Seventh so it’s there by the time we get to Maverick’s.”

“Are you-“

“Shh baby,” I interrupt at the same time the door to the locker room opens. “Not here. Never here. We’ll talk about it when we get there.”

She gives one solemn nod, and we go.

Because I’ll never keep anything from my girl.

And she trusts me not to.

Chapter Twenty- Seven

Maverick.

The bell to the front door buzzes, and Damon goes to answer it, grabbing the pizzas from the older man delivering them. It’s crazy how I went from eating a lonely dinner every night to having to order three gourmet pizzas just make sure a ‘growing’ wide receiver ‘feeds his muscles’ properly, a demented doctor is satisfied, and my girlfriend does her little happy dance while munching on her food, and of course myself.

I have barely kept to my bland diet since Damon has begun to also feed me on the regular, and I don’t mind it. The man can cook. But I’m sure always feeding us must drain the man. We have groceries delivered almost every day. He says once we move into the home he wants to purchase for Raven in New York, he’ll get us a chef, but I really think he won’t stop cooking. The man is feeder.

As soon as Raven even looks a little sad, he’s handing the girl something to munch on be it fruit of some sort, a sandwich or an entire meal along with a bottle of water. He has appointed himself her personal watchdog, as if Jonas wasn’t already doing his part as her lapdog.

Christ, I have no idea how she can deal with all of our different personalities.

I suppose having enough orgasms to keep her satiated and slightly unable to argue with us helps a little.

A shiver runs down my spine of our earlier activities before Jonas’ game, when I was so deep in her cunt she would grimace and then ask for more. It’s the only time it’s hard for me to deny her anything.

Not when she begs so prettily.

I grab the plates from the cabinet as Damon sets the pizzas down on the table, the scent so delicious my stomach growls loudly and we both laugh. It’s… pleasant… having him around. “How much longer until they’re here?” I ask, grabbing cups.

He checks his phone and then his brows furrow. “They’re crossing the bridge now.”

“They should’ve been here already. Do you think something happened?”

“I guess we’ll find out when they get here.”

And we do find out when Raven comes in dragging Jonas to Damon’s side so he can check out his hand.

Before we can even eat, Damon is disinfecting Jonas’ bloody and bruised hand as he recounts what happened in the locker room. “Flex your fingers for me.”

“I’m telling you, I’m fine, D.”

Damon stares blankly at him. “Now move your wrist.”

“I thought you only did heads?” Jonas says gruffly.

“Internal medicine and psychiatry, Jonas. I told you this at De Novo the night Tyler…” Damon looks over at me, “you know.”

I roll my eyes. “The night our girl slashed his wrists and made it look like a suicide, yes.”

Jonas grins and Damon goes back to cutting gauze and wrapping it around Jonas’ knuckles, using a butterfly clip to keep it together. “Too tight?”

He flexes his fingers and shakes his head. “No, that’s good. Like new again. Besides, we don’t have a game until the bowl.”

“Congratulations, by the way.”

Jonas shrugs his big shoulders. “I don’t want to be away from Raven that long. We have to be there the night before. I don’t want to do that.”

“It’s only an hour away and we’ll be at the game.” I reassure him.

“That’s not why. I know she’ll be there. My girl hasn’t missed one game. Even when we were broken up, right baby?”

She nods, but she’s staring at the pizza boxes. I open the box as Damon puts away the first aid kit, and I swear her eyes cross at the smell when she inhales the scent. I smirk, loving that she never has qualms about the fuel she puts into her body, and if she’s ever insecure, she’s never shown it. Not to me, at least. That part does bother me. I’d tear down any insecurity she has. I am glad though, she hasn’t tensed up with as many times as my fingertips have grazed her scars and my lips have kissed them, in a long while. Besides, I’m sure she’s seen the changes her body’s gone through since she started working out with Jonas, Damon or myself in the mornings.

She hardly clutches her leg between workouts anymore, can run longer distances, and her breathing technique is far better.

It’ll be harder to catch her come Spring and I can’t fucking wait until the snow melts for us to play.

I want to rut into her while her face is in the ground, her ass is up, and whatever leggings she wears are wrapped around her ankles, feel the new grass beneath my knees while I fuck into her perfect cunt and this time… this time she’ll scream for me.

She catches me glowering at her while she bites into a slice and her chewing slows as though she can hear every single one of my deranged thoughts, or thinking the same thing, the tops of her cheeks turns a beautiful pink, but I want them pinker. I want them ruddy from exertion. Want to taste the salt of the sweat on her skin, want to taste that exertion on her magnificent pussy, and then add my own so she smells and tastes like me.

I want to brand her as mine so nobody else can claim her the way I have… she can never leave me, never have an excuse not to argue with me… and the need to see her soft and swollen with my child in her tummy makes me hard beneath the table. Fuck, the thought of sucking the milk from her breasts while she bounces up and down on my cock is doing all kinds of distorted things to my mind.

The sight of her on her knees for me may be branded and tatted into my skin until I’m nothing but dust in the ground, but that’s exactly what she’s done – embedded herself into skin, my mind, my heart and my fucking soul.

I have never and will never love a woman the way I love her.

“It was the way he looked at her.” Jonas says around the bite of food in his mouth. “He’s planning something.”

“You think he knows it was her?” Damon asks and Raven’s caramel gaze flicks over to them, listening in on the conversation which shifts my attention to them as well.

“Does it matter? It made my stomach hurt. Nothing good can come of Stephen looking at her like that.”

“Like how?” I ask curiously.

Jonas drops the slice of pizza on his plate and then imitating Stephen, he narrows his eyes, glaring at me and then swiftly smiles.

Creepy.

“Could you just be paranoid?” Damon asks, biting into his slice.

“I… have… a chip.” She speaks up so softly but the rasp in her voice makes my dick ache further. “You… will st-still be able to f-f-find me. No mm-matter what happens. You… mm-made sure of that.” She’s looking at Damon when she says this but makes sure her eyes connect with each of us when she says, “I have f-f-faith in you.”

“Amourette,” Damon sighs, “nothing is going to happen to you. We’ve taken precautions,” he does a nod toward Kronos who’s lazily laying on the ground licking his paw. Lucifer is, of course, nowhere to be found. “And hopefully we’re out of the state by the time they even try.”

If she has any inclination we’re trying to purchase a new house where we can all live in New York, she doesn’t make any nods toward it. “If it does-“

“It won’t.” He’s so sure I almost believe him myself, but the way Jonas is so adamant about his feelings, I’m more prone to lean his way. I mean, he was right about someone staking us out.

We finish eating rather quickly after that and head into the living room where Raven sits between my legs on her pillow I dragged out from under my desk while I read, Kronos on the side of her, his head in her lap and Damon and Jonas sit watching the college sports channel watching the highlighted reels of his game.

Kronos sits up and barks.

“Shhh, Kaykay.” Raven soothes him but the dog is up and barking again, alerting me now, I snap my book shut.

That damn dog is so well trained he doesn’t even bark at a squirrel. Something’s going on.

Feeling the tension rise, Jonas switches off the television, going to the window and peering outside. He shakes his head at me as Kronos begins to growl, going to the back window of the kitchen and my stomach swoops.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh  

I stand quickly, going around Raven, and straight to the end table, grabbing my gun from where it’s strapped beneath. “Go to the corner, angel.”

“You have a gun?” Jonas whisper-screams.

I put a finger to my lips, to hush them and take off the safety. “Stay here.” I whisper into the living room, and they crowd into one corner. “Don’t move from that spot until I come back. Damon, be prepared to call 9-1-1.”

He nods, pulling his phone out from his pocket.

I keep my eyes on Kronos, whose head tilts from one side and then looks up, growling. He looks between Raven and up to the second floor of my house. “Go with her.” I tell him, and he answers with a huff, standing at the foot of the stairs, ignoring me. His growls low, haunches on end, ears standing, one wriggling to hear more, and when he bends as if about to begin running, I hear it - the soft ‘click’ of a lock on one of the upstairs windows.

Someone’s breaking in.

Leaning toward the wall where none of the stairs will creak, I take them up, one at a time, until I reach the last one.

It’s silent. Like a tomb. Nothing but the howling wind outside and Kronos’ low growls, and my labored breath to accompany me.  

Whoosh whoosh

I keep my gun up and ready, my finger on the trigger, checking every available room. No lights are on up here and just when I begin to think it was a figment of my imagination, that Kronos was in fact, barking at a ghost, I hear a footstep to my left.

Standing at the threshold to my bedroom, I crane my neck, a shadow in my peripheral, and they lunge, full weight on me, we topple over, Kronos downstairs barking. They grunt, breathing heavily, grabbing at the gun in my hand, trying to overpower me, but as soon as they even try to turn it toward me, I fire.

Three.

Deadly.

Shots.

Whoosh whoosh

They slump over me, and I force their weight off. Wet, and sticky with blood I stand, swallowing down the urge to vomit. I stumble to the switch in the hallway and call down to Damon to tell him that we’re going to need an ambulance but not to come up here.

I stare down at Detective Arlo Martinez’s corpse bleeding out on my hardwood floors and I slump against the wall, staring at his wide, dilated, unfocused, unblinking muddy dark eyes.

Not caramel, not light honey, not amber or cinnamon or even whiskey colored like my angel’s.

The kind of dark you can barely tell is brown.

I nudge his shoulder with my foot, to make sure he’s fucking dead and only then, do I put the safety back on, and drop my gun to my side, the metal still hot from the gunfire.

Whoosh whoosh

           ________

It takes Kingston PD twenty minutes to arrive along with an ambulance. I’m already speaking to an officer when they’re hauling his body away.

“And you said his name is Arlo Martinez?” the cop asks, scribbling the information down on his notepad, another officer joining him as soon as the hallway and stairs are cleared. She’s tall, her skin dark, face pleasant, and her hair is braided but the ends are tied into a bun at the nape of her neck.

I clear my throat. “Yes, Detective Arlo Martinez.”

The cop, whose badge says O’Keeffe, shakes his head. “Wasn’t from our precinct.” His Bostonian accent is loud, the red in his hair and the freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose, are louder.

My gaze snaps up to his green eyes. “Rayne-Moore.”

The second cop, whose badge says Smythe, shakes her head. She’s older and reminds me a lot of Tasha. “We’re friends with most of the tri-town PDs, we see each other at a lot of the social gatherings. That includes detectives,” her head is still going from side to side, but she lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Never seen a Martinez I didn’t know. Families included Mr. Harrington.”

“Me either.” O’Keefe agrees. “I’ve been with this precinct for twenty years now, my father was Chief of Police before he retired and I’m telling you; this wasn’t one of our detectives.”

“But he gave me a card. It said-“

“Professor,” Smythe interrupts me and takes me to the side, her partner going to one of the EMTs waiting for an order to either take him to the hospital or straight to the coroner. It’ll be the latter. “I was one of the cops that showed up when that poor girl downstairs was found.”

I hold my breath, opening my mouth to tell her Raven is my student and my boyfriend’s patient, that we were having a celebratory dinner with her boyfriend and that’s why they were here. Even if that even made sense that both my students would be here. I’m ready to lie- again – to say I do this with my best students, invite them over for dinner.

But Smythe doesn’t let me get a word out.

Her voice lowers into a whisper, “Things on that campus are fucking seedy at best, Agent Harrington.”

I snap my mouth closed at being called agent again.

“My big sister, Auriel disappeared after visiting that campus once with a friend. Twenty-two years ago. She’s the whole reason I became a cop. But her case went cold, and they closed it because back then and even now – black girl goes missing, nobody bats an eye… But if they’re in your home, able to break in, you need to watch your back. If they weren’t here for you, they were here for her. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

I nod mindlessly, chills rushing up my spine.

“They’ll finish what they started.” She eyes me up and down. “You got somewhere else you can go? If you do, pack your shit. Get out of Kingston. You aren’t safe here anymore… none of you are.”

Whoosh whoosh whoosh.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Raven.

Simon Hoover’s funeral is shitter than Tyler’s was. Hardly anyone but close family and maybe a handful of Syndicate members showed up due to the gravity of what they found after his death.

It’s being held at Mr. Hoover’s estate in Maine, a familial cemetery in the backyard, and there’s a few paparazzi standing outside of his gates, just waiting to see who would be associated with such a gruesome person. I’m not here for that. I’m not even here for Jonas.

No, I’m here for myself. And Sabrina. Her new fiancé stands behind her, but I thread the tips of my gloved fingers with hers. No one is crying as he’s lowered into the ground. Nobody drops the white rose they’re holding into the ground. I step forward, and drop my red one, turning and going to stand behind a tree, away from view, watching the snow fall as one by one, they drop their white roses into the grave, and turn to leave.

Nobody staying behind for a meeting.

Nobody grieving.

Good fucking riddance.

For the first time, I feel like I did a good thing.

No, guilt hasn’t eaten away at me, but as I stare off into the distance, loving the scenery, wishing Maverick were here to enjoy the silence of the cemetery with me, I swear I see a hooded figure behind the trees, hiding from me.

Olly-Olly Oxen Free! I shout in my head at my shadow. I swear their head pops up as if they heard me, but soon they disappear between the naked, bare trees, their branches heavy and dipping from the ice and snow. This game of hide-and-seek we’re playing is exhausting and I’m ready to either kill them – or die trying to.

“Raven?”

I drop my smirk before lifting my gaze to find Sabrina’s green cat eyes on me. I’m sad to see the only pink she’s wearing is her leather gloves. I arch a brow in her direction, having lost Shadow to the trees.

“You did this, didn’t you?”

I blink, my heart stopping in my chest, my eyes bounce between hers and then up at her beau, back to hers.

“If he did this to you… if Simon were the one…”

I get it. It’s hard to fathom someone so soft-spoken and nice like Simon could have done something so disgusting to those poor girls… They all hid so well, didn’t they? Each motherfucker that made me like this, that took pleasure in hearing me scream and beg, that broke my bones, my brain, that took away my voice – they hid in plain fucking sight.

I slowly blink up at her… and smirk.

With a soft gasp, she turns, and takes my hand in hers, really grasping it. “Good.” She says. We watch the gravediggers begin to shovel the snow and soil over Simon’s coffin in silence. She squeezes my hand as Jonas joins us.

And my heart starts beating again.

________

I wake up sideways to that glorious sensation of Damon thrusting between my thighs, but this time, someone’s fingers are rubbing at my clit from behind. I can hear the shower running in the bathroom, but soon my focus is back on the fingers strumming my swollen nub, and the way Damon pumps into me so achingly slow.

“There you go, come all over Daddy Damon’s cock, baby.” Jonas encourages me, his voice in my ear, so soothing, scooting closer to me. He’s hard, his chest pressed against my naked back. Even with all those firm muscles he’s so soft and warm.

“What did I tell you about calling me that?” Damon grunts when I clench around his hard length.

“Not to call you that until you’ve fucked me.”

“Is that what you want? For me to fuck you?”

Jonas stays quiet, fingertips still tapping against my clit. “Only if I’m inside of her. I want to feel that. Would you like that baby? For Damon to fuck me while I fuck you?”

“God, yes,” I rasp out, imagining the weight of both of them on me. Where there should be jealousy, all I have is curiosity. I reach up to kiss Damon, pulling his head to mine, letting myself taste as I take his kiss, brutal and needy, turning to kiss Jonas just the same, and when I think about pulling away, Damon joins, their tongues sliding against mine. I pull away slowly, watching them kiss above me, reaching behind me to stroke Jonas’ dick and he moans into Damon’s mouth. He swallows it, stilling inside of me, gripping my thigh so roughly I almost miss when they pull away, panting.

Jonas bites his lower lip, gazing at Damon with desire in his autumn eyes. I kiss beneath his jaw. So masculine, my demigod. Even in the soft glow of my purple sleep light, I can see the chiseled structure of his features, the way his jaw ticks, the saliva Damon left behind on his lips and I want to catch it on my tongue.

I want to feel what he’s talking about.

Damon slips out of me, tapping the tip of his cock on my clit lazily, and in a silent conversation they have, I’m turned on my back, the mattress both soft and firm beneath my spine. Jonas drapes my legs over his forearms and slips into me. Moaning at how beautiful he feels inside my pussy, how splayed out I am for him, he leans to kiss me, and I lose myself in the taste of Damon on his lips and him.

“It might hurt. But I’ll make sure to open you up first.”

Jonas pulls away from my lips. “Just do it. I want that. I want to try… with you.” He moves, barely thrusting. I hear the soft ‘click’ of Jonas’ nightstand lube opening and the snap of a condom while he keeps torturing me with slow strokes, “Fuck baby. I might come before he even gets inside, you feel so fucking good.” He whines and I see Damon from over his shoulder.

But then he stops momentarily, then groans, “Oh fuck, Damon.”

“Shh, Pup. Just stretching you.”      

I wish I could see what’s happening, but I’m also glad I’m right where I am. I put arms around Jonas, raking my nails down his back, loving that I graze Damon’s fingers that are splayed out over it.

“Oh fuck…” he grimaces.

“You’re doing so well, fuck yourself on my fingers while you fuck our Little Love. Take your time. I’m so hard and you’re too tight.”

His soft whines turn into moans as Damon’s praise reaches our ears, his soft kiss turning harsh. “Oh, baby, this feels so fucking good. I’m gonna go crazy. Damon, please-“

“Just one more. I need to make sure I fit. I’m not small.”

Jonas grimaces again and soon, “Oh fuck me,” he lets out a breath.

“Can you imagine it, Little Bird, I fuck Jonas while Maverick fucks you from below and you suck off our Pup?”

My eyes roll to the back of my head, already so close to combusting, but I don’t want to miss a thing. “Yes,” I mewl.

“Oh god, Damon, please just-“

“Already begging for me, Pup?”

I feel the shiver that runs down Jonas’ spine and I hold him closer. The shower is still running, and I wish Maverick were here, but all I can do is stay where I am, enjoying what’s happening.

“Breathe-“

“Oh my…” Jonas groans as Damon comes closer into view over his shoulder.

“Goddamn your ass is so fucking tight. Nobody’s been in here before?” The muscles in his jaw flex.

Jonas shakes his head.

“Good.” Damon growls and then I feel it, not only the weight of him on us but the first full thrust that makes Jonas keen. “Now fuck our girl, take your time, and take every inch of me.”

Another shiver and Jonas put his weight back on me, kissing me, his tongue so deep in my mouth I can feel the vibrations of every moan and I spread my thighs wider, needing to feel his pubis on my throbbing clit.

“Play with yourself, Amourette. Jonas needs to feel you come for him.” Damon orders and I take my arm from around Jonas’ torso and reach between us, rubbing my clit in tight circles. My hips rock to their own accord, the pressure in my core so fucking brilliant I’m running red-hot.

“Oh my god!”

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes, Jonas!”

He shifts, fucking into me harder, groaning with each thrust, sweat accumulating between us and Damon grunts behind him. Then the power in Jonas’ thrusts and his moans change.

“That’s it, Pup. I can feel how close you are.”

“Raven, Raven baby, please – I need you.”

“I love you, Jonas.”

“Oh fuck, again baby. I’m so close. It feels too good; Damon’s cock is so big.”

“I love you.” It never changes. Even with Damon so deep in him I can feel his thrusts through Jonas’, it’ll never change. This won’t make us different.

“Doing so good, Pup.” Damon praises.

“Jonas, please, I love you. I need-“

But he knows what I need, too. His hips piston faster, deeper, the look in his eyes wild, and he fucks harder, that red-hot feeling turns blinding and I fucking let go as Damon grunts one final time, every muscle in my body tenses, liquid heat flying out of me and Jonas pulses inside me, shivering with every squeeze of my pussy and he drops his full weight on me.

“You know…” we all turn to face Maverick as Damon slips out of Jonas and Jonas withdraws from me. “If you wanted to break up with me you could’ve just said so.” He says with a grin, looking at what has to be, the most outlandish shit one could walk into after a shower.

“Sir…” I whisper hoarsely, stretching an arm out to him and he comes to me while Jonas and Damon do what they need to and I close my aching thighs, saddling up beside my professor.

“Thirsty?” he asks, once I’m nestled into his embrace.

I nod my head sleepily.

“Open.”

I part my lips and open, Maverick lets his saliva drip down into my mouth, and I swallow it. I still wish I knew the exact moment I became such a filthy slut drinking my lover’s spit and cum, but I don’t care.

“There, now you have a piece of me in your body, too.” He smirks, reaching to rub at my stomach. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up. I have a lot of course planning to do today and I’ll need you to warm my cock for the majority of the day.”

I feel my heart swell with joy that he wants me with him today.

He’s been closed off in the office a lot these past few days since he shot Arlo, not really speaking to any of us. But I’m sure that’s his way of compartmentalizing everything.

“You can’t just take her for a whole day.” Jonas gripes but Damon shakes his head at him.

“I said the majority of it. Plus, we’ll still be in the house. Are you dancing tonight?” Maverick asks.

I shake my head and lift my hands. Simon’s gone. There’s no need for me to dance anymore. I’ve already resigned.      

“Good.” He replies with a grunt. “Once you’re all showered, I need you all to come down to the office. I need to show you Clarissa Hoover’s interview.”

“You had access to that?” Jonas asks what we're all wondering.

“I was able to get access to the transcripts, yes.”

“How?”

“Officer Smythe. Seems like there’s more people out there that want the Syndicate dismantled and eradicated.” He gets out of bed, and I follow.

We all shower pretty quickly, meeting Mav in the study, sitting shirtless behind the desk. Steam slowly rises from a mug of coffee beside the paperwork he’s shifting through, pen to his lips, tapping. I go to sit in his lap and his hand immediately rests where my hip and thigh meet.

Jonas and Damon sit in front of the desk, and we wait for Maverick to start but he gives them copies of the papers he’s looking at. “Page six.”

They flip, and I begin to read the transcript as well.

Off. Storm: Pretty convenient you didn’t drink a drop and were able to drive to the scene of the crime.  

C. Hoover: He ordered me not to drink before the party. He was going to be schmoozing with his former frat buddies and networking. And it wasn’t the scene of the crime! It was our home away from home!

Off. Storm: We found the strawberry lip gloss in your car.

C. Hoover: Yes! I use it when I go… when I’m out without him, which is a lot. He’s hardly ever home and when he is… it’s like he’s a ghost. He doesn’t exist even when he’s at home. He hated me.

Off. Storm: Explains the failed epi-pen.

C. Hoover: I grabbed the wrong one, okay? It was a mistake. Another reason he hated me – I can be dumb sometimes when I panic.

Off. Storm: We saw the CCTV footage from inside your home, Mrs. Hoover. You stood there while he was gasping for breath.

C. Hoover: *sniffs* I thought about it, okay? I thought about it for two seconds –

Off. Storm: Fifteen. You had fifteen seconds where you could’ve saved him but instead you kicked at his body.

C. Hoover: I nudged at him. I didn’t kick him. And I called you immediately!

Off. Storm: Let’s look at the facts – you grabbed the wrong epi-pen. When you came back, you had two chances to save him, Mrs. Hoover – one, with the new epi-pen, the second, was performing basic lifesaving skills – CPR. CPR with a round of the antihistamine could have saved your husband’s life, instead you got down on the ground, and you waited until he stopped breathing.

C. Hoover: *heavy breathing*

Off. Hoover: There’s also these exchanges of texts between him and his father. ‘I think Clarissa is trying to kill me.’

C. Hoover: I would never! I made a mistake, okay! I would never! I would- oh my god, I’m going to throw up!

Off. Hoover: Get a custodian in here. Clarissa Hoover, you’re under arrest for the murder of Simon Hoover, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand?

C. Hoover: Yes, I understand.

“What does this mean for us?” Damon asks.

“It means Mrs. Hoover will be going down for manslaughter because she chose not to save her husband when she could have. I’m sure with the money she has, her parents can afford a great attorney, and she’ll get a five-year sentence maximum on account of stupidity. But if anything points back to us, which I believe it won’t, Raven or Jonas could go down for attempted manslaughter.”

I shiver in his hold.

“But my good girl got rid of all the evidence, didn’t she?” Mav asks, rubbing my thigh.

I nod. All of the bottles of wine that were used, we watched the trash company pick it up the day after Christmas from Damon’s access to the security feed at the Monroe mansion.

“That’s it, then?” Jonas asks.

Maverick bobs his head pensively, looking at me because he knows how I feel about this. I lean down to kiss him softly. “That’s it.”

But it doesn’t feel like ‘it’ at all.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Damon.

“Basil, basil, basil…” I quietly mumble to myself, opening the small spice rack in the pantry. Usually, I go for fresh basil, but the organic goods store I normally purchase from was completely out and so here I am, searching for the herbs I dried and crushed myself only to put them in little glass containers I purchased off the Zon.

The pantry door closes, and I turn around to see Jonas, who looks a little distraught as though waging a war in his mind – which I was expecting after this morning’s… activities.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah… no. Yeah,” he says, seemingly debating with himself. “I’m not gay.”

I hold in my eye roll. I was waiting for this. Granted, I was waiting for a less ADD-riddled conversation, but that’s not my pup. “Jonas-“

“No, wait, let me say this because I’ve been thinking about it all morning. I’m not gay. I went to an all-boys catholic school from the time I was thirteen until I graduated. I saw it all the time, and I even tried to kiss a few guys to make sure, but I couldn’t. I… I never felt that way… Until you.”

I hold my breath.

“I’m gay… bi? I’m… I only have those feelings for you. Not for Mav, and I don’t think anyone else, either. Never have. But my feelings for our girl will probably always be stronger. She’s… she’s everything to me, and I need to make sure you understand that. But I… I also can’t see my future without you in it. Does that make sense?”

I look at him, breathing in his mint and citrus scent, thinking of the first kiss I stole from him that night at Inferno when we seduced Tyler for our Little Bird. How bright of a light he is for us with his antics, and how much easier he makes every day seem. For all of us.

He’s breathing heavily, chest steadily rising and falling, waiting for my answer. He’s taller than me and yet I feel bigger than him.

“Damon, you have to say something. Your silence is making my stomach hurt.”

I put the small shaker on the shelf beside him then pull him by his black thermal, closing the distance between us. He lets out a soft whimper and it goes straight to my dick. “I was seventeen when I slept with a man and never tried it ever again, because it was enough for me. Until you. Between the first night I kissed you up until this morning, I could have sworn fucking you was just a wet dream I would have. I never imagined it going any further than us sharing her. So no, Jonas, I’ve never felt this way toward any other man, including the one I experimented with eighteen years ago and yes, it does make sense. And believe me, if this ever made our Little Bird insecure, there is no way I would continue it. Like you, she is my everything but like you… I can’t see a future without us in it either. I have never carried a relationship with a man, nor do I want to… unless it’s you.”

His eyes round, softening, and a look of relief flickers across his face. "Damon," he whispers, his lips so close to mine I can almost taste his toothpaste.

“Yes, Pup?”

“Kiss me.”

It’s all I need. One arm goes around his taut back, carved with muscles I’ve never felt underneath my fingertips unless in a medical setting before, the other to his hair and he embraces me just the same. Something behind him clatters to the floor but when his mouth parts and our tongues tip, I kiss him with all I have.

“Oh my god,” he groans but attacks my lips again, growing hard against my abdomen. Without losing momentum, I reach down to feel his rigid, thick length, and squeeze.

His taste, the lingering scent of our girl on his flesh, and the feel of his soft skin over such firm muscles are fucking with my brain chemistry. We both let out a groan when I shift and my own hard length rubs against his.

The door to the pantry opens suddenly and we break away but not with guilt, merely to see, and I think we both hope, it’s Raven.

And it is.

She steps into the pantry with a devilish grin on her face and closes the door behind her, only to make the sign for us to continue kissing.

We do, and to suddenly feel her hands on me, pulling down my sweats, the cool air replaced by her warm tongue and then her lips wrap around the head of my cock makes me grow feral with need. Jonas breaks away from me, and then he’s gone. I look down to see she’s tugged him on the ground beside her and they’re speaking to each other silently. Her tongue licks from my balls to my mushroom tip, and then Jonas, my beautiful fucking wide receiver, mimics her and I hiss at the overwhelming sensation of two velvety, warm tongues swirling around my cock from root to tip.

She moans and lets out a soft giggle in pleasure seeing the devastation on my face, and I’ll have to let Maverick know to punish her later for that. I can’t do it. Not when she takes my balls into her mouth, one by one, and sucks, lovingly hollowing her cheeks while Jonas continues his slow torture, getting used to the taste and feel of me.

Fisting me as much as she can, she shows Jonas how to take me deep, and I praise her when her hand goes to his lap, and starts jerking him, too. When Jonas tries to take me deep and gags, I praise him too, which only encourages him to try harder, my sweet pup. I’m in hell, being beautifully tortured by my little love and her accomplice, my pup.

The sight of them working me like I’m their favorite lollipop flavor, making out with the crown of my cock, and hearing them slurp my pre-cum greedily has me panting, ready to explode.

“Jonas, Raven-“ I warn.

She pulls away from my sac moaning like the good girl she is. “Yes, Daddy?”

“My good fucking girl. Jonas, take my cock as deep as you can then suck. I’m going to come. Hold it in your mouth. I want to watch you kiss her sloppily. Oh, fuck. Like that, pup. A little more. Doing so good…” I couldn’t hold my impending orgasm if I tried. Not now. Not with the sight of them on their knees for me. I come with a harsh groan, toes curling and when I’m done, they share the softest kiss, my cum dribbling onto Raven’s chin but Jonas doesn’t miss and licks it up with his wide tongue and when she whispers those three little words into his mouth, he groans, his cum spurting onto Raven’s hand, which she licks up like a kitten with a bowl of cream, bronze eyes connected to mine.

Little vixen.

“Was that okay?” He asks me after swallowing, still on his knees, and tucks me back into my sweats, delivering a soft kiss to my hand.

I croak out, “That was incredible.”

“Yummy,” Raven hums, standing and patting her stomach.  She opens the pantry door to leave but I grab her by the elbow.

“Were you hungry?” I ask, making sure she’s okay.

She gives me a broad but smug as fuck smile. “Not any… more.” She tips up on her toes and gives me a sweet kiss, rubbing her nose against mine. “Love you.”

Her hand reaches down to caress Jonas’ cheek and then slips away.

I hold out my hand and he takes it, getting to his feet. “It’s not going to change between us, is it?” He asks, putting his hands on my hips, his forehead on mine.

I shake my head. “Maybe a little. But as long as we have her…”

He jerks his head twice in a nod. “We’ll be okay.” He pulls away from me and then grins widely. “Guess I can call you Daddy now.”

I laugh and lick my bottom lip. “God, I have so much explaining to do to my dad.” I shake my head, still chuckling, “Help me with dinner. Then we can watch the show.”

He quirks a brow up. “The show?”

“Our little love has been warming Maverick’s cock all day.  He’s bound to need release soon. And if she came back to him soaking, he’s not going to be able to wait much longer.”

“Didn’t know you were a voyeur.”

“I have a Raven fetish, pup,” I answer him.

He nods again. “Fucking same.”

I grab the basil, a few other herbs and spices and then we exit the pantry, but the air around Jonas is still heavy. It’s the first time I’ve seen him not aloof after sex. I’m rubbing the spices on the chicken that’s now in the cast iron pot, given to me by Tabi, waiting for him to say something while adding the vegetables he cut for me. I wash my hands and then throw the dish towel over my shoulder while putting the pot into the oven.

“What is it?”

“Just a weird feeling.” He responds, shaking his head.

In all honesty, I hate seeing him like this. But he hasn’t been wrong. “Like what?”

“That Arlo guy. I think I remember where I saw him. He’s what? Twenty-eight?”

I incline my chin. “That’s what the reports from the autopsy said. And the license in his wallet.”

He crosses his muscular arms limply over his torso and leans on the counter, crossing his legs at the ankle. “The Syndicate sometimes has… kids outside of their marriage. They’re considered ‘half-breeds’ not exactly in the Syndicate unless fully recognized by their fathers, or if they are in the Syndicate, it’s because they don’t have any legitimate male heirs and they need someone to be able to take their place as a legacy…”

“Okay?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose then scrubs his hand down his face. “The bastards, so to speak, the Syndicate uses them as things like Watchers, which is like a PI, or smaller things. But useful.”

“Whose half-breed was he?”

He looks pained. “This is why it’s driving me up the fucking wall. I can’t remember. I don’t know. But I remember seeing him before he was all long hair and a suave coat. He had the same tattoos, but they were fresher. I used to think he looked like a badass. My sister, Cadence, was in the art and literature program and she had to do a semester in theater at Rayne-Moore during her Sophomore year. They did a really good production of a modern twist on Hamlet. My sister was Ophelia.”

“Jonas, stay on topic,” I remind him, steering him back to what he was saying gently.

“Oh right, um, Watchers are made to take anything that will make them able to blend in easily into their surroundings. A lot of them take method-acting classes their entire stay at Rayne-Moore no matter what they major in.”

“You think you saw him performing?”

“My sister is two years older than Raven. That guy, Arlo, would have been a senior. Let me go grab my phone and text her. Hopefully, she’s awake. I know Olli woke us up every morning at six AM on the dot by jumping on our bed. We had to start sleeping with clothes during our entire stay in London. God, I can’t wait to have babies with Raven. She was really great with them.” He leaves me for barely three minutes while I clean up the rest of the mess we made, and he comes down. Soon enough there’s a ping on his phone.

“She’s up. She said to give her a minute but-“ another chime and he looks down again. “Yeah, that’s him.”

He shows me a picture of what looks like the same man we saw on the news, only with shorter hair and an actual smile on his face in the center of a crowd where people are wearing costumes.

But he reminds me of someone I used to see around Lorne Wood as a patient.

Shit.

Another chime and then, “Sis said he was majoring in political science.” He groans, rubbing his head. “That doesn’t fucking help. Almost everyone majors in political science there.”

“You think he’s A?”

Hazel eyes snap up to mine. “You’ve been thinking about this too, haven’t you?”

I shrug. “There’s one last person on that list and if A could be Arlo, then this is done and over with. We can move even before you graduate. Start getting settled in if we can all just agree on which house suits us better.”

Kronos comes into the kitchen and begins to put his head into Jonas’ hand. “I’m fine, Keekee. Just a little frustrated.” He sighs, and ‘Keekee’ sighs right back, plopping down next to his feet with a soft whine, Lucifer joins him not even ten seconds later. “Can you do that thing you do and look up Arlo’s birth certificate?”

“You think the father signed?”

He lifts his heavy shoulders and lets them drop. “It’s a shot in the dark. Usually, Elders don’t recognize their half-breeds unless it’s to keep the mother quiet. They’ll sign the certificate and give them a fuckload of money. Or they don’t sign the certificate but keep their eyes on the kid until they need them. Think about it. If Arlo grew up in the projects and then was given an opportunity to go to a prestigious college and all he had to do every now and then, was tail someone…. Wouldn’t you?”

I tilt my head side-to-side, seeing where he’s coming from. That’s the thing about Jonas, it’s easy to underestimate him because he’s so nonchalant. But he’s fucking smart, a trait I admire dearly. “There was an Andres Marsalas that would place himself in voluntary hold every few months at Lorne Wood. He wasn’t my patient though; he was my colleague’s. I never heard much about him other than my colleague was confused as to why he was back. Suicidal thoughts and tendencies. That was the excuse each time. But he seemed fine,” I grimace. “My attentions were always elsewhere.”

“Can you go back to that? Like, look him up? Do you still have access?”

“I’m going to try.”

Kronos perks up and when I think he’s going to bark, I hear a moan coming from the study. I jut my chin in that direction. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Jonas retorts, practically sprinting toward the sound.

What we walk into is beautiful chaos.

Raven is bent over the desk, hands tied behind her back with a silk tie, (mine) drool covering her chin, papers strewn and scattered everywhere. Mav’s laptop barely balancing on the corner, slowly sliding off, (it’s fine he needs to use the one we purchased for him anyway) and Maverick holding on to her leash which is choking her. The smile on her face is radiant, and the look on Maverick’s is sheer pleasure although he looks like a violent storm over a turbulent sea. “That’s right, Siren, you’ve been such a good girl, warming my cock for hours in your perfect mouth.”

I take this chance to speak up. “Actually, Maverick… our little bird was not a good girl. She took pleasure in seeing me tortured not even thirty minutes ago while she and Jonas sucked my cock.”

The smile that spreads across his face is sadistic. A hand comes down and he smacks Raven’s plush ass in three loud successions, which only makes her smile wider.

“Is that right, Siren? Was it amusing being a little cocktease? Hmm?”

“That was funny to you, wasn’t it, Amourette?” I ask.

Her dark brows pin together but the longer she takes to answer, Maverick smacks her three more times on the other cheek, driving deeper into her, every piston of his hips cause her ample breasts to jiggle and sway in a hypnotizing manner.

“No?” She chokes out, trying so hard not to let her eyes roll back but they do anyway.

“Should I tease you? Not let you come for days? Just edge you until you’re a whimpering, drooling, crying mess begging for one of us to let you come?” Maverick asks, “To please, please let you come?” He mimics her voice in a condescending falsetto.

“No!”

Maverick drops the leash of her collar and what happens next is… art.

Without withdrawing from her delectable cunt, only shifting his feet, he has her on her back, thighs spread like the gorgeous slut she is, and he smacks her breasts until they’re red, squeezing them roughly, tangles his fingers into her hair by the back of her head, and yanks her up to him until they’re nose to nose. More things are dropping to the floor, but Jonas and I don’t fucking move from where we are. Completely enraptured.

“Open,” Maverick growls. She obeys quickly and he spits into her mouth then shoves his fingers inside, not letting her swallow, fucking her mouth with his fingers in tandem with his strokes. Raven moans around him, his fingers leaving her mouth only to deliver three sharp smacks to her clit, and he plunges them back into her mouth when she squeals. His gaze snaps to mine as if to ask if I need him to punish her more or if that’s enough and I smirk.

It will never be enough.

He pulls out, sinking to his knees, devouring her. Only when she’s vibrating, begging for release does he thrust back into her and we watch as her nectar rushes out of her, landing on his abs. He pulls out, thrusting his fingers to make her squirt again and she screams. He dives into her one last time, forcing her face to his, locking eyes with her as he grunts.

Breathless and spent, he withdraws from her slowly, sitting back in his seat.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just tries to catch her breath while the beast takes his fill of watching his seed flow out of her abused channel. Without taking his eyes off of her juicy cunt he asks, “How long would it take for her to get pregnant if you cut that fucking thing out of her arm?”

Jonas whips his head around to look at me as does Raven.

“One to twelve months,” I answer.

He hums, reaching his arms out and pushing whatever leaked out back in then leaning to the inside of her knee and slowly inching upward, sucking and laving his tongue on the delicacy that is her flesh. “Do it.”

I look at Raven, so beautiful, glistening from sweat in a healthy afterglow, quivering as Maverick kisses and licks away at her soreness, hands still bound behind her back with nowhere to go. A tired, lazy smirk slowly starts on one corner of her plump, abused lips. Telling me yes. She wants it.

What a naughty, beautiful little bird.

________

That evening after dinner, it takes me forty minutes to hack back into Lorne Wood’s records and I find a picture of ‘Andres Marsalas’ aka Arlo Martinez, who has a shaved head.

I groan, scrubbing my hand down my face.

“What is it?” Maverick asks.

“That I’m guessing someone was sending Arlo into Lorne Wood to make sure Raven still wasn’t talking.”

“Start talking.”

So I do, not leaving anything out from what Jonas told me, to my findings, showing him the picture of Arlo with a shaved head.

“And the birth certificate?”

“No father listed and no bank records to show the mother was paid off.”

“What if it was in small increments? Barely noticeable?”

I groan, my eyes exhausted. “I’ll keep looking.”

“Let me know if you need help. I have an IT guy that can look up anything. He just recently helped me with a few cold case files. Syndicate stuff.”

“Is that why you’re constantly holed up in your room? Trying to find the links?”

He stays quiet as we listen to Raven and Jonas breathe deeply in their sleep. “Noticed that, did you?”

I roll my eyes. “I’d have to be blind and deaf not to notice when you disappear for hours without a peep.”

He grunts and gives me nothing more.

________

“You’ll be there?”

“Yes, Pup, we’ll be there. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I promise, kissing him, and then Raven leans up on her toes to kiss him as well.

He looks at the door then back to us then back at the door, holding his duffle.

“Go, Jonas. When we come back we’ll celebrate your birthday before we go to your mom’s for dinner.” Maverick grins.

“I don’t want to.” He drops the duffle and holds his arms out. Raven wastes no time jumping back into his arms. As if she hasn’t already been clinging to him like a koala bear all morning. It’ll be the first time they spend the entire night apart in a very long time. “It’s only an hour away,” he says into the crook of her neck, inhaling our sweet girl’s sweet jasmine and berries signature scent. “I’ll call Coach Sutton and tell him I’ll be there in the morning instead.”

Raven nods like it’s the best idea she’s ever heard in her entire life.

“Pup,” I manage to say but the look he gives me kills me. There’s tears in his eyes. I groan internally when Raven looks back at me with tears in her eyes. I’m about to call Maverick for backup because I’m fucking weak. Fuck they kill me.

“Get your ass in the car, Jonas, or I’m driving you myself. Get into winner mode and get fucking right in the head. You have scouts from every northeastern team looking at you. Go make us proud. Have time with your teammates. Just, you know, don’t get into another fight.” He warns.

“Can I take her with me?”

“No.” We say at the same time.

“You guys are so mean!” She whispers something in his ear, but he shakes his head. “You don’t fit in there remember? We already tried.”

“Were you trying to take her in your duffle bag?” Maverick asks but there’s amusement in his tone and I bite back my grin. Of course they would try to find a way to sneak her away.

They’re adorable.

“We just wanted to see if she fit.” He explains.

I break out into laughter. “That thing is barely large enough for three sweaters and your cleats.”

“Wanted to cover all the bases.” He sighs heavily, (dramatically) “Okay baby. I gotta go. I’ll see you in the morning. Please don’t be late. I need my good luck kiss.”

The man doesn’t run on luck. He and Raven are the two most determined people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

________

He doesn’t care that they lost by one point.

He only cares that when he gets out of the locker room, Raven finds him.

He only cares that the next day, on January twelfth, while we’re out eating and celebrating his birthday, she’s holding his hand.

He only cares that when we wake up the next morning in his familial estate to see Elena, Raven wakes up between us so we can share her before facing the day.

When those scouts call one final time, he agrees to meet with them, which makes Maverick’s eyes sparkle with pride.

And me?

I’m the most content I’ve ever been in my life, which is why that nagging feeling the other shoe is about to drop makes me dream awful things, and I wake up in the middle of the night and inject Raven with one more biochip in her shoulder.

Just in case.

Then I tug her just a little closer, so those dreams don’t come back.

Because “Shadow” is starting to feel very real to me, too.

Chapter Thirty

Maverick.

It’s the fourth morning I wake to a silent home and a warm body cuddled next to me.

Her head on my chest, hand over my heart. The reminder of the last time I woke up like this, with snow accumulating on the windowpane makes me cringe internally. Except this time, the wind blowing isn’t as fierce, and this time, I’m not afraid of the way that I’m feeling about the girl in my arms.

I slide my hand down Raven’s ribcage, the silk of her negligee stops where her hip begins, her body is twisted and molded to the shape of mine and it feels exceptional, like we’re meant to be melded together like this for eternity.

She and I are forever – there is no future without her. She and I have so much to make up for still. Even if we were only apart for a few weeks, it felt like a lifetime. It'll never happen again. As much as she claims I helped her feel alive again, it was me that had been so dead inside. She blew on the dwindling ember that was my soul and sprinkled kindling around it, bring it back to a roaring fire.

Every time I even glance at my Siren, my angel, my everything… I see a woman that holds my soul in her hands, purposefully caring for it, continuously shaping it and remolding it, to fit hers. With my heart, she does the same, seeing all the inky parts of me, she accepts me as I am and hasn’t asked for more - only teaching me how to properly love her. Which I’m learning isn’t difficult at all. Even on days it should be difficult, it’s not.

I may have a collar on her, but she holds my leash, and I am unashamed that I’ve let her tame whatever beast resides in me, although she loves that same monster and continuously beckons him to come out and play. The little minx.

She hums softly in her sleep, and I tilt my head to gaze down at the woman who has changed my life. Whiskey eyes flutter open and when her gaze settles on mine she smiles, tucking the blanket under her chin adorably but shutting her eyes once more, throwing her thigh over mine and tucking her foot under my leg.

My life.

My love…

Has the coldest fucking feet.

But I don’t move an inch.

I grab my phone, debating on sending an email to the administrator to let them know I won’t be in today, and that I’m sick. I have the flu. All lies. I have the energy to get through the day, although waking to find her here in bed with me after I stayed up until God knows what time, that she sought me out in the middle of the night tells me her mind was on me, her heart and body craved me and it’s such a simple thing, such a small, tiny thing, yet it means the world to me.

I could write sonnets about this woman and still, they wouldn’t compare to the way she makes me feel so loved and accepted. One look into her eyes and I know I’m wanted. Needed. Not just desired but craved.

“I love you,” she mumbles sleepily and my heart pangs at the rasp in her voice. That’s the first thing she thinks of saying to me every morning. Not good morning, doesn’t ask me how I slept. No, the first thing out of her mouth every morning are those three simple little words pushed together that mean everything coming from her.

“I love you, Siren,” I whisper back, clutching her closer to me, letting my knuckles go over the silver stripe at her temple and down the curve of her cheek to her jaw, only to push that silver strand of hair back behind her ear and kiss the top of her head.

She flicks her gaze down to her tatted wrist then hums happily, a smile branding her face, and she pushes up to kiss my cheek. That’s another thing she does – check her wrist consistently. Sitting up she gets out of bed and goes to my bathroom, closing the door. After a moment or two, she opens it, her hair now up in a messy knot atop her head, and she’s brushing her teeth, she spits and then crawls back into bed atop my comforter, laying down on me, her full weight on my body and it is so divine.

It is so divine to be loved by her.

Properly.

“What do you say… you and I going to New York today? Hmm?” She sits up, straddling me, and even over the blanket I can feel the warmth her cunt emits, my cock aching to feel it, but I hold back from rutting into her the way I need to. This is important. This is our future. She is my future. “Check out some properties? I’ve been looking at a few listing’s and-“

Her kiss comes out of nowhere, a squeal of happiness, her hands on either side of my face. She kisses all over me, stopping at my lips again, then runs her nose along mine once again satiated the beast inside me. I’m surprised I haven’t begun to purr.

I realize I would do anything to hold onto these moments. Anything.

She hasn’t gone back to RMU. Never re-enrolled, practicing non-stop for her audition to Julliard next week. As soon as we finish our workouts every morning, she’s upstairs, practicing. Kronos at her feet, snoozing. Lucifer creating hell and ensuing chaos downstairs and everywhere else the little demon cat can fit himself into.

It’s the sound of her cello I hear every day when I come home from RMU, the sound of Damon and Jonas chattering, and the scent of dinner already made unless Damon has to work late, and we order in.

It's a new routine.

One I’ve fallen into easily with no remorse.

I mean, I can’t exactly be unhappy with the way Damon is feeding me nor with the way Jonas has started training with me. I’ve felt stronger, more agile, and even have more stamina now than I did when I was younger. Feels as if all that anger I’ve held onto for so long has slowly disappeared and I feel almost weightless.

Raven breaks away from our small kisses and hands me my phone. I send a mass email to my students and cancel my lectures for the day then text Damon in case he’s left already to let him know to lie for me if Miss Overly asks. I don’t wait for his response, darkening my screen and tossing my phone back on my nightstand to throw my arms over Raven. I’ve gotten a second opportunity, and this time I’m staying.

________

When I told her to dress like the little socialite she is, she definitely did not disappoint.

In high-heeled boots, wool tights, a herringbone pencil skirt just above her knees, a black turtleneck, and a lilac trench coat. The sight of her makes me almost buckle at the knees. Her hair is in waves, falling around her shoulders and her makeup is minimal but God, when she wings her eyes and wears that red lipstick it just does something to my dick. A carnal desire to rut into her tugs at my soul and all I want to do now is slip into her gripping wet heat and fuck into her from behind, while she begs for more or mercy.

I’ll give her both.

She grabs a large purse that matches both her coat and her outfit and when she turns to look at me, all I can see is my future. My wife. Mother of my children. I want it all with her.

And I will have it. No matter the outcome of the rest of the world – we burn together.

I go to her, unwilling to let another moment go by without touching her. “You are… the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Siren,” I saw, turning her so she can see how perfectly well we fit together. Even in her heels, I beat her by six inches. There is no doubt in my mind I will never not be by her side, nor behind her, supporting whatever dream she has.

I will always choose her. I will always choose us.

We look quite the duo, me in my new charcoal Tom Ford casual wool suit and peacoat Elena gifted me, and her in this classy chic outfit.

The tops of her cheeks turn pink and again, my heart freezes mid-beat. I rest my chin on her shoulder and kiss her heated cheek. “You should pack an overnight bag, Angel. If we have time, there’s this club in the meat packing district I want to try out. I believe the owner of the club is engaged to your friend, Sabrina. Giordano, correct?”

She nods, a smile broadening on her flawless-to-me face.

I remember New Year’s Day when Sabrina sent pictures of the ring and a news article to Raven, how much she had screamed in delight, showing us all the picture and said article of them kissing while there were fireworks in the background of the restaurant they were in.

I looked him up immediately, finding out he owned the Eden Casino and Nightclub, as well as Pandemonium in Chicago, and news to me, the owner of Inferno. When I asked Jonas if Giordano was in the Syndicate, he said no, but that the logo was there because fifty years ago, Inferno once belonged to a Syndicate member who lost it while gambling but the former owner, Maksim’s grandfather, allowed Syndicate members to still conduct business there… for a price. Then, when Giuseppe, Maksim’s father inherited it, he modernized it with all of the… ‘extra’ as a way for women to be able to do sex work in a safe environment.

Which I respect wholeheartedly. Being a former FBI agent, too many sex workers were lured into dangerous positions and ended up being a statistic on my radar.

“I want you to know… I’m going to make sure you come for me at every listing we’re showed. So you’ll need to be my very good, very tongueless, little mute today.”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s my good fucking girl.” I nibble at her lobe, spanking her before pulling away, then thread my fingers through hers so we can leave.

We fly from Boston Logan to JFK; Damon having gotten us first-class tickets before he and Jonas left for RMU this morning when I told him our plans. It’s still early in the morning, not even close to noon when we land, and soon we’re meeting our real estate agent and Elena’s friend, Maxine Bosworth, at a three-story townhouse in Manhattan where I find out Siren’s not wearing any panties under her tights and my fingers get greedy.

The second listing Is a quaint home on the outskirts of Brooklyn where I make her come on my tongue bent over the kitchen island. But my favorite… my favorite was the third listing – a high-rise penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows, a gym, six bedrooms each with a bathroom, a study I was planning to convert into a library as well, and a spacious open floor plan where the kitchen, living room, and den were connected.

Maxine stepped away to take a call and I pressed my Siren’s front against the glass of the living room window. “Look at all those people down there… shhh… be my good girl, Tongueless.” I rasped, rolling her drenched tights down, loving the scent of her arousal, my mouth watering. I unzipped my slacks and kicked her legs apart, jerking my hard, heavy cock, finding the entrance to her sopping wet center. “Any one of them could look up one day, or even the people in the office building next door… and they’d find you just,” I impale her slowly “like” I withdraw until it’s only the tip of me inside, “this,” I groan, loving the way her pussy molds to my dick whenever I push back into her heat.

“My good fucking girl.” I nibble on her lobe, kissing the juncture between her neck and beneath her ear, reaching around to strum that swollen little button. “You’ve been so fucking good all day, Siren.”

She clenches around me, and my balls draw up.

“I’m not going to last,” I admit, “every single time you’ve come for me today has had me ready to blow my load into my slacks. Do you know how difficult it is to hold back and not rut into you like an animal?”

She shakes her head.

“It’s maddening to taste you. Nectar. Ambrosia. Honey straight from the gods comes out of your juicy little cunt every. Single. Time.” I grunt between thrusts.

She trembles, trying to be so good for me, biting her succulent lip in our reflection.

“I want you to be the very best girl for me and squeeze your pussy.” She does and I almost lose it. “Again, sweet girl. I’m almost there. I’m so ready to fill you. Quickly before Max comes back. I need you to squeeze, oh fuck, that’s it.” Every time. Every time she clenches around me I’m so close to breaking. Fire licks down my spine, reaching as low as it can until I feel like my balls are so heavy and hot, seeking this orgasm I’ve been denying myself in order to see her break for me. “Spoiled little rich girl letting your professor fuck you against a window. Are you bored, little one? Hmm? All that money and you still seek a thrill… we could get caught. All those times flashing me your panties from under your desk, playing with this greedy little pussy…” images of her in her little skirt, parting her thighs for me. “Tongueless little slut. On my desk, spreading your thighs for your professor. You were such a naughty whore for me.”

She shakes her head.

“Liar. You were such a bad little girl, Siren,” I’m so fucking close to losing it. “and I fucking lived for it. That’s right, milk my cock, greedy girl, oh fuck, there it is… there it is, Siren.” I shove as deep as I can into her, coming so hard my vision blurs. “There it fucking is," I praise when she comes around me, gripping me so tight I can barely move, “take it all.”

Before I withdraw I pull something out of my pocket, a diva cup I ordered, washed, and then put into a bag just for this. I get down on one knee, watch my seed flow out of her and into the cup, folding it properly the way so many videos I watched taught me, and then, “Shhh, let me do this.”

I push it in and find the angle I need until I feel it settle into place with my fingers.

Standing to my full height I roll up her tights over her hips, smooth down her skirt, and then turn her to face me. “As soon as Damon takes that filthy thing out of your arm, Siren, I’ll fuck you the first time you bleed, and every day after. And this little thing?” I tap her pussy. “Every time I leave my cum inside of you, I’ll have it hold my seed so you’re full of me all day, every day. And the first child you have will be mine. I’ll suck the milk from your breasts every morning, noon and night. You will be mine in every sense of the word. Like I said to you before, there is no escaping me. Ever.”

Light brown eyes with bursts of gold blink up at me. Where something like this should scare a sane woman, my sweet girl drapes her arms over my shoulders and kisses me, breaking away only to smile and nudge her nose against mine.

“Is that want you want?” I ask, searching those drops of honey clashing with bronze.

She moves my hand from around her waist to the soft swell of her stomach. “Mmm…More than anything. A f… a future with you. Them. Forever. No matter… what it takes. I w-want it. W-we burn together, Beasty.”

There. My heart. It fills with so many positive emotions it’s fit to burst. I nod at her, my sentiments mirroring hers. I do smirk, however, at my new nickname. “That’s right, Raven. We burn together.”

“She did it for you…”

Damon’s echoing words cause me to grin down at her, imagining what our little one would look like, and I pray it has her eyes. But he was wrong. She did it for us. All of us.

“So! How do we feel about this one?”

Raven grins cheekily, still glowing from her orgasm. The beast in me wants to thump on my chest with a fist in pride.

“We’ll have to talk it over with our other partners… but if you can draw up the paperwork, for each of the listings so far we can go over them properly,” I reply to Maxine, my arm tightening around my woman’s middle.

Maxine’s brown eyes bounce between Raven and me, and she smiles widely. “Perfect! We have just two more listings to see but I’ll have the office prepare the documents sent to you and Dr. Archer and little Jonas.”

I almost laugh that anyone would describe Jonas as ‘little,’ since he’s the tallest and bulkiest out of the three of us. But then again, Maxine has known Elena for over twenty years.

It's past five by the time we cross the bay over the Brooklyn Bridge and make it into… well, Brooklyn Heights in the landmark district. The first home she takes us to is a four-story townhome-like mansion with beige-colored stone and a yard large enough for Kronos to prance around. It’s quite beautiful and a plus, is the basement that was renovated to fit a gym, mirrored walls included.

The first floor is the kitchen, a study, the den, a living area. The second is another living area, four bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. The third has the primary bedroom, large, vast, and ostentatious, a study, and a library. The fourth floor has a private theater, a larger study I can see becoming Raven’s recording studio. The best part, is the fourth floor connects to the roof with a view of the skyline but also has a little greenhouse full of plants. Maxine goes down to answer yet another call, and I make sure Raven sucks me to oblivion in the little greenhouse.

When we meet Max downstairs, she’s grinning from ear to ear, a knowing look in her eye and a blush in her cheeks.

I’m almost certain this house is meant to be our home. But it seems to be set into stone when we walk out of the mansion and there, getting out of a black Escalade with a pink briefcase is Sabrina. She yelps when she spots us and runs toward us, her pink heels clacking along on the sidewalk.

“Raven! Oh my god! And you-“ her eyes widen when she sees me. “Oh my god, you’re Maverick Harrington!” She blushes, covering her mouth with a rose-gloved hand. “Is this who Jonas was so tight-lipped about?”

Raven nods shyly.

“Oh my god, you lucky slut!” She squeals into Raven’s ear. “Oh, are you moving to the area? Maxine it's so nice to see you!” Max grins at her, waving as she answers her phone again and Sabrina turns her attention back on us. “Oh, please have dinner with me. I have reservations at Maddox, but my clients just canceled! Please!” She begs a little, her hands in Raven’s, and when Raven’s eyes widen when she looks up at me… doe-eyed and large…

I relent. I look over at Maxine. “Where is the last listing?”

“Massapequa.”

Sabrina makes a face. “Oh darling, no. If you’re here for Julliard, which is why I’m assuming you’re looking to move here,” Siren and I both nod, “Oh Raven, I love this for you. I’m so proud of you, but Massapequa? You’d spend just two hours trying to get to the city alone. I promise you, here to Central Park is thirty-five minutes on a bad day.”

I like those odds.

A lot.

“That listing won’t be necessary,” I tell Maxine, and she nods at us, continuing her conversation on the phone. Raven, eyes still large and hopeful gaze up at me. “Yes, Siren, we can have dinner with your friend.”

“Oh my gosh he calls you Siren. Oh, I could just melt.” Sabrina places the back of her hand on her forehead and sighs dreamily. “Alright, let me put my things up, change my shoes, and – oh, Parker!”

A tall, lean but well-built man dressed in all black who’s been standing behind Sabrina for the past ten minutes crosses his arms over his chest and gives one curt nod.

“Don’t be rude, this is Raven and her uh, partner, Mr. Harrington.”

“Just Maverick.”

“Oh, of course, Maverick, they’ll be joining me for dinner. Looks like we’re headed back to the city after all.”

If he’s annoyed he makes no sign, just another nod. He turns away and strides to the front door of the second mansion down from the one we were shown.

Raven gasps excitedly and points, practically vibrating where she’s standing when she sees her friend only lives two doors down. Raven runs behind her and I go to grab our bags from the back of Maxine’s SUV, thank her for her time today, and say goodbye.

Just as she said, it takes us thirty minutes to get back to the city, the air now that it’s darker and crisp and even colder than before. We walk into Maddox, a lavish, upscale restaurant, and are seated immediately by the hostess.

Sabrina asks questions and I answer, her bodyguard, Parker, stands to the right with his back against the wall. He isn’t the only one. Seems a lot of people here need bodyguards, but they’re treated as furniture, almost camouflaged with the wall of the place. He only nods or shakes his head when Sabrina asks him something.

“Were you going to stay in the city? I saw you had luggage.”

“No,” I reply. “We were going to go to Eden afterward.”

She pales, her fork stopping midway to her mouth before making its journey again.

“That’s your fiancé’s club isn’t it?”

She swallows whatever she’s chewing, and she nods, placing a practiced smile on her face. “Yes, it is.”

“Could you take us? Seeing as you probably know the place and marrying the owner.”

“I don’t have access.” She laughs nervously, “Maksim doesn’t want me going there,” taking a sip of her water from the crystal glass. Then changes the subject to what I teach, and when I begin at Columbia, still that smile on her face.

Huh.

________

We don’t have time to stop at Eden that evening, Sabrina having kept us entertained with a small tour in Brooklyn Heights when we get back to her mansion. We board our flight, touching down in Boston just after one in the morning. By the time we get home, it’s just after two. Tired, we open the door to find Damon and Jonas watching a movie in the living area, waiting for us with Kronos at their feet, Lucifer either asleep elsewhere or finding something else to destroy.

We take off our coats and hang them before joining them.

“Hey baby,” Jonas grins, our girl going to him for kisses, then up to Damon to do the same, sitting in his lap, throwing her arms around him.

“Hello, Little Bird. You’ve been unbearably missed today.” He replies, kissing her cheeks and then her lips.

“Missed you.”

Jonas gets from where he’s sitting and sits between Damon’s thighs, pulling off her boots and then pushing the hem of her skirt up, groaning when he sees she’s bare under the skirt. “You’ve been like this all day, baby?”

“Yes,” she moans, Damon grabbing her thighs and spreading them wide, the skirt bunching around her middle. God, what a pretty little fat pussy.

Jonas wastes no time kissing her swelling clit, praising her for being our dirty girl. It’s when his fingers plunge into her that he turns to look at me. “What the fuck is that?”

I grin. “A menstrual cup.”

He looks at Raven. “Did you start your period baby? Need me to make it feel better?”

She giggles, shaking her head no.

“Then why is this in her?” I watch as his fingers thrust deeper into her dark pink cunt.

Raven gasps, the cup plopping out of her, landing on the ground, and the view of my cum on the ground, dribbling from the cup and flowing from her cunt makes me deliriously satisfied. I make eye contact with Damon. Silver flames dance in his eyes and he smirks.

“You’re getting her used to it?”

I nod.

“Deranged beast.” Damon groans.

He’s one to talk. I tip my fingers to my lips. “Proactive.” I defend, using Jonas’ favorite word to describe the demented mastermind.

“Are you sore, baby? Did your professor fuck you all over Manhattan?” Jonas asks, pushing his fingers palm up back in her what I already know is her tight channel.

“Yeah,” she pouts, making big doe eyes at him then looks at me. “Kiss it better?”

I stand from where I am, removing my suit jacket, carefully placing it on the arm of the oversized microfiber sofa, removing my tie, unbutton my shirt, and then my trousers, standing in nothing but my socks and boxer briefs. “I’ll do more than that, sweet girl. I have to fill you back up again.” I kneel beside Jonas, who’s still finger fucking her dark pink cunt. “You have your meeting tomorrow in Maryland. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah. But this is more important than sleep.”

That it is. I grunt at him, shove my finger along with his into her slick entrance, and dive into my midnight snack, remember how beautiful she looked this morning coming all over my tongue in that house Maxine showed us, biting her hand to keep from screaming. I’ll never tire of making her come.

Jonas spreads his fingers wide but I slip mine out to play with her asshole and Damon does me the favor of spreading her thighs more so we can get better access.

“Might be an all-nighter,” I say between licks, jackhammering my tongue against that suede-like bud, sucking her into my mouth, spanking her inner thighs when she bucks, accepting my finger into her pink asshole. Her hands go to my hair, and she pulls, her little moans turning into breathy gasps that get me ready to come for her again.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, “I’m okay with that. Let me taste her. I’ve missed her all day. You aren’t allowed to do that again, by the way. It was supposed to be a surprise. But just don’t take her from me. I don’t like not having her home.”

I switch with him, my fingers working in tandem with his to stretch her. I stare at the way his tongue licks from her entrance to her clit, over and over, trying to work his tongue into her pussy while his nose strums her clit. “So fucking good.”

“Pup,” Damon says, “you were fine. She was fine.”

“Safe.” Raven breathes and pride races through me.

“That’s right, Little Bird, you were safe with the grumpy professor.” He reassures, licking her neck, murmuring more words as she clenches around us.

Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take us more than thirty minutes to have us all coming and filling her up. Seems they missed her a little too much.

We fall asleep in the downstairs bedroom, too exhausted to make it upstairs. She sleeps between me and Jonas, Damon cuddled up behind him, his hand on her hip. After she falls asleep, I take just a few more moments of reminiscing the day, clutching her to me, listening to the wind begin to howl and watching the snow accumulate once more in the late January night.

Safe.

________

But it takes less than twenty hours before it’s made known to us… that she was right. Simon Hoover wasn’t the last. Because we all get home not even twenty minutes late… and she’s gone.

And we all lose our fucking minds.

Chapter Thirty-One

Shadow.

I was a good man once.

Probably still am. I had hopes, dreams, and desires... I mean, I had endless money at my disposal and when I turned eighteen, I was going to have even more money at my fingertips. I was ready to go to college, travel a bit, and see the world without parental supervision.

The dream ended the day I turned eighteen and I found all of my acceptance letters in the trash. Except one.

"Rayne-Moore University Welcomes You!"

Blah-blah-fucking-blah.

I took the letter straight to my father's office and threw it down on his desk. "What the fuck is this?"

He turned in his chair, taking off his glasses, peering down at the page, then back up to me. "Congratulations, son. Seems you've been accepted to the most prestigious university in the northeast."

"What about Hartford? Yale?"

"That's not in the works for you. This is. You'll follow in my footsteps, your grandfather's footsteps – his father before him. This is our legacy."

"I know all about your legacy. I don't want it to be mine. I didn't ask for this."

"Nobody asks for this. It's handed down. Generation after generation. It's a privilege and an honor. It's how we work. How we merge and grow."

I shake my head. "No."

"You have no other options."

"I can still-"

"You can't. I've already let the other universities know you won't be attending. Instead, you'll be touring Rayne-Moore's campus come spring. Set in stone, son. Now, sit down and I'll tell you why it's such a privilege, why it's an honor, and how you'll be my legacy."

My knee bounced as he spoke. His voice never rising in pitch or tone. Robotic.

"I don't want this." I repeated when he was done.

He leans back in his chair, leather. Expensive. Polished. Looking like the very epitome of wealth. "Oh son, everyone wants this. We are an amalgamation of everything one should fear. Power, wealth-"

I stand up, interrupting him. "It's not what I want."

"Then leave. And you'll be penniless. You go out in that world without this opportunity, and you'll live like they do. Slaving away at a nine-to-five and barely making it. Not even thriving, son. Barely surviving at a job you hate. You may have gotten into those schools but without my money, the money we've accumulated from mergers and negotiations... you'll have no tuition."

He's dead serious.

"You're an asshole." I spit.

"No, son. I'm honest."

Hands on my hips I turn, then scrub my hands down my face. "So I have to kill someone?"

"It's a small price to pay to have the world at your feet. You think any of this would have been possible without your forefather’s sacrifices?"

I shake my head again, walking out of his office and up to my room and mourn my future.

I blink away the memory, keeping my eyes on the colonial home in front of me, watching as Raven kisses Damon and Maverick goodbye like she always does. Every fucking morning I have to watch her practically mouth fuck them before they leave. Big stupid grins on their faces as they step out of the door. Christ. They hardly ever close the blinds.

And Jonas?

He's the worst.

But he doesn't leave early with her other men today which I was expecting.

Coincidentally, I overheard a conversation his father was having with mine about meeting NFL scouts. It wasn't his fault they lost the game. He had been on the other side of the field, waiting for River to throw him the ball. He never did. It was a selfish play, and stupid, costing them the State Championship by one fucking point.

I was rooting for them, you know? I really was. I mean, that was my team at one point.

But again, he's the one with the girl and I'm not. He's the one chasing his dreams and I'm not. No, instead I'm fucking watching them fuck like rabbits on their breakfast table, and goddamn, I always knew it, but Raven has the most perfect pair of teardrop tits I've ever seen. Watching them bounce and dip to meet his tongue has me heating up.

I should look away. I should not shove my cold hand into my pants and jerk myself until I come with them. I shouldn't. But I do, wishing I could hear her fall apart for him. Imagining it's me she's clenching around.

I'm a fucking peeping Tom now. That’s what I’ve been reduced to. A pervert hiding in the trees watching through binoculars, waiting for the perfect chance. There's a slab of meat in my backpack for that big fucking dog of theirs. I've thought of everything. Including going old-school and using chloroform and a rag, so I don't hurt her.

It's the last thing I want to do again.

Then again, I didn't partake last time.

I only watched.

I was a witness.

I should have stopped it, but when Tyler had suggested it, and it became an entire group thing due to Thadd and Simon overhearing him, it was supposed to be easy. Four against one. Jacob as the lookout, me as the witness, but then Ashleigh... fuck I always hated her. She really thought it would bring her and Thadd closer, but it tore them apart once she came back. Raven did them a favor though. One was bound to kill the other sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.

It takes another hour, but Jonas finally leaves Raven for the day in a sleek black car, and she heads upstairs, opening the French balcony doors. For a moment, I watch with bated breath as she sits on a chair and out comes her cello.

She's everything I've ever wanted. Everything I've ever looked for in a woman, especially before. The women I dated could never hold a candle to Raven Olivia Monroe. Her laugh, her wit, her stubbornness, her drives, her dreams... she was perfect – is – perfect.

When the Prescott's got her during negotiations I was so upset. So fucking upset. Still, not as upset as Tyler. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know why I agreed. I should have stopped it. I had so many chances to make it right.

I didn’t want this.

She places her fingers on the strings, back straight, and lifts her bow and there... I almost cry as the beginning notes to something I've only heard being streamed from Jonas' Instagram reels playing. I'm getting a live performance and my heart cracks open. The melody is so raw, so fucking tragic, so gut-wrenching but I can hear it now with her, the accompanying instruments. It's all in her head, but she's going for it, building to a crescendo, loud and unapologetic.

A tear slips free, and I wipe it away quickly.

I don't have much time. Our jet leaves in a few hours.

I swear she spots me, like she did at Simon's funeral where I swear she was shouting, "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Well, here I come, Raven.

Trust me, it's better this way.

I only hope she’ll forgive me when she finds out everything. I don’t know what Prescott has planned for her. But it has to be me. Arlo is gone, and his henchmen, his lackeys are even worse.

The big dog of hers barks from downstairs, and she’s quick to stop playing, calling out to him, running down to him and I watch as she puts on her coat and boots.

Well, I guess it’s now or never.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jonas.

“Ready?” Maverick asks, backing out of the parking spot from the airport.

“Fuck yes, just get me home to our girl, please.” I reply, fastening my seatbelt then fixing it so it doesn’t rub against my neck or choke me.

Damon chuckles from beside Maverick. “We’ll be there soon. It’s still early and there’s no traffic.”

I haven’t talked to her all day. Even with our quickie this morning, it was so hard to go. The coaches and scouts for the New York NFL team I met with were promising great things. Yes, there would be a bit of traveling but from February to mid-July I would be pretty free. I would also be able to have my girl (and guy) and Maverick come with me. I told them we are a unit. I’m sure one of the two wouldn’t mind staying behind with Mav since he’ll be teaching at Columbia come Fall. Plus, as a Texan, the man almost bleeds football. When I asked what team he rooted for he just grinned and said whatever team I play for will be his favorite. Which made me squirm inside.

So I grunted at him, Maverick-style.

We signed on the mansion in Brooklyn Heights, Mav almost fainting when he saw the fifteen million dollar price tag, but we assured him it was no big deal, and it would be his house as much as ours, but he offered to put in whatever his old house sold for to contribute to the price and we agreed. Whatever makes him feel more at ease. I mean, I know what it’s like to think you have a home and family and then it’s taken away from you out of nowhere. Even without this money, his name will be on the deed. But if this is what he needs to have peace of mind, then so be it.

Damon put our house up for sale, unfortunately not with Maxine as our realtor, and I didn’t let him choose any members of the Syndicate that were listed as realtors in the area. The last thing those fuckers deserve is our money.

“So, it turns out none of the pictures found at the Hoover mansion were of any women that were reported missing in the area.” He tells us, merging onto the highway that takes us straight home. “But your mother was right. They found more paperwork with the Whitmore’s the more they dug deeper. There’s a new ongoing investigation.”

I tap my fingers along my knee, something not settling well with me.

“The good thing is there is nothing mentioning the Andersons.”

I look up at him in the rearview mirror and roll my eyes. “The Whitmore’s, Hoovers, Winters’, Mikaelson’s, etcetera, they’re all medium to low on the money pole. Of course the Andersons aren’t touching them.”

“The Winters’? That’s Sabrina’s family name isn’t it?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’m sure they’d be up higher if her brother hadn’t drowned when he was twelve and they could’ve negotiated with someone and arranged a marriage. They’re divorce lawyers.”

“I thought you couldn’t divorce in the Syndicate.”

I shake my head. “You can’t. Like John, Raven’s stepdad, you can only remarry if your spouse dies.”

“How did Monroe’s wife die?” He asks.

“Officially? Suicide,” I murmur and my gaze flicks back out to the window as we start crossing the bridge to get to Kingston. “Unofficially, she was found at the bottom of the stairs. Having been pushed when she tried to leave them in the middle of the night. Mom hears all the gossip from the maids. That’s why she gets along with them so well.”

Mav makes a face, and Damon turns in his seat to face me. “Aren’t Sabrina’s parents divorced?”

“Yeah, but that was a special case. I don’t know what all happened after Charlie died, but because he no longer had a legacy, Sabrina being a girl and all, there was nothing really tying them together anymore. Now, if Sabrina has a son, he automatically gets grandfathered into the Syndicate as a legacy due to blood relations… even if they’re dirt poor. And that’s few and far between. It’s the only time you’ll see someone without money at Rayne-Moore and again, they’re low on the totem pole. They don’t get to marry anyone of high class unless they miraculously begin to make millions of dollars while they’re there. But they do become Syndicate henchmen.”

“Huh.”

“So many rules,” Damon grumbles with a lifted brow, turning back in his seat to face forward. He has no idea.

________

It’s dead silence when I open the front door.

“Honey, we’re home!” I call out, but again, there’s no flow of cello music stopping. No feet running from upstairs to get to me and it’s fucking cold in the house. Freezing.

“Siren!” Mav calls out.

Kronos barks from the back yard but it sounds… it sounds weak. My stomach swoops when he whines, pawing at the ground.

“Baby?” I make my way from the front door to the back and see the back door wide open. I can hear the guys walking behind me and when I look outside, my heart stops. Kronos is walking in circles, sniffing the yard and growling.

“Amourette!” Damon cries but Kronos keeps whining.

I run upstairs, seeing the balcony doors open and scream for her again.

Nothing.

“Jonas!” Maverick yells for me from downstairs.

“What?” I run back downstairs, my heart racing.

“She’s not here! The app! She’s…”

I look over at Damon, eyes wild.

“Where is she?”

He shrugs. “Her last known location was over the Atlantic.”

I can’t. “Check the fucking cameras. Someone took her. She wouldn’t leave us.”

“On it,” Mav says nodding and heading to the study.

My palms are sweating, stomach cramping. “I shouldn’t have gone. I knew going to meet those coaches was a bad idea.”

Damon tries to shush me, but I move away from his touch, rejecting it. “Not now. I can’t right now.” I tell him, hoping he understands this isn’t about him.

“This wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was! We all knew someone was watching!”

“We thought it was Arlo. Remember?”

My stomach tightens and I groan. Playing football in front of thousands, whatever. My mom telling me I have to find the ledger and burn it, sure. But Raven being taken? I can’t stand it. They could be doing anything to her. Anything. “Why isn’t the chip working?” I ask roughly.

Mav stares at the computer screen and Damon looks down at his phone. “It is. It just lost signal. It happens crossing over the ocean.”

“Like it’s roaming?” I ask, feeling a bit better knowing I’ll be able to pinpoint her location.

“Exactly like that.”

“Got it. It doesn’t show much. But the person that came through was swift. All black. Even the boots. Distracted Kronos with meat.”

“What time?”

Maverick sighs. “Forty minutes after you left.”

“Forty minutes.” I rasp, repeating him. “Forty fucking minutes. I was gone for three hours.”

“We were gone, Jonas. We.” Maverick reminds me.

“Teach me how to use your gun,” I demand.

He doesn’t question me. He just stands and nods, and we go downstairs to the basement gym, Damon follows, but his eyes are glued to his phone, typing away. Mav opens the safe we have down there and pulls out guns and ammo. I should be questioning it, second-guessing myself. I’ve never held a gun before, but as soon as he places it in my hand, the weight of it feels right and all I can think about is gunning anyone and everyone responsible.

I want blood.

Nobody touches my girl.

“There’s a shooting range in town. Let’s go until she pops up again. You may not have a killer aim, but let’s get you as close as we can.”

We pack up everything we can think of, including clothes for our girl. I call my mom on the way to the shooting range, telling her what happened and she’s quick to send the jet to us from Maine.

________

We’ve been shooting for two hours straight, and I’ve finally gotten the hang of it, getting as close to the target as I possibly can. I don’t let my mind wander to anything other than this. Damon is too, shooting closer and closer to the red dot when he gets an alert on his phone.

“She’s showing again. She’s in… they’re over land now, but I think they’re headed to Wales.”

I check my phone, seeing a notification from my mom stating the family jet will be landing in thirty. “They’re all gonna fucking die, Damon.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s true. I’m sure as fuck not leaving any survivors and if I’m scaring him right now, he makes no sign of it.

But something flashes in his gravestone eyes in understanding. “Agreed.”

We don’t stop by the house to grab anything, just head straight to the airport where my father’s jet is waiting for us.

I don’t eat.

I don’t sleep.

I just pace about the luxurious cabin, planning absolute fucking mayhem on the fuckers that took my girl.

“Jonas. If you don’t sleep, you’re not gonna be able to think straight until we get to her.”

“We wasted time going to the range,” I reply to Maverick.

He shakes his head, pushing his glasses up. “We would’ve had to wait for the jet anyhow and with the way it was snowing when we left…”

I know what he’s thinking. Any minute later they would’ve said we couldn’t fly out. The gun tucked into the waistband of my jeans on my back feels good and cool against my fevered skin.

“We have no idea what’s waiting for us.” Damon interrupts my thinking.

But that doesn’t matter.

I’ll fuck every single one of them up.

“We’re going in blind.”

Maverick shrugs, “A lot of the time, that’s how it was in the FBI. Sometimes SWAT didn’t show up on time, sometimes there weren’t enough cops to call for backup, and it was just you and your partner, or your team going in. I’ve been shot at, tasered, stabbed, and even had cocaine blown in my face as a distraction. It’s Murphy’s law. Anything that can go wrong, will. The good thing is, we have her location,” his eyes tear away from mine to Damon’s who’s staring down at his phone, nods. “Which is more than nothing."

“How are you so fucking calm?”

“Because I have to be. I was trained to be. Which is why I’m telling you to sleep. If you overthink and over-worry, you could shoot… the wrong person if you’re too riddled with anxiety or too exhausted. Exhaustion is a killer. Try to sleep. We’ll wake you when we land and if we find anything out while you’re asleep, we’ll update you when you wake up.”

I sit in one of the pods, and Damon throws a blanket and a pillow at me, his face locked on the screen of his laptop.

I close my eyes, itchy and dry from exhaustion, replaying the morning I had with my girl. It was perfect. It was so fucking perfect. How? Why? Who?

These questions swirl in my mind as I finally fall into a fitful sleep.

________

Damon shakes me awake when we’re landing and Maverick was right; I needed the sleep. A black Rolls Royce picks us up from the runway and we’re off, and they catch me up. I pull out my phone, freaking the fuck out when there’s only two dots on my screen – Mav’s and Damon’s. They’ve hurt her taking that thing out. Who knows what else they’ve done to her. I can’t about it – but I do let it fuel me.

“It’s okay, Jonas. I chipped her a second time. I had a feeling-“

“You had a feeling, and you didn’t tell me?”

Damon sighs heavily. “There’s no way you really thought Simon was the last of this.”

He’s right, I didn’t.

I grunt, looking out to the window, watching the fat, heavy snowflakes billowing by. I’m so fucking sick of the goddamn snow. I want rainy days with my girl. I want to have her in my lap reading while I watch TV. I want to swim naked in a pond while the raindrops make the water ripple against her skin and… I want to watch her dancing in my jersey while pretending to throw down a football. I want to kiss my jersey number she has tatted on her ribcage and feel the raised ink under my fingertips. I want to go trick-or-treating with her because I didn’t get to as a kid. I want to make every memory with her I can. I want to move out of Massachusetts with her and build a life. Marriage. Kids. All of it. Doesn’t matter which comes first.

“Our girl didn’t either,” Maverick admits. “I think she was expecting this.”

That makes my stomach clench. Why didn’t she tell me that? I hope she can see her wrist. Whatever they’re doing to her… I need her to know we’re coming for her. “Where the fuck are we?”

“According to GPS, we’re twelve minutes away from our first stop,” Damon says, his tone low and even.

I don’t want it low and even. I want him to be… something. Anything but so goddamn cool, calm and collected. Am I the only one feeling crazy?

“Where are we stopping?”

“There’s a military base. I’ve already spoken to a friend of mine who’s a Sergeant there. Said he could get us a few things we might need.”

“Like what?”

“Bulletproof vests for one. We don’t know who we’re dealing with. If we go, we have to come back as one unit.”

His friend? Hands us a duffel bag full of everything from the vests to blades and rations at a gate. We don’t even go inside the gate. We all remove our gloves, coats and shirts, shove the vests on and redress. But it takes us an hour to get to her…

The mansion is practically a fucking fortress. Guards walk with large German Shepherds pacing around. There’s an (at least) eight-foot-tall brick fence surrounding the entire place. And Raven’s little dot on Damon’s phone? It says she’s stark in the fucking middle of the place.

“There’s no way they have her in the middle of the place like fucking bait. They don’t want us. They want her,” I growl.

“They'd take her somewhere not easily accessible.”

We stay quiet.

“Wine cellar.” I think out loud. “How the fuck are we supposed to do this?” I ask, swallowing thickly.

“How did they do it?” Maverick asks but I’m sure it’s rhetorical.

I think for a moment. “By watching and waiting for a moment of weakness.”

He nods.

“Alright,” I jut my chin to the mansion, “let’s strategize and get our girl.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Raven.

My breaths are shallow and ragged as panic rises through me along with bile. I swallow it down. My wrists are tied, not behind my back but to the sides of the bed I’m on. I shimmy, trying to pull my wrist through but whatever I’m tied up with tears at the skin. I stop tugging and start squirming, my ankles getting pulled as well and let out a silent scream.

The back of my neck is killing me, and I know… they’ve cut it out of me. But how did they know?

It’s not dark. That’s my only saving grace. But a single bulb dangles from the ceiling in the center of the room. I’m in a hospital gown. Concrete walls. A… steel toilet and a shower beside it in the corner. Oh god. I lean as far as I can to the side and release the bile in a weak cough then spit the remainder onto the concrete floor.

I’m back at Lorne Wood.

I’m in solitary.

But why?!

I’ve been good. I was a good girl.

Images of Damon, Maverick, and Jonas flit through my brain… but I can’t check my wrist. My wrist is bound at my side.

Have I been here this whole time? Was it all a dream? I can’t… remember.

Someone please! The words don’t come. They’re there, balancing on the tip of my tongue, begging to be said… but then they’re gone.

I try to calm my breathing. I’m okay… I… I’ve done this before. I survived before. I was thriving… wasn’t I?

“Raven, baby…”

I look around the room as though Jonas is talking in my ear.

I’m alone.

No!

The door opens and someone… someone in scrubs comes up to me but they’re wearing a face mask as though I’m diseased. I flinch when their fingers feel cool against my hot skin.

Something pokes my arm and then…

I fly…

________

I dream of them.

I think.

Damon’s kisses, Maverick’s praise, Jonas calling me baby.

I blink awake. Not startled. Not like before. This feels like I’ve woken up from a dream on my own. I’m sluggish but it’s… it’s not like before.

I turn my head to try to get a better view of my surroundings other than the concrete walls and the toilet. The ground is also cemented but it’s… new. Squinting my eyes I try to see… more. Past the fog in my brain and the black that dots the edges of my vision. Stairs.

Now my breathing kicks up.

Something I can see – my toes.

Something I can feel – the leather straps on my wrists and ankles.

Something I can hear – I strain my ears, trying to hear anything but it’s obsolete, deafening silence. Okay. Nothing there. That’s okay.

Something I can smell – myself. Ugh. Okay, I won’t think about that. This isn’t like before. I’m not at Lorne Wood and I’m not in that goddamn locker. That was a hallucination. This is real.

I am real.

Something I can taste – my bile from earlier.

Okay, Raven. Think. Think. How did I get here? What was my last memory?

Walking back into the house. I was… letting Kronos back in. There was growling and grunting. And then… darkness.

So where am I?

It’s freezing in here. My fingertips are numb, and I can’t feel my toes. The flimsy mattress I’m on doesn’t offer my spine much comfort from the steel underneath it.

There’s a creaking on the stairs and then a slam of a door that makes me flinch. One… two… seventeen steps. The stairs have seventeen steps.

A large man comes through my blurry vision. I tense when I can smell him. Loud hints of patchouli, cedar wood, and citrus. It’s a delicious smell. A smell I’ve smelled for months dancing at Inferno. There’s a squeak as he sits beside me.

“Oh, Raven, good you’re awake. Or should I say, Chloe.” He says my dancing alias with disgust as he looms over me, twin blue icicles piercing straight through me. He holds something out and it lands on my chest. The familiar black and gold trim of my moth mask glitters in the faint light, the eye holes ruined, staring back at me in shame, judging me.

This isn’t real. I shake my head. But it is. It is real. I can’t afford to hide in the recesses of my mind anymore. I have to push through. I have to stay here. I have to-

“I should have known. All those months of you sitting in my lap, leaning into the conversations, clinging to me… it was smart, Raven. Very smart. Truly I thought you were just the worst dancer ever.” He chuckles. “I knew you would have been great for my Tyler that’s why I negotiated with John for you. From the moment I saw you in that little red string bikini and you flipped your brother off…  I wanted you for myself, at first. Granted, I wanted you once all of you developed. I’m not attracted to children. Plus, the age difference..." I can feel his breath so close to my lips. “I knew you were going to be sensational… capable of great, beautiful things when I saw but a fraction of your spitfire. Although, murder wasn’t one of the things when I imagined you for myself or my son.”

Chills. Chills everywhere send shivers running through every inch of my fiber. I tremble, uncontrollably, breathing out to see little puffs of fog. It’s so fucking cold.

“You know, Raven… Chase… his death I could have forgiven. I would have welcomed you with open arms. Riordan… well, the boy had been set up for failure since birth. But my son… my only, as much as the twink liked getting his asshole reamed, he was still my son. Still able to produce an heir… a legacy. Riordan as well but it’s better when the blood comes directly from your line.” He lifts a finger, delicately tracing the scar on my temple, over my cheekbone down to my chin, and up to my bottom lip, pressing down on it harshly as though he’s testing it out for himself. “A beautiful creature… so… broken.”

I blink back the tears that are burning behind my lids. He’s wrong. I’m not broken.

“So you turned seventeen I made the proper arrangements and purchased you for my son. Your mother was a bit hesitant, of course. Pleading with me to at least let you graduate from Rayne-Moore.” He sighs. “Which was fine and well. An educated woman can be intriguing at times. So I agreed. I mean, what good is a dinner party without a little banter and debating, eh? Imagine my surprise when my son tells me you’ve been applying to other schools. Music schools. Did you know I was the one who made sure Rayne-Moore offered a greater program so you wouldn’t be tempted to leave?”

I shake my head.

“Hmm. I thought so. As soon as the contract between your parents and I was signed, I poured so much money as an anonymous donor so that you would love it there… But then you had that little incident and you became a defective mute."

I inwardly cringe at the word defective. His callousness towards my ‘little incident’ makes my blood boil. I struggle in my binds, needing to claw his eyes out.

I’m going to kill this motherfucker.

“Shh… Raven,” he soothes but all it does is make me feel sicker. “That too, I could have bargained with, used you as a sort of prop. The agreement was only made to further tie the Prescott’s and the Monroe’s. After all. It was your voice that was gone, your pussy and your womb still worked. I mean, the actual word they used to describe you was, ‘intact.’ A virgin. And you being tycoon money on your mother’s side well, that was just a bonus… but Tyler said no. He didn't want a mute, brain-dead wife. So I called it off. Made negotiations across the pond. Cost your parents a pretty little penny but all was well. Until photos of my son were blasted to the media… See, Butterfly,”

I hold in my flinch when his hand goes to my hair, gingerly petting me as though I’m the most fragile thing in the world.

If I could, I would projectile vomit in his face.

“I already knew of my son’s tendencies. But for the world to see a Prescott, my son, this large, six-foot-four, two hundred and fifty-pound quarterback bent over with his ass getting rutted into and crying out for more like a cock-throating slut… you’d understand why it turned into such a scandal. Then the royals we had negotiated with pulled out of their contract which in turn cost me a pretty little penny. Do you see where I’m going with this? I’m not the villain in your story, not really, and yet… I’m the one that’s lost the most.” He says those last words slowly as if softly singing them, his hand stops petting me, fingers curling to pull, and my scalp prickles from the burn. I silently yelp. “What I don’t understand, is how it came to be."

He chuckles and resumes petting me, his fingers stopping at the tangles only to start over from my roots, over and over again. “I will say, Butterfly, once I had Arlo following you, and he saw you signing to the Anderson boy, I had high hopes. But to find out you were Chloe?” the chuckle in his throat is low and I can hear it in his chest. “To find out you were my butterfly perched on my knee, getting all the details, killing us off one by one with no leads just broken bones and flesh wounds? Do you know what I saw?”

He stays quiet, waiting for my answer.

I shake my head.

“A queen. Finally, a woman so clever, she could be a legacy herself. My late wife, Elise, didn’t have the heart for it, didn’t have the heart for a lot of things- which is why we only had Tyler. I mean, Ashleigh Whitmore was there the night of your incident, but she didn’t go through with it all. She didn’t deliver a final blow. But you? Six bodies in a matter of weeks. Chase. Tyler. Thadd. Ashleigh. Simon. Thaddeus I…” He trails off, his eyes light with a childlike wonder like he’s in awe of me and that somehow makes him look ten years younger. Fuck me, he’d be beautiful if he wasn’t so fucking deranged.

He's blaming me for Dean Whitmore’s death, but I don’t care. I’ll take it. I’ll take it if it means Damon is safe.

He kisses the scar on my temple. I wish I could say that his breath is terrible, that he stinks, that he’s ugly. But it doesn’t, he doesn’t and he’s not. “You’ll have to tell me how you arranged for that to happen, Butterfly. The campus cameras show you were in class at the time of my old friend’s death. If I’m honest, I don’t think I want to know. I like a woman with a little mystery. It makes her that much more alluring; wouldn’t you agree?”

I don’t answer, just watch him with narrowed eyes I hope resembles a glare.

He pauses, reaching into his sports coat to the inside pocket. “One beautiful thing I did get to keep from my contract with the royals was a merger with just one company.” He pulls out a vial and a syringe. “A pharmaceutical research company.”

He stretches his arm up, shaking it into the light, the liquid tinted with yellow, and plunges the shaft of the needle into the rubber part of the vial. “This is a synthetic paralyzer and anesthetic. Neurosurgeons use this while conducting craniotomies when they need the patient awake. Isn’t that fascinating?”

I’m filled with foul dread, making bile rise to my throat once more as he injects into my arm. Only to pull out a second vial as my limbs grow heavier by the minute.

“And this is injectable psilocybin with a side of methamphetamine. I heard you suffer from hallucinations – from your mother no less… and unable to move from the anesthetic but unable to sleep from the methamphetamine… let’s just say you’re patient zero.” He plunges the needle into my arm again with the second drug and I spit at him.

“I…” His eyes flare with excitement at the sound of my voice. “Will kill you.”

He grins, the fucking psychopath and kisses my forehead. “Of that, I have no doubt you will, Butterfly. Until then… let’s have some fun, shall we?” He flicks off the light, and it swings, glowing red, his features turn demonic as he makes it up the stairs and all my nightmares come to life.

________

The light flickers between red and white above me, gently swaying and the shadows in the corners of the already dark room I’m in, move with it.

“Stars shining bright above you…”

He steps out of the corner of the room, dark boots with mud on the sides, dark jeans, black zip-up pullover, the hood is up. As he steps carefully closer, spindly arms drag across the ground, fog like, and I see he has no face. Not even the whites of his eyes are visible.

I kick my legs but it’s futile. I can’t even turn my head away from the grotesque form encroaching on me.

I’m paralyzed. A prisoner in my own body. 

The hood comes down and the mask comes off.

Autumn eyes I’ve lost myself in distort and melt, pouring out of his eyeballs like hot wax down his cheekbones.

Not real. I blink rapidly but Jonas’ features morph and now I’m looking at Maverick. My devil. And that’s what he morphs into – a demon come to torture me.

Bile once again rises in my throat, and I swallow it down, so I don’t choke on it.

Please!

My moth mask sits heavy like a boulder on my abdomen, sinking into me. I can feel it coming alive and burrowing into me.

Not real, not real.

It squirms.

“Tongueless… all tied up and nowhere to go.” He reaches out, his touch feather light on my skin but it feels wrong. “Worthless little thing aren’t you?”

“Amourette!” Damon’s voice is loud and rings in my ears from the far corner of the room, fading in and out with every flickering sway of that fucking light bulb. He runs at me and I swear, I swear he crashes into me, the bed shakes or maybe it’s me. Damon looms over me and my heart sails through the concrete ceiling. “I suppose I always knew you were weak. Years of therapy wasted. As useless as a flightless bird.”

No! I blink, tears escaping and running down the corners of my eyes and into my hair. This isn’t real.

I close my eyes, my breathing erratic. It’s freezing but I’m hot all over. If I close my eyes, I can’t see them.

“Look at me, baby.”

No.

“C’monnnnnn Raven.” He growls low and dark. “Look at me… look at me, baby… I said LOOK. AT. ME!”

My eyes snap open and Jonas climbs onto the bed I’m strapped to, straddling me. A weightless ghost. But that moth is still fluttering inside of me. “Look who came to visit.”

They grow out of the sides of his neck. Chase. Riordan. Blue eyes now grey like ash. They move around like serpents, and I whimper, doing my best to get away but I can’t. I let out a sob and shut my eyes tight.

Not real.

I keep my eyes closed. I piss myself. I ignore the taunts. I sing to myself to drown out their voices until it’s quiet.

Then I make the mistake of opening my eyes and it starts all over again.

My sweet Kronos is a hellhound. Lucifer is a giant skeletal cat with fleshy bat wings. Maverick is a demon, Damon’s just watching me, eyes glowing like silver flames and Jonas has no eyes. The twins float and circle above me. The light, the fucking light simply sways, casting more imaginary shadows that were once trapped in my mind. 

I don’t know how long it takes. Hours. Days. I’m starving. I’m wet, itchy and smell of my urine, there’s no Lex this time to find me. Even if Shadow showed up, this one only watches from the corner, still as can be.

Dirty boots. Hands in his pockets. He's the only thing that doesn’t shift or change into something or someone else.

I drift, finally, shivering asleep, twitching. My hair itches. My skin burns, my brain feels like it’s on fire but I’m so very, very cold. I can’t feel my toes.

And then it’s warm again…

When my eyes shut for good to give me a moment’s peace… I dream of them.

The real them.

“We’re coming, baby…”

“I love you, Amourette…”

“We’ll burn them down for you, Siren. Nobody will survive.” Retreating whispers that fill me with hope as I drift drift drift…

And a melody begins to form. Soft, at first, in adagio, a cello. Low and forewarning. The tempo accelerates with the accompaniment of violins… a piano causes goosebumps to break on my skin and a clash of cymbals.

My nipples peak from the cold, rubbing against the material of the hospital gown. I shiver as I dream of bathing in Stephen’s warm blood wearing my mask and nothing but the mask that he thinks is a butterfly.

I can be good.

I’ll be so good.

“Raven baby…”

I don’t dare open my eyes.

“We’re coming, angel.”

Beautiful lies.

“Gorgeous little bird.”

Tears well into my eyes and seep out, warm against my face.

________

There’s a tap, tap, tapping against my cheek.

My eyes flutter open.

Blurry blue eyes. Blonde hair.

I don’t allow myself to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

“You made a mess of yourself. Come, let’s get you clean. And before you try to run, there are heavily armed guards standing at every exit and entrance. They’re told to shoot on sight if you try to run. Now, I’ve unstrapped you. Sit up.”

I get immediate vertigo sitting up and lean over, the last remaining bile landing on Stephen’s shoes. I look at my wrist.

Real.

I really puked on his Armani’s.

Good.

He helps me stand on weak wobbly legs, my mask falling to the ground, just an inch away from my puddle of vomit, with not even one trace of disgust on his face and leads me to a wall. I lean into him, hating myself for being so dependent on him, his warmth. He looks so fucking pleased with himself. Utterly satisfied to have me dependent on him.

He removes my scrub gown, and I’m completely bare for him. The thought alone makes me recoil but Stephen holds me tighter, putting his hands against my flesh and squeezes roughly, the tips of his nails scratching. I try to push him off but I’m too weak.

I don’t allow myself to cry.

The water comes boiling on my skin and I welcome the burn, as I watch him lean, the water wetting his button-up. He didn’t bother to undress. He doesn’t care that he’s soaked, he merely cares about getting me clean. To be the shiny, pretty little dolly he remembers me as. A wash rag of soap. Shampoo. Conditioner. My bile washes off his Armani’s, sliding down like yellow slime around my feet and down the drain. He dries me. Carefully. Then it’s a new hospital gown.

I can hear the vials in his breast pocket clink together with every move he makes, and my skin slickens with nervous sweat.

I shiver, the room colder with my hair wet.

He uncaps and then hands me a tiny bottle of water. I chug it down.

“Your men are circling my property.” He says once I’m sitting. Someone changed the thin mattress while he was showering me. Someone else was in here. I look around the room, unable to find Shadow. “That was a surprise to me,  Raven.” He pulls up the rolling chair and sits before me like he's my doctor.

Is he?

I look at my wrist.

No.

“You know Arlo… Arlo was my last remaining son. A half-breed. His mother’s Puerto Rican genes overpowered the Prescott ones and so, he had the perfect cover. You know he watched your little boyfriend’s lectures and read over case files he closed to get an accurate sense of acting as a detective? All those pictures, Raven… you really should close your blinds. Sure had your professor nervous there, for a while. But alas, your boyfriend was the smarter of the two and because of that, I can admit defeat and so here we are. Your lovers are circling my property, and you’re in my prison, with my men standing guard and ready to shoot. So, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do-“

He doesn't get another chance to finish his sentence. There’s a commotion upstairs, violent and loud and my heart stammers in my chest, hopeful but unwilling to believe it because if they’re here, that means they aren’t safe.

The sound of fireworks goes off as well as the music in my mind, a low, beautiful, mesmerizing hum. My breath hitches, my heart rioting, and I lunge.

Knocking Stephen off the rolling chair and onto the floor and straddle him.

The music begins, a low, beautiful hum, taking over me. I hear nothing but the music as I punch Stephen with all the strength I have in me, he swings back, trying to catch my arms but I don’t let him. I keep going until I hear a crash and thundering footsteps booming down the stairs and all can think about is the blood coating my fists and fingers. Stephen gurgles beneath me but I’m not finished.

“Little bird-“

“Hold… him.” I rasp, my voice heavy with vitriol as his eyes widen. So clear. So beautiful. So blue. I should be ecstatic that they’re here but nobody… nobody tries to break me and gets away with it. My vision is blurry and red when Jonas crouches before me, taking hold of Stephen’s arms, his scent delicious and soothing. I let out a sob of happiness, wanting to do nothing more than crawl unto his arms and never let go but I reach into Stephen’s breast pocket, the pretentious asshole, and fish out the vials and syringe.

With shaky hands and numb fingers, I hold them up to the light to see the clear one and uncap the syringe.

“Butterfly, don’t do this.”

“Not your… butterfly,” I reply hoarsely, ready to plunge it into his chest but Damon stops me, reading the vial and his stare becomes narrowed and dangerous.

“Allow me, Amourette. Maverick, help me with his sleeve.”

A ripping sound. I don’t dare look up from Stephen’s busted face and he doesn’t dare look away from me. An ocean crashing against steep brown rock.

“A fucking queen.” He gurgles and right before his jaw goes slack, “This won’t kill me.”

I hand Damon the other vial and quirk a brow at the handsome motherfucker at my mercy. Mercy I don’t have to give.

“All of it will,” I say clearly, finally tearing my eyes away to look at my deranged doctor expertly shaking and then tipping the vial to fill the barrel, a mad scientist. A doctor. Mine. All mine.

It takes two full rounds until Stephen is limp, his eyes moving back and forth and I crawl to my mask, retrieving it from my puke pile and tug it on.

I stand over Stephen and squat on his stomach like a paralysis demon and watch as his eyes fill with absolute terror. His breathing quickens, his chest going up and down quickly and then quicker, slight, muffled screams fill the chamber we’re inside.

“He’s pissing himself,” Maverick warns but I don’t move.

Good.

I stand over his body, cerulean eyes darting everywhere but my face and I slap him so he can focus on me. I can feel his stomach doing something and suddenly, vomit fills his mouth. I stay. Watching as he chokes on his own sick until his chest stops moving. The deafening music in my mind decrescendos to a stop.

When I rise over his corpse, I stumble backward, throwing my mask off. It clatters to the ground behind me and finally; after looking at my wrist, I leap into their arms and allow myself to scream in pure, uncensored agony.

And they let me.

They don’t ask me to stop.

They don’t shush me.

What I am, is wrapped in a soft blanket and carried up those seventeen stairs.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Damon.

She finally stopped shivering and is asleep in my arms, but I don’t dare let go of her. Not when Maverick put her feet in his lap, not when Jonas asked me to “give her” and then sat between my legs so he could rest his head on her thigh, his hand on her tummy by mine.

She’s mine.

One hundred and fourteen hours and forty-three minutes.

That’s how long she was gone from my sight.

Never a-fucking-gain.

The first twenty-four hours we roamed around the fence, trying to find a break in the barrier. Thank God we’re used to an even more bitter cold climate than here and that Sebastian had included military-grade tactical pants, jackets, gloves, and rations. I’d never seen Maverick so in his element.

By the thirtieth hour, we were able to calculate the time of rotations, determine the distance between the first break of trees to the gardens in the back and side yards, watching the exit and entry points.

By the seventieth hour, we were getting sick of the cold, but we finally found a portion of weak bricks and mortar where we could push the bricks one by one or wiggle them loose.

It was the fourth day when we saw someone approaching us in the far distance, but Jonas recognized him immediately as Ivan, Elena’s favored bodyguard and he almost wept at his feet.

The man was a sleuth, speaking to us with a rich Russian accent as we watched and waited. “The blueprints to this mansion,” he rasped, “show there’s a wine cellar that was renovated and revised.”

“Who owns this property?”

Ivan’s face grew grave as his eyes narrowed. “Ainsworth. This is where the Bones chapter conducts their… initiations.”

Jonas paled and swallowed.

“What does the Bones chapter do for their initiation?” Maverick wonders aloud.

“Did you ever read The Most Dangerous Game?”

My stomach dropped to the cold ground beneath our feet.

Maverick grimaces, understanding what Jonas meant. “They hunt humans.”

Jonas nodded. “Initiates stalk someone, make them disappear without a trace, hold them hostage here for five days, no food, just a bag of IV fluids. And on the fifth day, they hunt them,” He nodded towards the thick trees we’re in, trees that go into the property and beyond. “While the Elders watch the hunt from the terrace. But like the Syndicate, they take back the body with ID so they can be identified. You still have to get away with murder.”

“That’s barbaric.” Maverick spits.

“I know.”

“Your mother came from that?” I ask.

Jonas nods. “Always said the Syndicate chapter was the best of all the chapters. Kill someone, and make sure the body is found. No extra.”

I couldn’t imagine it - didn’t want to imagine it. Not my little bird in someone else’s cage being prepared for slaughter. I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat and pulled out my phone again only to stare down at a dot that hadn’t moved in days.

I wasn’t allowing myself to feel hopeless or for any negative thoughts to cross my mind. I couldn’t. We had gone through too much for it to end like this.

I wouldn’t allow it to end like this.

There is no end to us.

Not now, not in fifteen or even thirty years.

Not even in death will we ever part.

I only allowed myself to simmer in my anger, watching and waiting for our perfect moment.

It was Ivan who brought us silencers for our guns, and although Maverick explained they were still loud, they just suppressed the noise enough, that we still took them. And it was Ivan that went through the hole we finally created in the brick wall, stayed behind, and closed it up enough while we trekked through the wooded area. But it was Jonas who took down the first guard, grabbed him, pulled out a knife from his pocket, and sliced through his jugular.

I grabbed the second and followed in his execution. No remorse even when the blood poured down my forearm, hot and sticky.

We dragged the bodies back to the tree line and left them in heaps.

It was me that found vines that led up to the terrace strong enough for us to climb. It was dark when we landed with soft thuds and it was Maverick that was able to quickly pick the fucking lock as we entered what seemed to be the office, bloody and exhausted, but we were in.

As we traveled through the house which seemed like it had over fifty fucking rooms, we stacked bodies, each kill becoming easier, and more precise, knowing we only had a few rounds of ammunition in our pockets. The more we slayed upstairs, the less we would have to downstairs.

But then we were spotted and all hell broke fucking loose. I’d never been in even a range of gunfire and soon we were all too hyper-aware of everyone and everything. The blood, the ringing in my ears, the matter on the walls. Bullets grazed my arms, my ear, Maverick and Jonas, and even Ivan shouting “Shit!” every now and then told me I’d have more than my own wounds to stitch up.

It was the last man, and Ivan had the last bullet. He didn’t even hesitate to shoot him at close range between the eyes. Jonas and I dragged him by the feet away from the matter-splattered door he was guarding, then opened the door, running down the steps in quick succession, to find my little love, my life, my killer beauty, already straddling Prescott.

I saw her visibly relax when she felt our presence and let out a soft sob when she heard my voice.

But it was as though something else had overtaken her, possessed her. I’d never watched her kill before and it was such a swift thing. So fucking graceful in her execution even though I had pumped the man full of whatever was in those vials. When she put on that mask, I knew… I knew he had known for a while who she was and what she was doing – exacting her pound of flesh.

I have so many questions but now isn’t the time.

She stirs in my arms, just as Ivan’s van drives over a bump, her hand fists my shirt. Although she was wet and in a clean hospital gown, it doesn’t take away that she smells different. Her jasmine and berries scent is gone, the hospital gown smells sterilized, and I know she’s coming down from something.

I kept the vials.

I’m going to have them tested in a lab as soon as we get home. All I pray for is that she doesn’t regress.

That Jonas can bring her out of it, be her light in the dark again.

That she trusts Maverick’s form of torture.

That she lets me love her the way she deserves.

“Daddy,” she rasps, caramel eyes fluttering open.

Maverick and Jonas jump at the sound, facing her quickly. The back of my eyes burn at her voice. I scrub my hand down my face when the tear flows. “Yes, Amourette.”

“Thank you.” She speaks so clearly, although her voice is still hoarse from screaming when we found her. Screams that echoed and ricocheted off those grimy walls until I took it upon myself to lift and carry her up those filthy stairs, away from the aftermath. She weighs nothing and I hate it.

“I love you so goddamn much, Little Bird. So much. I told you once not barred windows nor steel doors… There is not a goddamn thing on this earth that could ever keep me from you. Morals be damned, mon Coeur, I love you with all I am.” I breathe into her, feeling my heart finally beat properly in my ribcage. I plant a kiss to her forehead, her temple, her cheek, her lips, and stay there for only a moment so she can feel my love.

I need to get this scent off of her immediately.

It’s making me want to hurl.

“Please, Damon. Let me hold her now.” Jonas’ voice cracks. He straightens up, sitting in the seat caddy corner to me, and holds out his arms. She goes to him, but Maverick doesn’t let go of her feet. He hasn’t said a word. Just covers her toes with his hands and bows his head.

“Are you okay?”

He nods. “There’s a bullet lodged in the tip of my shoulder and there is going to be so much for me to unpack in therapy.” He jokes, but he’s serious.

“There’s a bullet lodged in your shoulder?” Jonas repeats.

Maverick nods.

“Is okay,” Ivan says from the driver’s seat. “We almost to destination.”

Raven looks petrified.

“Don’t worry, Little Bird. We won’t be around people. I’m having Ivan take us to my family's manor.”

“You have a fucking manor?” Maverick coughs, grimacing when Ivan goes over a bump in the road.

I raise my eyebrows quickly and point to myself. “Old money, long line of Oxford graduates and physicians.” I remind him. “The kind of person you love to hate, remember?” Mav rolls his eyes, but I continue. “It stayed partially staffed and now that my father is back over the pond, it’s fully stocked with food and medical supplies. I can get that bullet out of your shoulder, fix us all up, help our girl detox, feed and hydrate us. I’ve already sent a message to the house manager. She’s sent one of the maids to get our… brand of items and clothes in our size.”

The important one being Amourette's scent and to have her comfortable in clothes she’ll like.

“When did you do all of this?” Maverick asks, a slight groan when the van lurches forward.

“Before we were even on the plane.”

Jonas smiles at me, twinkle back in his eye, skin going back to its usual color even though we're all still caked in blood. “Told you. He’s proactive.”

________

Raven is sitting beside a shirtless Maverick, holding his hand and he’s getting pale from blood loss and shock.

“I can feel it. It’s just under the surface,” he grunts, pressing his fingers around the wound.

I nod, grabbing the sterilized utensils I need along with the isopropyl alcohol, slipping on surgical gloves, then drench the gauze with it. “Ready?”

“Hurry the fuck up – Jesus fucking Christ, motherfucker.” He chokes, holding himself steady while I dig out the bullet while Jonas holds a flashlight for me so I can see it. It clinks in the bowl and Maverick thanks me with a rushed exhale while I finishing plucking out the debris, stitch him up then prep him and hook him up to an IV bag with antibiotics in the living room so he can sit comfortably and hopefully rest in the recliners I have set up like a triage room in the living area. All that’s missing is the curtains to separate them.

We will never separate ever again.

“Rest.” Is all I say, handing him a few painkillers.  

It takes me no time to disinfect and stitch up my pup. When he kisses me, his lips taste a little salty, but I don’t let it linger. I know he’s feeling so many rushing emotions, same as I am. But I hook him up to an IV bag and have him settle on the recliner across from Maverick and give him the same order to rest along with a painkiller.

I do the same with Ivan, thanking him, to which he shrugs at me and jerks his chin to Jonas, telling me he was just doing his job.

I turn to my love and grab her hand, tugging her behind me so I can check her and myself out in the bathroom in front of a mirror.

The tip of my ear is grazed and so is my arm, but I won’t need stitches, just some skin glue. But all of that can wait. Now that she and I are alone, I can ask the questions I would normally ask a patient in private. I let out a breath.

“Did he touch you?”

She shakes her head but then stops. “He… gave me a sh-shower.”

That’s why her hair was wet and she smells different.

“I’m going to run you a bath, okay? All your same items from home are here. I just need to get this scent off you.”

“I st-st-stink?”

“No, little bird. Not like you’re dirty. You just don’t smell like yourself. I love you… but I can’t…” I swallow thickly, “I can’t stand it. I didn’t allow myself to think anything negative while we were trying to get to you, but Amourette… once you were in my arms, all I could think was everything negative because you didn’t smell like home. And if I could do just one thing for my mind to stop racing, is smell you, will you please allow me that sense of peace?”

She nods, big brown eyes wide in understanding. “You smell like blood.”

I laugh, letting more tears fall because fuck, she’s so beautiful it makes my heart hurt. “I guess, if you’re okay with it, I’ll run you a bath and then shower myself. Yes?”

“D-don’t leave mm-me alone, p-please.”

My heart breaks and I have to clear my throat. “Never again. I’ll shower while you bathe, then I’ll have you sit in the living room with Maverick and Jonas while I hook you up to an IV so you can rest while I make us something to eat.”

“Oh..kay.”

Relief floods me and I get to work.

I can rest later.

There are new bruises on her wrists that Maverick didn’t place there, bruises on her hips not caused by Jonas gripping her to tight, and the mark on the back of her neck now scaring, is from taking something I did place there.

The primal urge to replace them all with my own bruises and marks and reclaim her as mine is all-consuming and so fucking necessary.

I want to consume this woman with everything that I am and erase every rotten memory she’s ever been given and take them all for myself. I will work every fucking day to make sure this never happens again. I think of everything any of us could have done differently, but it’s just as Maverick said; they took their opportunity. The only one they’ve had for months.

I step into the shower, washing myself until the water runs clear down the drain then wash my hair and my body. My muscles ache, and the warmth of the water feels fucking fantastic, but my mind is still on the woman waiting for me in the porcelain tub next to me.

It takes me no time to dry myself, wrapping the towel around my waist, immediately going to the tub and kneeling beside it to make myself useful. I have the washcloth in my hand, wet and lathered with her favorite body wash, asking her to turn so I can get her back and shoulders before moving to her front.

Small little sighs escape her the further down I go, and the man in me awakens. I was trying not to push, to be as professional as possible but with each little moan, my dick weeps with need to be inside of her, to feel her wrapped around me, feel her body pressed against mine as God intended. I’m taken aback when she places my hand between her thighs, and I have to bite my lip to keep in my moan. “Putain, Amourette.”

“Daddy…”

I am a weak, weak man. “Oui?” Yes?

“Fais-moi me sentir mieux ? S’il te plaît? Aide-moi à oublier.” Make me feel better? Please? Help me forget.

“Putain, Amourette, j’essaie d’être un homme bien.” Fuck, Amourette, I’m trying to be a good man. I let the washcloth fall from my fingertips to the bottom of the tub, letting my middle finger slip into her heat.

“I need…”

“What is it you need, Little Love?”

Her moan is raspy, but it doesn’t stop her from saying, “My daddy.”

Christ, this is possibly how I’ll die. Buried between her thighs with a discernable look of pleasure on my face and not a fuck given. Without another word I withdraw my finger, and I do the only sane thing, the thing that makes me feel like myself, which is never denying her my love, and reach down to hook her knees over one thick forearm, slide the other behind her back and stand with her in my arms, heading straight to the bed, losing my towel in the process.

Her still damp legs fall open, the pink heaven between her thighs glistening with arousal and moisture from her bath and my head dips to taste her succulent cunt, groaning when her arousal touches my taste buds.

Home.

Her back arches and her thighs pull up on their own accord to accommodate the span of my broad shoulders and every breathy sigh sends shivers down my spine. I lap and suckle at the engorged bud, plunging two fingers deep into her tight channel, drinking every drop of delicious cream that leaves her.

I am nothing but a devout man worshipping at the shrine between her legs, a heathen begging for a mere morsel of her divinity. Everything about her is nothing less than sacred to me.

Her hands dig into my hair, drawing me closer, my tongue swirling and teasing, lips nipping, teeth scraping, each cry music to my ears. My cock weeps, aching to be inside of her and when I remove my fingers only to adjust myself between her thighs, she welcomes me with open arms.

Her kiss is the sweetest, the most rejuvenating thing on this planet, her mouth the most pleasant thing I’ve ever had the honor of having against mine, (besides her pussy) I am a man engulfed in the finest, heated silk when my cock finds her entrance and I sink into her, cradling her to me when she cries out my name, eyes latched on mine.

“That’s right, Amourette. You look at daddy when you come for him,” I moan softly.

“So… so big. S-so full!”

“And you’re so very wet, and so very, very tight. Such a good girl taking daddy's thick cock in your sweet little pussy.” I growl, putting power into each thrust so I can feel her nipples graze my chest with each recoil. “I need you to come for daddy. Make a big mess so I can clean it.”

Every word is spoken between kisses, tongues colliding and when I lick along the column of her throat she flutters around me. It’s a quick, hungry fuck but I needed this more than her. To feel her stretch around my cock and every earth-shattering clench, to hear her breath hitch, those little sighs, to see look into her eyes when she shatters for me. I don’t dare break apart from her, holding her closer as sweat accumulates between us, but every gasp and rock of her hips has us both tumbling, racing towards an edge we're diving off of. Together.

“Damon! Please! I need… everything! Mm-more!” she begs so prettily, and I am a weak man, lost in the rasp of her tired vocal cords crying out to me to love and fuck her with all that I am.

“Feel me fill your pussy. Come apart for me, Raven. Such a good girl for daddy.” I groan, unable to keep from spilling inside of her at what feels like lightning speed, sparks of fire licking at my lower back. Her eyes widen and I nod, unembarrassed that I’ve shot my load too quickly, but it makes her begin to pulsate, raking her fingers down my back, nails scratching and knowing she’s marking me, claiming me triggers another small release of my seed to her womb until I’m a trembling heap above her.

I trail kisses from her lips to her neck up to her chin, cheek and temple, unwilling to disconnect from her yet. “You and I will never part again. If I have to place a biochip between every vertebra to ensure I never lose you again, so be it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she hums sleepily, but I don’t let her get too comfortable. I still need to get her hydrated and feed her.

I make quick work of cleaning us, getting us dressed and back out to the guys the take her from me with waiting arms and when I come back with another biochip to insert into the back of her neck on the other side of where the other one was pulled out, even with the other in her shoulder, she only moves her hair to the side and accepts my form of control.

“I loved you longer…”

That may very well be true… but I will love her harder.

________

Drained of any natural energy, I place the roasted chicken, potatoes, and green beans on the table, unsurprised when Raven and Jonas come in to help set it for me. Mav digs out a chilled bottle of red wine, stares at it a little too long and opts for white. I would have done the same.

We sit around the table, me at the head, Raven on one side with Maverick, Jonas on the other, Ivan beside him. He digs in easily, as we continue to stare at our food. Starving, but exhausted. Eating will feel like a chore and as soon as we all begin digging in, it does. Forks scrape against the plates, loud in the silence but it’s not overbearing. It simply is.

Raven pushes her plate away after a few bites and Maverick tries to get her to eat more but I let him know she hasn’t eaten in five days. We at least had MREs to feed ourselves. They kept her starved and… drugged. My stomach clenches and I lose my appetite, unable to take another bite of anything. I rise, grabbing my plate and hers and throwing them into the waste bin, plates and all. They crash loudly at the bottom, causing me to flinch but I don’t care.

I am so grateful we found her. I am so ecstatic she’s alive. I am so… I am so angry we lost her in the first place. We took so many precautions. We had so many security measures in place and even though I can’t be angry with a carnivorous Kronos for being distracted by a piece of meat, I am. If we had been just a few hours too late, would Prescott have hunted my little bird?

I can’t fathom a life without her.

Every negative emotion I didn’t allow myself to feel suddenly bubbles to the surface and I grip the edge of the counter, feeling it all rise, squeezing my lungs and heart together. There is so much evil in this fucking world, and we only scraped the surface. The only good thing that’s happened is the only Prescott left seems to not be able to differentiate his asshole from a hole in the ground. But I want each and every single one of them to pay.

“Jonas,” I rasp, inhaling deeply.

“Yeah?”

I allow myself to face them, not hiding the pain on my face. I need to distract myself with anything. “You said there were tunnels under Rayne-Moore?”

“Yeah?”

“Where do they lead?”

“Mostly to where we do the initiations. It’s like a dungeon.”

“The Rayne's and the Moore's… what were they known for? Why aren’t they around?”

They all stop eating, Ivan included and stare at me. I know I may sound crazy, but we are so fucking far from any of us being crazy. In this world, it’s flipped. The crazy have been sane, and the seemingly sane ones have been absolutely fucked in the head.

My pup's hazel eyes connect with mine, but he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “Architecture.”

It's one fucking word but it’s enough. I race to my room, grab my laptop and back, settling back in my chair, firing it up and typing out the information I need.

Ding-ding-goddamn-ding.

The blueprints for the Anderson home show ‘historical entrances from the underground railroad’ cited on the website. I type in the Monroe residence as well then type in the Hoover's address.

Goddammit. They all have them. Not only that, but each blueprint is showing ‘servant corridors' something the wealthy would have pre-plumbing for servants to carry chamber pots out of bed chambers to empty them out and not disgust the owners of the homes. We have them in this house. The house staff still uses them to get from one room to the other quickly.

“How long has your home been in your family?”

He arches a dark brow. “Generations.”

I look at my little love. “The Monroe mansion? How long have the Monroe’s lived there?”

Same. Generations. She signs.

“Were there… hidden passageways?”

He takes a sip of his wine, thumb grazing over the condensation from the chilled wine. “Yeah.”

“And for you, Amourette? Did you have them?”

She shakes her head, looking confused, dark brows pinned together.

My eyes roam over the screen, Maverick rising to stand behind me to see what I’m seeing.

“Yes, Siren… looks like you did have them. You probably just never knew where to look for them.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Raven.

The door to the Monroe Mansion opens for me even at this hour without having to knock as though the house itself were expecting me. But once I step through the threshold, there’s no one behind the door.

It only thuds softly behind me.

A game.

Gone are the tinsel and twinkling lights, the ornaments, and the warmth that usually fills this place during the holidays. It’s just a vast, dead silence occupying the large home except for a crackling fire in the fireplace. It’s nothing and everything like I remember. I let my jacket drop to the ground behind me, uncaring if I leave a mess behind.

Let them find me.

A floorboard above me creaks and I already know to whom it belongs to and without another thought, I grab the oak banister and slowly make my way up the stairs, one foot in front of the other.

Memories of sliding down these banisters as a child to annoy Axel haunt me. How many pranks did I play? How many times did I force him to grab his mattress and join me in ‘sledding’ down these same stairs?

Too many to count.

The closer I reach the landing, the more I can see the soft orange glow of another fire emanating from the bottom of the door, calling to me like a moth to a flame… the fucking music that’s coming from inside those walls is nothing like the one being created inside my mind with each step.

A closer step to vindication.

My retribution.

My wrath.

My… sanity.

Whatever’s left of it.

The walls begin to pulsate, screaming to me here! Here! He’s. In. Here!

A low incessant hum of his murmurs. Whatever he’s saying, doesn’t matter. Will never matter. Has never mattered.

I enter the room with only one thing in mind – blood.

I can see the top of his head bobbing along as he speaks but the music… fuck it’s so… it’s so quiet now. His eyes widen as he takes me in. “Raven. What are you doing here?” He glances down at my free hand, the one holding the knife I’ve had up my sleeve and let it slip free into my grasp.

“Why?”

His eyes narrow, almost in a dissociative understanding of what I’m asking. “It was just business,” he shrugs.

Shrugs.

The simmering anger in my belly boils into fury but I won’t go silent into the night.

Not this time.

I take a step closer.

“Why?”

A spark of surprise flashes in his jade eyes at the sound of my now raspy voice but they’re the wrong kind of jade. So unlike my darling professor’s. No, this devil’s eyes are devoid of love, or warmth. They’re unkind, as if the light behind them went out a long time ago.

That’s okay. He’ll be back home in hell soon.  

“You were simply an asset,” he says.

I was simply an asset.

A thing. A joke. A mere object.

A pretty little doll to be given away for the price of a soul.

My soul.

I take one more step closer and lift my hand, tipping the blade to his throat. That answer is just not good enough.

“Why?” I press the tip when he swallows, watching blood pour slowly out of the small cut onto the blade and chills spread throughout my body as it sings to me.

“I only negotiated for you to marry Tyler. The rest… you’ll have to ask him about. We covered up as much as we could. His involvement. Kept you under lock and key in that facility, Prescott making sure you still didn’t remember, still couldn’t speak. I kept him safe. Did what I could to keep you safe. And him, well, he was reprimanded by the Elders. Couldn’t even negotiate for him anymore. He’s stuck now. Nothing more than a Watcher. A henchman. All because you. Didn’t. Die.” He says that last word like a whisper, but it reverberates, bouncing off my eardrums, twisting and swimming back into my brain, sticking like cancerous tar in the crevices.

I let my hand fall to my side as John stares up at me. For years I thought this man wasn’t great, but I didn’t think he was… this.

“It may as well have been him that night. Our legacy… he still completed his initiation and that wasn’t enough. Stephen still wanted more. After he found out it was you murdering them all, he still wanted you – now more than ever.” He chuckles harshly. “I should’ve known you’d try to come for me. But I did nothing wrong.”

I snap. Without hesitation, I plunge the knife into stomach causing him to lunge forward, just like Thaddeus but this time, I go until I feel his stomach rupture and then drag the hilt as much as I can before withdrawing and then… keep fucking going even when he’s slumped on the ground, I turn him.

Anywhere I can reach. Anywhere that’s vulnerable I stab, and I slice until I’m drenched and I’ve hit every spot available to me. Drenched in blood and pieces of viscera but it’s… it’s so fucking warm and this melody…

Ohhhh God…

It's delicious.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Real.

My fingers are drenched in John’s blood that’s seeping out onto the floorboards. I’ve seen red before but not like this. Not as deep, not as beautiful, not as –

Every hair on my body stands on end, the air in the room zeroing in on me like a pressure so dense that it makes my ears aware of every inhale and exhale of my lungs and every slow beat of my heart.

There.

I tilt my head, looking straight ahead at the last Monroe family portrait painted… without me.

It’s a soft click, the kind you’d never even hear over your own breathing, but I’ve become so hyper-aware of this entity for the last twelve years of my life.

“Come out…. Come out… wherever you are…” I sing in a hoarse whisper.

Three heartbeats pass… four…

One soft thud of a boot.

The other.

I’m sure I look unhinged, blood on my hands and parts of my face, but as I turn, rising to my feet. I make sure to take him in, dragging my eyes from the same dirty boots he wore while in the corner of that fucking basement Prescott had me in, watching over me while I was drugged, his denim jeans, black thermal long-sleeve shirt covering arms that held me while I slept, up his pouty lips that spewed comforting words, roman nose and landing on those chameleon eyes. Eyes that watched over me during some of my darkest times.

Even in the shadows.

My breath hitches in my throat as I stare Axel down.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, as he keeps slowly striding toward me. “You found me.”

The hilt of the blade in my hand, while already warm from his father’s blood grows hotter in my hand.

I only have one word.

One question.

“Why?”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Shadow/Axel Monroe.

I fell in love with Raven Alvarez-Paloma the second she walked into the Monroe mansion.

She trailed behind Sofia, who was a vision in white, a contrast to her reluctant daughter dressed in a dark navy dress with a skinny black belt on her tiny waist. Dark hair in long pigtails, big, brown eyes, and sooty lashes. She looked like a Latin version of Wednesday Addams. She didn’t have braces yet, so her teeth were a little too big for her mouth but to me, she was perfect.

“Son, say hello to Raven. Your soon-to-be sister.”

“Stepsister.” She said proudly, uncrossing her arms and looking around the mansion.

I took a hit of my inhaler, holding my breath, letting the albuterol do its job then slowly letting my breath go, shoving the thing in my trouser pocket and holding out my hand. “Hey, I’m Axel.”

“Like Rose?”

I looked at her quizzically because “Who is Axel Rose?”

Her mouth pops open and then she smirks. “I’m about to make you so cool.”

________

I was born with weak lungs. Prone to fits of bronchitis, pneumonia, and asthma attacks so I wasn’t allowed to play outside often. But with Raven, I wanted to keep up. She was a month older than me, (August 26th) to the day. She brazen and wild and she loved screechy rock bands and laughed all the time. If she wasn’t outside exploring the grounds and woods behind the manor, she was in the attic or the basement, making up games, sliding down the banister, cackling, and driving the maids crazy.

We were ten the day our parents married. She took my hand, and we put our ballroom dancing lessons to use by making me dance with her. “I guess we’re officially siblings now,” she said, almost bored to tears.

But I wasn’t. She was in my arms in a cute little pink dress mom made her wear. The entire wedding was lavish and ostentatious, gold glittered everywhere amongst the whites and pale pinks and honestly, it kind of made my eyes hurt. I twirled her, setting us up for another turn, keeping up with the music and she giggled, flashing her invisible braces when I dipped her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re my sister.”

“Hmm.” She hummed. “You’re probably the coolest thing about this whole thing.”

I took the compliment to heart because, at school, I was not the coolest thing. She often fought my battles for me, unafraid of the older kids, punching anyone who even breathed wrong in my direction. My protector. My warrior. “If this was your wedding, how would you make it better?”

“I’d get rid of the white and the pink. Purple everything. The walls, the floors, the windows.” I laugh because okay. “Except for my dress. I’d have a black dress.”

“Are you getting married or attending a funeral?”

“Hey, this is my wedding. I’d make sure it was all chic and stuff. Very posh.”

“Sure,” I reply, imagining myself as her groom at this very violet wedding.

“Anyway, I’ll probably never get married.”

I stop dancing. “Why not?”

“I’ll be too busy traveling. Hiking in the rainforest or… discovering a new mummy tomb with an ancient curse. And you won’t be getting married either because you’ll be too busy with me. We’ll skydive and go skiing and get lost in Germany.”

I resume dancing. “Why would we get lost in Germany?”

“Why not?”

“We’ll stay at hotels. Have a guide.”

“Oh, that’s boring!” She scoffs as if she can’t fathom being told where to go and what to do.

“Besides, you know I can’t… really do any of that.”

Now she stops dancing. “I’m your big sister now. I’ll take care of you. And you will get better. You’ll see. We just have to get you used to stuff like dirt and dust and… and running and… cold weather. I’ve heard that’s how people can build up their immune system, you know? Like you keep doing the things that might hurt you, so you build up a tolerance. I’ve heard people can poison themselves a little bit every day and build an immunity to it. So that’s what we’ll do. I’ll be your poison and your antidote. And then we’ll travel the world together.”

I don’t know why, but I believe her. Because I love her. Because I’m so lucky she’s mine.

________

We were eleven when our parents put me in Tai Kwan Do. She raged when she was made to take ballet instead, our parents said she was too aggressive already. She should put her energies into something more… relaxing, more feminine. But she’d come home and cry when her feet were bruised and bloody.

I hated Mom at times. Raven hid her tears from her a lot. So I would bandage up her feet when I would find her crying in her bathroom. We couldn’t play those days. She called her dad crying to come pick her up. That she was miserable here and it made me so sad I begged Father to make Sofia pull her out.

I often used the hidden wall walkways to get in and out of the manor, to walk into other rooms going unnoticed because before Raven came along, that’s what I was. A living, breathing ghost.

“He’s threatening to get full custody,” Sofia worried.

“He’s a drunk, my love. He’ll never get custody.”

“I’m not so sure. My PI says he’s sober. Going to AA meetings… There’s a chance he could take her. Axel says she’s unhappy here. She fights me at every turn. Fighting in school. John! Are you listening? What do you think the media will say about me, about us, if I lose custody of her to a nothing-lawyer drunk?!”

My father sighs in resignation. “Sofia, come here, kitten.” Blegh. “I’ll take care of this. I love you. You are my whole world. If this makes you unhappy, I’ll take care of this.”

“Ay, mi amor,” she cooed softly “you always know just what to say.”

“Good. Now, lift your skirt. Show me what’s mine.” There was a sound like skin slapping against skin and then-

“Ugh! Johnny!”

I grimaced, walking away.

Raven’s dad died just two months later. I had never seen her so sad. Then her night terrors started.

I would watch her sleep. A lot. Standing guard. I’d go to her room using the trap doors in the walls, standing in the corners, the first time she saw me, there was a lightning storm. She ran to my room, where I zipped through the wall and jumped in my bed merely seconds before she crawled in with me, shaking, sputtering nonsense about a shadow person in her room watching her.

While I felt guilty for scaring her… it sent a thrill through me. For the first time, I was the one protecting her. I was the thing that kept her safe, not the other way around.

So I asked my father to get a second opinion on my lungs, and he found a doctor who prescribed steroids to help strengthen them.

Then we got older, and she started… blossoming. It was almost overnight that she started… I don’t know, having boobs and her hips were wider and her thighs… I loved them. They reminded me of when Galvina made my cookies, and the dough spread in the oven. I even started calling her that, Cookie. She thought it was because she always stole mine but… no.

Mom started limiting her snacking when we were around thirteen. She was no longer allowed to wear skirts unless they were the uniform ones for school and when we attended events because the way her thighs jiggled was “embarrassing” to her image, she was made to wear long dresses. She was still beautiful but now it was more of a quiet, resilient beauty.

The cello became her favorite thing in the world once she mastered it. It didn’t take long. There were maybe six weeks of screeching coming from her room. Three broken cellos from when she’d get angry at it and smash it to bits. But once she got the hang of it, she really got the hang of it.

Soon we were going to her first chair recitals. Then her solo recitals.

She was incredible, spending weeks in Japan for the summer then out to Paris, London. She was gone for entire summers, no doubt being her adventurous self. Staying out of trouble. It seems she was only a hellcat here. With us.

Her rounded cheeks slimmed down, her face edgier and sharper. She walked with a stoic elegance, a quiet confidence that was so becoming of her, that she made my heart drop and kickstart every fucking morning we bumped into each other in the hallways.

Dad caught us wrestling one time when we were fourteen. Nothing major. She wanted to learn a few self-defense poses in case guys at school got handy even though she was already pretty scrappy. Cookie had me pinned to the ground, laughing when dad caught us. He sent her to her room without dinner and gave me a weird look… a knowing look.

Soon, her laughter was less heard around the mansion but when she did laugh, it was because she was at school. With her friends. With mine. And I wasn’t the only one who started noticing how gorgeous she was becoming.

My friends started noticing, and Dad’s friends did, too.

So I had to get stronger. I had to work out harder. Lift heavier. Be faster.

It was that same summer when Dad was having a meeting in his home office. I knew these men but not really. They only came around sometimes. They weren’t his usual clients. They didn’t greet us the way his clients did. They were solemn and kind of creepy.

I was doing my thing, heading to the pool, walking past his office, the door barely open enough as though someone had closed it but it didn’t latch all the way shut.

“She’s gonna be a fucking beauty, that one. I mean just look at her mother. Christ, Monroe. She got rid of the braces,  growing a nice rack…” I heard and stopped in my tracks immediately.

“That she is, Prescott. But you know arrangement negotiations don’t start until she’s at least sixteen.”

Arrangement negotiations?

“And then it’s off to the highest bidder as soon as she graduates RMU. God, the one that gets to breed her… fuck.” Someone said and they all laughed, and suddenly I had to find her.

She was in the pool. A red, extremely appropriate, two-piece on, and for the first time, I was angry, (not hard) that she was walking around with something that showed so much… leg. Christ, I was mad at her legs.

No. I was mad at those gross pricks in my dad’s office ogling an almost fifteen-year-old. And what the fuck were the ‘arrangement negotiations?’

“Raven, you should go inside up to your room.”

“Me? It’s the first nice day we’ve had in weeks, and you want me to go inside?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck you. You go inside.”

“Raven, I’m not kidding. Get away from the window. Dad’s business partners are in there staring at you through his office window like old creeps. Go inside through the sunroom. They’re watching us now. Act like you’re mad at me or something I don’t know, just get away from the fucking window.”

There is a small panic that crawls on her face but for the first time, she listens to me. She grabs her towel, dries off, throws it at me like she’s angry, and rushes off with her middle finger in the air. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you right back, sis!” It’s a lame comeback but I don’t know what else to say. I’ve never been mad at her, even when I should’ve been. I threw her towel down and jumped in, ignoring the look on my father’s face as he peered at me through the window.

Later on that night, I climbed into bed with her. It had stormed so often these last few weeks it was weird sleeping without her in my arms. When I went to hold her, I felt her little body shaking.

“What’s wrong, cookie?”

“Nothing, Axel. I’m fine.”

“Ray, look at me. What’s going on?”

She turns to face me, her head on her pillow and mine on mine. “I just really miss my dad sometimes. I just… I think if maybe I’d been there. He’d have given up drinking. My mom is so… hard to please. I know he drank a lot to forget the things she’d say to him, the things she called him and treated him and sometimes I can’t help but wonder if it had just been us…” She shakes her head as I wipe the tears from her face.

Those hurt me more. Her silent tears, I mean. Because it means she’s hurting in a place I can’t reach. Like when she was doing ballet. She wasn’t crying silently then because her feet hurt. She was crying because she was miserable and her mom still made her do it. She cried silently when her dad died, too. Cried silently when she was denied going to his funeral.

Silent tears… her silent tears hurt me more because it means I can’t help. All I want to do is reach into her body and cradle her heart in my hands.

“I love you, cookie. I’ll never leave you.”

This makes her cry harder.

So I hold her tighter.

________

“I applied to Berklee.” She says, leaning on my door frame, arms crossed over her chest, one ankle over the other. Her hair is up in a ponytail that rests on her shoulder, cascading down like a dark chocolate waterfall. “And Julliard.”

We're eighteen now. About to graduate. My dreams have been crushed, but hers haven’t. She doesn’t know. I want to keep it that way. Except I can’t imagine being away from her for too long. I… I still need her. I want her. She’s still mine.

I sit back in my desk chair, twirling my pencil between my fingers, watching as she enters my room slowly, one step at a time like a black cat prowling closer. She’s still in her school uniform, her black socks up to her knees, plaid blue and black skirt barely hitting the middle of her thighs. The light blue button down is tucked in to the skirt, but I know what’s under the uniform.

I’ve seen her in bikinis and her underwear enough to have a lifetime of material for my spank bank. But her, like this, in her uniform… it will always do things to me. I know I’ll be in the shower later imagining her bent over, that little skirt shoved up to her back, tits hanging out and swaying, knocking together while I spread her ass apart and fuck so deep into her she can’t keep quiet. It’s a thought that usually gets me to blow my load quickly.

I drop the pencil and spin in my chair to face her as she sits on the edge of my bed. “I thought you wanted to go to Rayne-Moore with me. Their music program is better than Julliard.”

She sighs and leans back on her hands, if she let her knees relax, I’d be able to see what I’m dying to see. “I’m not sure.”

“You loved their campus.”

She nods. “I did. It was creepy.”

“Come here.” She gets up and sits in my lap, arms going over my shoulders while mine go around her waist. I’ve had years of being able to control my hard-ons around her. “What’s got you so pensive?”

“You don’t think it’s weird neither of us applied and we still got in?”

I shrug. “Not really. Dad went there. He's a legacy.” In more ways than one.

“That’s just it, little brother. I… I think I want to be out on my own. I know you’ll be playing football and you’ll be happy there. But I want to be away from…” she gestures to, well, everything. “All of this.”

“And me?”

“Never you.”

“Hmm.” I scoot down lower, so she sits better on my lap and let my hands fall to her hip and thigh. I love that crease where they meet. “Feels like it.”

She hugs me, putting her breasts in my face. It’s innocent to her but for me, it’s always been different. More. “I just feel like it’s time for me to break away.”

I stay silent when she pulls away, her scent in my nostrils, her ass in my lap, her breasts under my chin, my hands on her squishy parts to look up at her caramel eyes. They make me dizzy. “If you go to RMU, I promise I’ll stay away. I’ll let you have your own life. Just promise you won’t stop going to my games and I promise to go to your recitals.”

“I would still go to your games even if I went to a different school. I’d still be close enough to make them.”

“But who's gonna protect you when it storms and there’s lightning?”

“Hopefully whomever I’m dating.” She grins.

I hold in my growl. But I do take it one step further and do the thing she can never resist. I clutch her tighter, furrow my brows and pout, lowering my voice to a whine. I’ve noticed she can never tell me no when I become a fucking puppy for her. “Please, Ray? Please don’t leave me yet. Just do a year with me there and if you hate it after that, then you can transfer out. I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fuck, Axel.” She groans, frustrated, rolling her eyes, and I know I’ve won. “Fiiiiinnne. One. Year.”

Happily, I tug her to me again and pepper a dozen kisses on her cheek. “Yes!”

“Ugh! You slobbered on me!” she says, wiping at her face and I tilt my head back and laugh. Fuck it, I don’t care. I always want her with me.

________

“Negotiations have been settled, and the contracts have been signed. Their offspring will be the most powerful and wealthiest legacies of their generation. Not even God will be able to touch them.” My father sneers with pride but my heart crumbles in my chest, all blood draining from my head to my toes.

There’s no way. There’s no fucking way Raven signed her life away to Tyler. My hands curl into a fist as I stand from my chair in his office. “You said she was going to be mine.”

“I said, ‘If no other offers come as close to what we can build by staying in the family, then I’ll allow it.’”

Staying in the family. He makes it sound so incestuous. It's not. She’s mine. She’s always been mine. He knows this. He's known this since they first stepped foot in our house. Since the first time she sat at the foot of my bed and watched over me when I was sick, making sure my fever didn’t spike and brought me juice and watched cartoons with me. She’s been mine since our first dance at their wedding. She’s been mine since my eyes landed on her. Plain and simple.

“What’s going to happen to her?”

“Stephen has allowed for her to graduate with her degree in music. She’ll have two years to believe she has a choice in this, in which Tyler will try to woo her. And then when he fails, it’ll be known she has no choice.”

“She… but… she’s not going to go down without a fight.”

Father chuckles as if this is just a soft form of entertainment to him. “Stephen like his women with a little fight.”

“Stephen? You said she was negotiated for Tyler.”

He shrugs. “Semantics. Tyler has certain… tendencies that haven’t escaped Stephen. If Tyler can’t perform… well, then it’ll just be a marriage on paper and the heir will still be a Prescott.”

I can’t imagine her genetics being washed out by his. I can’t imagine her holding a child in her arms and they not have her eyes. “She’s not going to want this. She’ll flee. She’s a runner. She’s always been trying to escape you and Sofia… this life.” And for good reason, I don’t add.

The smirk on his face slides right off. “Then she'll die. The only way this contract does not go through… is death.” Hazel eyes harden as they peruse me from where he stands in the corner of his office, tall and somewhat imposing but if I were to stand, he'd have to look up. “If she dies, life will continue on, son. But if Tyler were to die, she goes straight to Stephen.”

I don’t hide the disgust from my face.

“Always read the fine print, son. You’ll know this once you pass the bar and work for our company.”

That’s my future.

To be another lawyer on my father's executive team of lawyers while I learn Monroe Tech's policies and procedures inside and out so I can take over for him as CEO when he retires. My entire life is set for me. Nothing is mine.

Not even her.

         ________

I wait until practice is over and we're back at the Sigma Delta Chi house and everyone's gone to bed to approach our star quarterback and captain, Tyler Prescott, knocking on his bedroom door. We've grown closer this year since he’s taken me under his wing, and I was nominated as Co-captain for the Yellow Jackets. “Hey, Tyler, can I talk to you?”

His door opens and I’m instantly met with bright blue eyes like clear ocean waters and a singular blonde brow lifts along with a corner of his lips. “Yeah?”

“It’s about… your contract with my stepsister.”

He blows out a breath, steps back and motions for me to step into his room, the master suite since he has seniority and as captain. Closing the door behind him he steps forward until he’s in front of his desk chair, sits then swivels to face me. “Trust me, this is the last thing I wanted but my dad is dead set on Raven. I don’t even think it’s about the money. He just… wants her.”

My guts churn and a wave of nausea hits me. “Can’t you do something?”

“I tried.” He waves it off like he’s just accepted it.

“Tyler, please. She’s… she doesn’t belong in this world she’ll never be happy. She’s gonna do big things with her music.”

“Look, Axel, it wasn’t my choice,” he stands, making his way to me, stepping so close we're toe-to-toe. “If I could have a different choice… it would be you.”

I feel my eyes widen in surprise. “What?”

“Are you really that blind?” he laughs but it’s not funny, the smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes and there’s not enough air in the room. He presses his firm lips to mine and my brain short circuits.

I pull away to break the kiss but all I feel is more conflicted than ever.

“Axel…” Why does the crack in his voice send chills up my spine and down my forearms and back up?

“Fix this? Please?” I plea. A rumbling noise at the base of his chest makes me want to tremble but I don’t back down.

“What is your fixation with her? Huh? Is this some kind of Cruel Intentions shit? You want to fuck your sister? Why can’t I have you both? Keep you, inseminate her- you could have us both.”

But I don’t want him. “You would share me? Her?”

He looks alarmed but then doesn’t. “Any marriage I would enter would be a lavender marriage, Axel. In this life I can’t have you the way I want. And you probably don’t want me the way I want you, either. But if you’re begging for her because you want her, let me marry her. You can have her, and I’ll have her give me an heir to continue the legacy when the time is right.”

I shake my head. “What about when it’s time for her to give me an heir? It’ll have your last name.”

“Would that be so bad?”

Yes. Because I want our children to be just that – ours.

“Fix this and you can have me.”

My life for hers.

________

It takes him three weeks before he calls me from downstairs. I walk into what looks like an intervention. Simon, Thadd, his clingy on-again, off-again girlfriend nobody in this house can stand, Ashleigh, and Jacob.

“We've come up with the perfect plan. We need you as a witness.”

My jaw drops. “You’re going to kill her?”

“The contract is iron-clad.”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t want her dead.”

Tyler stands up from the red velvet cushioned chair and walks toward me. “I don’t want this marriage. It’ll happen with or without you. You planted the seed in my brain; it’s a done deal. Jacob will be the lookout, Thadd, Ash, Simon and I will do it all. We just need you to bear witness and sign.”

I feel sick.

“This way, you don’t have to lay a finger on anyone and still be initiated. You still haven’t done yours nor have any of us. We need to do it while there’s still time.”

I'm going to vomit. Which is why I don’t understand why I nod along and say, “fine.”

________

I stand watch while they… I look away as she tries to scream when they break her leg, swallowing my bile down, tears in my eyes. But it’s better this way. This isn’t the life she wants. She’ll be trapped with nowhere to go. Her face is too recognizable. I’d know her in complete darkness – I do know her in complete darkness.

They close the locker with her inside and I can still hear muffled, ragged breathing and it’s when we're out and past the gardens I double over and spew everything I’ve ever eaten.

________

“Axel, Corazón! Where’s Raven?”

My blood rushes to my ears. “Oh, she said she'd meet us tomorrow before her birthday party,” I answer Sofia who smiles unknowingly and resumes looking at sketches of her designs for her fashion line.

To be so ignorant must be such bliss.

Across the desk my father’s gaze latches onto mine but I go upstairs to my bedroom.

________

When Raven doesn’t show up the next day or to her birthday or Sunday morning, without us knowing, Sofia calls the police while we're on our way to RMU to be initiated. Because who survives that much blood loss?

Had one of the Initiates not forgotten to put his phone on silent, we never would have known she had survived.

It was kismet.

________

Raven being thrown into an asylum was not on my bingo card and every day I’m sicker than the last. I let Tyler kiss me. I let him do whatever he wants. I can’t feel it anyway and he remains oblivious.

________

It's when I have an individual meeting with the Elders about my future… about having to re-do my initiation… that it all comes into focus.

“While we do our best to keep up with the times and tie them in with our traditions… my grandson's proclivities and tastes are still not within the marginal bounds of our society nor the adjacent chapters. An heir must be produced,” Stephen's father says. “Due to the circumstances, should the girl ever speak-"

“Stephen and I are making sure she doesn’t,” John intersects. “His half-breed will be taking vital steps in making sure she doesn’t say a word.”

“Be that as it may, your son still owes blood and arrangements for him are called off. There will be no merging of the families. Tyler doesn’t want her in her state and she’s useless to Stephen behind barred windows and steel doors.”

“The contract has been signed!”

“The contract is null and void, John. No heir is capable of being produced. She’s unable to sign a marriage certification in her constant state of drug-induced interventions and therapies if what I’m told is correct. It’s in the fine print.”

If my blood wasn’t boiling I’d laugh at that last bit.

Oh how the tables have turned, John.

“Tyler is now signed off to marry a daughter from the Bones chapter. Your family is no longer needed and your boy… will now have to prove himself for the time being. New blood and five years of Watcher affairs and operations.”

Five years.

It’s a prison sentence.

What did Tyler get?

A fucking duchess.

________

The night of the annual homecoming ball, I take a Viagra. It may be the dumbest or smartest thing I’ve ever done. I set up a camera in the coat closet and when we have a moment alone, I pay the attendant to go elsewhere. It’s not perfect. It’ll never be enough to avenge her or redeem myself, but I keep my mask on the entire time I have Tyler bent over, fucking his tight ass making him moan like a bitch in heat. I almost laugh when he makes a mess on the floor of the coat room, and I fuck him till his asshole is sore and red.

I take the condom off and make sure to cum all over his face where the camera can see where he licks and sucks on my balls. He thinks he’s adorable like this, but all I can see as I douse his face is a retribution.

I kindly clean him up as if I care about him and have him leave first so I can take the camera.

I edit.

Then I post.

Everywhere.

Then… I’m ghost.

________

I sign up for sessions with Dr. Archer as part of my Watcher “duties,” but it helps a lot. For four fucking years. I can almost taste freedom.

But then Raven re-enrolls at RMU.

Catching Damon in her room made me furious, but I allowed it. Then it was Jonas and goddamn. I was almost impressed. But the envy I felt was complete and utter torture.

Finding her with a broken heart makes me murderous then giving her a bath… it takes everything in me not to take what I want. To take her away. But there’s another place I can take her to.

I treasure our time together at her lake house, feeling her slip into bed with me one last time, holding her close, breathing her in. My slice of heaven.

But then it all goes downhill from there.

I drop out of Hartford to keep a closer eye on her and thank God I did. I jerk off, watching as Chase licks her pussy silly, becoming a green-eyed monster in the flesh but then… a splash in the water makes me jerk off harder when I realize what she’s doing and come so hard I’m breathless when’s he gets back on the dock, naked, and she pushes Chase's body away with her toe.

I watch everything, see everything according to the cameras I placed about the lake house, fisting my cock so much it’s raw. I tell Stephen only what he wants to know.

No, she isn’t talking.

No, it can’t be her behind these murders because when I see her signing, when she’s talking to me… I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.

I only have less than a year in my sentence.

It’s when Riordan burns her house down and she moves in with Maverick that I see red, sneaking in is difficult but soon I know the entire layout to his house.

When Arlo asks for the best way to break in, I already know the answer and how to get into his backyard. But I tell him to go when I know Mav will be home. I already know the outcome  to that scenario.

And I was right.

One less Prescott, Cookie…

           ________

I look at her, standing before me, my father’s blood slowly dripping from the dagger in her hand, as I tell her about Riordan and then having to kidnap her for Stephen only to end up watching him drug her. I couldn’t stay to watch it. Duties or not.

“Don’t you see, Ray? I made sure you knew how to get to the restricted section. I made sure you found the ledger.” It was the last thing I did before I left RMU campus after dropping her off that first day. “I did what I could to help you from afar.”

“You… you killed me.” She rasps but there’s so much emotion and turmoil in her eyes that I can’t stand it.

Tears spring to my eyes. “No! I didn’t touch you! I would never hurt you. I love you!”

“You… killed me. I… d-died.”

My brows shoot up.

“For one minute and sss-seventeen seconds I was dead.” The word lingers in the air but all I can hear is the blood rushing to my ears.

“I didn’t want that to happen, Cookie. I swear. I-I didn’t see any other way out of this for you. You wouldn’t have been happy. If not one then it would have been the other.”

“You did this… t-to me! You mmm-made me like this.” The venom in her voice kills me. She’s never used that tone with me. Not even when she would get in trouble for getting me sick, or me tattling on her when she was doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. 

My knees buckle at her accusations, my heart thumping so loudly in my ears but I can’t look away from her. Not then. Not now. “Don’t say that, Ray. Don’t say that! I love you! I found the only way out of this I could! They would’ve kept you a bird in a gilded cage with nowhere to go. Nowhere to fly! You would’ve dwindled and died! Can’t you see that? Can’t you see that I… I love you enough to kill you? I love you enough to set your soul free!” I sob, tears streaking down my face.

“I loved you.” A tear falls from the lid of her left eye, clearing a path through the blood caked on her cheek but I don’t care that it belongs to my father. With shaky breath and a war cry, she’s on me. “I loved you!” She screams as we go down and the knife is at my throat and her salty, bloody tears drop onto my face, warm and decadent.

Like her love.

“I still love you.” I sob. “Every moment of every day of the last fourteen years I have loved you. Kill me. I won’t stop. You were always meant to be mine, Ray. Can’t you see it?”

Honey eyes lock on mine, full of fury and exasperation. I’m as wrecked for her now as I was when we met. “You… betrayed me,” she breathes against my lips. She trembles in my arms, the weight of it all crashing down around me.

“No I didn’t!” But I did.

Not once.

Not even twice.

I betrayed her every time I had a chance to tell her to run away. To create another life. A new life. That I would find her wherever she went and join her later when we were safe.

I betrayed her every time I chose to preserve myself.

Three different pairs of footsteps fill the room. I should’ve known she wouldn’t come alone.

“Little Bird,” Damon says from the corner of the threshold. “Let us take care of this.”

She sobs in my embrace, a string of saliva connecting from one lip to the other, they curl back, and she lets out one last sob, her face going to the crook of my neck. “I w-would have… run away with you. Gone… anywhere… with you. That was always… my dream. Me and you… And you… t-took it away.”

My eyes widen as my mind replays every single fucked up deed I’ve done for the past five years leading from to this moment to the day we met like a fucked backwards reel, and I scream when Maverick hauls her to him, my vision blurred from tears and Damon and Jonas lift me from where I was laying with her perfect weight on me. “No! No wait! Please! I can share her! I just want her happy! I’ll share her!” I try to reason.

“Raven!”

But Jonas and Damon crowd me and she’s out of my line of sight.

There’s no goodbye.

________

I’m still alive but barely breathing as the wheels of whatever vehicle we’re in roll beneath me. I’m in the trunk, too weak to scream for help. We come to a lurching stop and then three doors open and slam shut. It’s freezing, but the cold wind feels good on my open wounds.

I’m too tired, to hurt to even groan when they lift me.

“Here?” One of them asks.

“Yeah. This soil is still fresh.” That’s Jonas.

“It'll be easier to dig up and just bury him there. Nobody will look in a cemetery.” Maverick replies. He would know wouldn’t he?

It takes a few hours for them to finish digging and I’m shivering, hypothermia settling in by the time I’m dropped into a grave landing hard on a casket and soon, soil is being thrown over me.

Fitting, isn’t it? That I’m being buried alive.

Almost as cruel as leaving someone in a locker to die…

Over time, the moist dirt is… nice… warm. A blanket shielding me from the bitter cold. I’m sure the last of the night sky is turning pink as I take my last breath full of soil.

I was born with weak lungs, after all.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Raven.

Three weeks later

It only took two weeks for us to move everything into our new home in Brooklyn Heights and set everything up the way we wanted, only taking a break to fly back to England for Sabrina’s rather impromptu engagement party in Kensington. I was grateful it was small and not overly crowded like Sofia’s holiday party. Just a small get-together of their closest friends and family.

It was still a bit awkward, but Jonas was by my side the entire time, interpreting for me.

My audition for Julliard went perfectly and all I have to do now is wait for my acceptance letter.

Maverick starts at Columbia in the fall, having resigned but still teaching via Zoom and Jonas is finishing up his last semester at RMU via online courses since he no longer has football practice to go to. He is waiting for the NFL draft to call his name come April, but we have it on good authority he’ll be staying here in New York with us as his terms were non-negotiable. Damon now sees patients in the comfort of his office downtown and is home when he’s not.

It’s been a smooth transition. Being away from all of… well, that has been a real breath of fresh air.

I’m slick and covered in sweat when Damon opens the door to the basement. I turn down the music, the punching bag Jonas ordered and set up slightly sways from my weak punches but hey, it’s something.

“Daddy?”

“You have a visitor.” Silver eyes gleam down at me, a smirk on his lips.

Oh.

Kinda wish he interrupted me to fuck me on the mat again like he did before my workout but okay. Maverick is the one who prefers me sweaty. Something about my scent and pheromones but I don’t care, I’m just glad he still fucks me until I’m sore and my thighs shake.

I unwrap my knuckles and throw the sweaty binding away, heading up the stairs, giggling when Damon grabs my ass as I brush past him and I stop to kiss him. Where would I be without him? Without any of them? Dead this time, for sure. Or like Axel said, a bird in a gilded cage with no way out.

I think about that a lot. Even when I don’t want to, and that’s why I’m downstairs every day, punching the shit of a bag full of sand, pretending my tears are caused by sweat in my eyes. It's harder some days than others. Hard because I could have and would have forgiven him. It’s true what I said, I would have run away with him had he just asked.

But he had so many chances to make it right. So many times we were alone while he visited me at Lorne Wood or when I first got bi-weekend home visits to come clean. Even before then… before everything… he made the wrong choice every time.

They didn’t tell me what they did to him. All I know is that he’s gone.

There are days when I think I’ll never be able to get over this… that it’ll live rent-free in my mind, unable to move past the heartache… but I already mourned myself. I’ll never be who I was ever again. There are still snippets of that girl in me and all I can do is heal her with time, let the memories fade.

The emotional pain I felt was so severe I knew Damon thought I would regress. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t catatonic for a few days after but knowing it was over, that my song had reached its final crescendo, was a weight off my shoulders.

But I take it un dia a la vez- one day at a time, one foot in front of the other.

That’s what I struggled with the most – the lack of anger and vitriol I had. I no longer feel like I’m drowning and when the memories of that night get too harsh, Kronos comes to me, and I mentally tell him everything while he lets me pet him. Lucifer, on the other hand, he’s a fucking menace. There are days I’m sure he hates me but then finds my lap the most comfortable seat in the room.

Cats, am I right?

I’m only pleasantly surprised to see Sabrina standing in the foyer, taking off her coat. She’s wearing running shoes, baggy black sweatpants, and a loose baby-pink shirt. That big scary blonde guy stands behind her. It’s not Maksim but her bodyguard who I now know as Parker.

I wave with one hand then lift both. I’m sorry. I’d hug you, but I’m disgusting right now.

Damon chuckles when he interprets for me.

She looks around nervously biting her lower lip. I’ve been signing around her since her engagement party. She clears her throat. “That’s… that’s why I’m here. I was wondering if you’d… like an extra workout partner? I’d be terrible but with the wedding coming… I just… I want to look good in my gown. The only wedding gown I’ll ever wear and… I… want to feel good about myself.”

I hold back the tears that prickle my eyes. It hurts when the people you love don’t see themselves the way you see them and if she could borrow my eyes for ten minutes, she’d know how radiant I think she is. But if this is something she’s doing for herself, then I want to be a part of it, no matter how small. I don’t tell her she’s beautiful. It’s not what she wants to hear. I don’t tell her I already think she’s a knockout because my opinion doesn’t matter. Only hers.

So I grin and nod enthusiastically, lifting my hands again, and turn to Damon to ask if he’s busy so he can interpret for me every now and then.

But it’s Parker who speaks up. “I can.” I’m surprised he can read my hands.

Sabrina winces. “No, Parker. I… I’d like to be… alone with just her, please.” She lifts her gaze to mine and I know what she’s not saying – she doesn’t want to be seen shirtless or sweaty. And Parker looks… Parker looks a little dejected, but he fixes himself quickly. “I… I’ve been taking an ASL course online. I’m not… proficient yet but I can… decipher most things.”

My grin widens. I crook my finger at her to follow me then ask Damon if he doesn’t mind bringing down a few more water bottles later. He nods and leads Parker to the living area to wait for us.

We worked out in almost silence but when it was getting overbearing for me, she let me turn it up some.

It takes her forty-five minutes for her to call me a twat and I throw my head back and laugh, getting on the ground to lay flat on my back like a starfish. This is called corpse pose.

Her nose scrunches. ”Corpse pose?”

I giggle, nodding. Best yoga position ever.

She laughs out loud, joining me on the ground and we stare at the ceiling, the silence between us is not heavy, just nice. “You know, I think I like yoga.”

“Baby, are you teaching her your version of yoga?”

I smile wide at Jonas’ grin, reaching a hand out, making a fist, and saying yes. Sabrina sits up and grabs the shirt she got rid of thirty minutes ago. Throwing it on over her sports bra.

“Oh, sorry Brina. I didn’t think.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine. I should be getting back anyway. I have an early morning. Raven, same time tomorrow?”

I don’t want her to go but I nod anyway. I watch her leave and Jonas helps me up and kisses me. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah,” I breathe when we break away and tell him all about why she wants to work out.

“That’s good. Maybe I can slowly start joining you guys so I can get my workout in, too. Might be able to help a bit.”

I lift a shoulder and let it drop, letting him know I won’t push her until she says it’s okay and he agrees.

________

“Baby, help Daddy come so I can slide in. I want to use his cum as lube.” His whisper triggers chills that explode every atom in my being, little goosebumps skittering across my body from the warmth of his breath in my ear.

I do as I’m told and hike my thigh that’s over Damon’s hip and slowly rock, meeting each lazy thrust with my own, taking him as deep as I can, softly crying out, my arm lifts to Jonas' head behind me, my fingers in his soft hair, pulling when it feels like too much. He shushes me, encouraging me to continue, to help our Daddy make a big mess of my pussy.

“My perfect little cocksleeve, warmed my cock all night.”

“Ugh, Damon!” I’m so overwhelmed by every touch, every depraved word, every kiss, every lick, the feeling of being entrapped by two men that love to abuse my body to my breaking point. “So… fucking… good,” I moan.

Jonas chuckles then reaches between us and strums my throbbing clit, Damon’s mouth on mine, tongue dancing and taking whatever I have to give, fingers tugging on my peaked nipples roughly only to be so soft and loving. I can feel his thick dick already pulsing, imagining how angry and red it gets when I suck him, and he holds back but I don’t want him to hold back. I want him to use me.

“Please Daddy… fill my pussy. Come inside me.”

He groans roughly with his release, pushing down on my hip, thrusting so deep my eyes squeeze shut. “Take it all, every ounce.”

I nod, loving when he slips out and Jonas shoves into me from behind. “My perfect, sick little slut, letting us use you like this.”

“Oh god,” I moan, those filthy words always get to me. “You’re so big… s-so good.”

“You love it, don’t you baby? Yeah? Fuck yes. I just want to get you so wet and messy, baby. Keep you so full.” His thrusts grow frenzied and brutal, Damon gripping my thigh tightly, keeping me locked in and I’m so lost so fucking lost in pleasure, in every overwhelming sensation, spiraling toward my release when he pinches my clit and when I cry out, Damon swallows it.

“Say it, baby. You know I need it.”

“I love you,” I gasp, his fingers still rubbing and playing, dancing over my sensitive clit.

“Again.”

“I-“

“Fuck yes.”

“Love-“

“Oh god,” he groans.

“You.”

“Every. Fucking. Time.” His hips punch with every word, spilling into me.

He doesn’t pull out even when he’s semi-soft, just nuzzles his head, delivering kisses to my shoulder, leaning to kiss me then Damon. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I moan, repeating it back to him then snuggle in a little closer.

________

I check my reflection one last time, making sure my skirt is nice and short, and my thigh-highs are symmetrical. I grab my backpack, throw it over my shoulder and an old textbook before going downstairs to the study where Maverick is teaching. 

He lifts a brow when he spots me, tapping a pen against his bottom lip. “Any questions?” He asks and then, “Class dismissed.” He shuts the laptop we got him for Christmas and pushes it to the side. “Miss Monroe, can I help you?”

I nervously bite my lip, taking a seat in the chair before him, the leather cool against my naked ass.

When I don’t say anything he sits down. “Speak, Miss Monroe, my time is limited.”

“I… d-don’t understand… some of the mm-material. I was h-hoping you could… help mm-me?”

He sits back in his chair, green eyes sliding from my boots to my thighs, to the outrageously tight button-up shirt I put on without a bra. My nipples tighten underneath, and they feel strained against the material. “I see. Come, show me what it is you find just oh so difficult.” He growls and god, it’s so hot when he’s like this. I shouldn’t find his condescending tone so sexy but here I am, warmth pooling between my thighs, needy and begging for his touch.

I stand, and let the textbook fall open on the desk. His eyes look down and flick back up to me, annoyed. “I said come here, Miss Monroe, not stand on the other side of me. If I’m to teach you, then I must do it properly. Now.”

Oh god.

I purposely leave the book where it is and round the desk to get to him. He moves away so I have to get in front of him and then I stammer, “Oh, s-sorry,” bending over to reach for it then drag it down and flip it. Which causes him to hiss. When I try to stand straight he gently pushes me forward.

“Is that how you walk around campus?”

“It… it was laundry d-day.”

“Was it?” His fingers are gentle as they crawl up the backs of my thighs, pushing the hem of my skirt up to the small of my back.

I make my voice as small as possible. “Yes?”

“I think you’re lying, Raven,” he kneads my ass, thumbs lifting and separating only to drop them. “Coming in here interrupting my class, wearing this little skirt.”

“No!”

“I think you are. I think…” he goes back to pulling my ass apart again, using his foot to kick mine wider apart, “you came here to try and seduce your professor."

Fuck yes, I did. “No! I’m… I’m a good girl.”

“Then why are you glistening? Hmm? Filthy little liar.”

I moan when his thumb rubs around my clit in tight little circles, teasing and tormenting, waiting for me to answer, applying more pressure.

“I… I…” I can’t think.

“That’s right,” his touch is so delicate, coating his large, long fingers in my arousal then rough when he shoves two in me, spreading inside then hooking and I cry out. “I’ll ask again and this time if you’re honest, I’ll reward you. Now, is this what you came here for Miss Monroe?”

He spanks me when I don't reply.

“Yes!” I try to move, to follow his fingers but his hold on my lower back is strong.

He removes his fingers, and I groan at the loss of him. “Quiet, Raven. Anyone could walk by, and I’ll be fired. Be a good little mute.”

I try. I really do, but when I hear his zipper going down the teeth and the tip of his velvety length nudges my sopping wet entrance, so eager for him, I let out a whimper and it earns me another spank. God yes. He teases me with only the tip, never going fully in. Pure torture. “Please!”

“Please what, Miss Monroe? Quickly. I don’t have all day.”

“Please f-fuck me, Professor Harrington.” Words I wanted to say out loud for such a long time. “Please. I’ll be… a good girl.”

He shoves every stiff, thick inch into me so brutally that I don’t even have a chance to prepare for the biting stretch of him. I let out a scream which makes me haul me up by the hair and he covers my mouth with his free hand. “I said quiet, Tongueless.”

The lip of the desk hits my clit with each thrust, and I’m so fucking gone, already a trembling, fragile mess in his arms. He pulls out and turns me, helping me on the desk. My heels find purchase on the edge of the old thing, as he sinks back into me, looming over me, ripping my shirt so my breasts pop free, buttons scattering everywhere, one hand between us to play with my clit the other fisting my hair so we’re nose to nose. “Is this what you wanted, Siren? To have your professor’s cock in your exquisite cunt? Hmm?”

I nod, trying to be the best angel for my devil, biting my lip, overwhelmed by every sensation wracking my body, driving me insane. God, it’s so good, the thickness of his crown hits my spot over and over, the strong veins like pulsating ridges, strong fingers stimulating my clit, and the way he throbs, so hot and thick has me seizing, lost and trapped in the pleasure he gives me. My legs draw up to my chest, allowing him to go deeper.

“Yes, my perfect girl, there it is, fuck. Come for me, Siren. Come on your professor’s cock like the filthy little slut that you are.” He groans, the rumble in his chest is so deep when he comes it triggers another small orgasm to know I make him come undone. That he reaches ecstasy because of me. “There’s my good fucking girl, squeezing every drop out of my cock.”

I’m spent, but I don’t move from where I’m perched when he withdraws, tucking himself back into his slacks and sitting back in his chair, peridot eyes drinking me in the way my pussy leaks out our cum. He grabs his phone and snaps a picture, throwing his phone down to relax. He’s still dressed, only his sleeves are rolled up and the sight of his strong, tatted forearms makes me happy.

He finally grabs a few tissues and cleans me up, then holds his arms out for me to sit on his lap and he plants a kiss on my cheek. “You are… divine, Siren. I love you with all that I am.”

Warmth floods through me, making me want to squirm. “I love you, Maverick.” I sigh as we sit silently together.

_______

For the second time today, I’m checking my reflection in the mirror. Heels on. Red dress on point, makeup is flawless. They didn’t tell me where we’re going only to dress up. So I did.

As soon as I step out of my bedroom and climb up the stairs, it’s gotten colder. I got up to the final floor, seeing the door leading to the rooftop open and clamber up those steps, too. I can hear soft cello music playing so of course now I’m suspicious.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” They shout as soon as my head pops up and Kronos barks happily.

I gasp when I see them.

My beautiful men, dressed to the nines in tailored suits, then giggle when I see my happy boys, Kronos and Lucifer in little Cupid costumes.

The space heaters Damon had installed are on making it much warmer and twinkling lights are dangling from the fenced-around roof to our left is the New York City skyline. In the center is a table set up for four, along with candles and wine, and as I approach, I laugh at the contents in the center, bringing tears to my eyes.

Gourmet pizza and pasta from my favorite place on Seventh Street in Kingston.

My men approach me, Jonas first, then Damon, and lastly Maverick. I bend to nuzzle Kronos and Luci lets me pet him, but I’m sure it’s more so to take off the little cap I’m sure Jonas wrangled him to put on. Little hellion. I relieve him of it, which makes him purr and they take me so we can have our candlelit dinner and look at the skyline.

It's only then that I recognize the music playing – mine. The symphony I orchestrated from scratch. My death lullaby.

And as I take my seat and Damon pushes in my chair, Jonas hands me a manilla envelope. I arch a brow as I take it, and open it up, my jaw dropping at the documents.

It's from a record label.

Jonas is biting his lip nervously. “I know you want to go to Julliard, and I want you to do whatever it is that you want. But all the views you’ve gotten from our Instagram reels,” I didn’t mind that he would post me playing guitar or any other instruments. My room looks like a music store with how many instruments I’ve accumulated while recording. “They reached out, baby. They see what we see – how incredible you are. My mom had her lawyers meet with theirs. Babe, they want to work with you. There are bands out there asking for you to play a violin or cello section for their songs.”

I worry my lip, but Damon places a warm hand over mine. “You wouldn’t have to leave New York. They have an office and recording studio here.”

I let out a sigh of relief just as Maverick brushes my arm with his fingertips, sending goosebumps up my arm and to my shoulder. “But if you want to put this on hold, and finish school, that’s okay, too. Whatever you want,  we want for you as well.”

“Marry me,” I blurt out.

“Oh, fuck yeah, but we do the asking, baby. Not you.” Jonas laughs. “This may be the least traditional relationship ever, but I’ll be traditional with that. You don’t have to think about this right now, baby. I couldn’t wait to tell you, but they made me promise to hold off until tonight.”

I grin at my men, “I’ll… th-think about… it.” I promise. Because they’re right, Julliard is my dream. Well, one of many. As the pizza boxes open and we start eating the best pizza in the entire continental US, looking over at the skyline, Kronos and Luci at my feet, the conversation flowing… I’m pretty sure I’m living the dream.

I check my wrist.

Jonas.

Damon.

Maverick.

Yeah, it’s real.

And it’s mine.

The End.

Or is it…?

Epilogue

Jonas.

8 months later

“Trick or Treat!”

I hear from the front door, and then it slams shut. My ears are muffled from her thighs being on either side of my head. Have I ever said how much I fucking love Halloween? I slurp on her clit, drinking every drop, grinding down on my face, riding it like there’s no tomorrow. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna break my nose but I don’t give a fuck.

Worth it, in my opinion.

At least this rug she got is fucking nice.

Maverick gave her one job – to get off while riding my face before he came back from giving out the last of our candy to trick-or-treaters.

She’s doing the best she can with her hands tied behind her back and I’m so fucking hard and dizzy from lack of oxygen, my poor baby trying to get off in the thirty seconds Mav has been gone. I stick my tongue out, my hands beneath her ass, and help her bounce her swollen little bud on it.

She makes this little noise when my middle fingers touch her puckered hole.

“That’s cheating Pup,” Damon chuckles, and I whine.

I just want her to come on my face so bad. She came down in this sexy little angel costume which was more like white lingerie with a garter belt, a halo, and a pair of wings and I was hard the second I saw her.

One of my hands reaches down to palm my dick but Damon tsks.

Fuuuccckkk.

“Good boy.”

My eyes cross at his praise and the taste of Raven on my tongue.

“Ugh! Jonas!”

Fuck it.

I shove a finger in her ass, and she yelps, twitching above me. My girl is so fucking filthy. God, I love her.

“Awww… was my naughty little rich girl not able to come?”

Hearing Mav’s voice she doesn’t stop, only tenses. “Pro… professor I’m… tr-trying!”

I swallow every little gush that comes out of her, humming happily.

“But it’s not what you need, is it? You need to be filled and fucked hard?”

Her ass squeezes my finger, and I unwillingly hump the air. Fuck. I need to fuck her more than I need to breathe.

“Yes! Please! Please, I’ll do any…thing. I’ll be s-s-so good. I p-promise!”

She’s such a pretty liar.

From what I can see, (mostly tits bouncing) Maverick stands before her. “Stick out your tongue…” he rasps. “That’s it. Such a dirty angel on your knees for me, mmm… no, no, Raven. Mmhmm. Just my tip. You take what I give you, remember?”

“Yes… yes sir.”

Her bounces have become slow grinds, probably matching the rhythm Maverick is setting which gives me a chance to shove more of my finger into her ass, fucking it slowly. God, my dick is aching, I could probably cum like this if I think about it enough.

She gags and I look up in time to see drool dripping from her chin down to her tits.

I reach up to swipe it along her hardened nipple with my thumb, pinching it only to rub it again. I moan when I’m rewarded with more cream and my hips jump again.

“Pup?”

“Hmm?”

Only the sounds of Maverick groaning and Raven gagging fill the living room when I feel a finger trail up my boxer briefs-covered dick. I shudder at Damon’s touch. I keep from following because that’s exactly what he wants and I’m doing my best to be good.

Good boys get rewarded.

I feel Raven quiver, I can feel her impending orgasm but if she comes, I will, too. And I want more. Need more. Always. Maverick seems to notice she’s about to jump off that ledge as well because soon she’s off my face and I almost cry out at the loss of her. I love it when she comes on my face.

I look over to see Maverick has her straddling him, his dick already hard and notching at her entrance, guiding her while she lowers herself. She’s so wet, so pretty, stretching around Mav she’s so pink. I love the way her pussy looks gripping a thick dick. Especially mine.

I look at Damon’s piercing metal eyes and he gives me a nod. I can’t eat her pussy like this, but her ass is up for grabs. I get on all fours and crawl to my woman, a slave to her pleasure and when Maverick spreads her ass for me, I dive in, tongue first, loving the gasp that fills the air.

“She loves that.” Maverick grunts.

Damon crouches beside me, watching us pleasure his little bird, putting his hand on the back of my head so I can shove my tongue deeper, wiggling it in. His hand trails lower and soon he’s helping me out of my underwear, spitting on his fingers and gliding them between my cheeks, finding me wanting. He gently presses, circling his spit-coated fingers around my anus, rimming me until one finger begins fucking into me.

“Fuck, Damon,” I groan, so ready to fuck and be fucked.

“Stand up, Maverick’s waiting for you,” he orders.

I do as I’m told and soon, I’m sinking into her wet heaven along with Mav, groaning at how tight she is like this, lost in every sensation I’m feeling. It’s perfect, my heart is full and I’m so fucking overwhelmed. But it’s when I feel Damon behind me I’m ready for the intensity to kick up. He licks my neck, and soon he’s bucking into me, hitting the spot I need, making me come involuntarily, but I slowly fuck my girl, passing the over-sensitivity so I stay hard in my girl, he keeps going and soon we’re all nothing but a tangle of limbs and sweaty bodies, searching for the last orgasm.

I shiver when Damon roars, filling my ass and Raven screams as she squeezes around us, Maverick and I both groan, filling up our girl.

And it’s everything.

And so much more.

It’s forever.

My heart feels like it’s going to burst, and I put one arm around Raven, my other hand on Damon’s hand on my hip.

He only slips out of me when he’s soft, kissing my shoulder, muttering ‘je t’aime’, and then kissing Raven’s temple, whispering the same words to her.

I love Damon’s love.

I’m so lucky to have found both of my soulmates and that they love each other as well.

________

It’s well past our usual bedtime since I was drafted into the NFL and have to get up early as fuck but we’re all dressed in our jammies, watching Halloween, and eating popcorn when someone at our front door starts knocking like crazy, banging on it relentlessly.

We go into alert mode, Maverick gets his gun from under the end table, Damon and I follow, having grabbed ours from a secret compartment on the table lamps.

“Raven! Please! Open up!” We hear from a familiar voice outside. “Please!”

Raven dashes between us, unlocking every lock and we find a crazy-eyed Sabrina, eyes red, tears running down her cheeks, hair wild and she’s in a red and pink little bunny costume without shoes on like she ran out of a damn horror flick. 

It's when she comes inside, and steps into the light, I see  the red on her costume is wet and there’s a metallic scent the closer she gets.

It’s blood.

Raven starts to check her over, making sure her best friend is okay.

Sabrina makes a motion with her hand. “It’s not mine, please,” her lips part and she says, “I… I think I need your help.”

Well… shit.

Want to know what Raven and Sabrina’s heart-to-heart was about?

Find out in Scream. Coming Summer of 2025.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

J – for being my very first supporter throughout this entire journey.

MK – for letting me borrow your husband. I just realized how terrible that sounded, but without him as my sounding board through it all, I never would have kept writing. You have the coolest husband and I’m so glad you’re both my friends and I am so lucky to have acquired you both in this crazy, fucked up life. <3

Courtenay, Clair, Ashley, Erin, Rose, Jess, Jezebel, Mandy, Michelle, Sam, Sky, Valorie, Claudia, Marion, Desiree, Chantal, Ava, Wren - Speak & Stutter would not be where they are today without you all. You are such incredible women, and I am so fucking blessed to have each and every single one of you in my life.

To every person that read and reviewed Speak. – THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. You have made this girl’s dream come true with each kind word.

Cassie – thanks for letting me bounce off ideas on how to schmurder characters and never judging the way my mind works, instead you always encourage it to be much, much more deviant.

As always, to my eldest – your art will never cease to amaze me, kiddo. NEVER READ THIS BOOK.

To my youngest – YOU EITHER. Mommy loves you, Storm Cloud.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ruby M. Darling is a Texas Native and lives in Smalltown, TX.

For news about upcoming projects, ARC sign-ups or to simply “professionally watch” her, you can follow her on Instagram @AuthorRubyMDarling