He increased his tempo, quickly leaving the realm of speech and focusing on the finale. I wasn’t ready to break the link between us. Not yet.
Ask him.
Ask him the question.
Jealousy burned in my heart that this man, currently driving into me, still loved another. But hope glowed, too. I pinned all my hope from the last few days on one answer.
One answer only he could give me but I worried he never would.
Crying out as he planted his hands on either side of my body and driving fast and ruthless, I panted, “Tell me her name. What was the name of the girl you loved?”
The world ceased moving. Everything screeched to a stop.
Kill’s cock twitched inside as he just stood there like an iceberg. He grabbed my throat, hissing, “Never ask me that again. You’re not worthy of her name.”
Then his hand moved from my throat to my eyes, planting heavily over my vision. The world went dark but every instinct shot into hyperawareness.
His hips thrust harder, his cock bringing such heat and pleasure.
“I can’t stand you looking at me with her eyes. I can’t stand looking at you, period, while I’m fucking you.” His voice broke, but he smothered his agony with a growl. His pace increased, leaving sex behind and pounding straight into punishment.
I couldn’t see. His hand was hot and heavy.
I couldn’t breathe. His pace was too fast and deep.
I couldn’t fight. The pleasure was too intense and strong.
And I couldn’t stop my response to his anger pulsing between my legs.
I came.
Hard, long—spiraling down and down, darker and darker, losing myself to the muddy, desolate world of Arthur Killian.
With a roar, he spurted inside, filling me, ruining me, taking everything that I ever was.
Time passed.
I didn’t know how much—could’ve been five minutes or an hour—but Kill roused me from my sex-haze slumber as he tripped over the book on the carpet. He was fully dressed and in control again as he bent to pick it up.
Propping myself on my elbows, I didn’t care my skirt was bunched and showing my very used and exposed pussy. All I cared about was the black-shrouded vision of the man who carried so much turmoil inside.
I’m not afraid of him.
The sudden realization that I couldn’t fear someone who struggled more than me was empowering.
He turned to face me, waving the book. He cocked an eyebrow. “You were working on your IQ?”
I smiled, remembering a particularly hard mathematical question. I could’ve stared at it for the rest of my life, or been given the best calculator in the world, and still never understood how to solve it.
I didn’t even attempt to work it out. After all, he wasn’t there to fix my mistakes and erase my incorrect answers.
I scooted higher, tugging down my skirt. “I’m no good at math.”
“The answer is nine hundred and eighty-four squared.”
My mouth hung open. “You’ve memorized the answers?”
He scowled. “You think I cheated?”
I beckoned him to come closer, glancing at the page-long equation with font so small I practically needed a magnifying glass. “You took two seconds to figure it out.” I looked up into his confident gaze. “Have you done the problem before, and either remembered it or—”
His lips twisted. “Or what? I’m a genius?” He raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t sense if he was mocking me or seriously pissed off at my disbelief.
“Are you a genius?”
He dumped the book on the bed and crossed his arms. “There are a lot of theories on what makes a genius, but technically my IQ is one hundred and fifty-eight and a genius is anything over one hundred and sixty, so you could say… I’m close.”
I nodded, thrilled that he was talking to me after three days of silence. “Fascinating. Tell me the meaning of life, oh brainy one.”
His mouth twitched despite himself. “There is no meaning of life.”
I thought back to the mantra he whispered every night in his office. Tilting my head, I murmured, “I think you have a meaning—a purpose. You’re driven by it and won’t rest until it’s fulfilled.”
He took a step backward, his face going white.
I stood upright, not wanting him to leave when I was close to bulldozing down one of his walls. Something soft and cool prodded against my toes.
I looked down.
My eyes fell on the well-handled Libra eraser.
“Homework tonight?”
I let him in, locking the door behind him. “My mom and dad are out. We have the place to ourselves.” I whispered, “I need you.”
The foyer of the home I shared with my parents went instantly thick with sexual tension.
His green eyes flared; he swallowed. “I—you know how much I want you, but… you’re too young.”
“I’m fourteen next week. And I’ve known you since I was born.” I went to hug him, but he moved quickly out of reach. “Please, I love you. I want you to be my first.”
He sighed heavily. “I will be your first. But wait a little longer. I don’t want to hurt you.” His hand disappeared into his pocket, pulling out the brand-new Libra eraser I’d given him last week. He’d told me to get a better eraser. And I’d wanted to remind him of all the good qualities he possessed being a Libran.
Holding it up, he muttered, “You gave me this. It’s all I’m accepting from you until I’m sure I’ll never lose you.”
“You will never lose me.”
Sadness beyond his seventeen years flickered in his gaze. “I lose you every time I go home without you. The day I make love to you is the day my life is over.”
My heart squeezed. “Over?”
“It’ll be over because I’ll give you my soul when you give me your body, and I’ll never be able to live without it again.”
I crumbled to a puddle, picking up the eraser and holding it to my heart.
“I—I gave you this.” I held it up, tears streaming through my eyes. “I gave you this the night I begged you to take my virginity.”
Kill stumbled, his legs buckled, and for a second I thought he’d pass out. Then rage—undiluted, terrible rage—filled his body. “Shut up!” he roared. “Shut up with your mind tricks and fucking illusions!”
“It’s not a trick! You have to believe me!”
He lurched forward, snatching the eraser from my fingers. His face was livid as he raised his fist as if to strike. His jaw-length hair fell forward in an unruly mess.
“Don’t!” I curled into a little ball, protecting my head with my arms. “I remember you. I remember stolen kisses on a rooftop beneath the moon. I remember you helping me with my homework. I remember the days spent swimming naked at the private beach we found. I remember the love I felt for you—the love that never—”
He kicked me.
The pain in my ribs ripped through my confession, shutting me up. Heat spread through my side, licking with fire, singeing my already scarred skin.
I sucked in a ragged gasp, holding my side. My eyes turned glassy with sadness and regret.
Kill squatted over me, seething with ferocity. “I’m done with you playing on my pain. I’m done being manipulated. I told you I’d been betrayed in my past, and I won’t let some whore twist my memories and make me believe a heinous lie. You’re ripping my fucking heart out and I won’t let you do it anymore!”
“It isn’t a lie. Tell me how I know things! Tell me how I could have those memories if it wasn’t the truth!”
Grabbing my hair, he jerked my eyes to look into his. “You’re a liar and a con artist. They told me where they stole you from. I know who you are, and all this bullshit about loving me—it makes me want to kill you for having the nerve to hurt me like that.”
Shoving me away, he threw the eraser on the floor and stormed toward the door. “I’m done. I never want to see you again. Spread your lies somewhere else, sweetheart. We
’re through.”
He slammed the door.
The scrape of a key sounded in the lock.
He left me to my doom.
Chapter Thirteen
I was loved once.
I loved in return.
I gave myself completely, utterly¸ and with no boundaries.
And I received her love unequivocally.
Owning something so precious made me the richest man alive. But losing it made me sink into destitution so bleak and damned, I had no chance of crawling out of the darkness.
I didn’t want to.
I couldn’t.
There was nothing but pain left for me.
Now I loved no one.
Now I was feared.
It was time to make her fear me.
She pushed me too far and I refused to let her hurt me further.
So I’d hurt her first.
I’d hurt her to continue surviving.
—Kill
The door opened a few hours later.
My eyes soared up, hoping and fearing Kill had returned to hurt me worse. Not that he could. It wasn’t the bruise on my ribs that hurt me every time I breathed, but the betrayal of thinking I understood him. I thought he was broken… in need of someone with the truth to glue him back together again.
But he’d shown me the stark reality.
There was no fixing someone who didn’t want to see past the pain. He truly believed I wasn’t her. His conviction was so absolute it robbed me of my own belief and made me apologetic for all the agony I’d caused.
I’m not her. Or am I?
The questions ran around and around inside my head.
I wanted to know how the memories of a dead girl existed in my tangled brain, and I knew the only way that would happen was if I broke through to Arthur and not Kill.
I looked up gingerly, trying to figure out what to say.
I’m sorry.
Give me a chance to explain.
Please, help me to understand.
But it wasn’t Kill who’d come for me.
Standing in the doorway was a Pure Corruption brother. I stared into the blue eyes of the black-haired, mohawked biker called Grasshopper.
He looked younger in the sunlight than he did when covered in blood from battle. His lips were full and set into a gentle but firm smile, and he had a cute dimple on his right cheek. “Hi,” he said.
His forehead furrowed as he stepped toward me. “Um—you okay?”
I locked my arms harder around my knees. I hadn’t moved from the carpet, leaning against the bed, twirling the Libra eraser in my fingertips. Kill hadn’t been thinking straight when he threw it at my feet—it was obviously a treasured belonging.
I wished it was magic: twist it one way and unlock the truth, spin it another and have everything lost be found. But no matter how much I held it, it didn’t give me what I needed.
“Yes.” I ran a hand through my hair, hoping I didn’t look like a domestic violence case who’d been crying. I hadn’t been crying—I felt… numb. Quakingly sad and confused.
Grasshopper’s eyes fell to my naked leg beneath my skirt and the colorful ink of flowers, small unicorn, and petals permanently transforming my thigh, calf, and toes. “Nice piece.”
I let my arms fall from my position, shooting my leg out and resting it on the carpet. “It is nice. Pity I don’t remember why I had it done, or where, or even the pain.”
His eyes widened as he ducked in front of me. “You don’t remember the pain? What—is that like a childbirth thing where they say the girl never remembers being torn in two by a fucking spawn and then a year later does it all over again?”
I cringed, laughing uncomfortably. “Thanks for painting such a lovely image inside my head.” My fingers traced a strange equation over my knee, which faded into a scripted line that I couldn’t read from the angle I rested. “Not quite. I seem to have forgotten a lot of basic things.”
Grasshopper sniffed, pushing upright to tower over me. Holding out his hand, he said, “Well, you’re still alive, so you know how to eat, sleep, and communicate. That’s something.”
I eyed his open palm. Suspicion flowed swiftly in my blood. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here? I haven’t seen any of the men from the compound since that night. Arthur said he lived alone.”
Grasshopper burst into laughter, his blue eyes sparkling. “Arthur? Fuck, you call him Arthur? No wonder he’s pissed off.”
I didn’t move. Something cold slithered down my back. As nice as Grasshopper seemed to be, I didn’t like the reason why he was here—in his boss’s bedroom.
“Sorry, my mistake. Kill. President Kill.”
Grasshopper nodded, holding out his hand again, waggling it a little in impatience. “Yes, I know the dude. He’s a good man and for him to have snapped the way he has means you’re not good for his health, little lady. Come on, get up. Time to go.”
I baulked. “What? I don’t want to go.”
Grasshopper gave up the pretense of waiting for me to hand myself over to his control, and grabbed my elbow instead. Dragging me to my feet, he noticed the eraser in my clenched fingers. “Shit, where did you get that from?”
I cradled it to my chest. “I gave it to him. A long time ago.”
The jovial, almost curious interaction faded from his eyes. “Ah, I get it now.” His face hardened; his persona went cold. “You’re playing with him. Sorry, but I don’t have time for bitches trying to fuck up one of my brothers—especially my Prez.”
Snatching my wrist, he forced my fingers to unclamp and tossed the eraser on the bed. The same bed where Arthur had fucked me; the same bed where I’d seen the level of his grief. “Come on. You’re not going to hurt him anymore. You’re done.” He strode toward the door, dragging me easily.
I jammed my heels into the carpet, scratching at his hand. “No—wait. I can’t go. I have to stay.”
He didn’t say anything, carting me out of the room and down the corridor.
“You don’t understand. I know him. I might be—”
He jerked to a stop. “Did he fuck you?”
I blinked. “That’s none of your bus—”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Answer me three questions—if you answer them right, then I’ll leave you here and tell Kill to be a man and sort it out with you face-to-face. But if you’re wrong—you’re coming with me. You’re never seeing him again. And you better hope to God the man who has bought you has a better tolerance for liars.”
Bought? I was already sold?
The world fell away. The corridor spun sickeningly. Kill told the truth when he left.
I never want to see you again. We’re through.
Shit! I’d been prepared to leave because of Kill’s horrible silent treatment, but that was before I’d seen the truth glowing in his eyes. He was just so used to being hurt, so used to nursing his grief and living with a broken heart. He hated me because I represented hope. That would scare anyone who loved someone as much as he did.
“I’ll answer your questions, only if you answer one for me.” Please, know the answer. Please, be close enough to Kill that he told you. “What was his dead girlfriend’s name?”
Grasshopper froze, and his fingers bit into my flesh. “How do you know about her? Damn, you’re good. No wonder he’s been so fucking screwed up the past few days. If it were me, I would’ve killed you for bringing all that back.”
“Bringing what back? Please—I need to know!”
He threw me away, running both hands through his hair, messing up the perfection of his mohawk. “Fine! You want to know? Kill was sentenced to life imprison—”
Life?
“I know—he told me he was in jail when she died.”
He shook his head, smiling cruelly. “Not when she died. He was in jail because she died.” He crowded me against the wall. “Don’t you get it? He was done for murder! He killed her.”
My heart didn’t know if it should give up or explode. ?
??That can’t be true! He told me she died in surgery—”
“Injuries that he gave her.”
My mind turned into a vortex, swirling faster and faster with horror.
Flames.
The smoke disorientated me, skipping my mind back to my birthday two weeks ago.
I’d turned fourteen. My parents hosted a barbeque for the entire Chapter. Men in leather jackets, women wearing their lover’s patches, and children all raised in the lifestyle came to celebrate my day.
We’d been a family. A happy, tight-knit family.
But now I crawled along the carpet that was drenched in blood. I scurried from flames hotter than any barbeque and the right side of my body became as char-grilled as any hamburger.
The pain.
It was excruciating, but then… it disappeared.
Shock, gave me energy to keep crawling and choking and reliving the horror of seeing who’d poured gasoline through my family’s home.
I saw who struck the match.
I knew.
I had no choice but to survive so they would pay.
“Anyone in there?” The voice crackled with flames.
My throat was parched, my eyes blind from fumes. I couldn’t answer.
I crawled…
I dragged my burning body…
I… crawled…
I went blank.
Grasshopper shook me. My neck bounced on my spine like a rag doll as I blinked the horrible flashback away.
“He set fire to my house?” I whispered, terror squeezing my lungs.
My soul fractured into a billion pieces. The boy with the green eyes tried to murder me?
I scrambled at Grasshopper’s jacket, hating the skull and raining coins embroidered into the thick leather. Something about it looked wrong… terribly, terribly wrong.
“Why?” I begged. “Why did he try to kill me? We loved each other!”
Grasshopper stepped back, trying to push me off him. “Get a fucking grip, bitch. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do! Tell me. You have to tell me.”
Every muscle in my body trembled, my stomach hurled, and the corridor walls closed in—faster and faster, crushing me like a tin can until the pressure in my head grew too much. Way, way too much.